#i miss him (michael scofield) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twohearts-hs · 26 days ago

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Defying The Odds: 11 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.1k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

Synopsis: Y/N was a victim of the mob since the age of fifteen, however, falling in love with the wrong guy and having an argument got her 25 years in prison for murder. She had a plan to get out in faith of her husband until she met Michael Scofield, who, despite his plan, fell in love with her. Now she has the mob and Michael Scofield's escape to worry about.

Warnings: Swearing, Prison, Intimacy, Murder, etc. you know the deal...

A/N: this is a complete series of ~105k words. Based on Season 1 & 2.

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

Michael was in the psych ward waiting for Dr. Remington to arrive so they could talk about his well-being. He stood at the window, hands on his hips as he looked out. He missed her…he had to admit. It’s been a few days without Y/N and they left it on a bad note and he was sorry. He was in the wrong for his reaction. They were something. Something special.

A knock came, and Michael turned around to see Dr. Remington coming in. “Hi, Michael. They said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Michael said solemenly. “Yeah, I do.”

Dr. Remington came in the room and sat down on the bed. Michael sat next to him. “Um, how’s Y/N?” was the first thing he asked.

Dr. Remington smiled. “She’s good. Worried about you. Paid a few guards to find out where you are. She still thinks you’re in solitary,” he told Michael.

“Can you let her know where I am? I don’t want her to worry.” Dr. Remington nodded. “I, uh, made this for her,” he said, grabbing the ashtray.

“An ashtray. Y/N smokes?”

“She used to. Before prison. I told her it was gross and to never do it again, but it can be like a bowl for like jewellery or something,” Michael chuckled.

Dr. Remington nodded, taking it. “I’ll give it to her. Now, let’s talk about how you’re doing.”

Michael nodded, sighing. “I think we both know I don’t belong here. I don’t remember much about that night, but being locked up in A.D. seg, something must’ve snapped,” he told him honestly. “What I’m trying to say is, I think I’ve had enough of arts and crafts. But that’s your call,” he mumbled but with confidence.

“And the doctors here do say that you’ve been acting fine,” Dr. Remington added. “However, the problem is that if you don’t tell Pope who burned you, he’s gonna lock you back up in A.D. seg. And after a couple of days of that, you’re gonna be right back here.” Dr. Remington took a deep breath. “You need to let me help you. Not for me, but do it for Y/N.”

“She’s ok?” Michael asked.

“You two are in a symbiosis relationship. I don’t know what type of relationship as I know you two will never tell, but I have my ideas and she’s worried about you.” Michael listened intensely. Nodding. “If you want to stay out of the psych ward and see Y/N again, you need to tell Pope who burned you.”

It was that time of day when prisoners could socialise; however, Y/N was not interested. Instead, she focused on keeping to herself. She sat on the edge of her bunk, legs crossed beneath her, holding a book that she’d been trying to read for hours now, though the words blurred together on the page. Her thoughts were consumed with worry for Michael.

It had been days since he got put into A.D.-seg…if he was still there. No news, no updates. Just empty silence. She tried not to imagine the worst, but the ache in her chest only deepened with every passing hour. She missed him – missed their conversations, his touch, missed the way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded in this place.

“How many books have you read since you got here?” a voice said from in front of her cell. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up from her book. Her pulse quickened when she saw him – Michael. He stood at the entrance of her cell, his frame leaning slightly against the door, still recovering from his adventures. But there he was, alive, with a tired but soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Michael,” she whispered, dropping the book and instantly scrambling to her feet. Her emotions surged, crashing against her chest like waves against a cliff. They stood there for a brief moment, eyes locking in silent recognition of everything they’d been through. Relief, love, longing. Everything was there, unspoken but so palpable in the air.

“Are you going to hug me?” he smirked.

“Of course I am,” she responded as he took a step into her cell, and he reached out for her. In one fluid motion, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She melted in him, her hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, her feart pounding in her ears. Her head burrowed into his nape as he held him close.

“Shh, I’m here,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her head. “I’m here.”

Y/N pulled away, hand coming up to cup his cheek which had small stubble on it. Her fingers brushed over his lips and he kissed them.

“Never go away like that,” she mumbled.

He nodded before leaning down and kissing her. Passionate, desperate, like all the lost time and worry had been poured into that single moment.

He didn’t care who saw them or what the guards would think. People were already talking. For once, the prison walls around them dissolved, and all that mattered was that they were together again.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Michael rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as if to make sure she was really there, that this was real.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low but filled with sincerity. “For everything. For the fight in the cafeteria, being thrown to AD-seg then sent to psych ward–“

“–the psych ward?” she whispered.

“I spent my days doing arts and crafts, but I needed to see Haywire to get him to draw the missing map as he remembered.”

“Who?”

“My crazy schizoaffective old cellmate,” he chuckled. “It’s the past.”

“You went on an adventure,” she jested, shaking her head.

“I did, but I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was scared, angry about the plan and I lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that,” he explained, his voice low and empathetic.

Y/N swallowed, blinking back her tears that threatened to spill over. “I was just so worried about you,” she whispered.

“Did you get my gift?” he hummed, tucking her hair behind her ear and bringing her face up to his for a kiss.

“No.”

“Then Dr. Remington is not a good delivery guy,” he chuckled. “However, sweet thing, we are in a relationship. I want that. I want to be with you. When we get out of here, I want you to come with me and Linc. Panama.”

“Panama is beautiful,” she whispered.

“You’ve been?”

“No, but I’ve been around there,” she whispered. Y/N looked down. “You’ve been to receiving, right? To get the watch?”

He nodded.

“My wedding ring and engagement ring are in there. They are worth a lot. If you can get them, we can pawn them and get money,” she told him. “It’s 14k gold and a huge rock.”

He heard her loud and clear. That would make a lot of money.

“Pawning isn’t as easy as dropping off a ring and making money, Y/N. You need ID and then they clear them to see if they’re stolen,” he told her, playing with a strand of hair. “But, we can try.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

Y/N sat at the cold, sterile table in the visitation room, her fingers anxiously tracing the edges of the metal surfaces as she waited. The dum hum of florescent lights overhead seemed to echo the tension that had been building inside her for weeks. Despite everything – the escape plan, Michael, the weight of her sentence – today was about something else. It was about severing the last time she had to a past she’d been trying to escape: Sebastian.

When her divorce lawyer, Mr. Lukas, finally walked in, he looked composed as always. He was a seasoned professional, with salt-and-pepper hair and a calm demeanour that never faltered. He carried a thick manila folder and gave her a small, reassuring nod as he took a seat across from her.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice even. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise. What’s the news?”

Mr. Lukas straightened his glasses and opened the folder, pulling out a stack of papers. “Well, I’ve got an update that might surprise you,” he began, his tone careful. “Sebastian has signed the divorce papers we have served him.”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “He signed them? Willingly?”

“Yes, he signed them without a fight.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined, Sebastian agreeing to the divorce so easily was not one of them. He had been manipulative, possessive and controlling – the type of man who thrived on keeping power over others, especially her. There was no way he would let her go this easily, not without a catch.

“Something’s not right,” she muttered, more to herself than to Mr. Lukas. Her eyes drifted downward, focusing on the papers in his hands, the lines blurring as her mind raced. “He’s up to something. He always as a plan.”

Mr. Lukas offered a sympathetic look, clearly sensing her apprehension. “It does seem surprising, given the history between you two,” he acknowledged. “But from a legal standpoint, this could make the process a lot smoother. You’ve been living separate lives for quite some time now and you have no joint assets. It could be a relatively clean break.”

Y/N nodded, but the gnawing feeling in her gut didn’t subside. Sebastian never did anything unless it benefited him. He was smart, calculating, always one step ahead.

“But…” Mr. Lukas continued, his voice taking on a serious tone, “there’s one potential issue. Mr. Marino has requested a clause to be included in the agreement.”

Y/N’s heart dropped. There it was. The problem she’d been waiting for, the one thing that would complicate everything. “What clause?”

Her lawyer hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Due to your sentence, he has asked for biweekly visitation rights,” Mr. Lukas said, his voice measured. “Here at the prison.”

Y/N froze, her blood turning cold. “Visitation? Why?”

“He claims it’s to ensure you’re well-being,” Mr. Lukas explained, his voice tinged with scepticism. “He framed it as a concern for you, wanting to ‘check in’ on how you’re doing. But I think we both know what’s not what this is about.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. Of course, that wasn’t what it was about. Sebastian didn’t care about her well-being, he cared about control. Even from behind bars, he wanted to maintain his grip on her life. He wanted influence on her.

“He just…wants to keep me under his thumb,” Y/N whispered, more to herself than to her lawyer. “He’s never going to let me go, is he?”

Mr. Lukas’ expression softened with sympathy. “It’s certainly an attempt to maintain some form of control. I’ve seen this kind of tactic before. If we allow it, those visits could be another way for him to manipulate you, emotionally or otherwise.”

“He signed the papers though?”

“This is a clause.”

Y/N thought for a second before nodding. She was escaping soon and Michael promised a life away from the mob.

“He can have it,” she said with shrug. “However, Mr. Lukas, I need a favour.”

“And what’s that?”

“I need you to get a man named Christopher Thomas to make a withdrawal from my bank account. Can you get him to do that?”

Mr. Lukas nodded. “Of course, and who is he?”

“My brother.”

It was another cold day and Y/N was dressed in layers with her hat on as she leaned against one of the walls with Michael talking.

Sucre sauntered in, fresh out of solitary as he hugged his cousin. Michael pushed off the wall to walk to him as well giving him a hug before going back to the group.

“You all can sign each other’s yearbooks later. Where are we at?” T-Bag cut in, ruining the moment.

“The map is complete. I got what I needed,” Michael announced looking over to Sucre and smiling.

“Then we’re ready,” T-Bag grinned.

“Almost.” Michael began to walk a circle back to Y/N. “I know which pipes we need to take beneath psych ward now. Which means our way to the infirmary is clear. With our new route, we’re gonna come up on the fear end of that building.” He nodded towards the building where there was a wire hanging from one side to the wall. “We gotta walk down 30 feet of hallway to get to the doctor’s office. Our exit point. Which means there’s only one piece left to this whole thing. The key to that room.”

“No sweat. That’s all we gotta do is run a bump and grab on a CO like we did last time, grab the keys, make a copy,” C-Note suggested.

“It’s not that easy. Only medical staff have those keys,” Michael says.

“How’re you fixing on getting it then, Pretty?” T-Bag cocked.

“Carefully.”

“No more surprises this time, right?” C-Note hummed.

“Right.”

Just then Abruzzi appeared, coming off the bus dressed in a yellow jumpsuit and a blue jacket. Y/N scanned him over, seeing his new haircut and looking very much alive.

Y/N and Michael walked off together to the corner of the yard. His hand found her lower back as they halted. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the prison yard as Y/N and Michael found a secluded spot away from prying eyes of guards and inmates. Michael leaned against the fence, his expression serious, contrasting sharply with the fading daylight. She leaned against the fence, closing her eyes and taking a breath.

“I think Tweener is a rat,” she said looking at him. “I haven’t told you as you got yourself locked up in the SHU,” she stated.

Michael glanced over. “Explain.”

“Lots of questions about you, your thinking, what you’re planning…us. I think he’s reporting to Bellick.”

Michael nodded. “I figured.” Then he glanced at her and saw her looking ahead. “I need to task you with something.” She glanced back and nodded. “Keys, to the infirmary.”

Y/N crossed her arms, a mix of uncertainty and determination etched on her face. “What do you mean?”

Michael took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I need you to get the keys to the infirmary. Dr. Remington has them, and I think he has a soft spot for you.”

A knot twisted in Y/N’s stomach. “You want me to steal from him? I haven’t stolen in years, Michael.”

“I know,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But you can do this. You have to play it smart. Pretend you need to see him for a blood test.”

“Why a blood test?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Michael looked at her. “I’m going to ask you a personal question,” he whispered and she nodded. “Have you been pregnant before?”

Y/N’s eyes bulged and she stayed quiet. “A year ago,” she whispered, “miscarriage.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded. “What kind of symptoms did you have that indicated pregnancy?”

“Missed period,” she said. “Nausea but no vomiting. Fatigue. My breasts were really sore and got bigger real fast.”

Michael nodded. “Then use those symptoms because we are doing the pregnancy card. Make a lie if they talk about sexual intercourse or activity. Drop my name if you have to.”

“Michael,” she tried.

“You’re a good actress, Y/N. You know how men act, think, talk. If you can manipulate his emotions, he won’t see it coming. Play up fear and vulnerability. I am here for five years, you’re here for twenty-five, if you’re pregnant, the baby will go into the system.”

“I’m on birth control,” she argued.

“Mistakes happen. It doesn’t always work. Plus, you just had it changed, and you haven’t been on it for a while. They lowered your prescription. Chances could be you can get pregnant. Dr. Remington has his figures about us, so it’ll make sense.”

“Where did we have sex, Michael? We never get a time alone. T-Bag caught us and then Bellick.”

“Showers. Ever heard of a quickie? Or selfish sex if you want to go down that route even though I’m not a selfish lover.”

“Ew,” she grimaced. “Ok, I’ll do it.”

“Cry, Y/N. Have a panic attack. But keep it to your normal demeanour. We don’t want him to think something is up.”

He came up to her, arm wrapping around her shoulder/neck, pulling her in. His lips came close to her ear. “Play him like a victim. I love you.”

She nodded, mumbling those words back and pulling away. Michael had done so much for her, she needed to do this for him. For the plan. For the team. For them.

Y/N’s heart raced as she stepped into the sterile environment of the infirmary. The bright fluorescent lights felt harsh against her skin, she forced herself to maintain a composed expression. She had rehearsed her words, and now it was time to put on the performance of a lifetime.

This was life or death.

Dr. Remington was seated at his desk, reviewing some files when he looked up and noticed her. “Y/N,” he said, his tone a mix of surprise and concern. Her eyes closed, as a tear flowed down and she took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you ok?”

“Can we talk?” she whispered, taking a step forward as she played with her trembling hands. “It’s…serious,” she stammered, letting the worry seep into her voice.

“Of course. What’s going on?” His brow furrowed as he stood up and went to the hospital bed and preparing it for her. “Sit down.”

Y/N did, looking down to the ground before whispering. “You can’t tell anyone.” She forced herself to look vulnerable, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

Just then, she heard the doors to the infirmary open and Michael was being escorted into the room by guards. He was here for his insulin shot, but as her eyes darted to her, she closed them letting the tears come a little more. Dr. Remington looked over to Michael who was watching her as he was escorted to the room next door.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he whispered. “Did Scofield do something to you?”

Y/N’s head shot up as she shook it. “No, no. Never.” Then she took a deep breath. “I didn’t think much about it. I was feeling really fatigued and then I thought it was the prison food that was making me nauseous, but then I missed my period.” She paused, looking away as if the words were too heavy to bear. “It wasn’t until I felt my breasts being really sore and they are getting bigger that I knew.”

Dr. Remington’s expression shifted from concern to shock, and she could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Y/N, are you saying you think you might be pregnant?”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I–I don’t know what to do. I can’t have this baby,” she whispered, choking on her words.

“Who’s the father? Were you assaulted?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, it was consensual.”

Dr. Remington leaned back. “Scofield?” Her eyes kept darting to Michael who was watching her, doing his own act due to her emotional reaction. Dr. Remington looked at Michael who was trying to talk to the nurse to let him in the room with her due to her obvious distress. “Does he know that you think you’re pregnant?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “We talked this morning.” Y/N took a deep breath and then looked into Dr. Remington’s eyes. “If I am pregnant…and they make me have this baby, Matt…” she said his first name. “I have twenty-five years on my sentence. Michael’s…only doing five, but do you think he could get custody? The baby…for five years will be in the system. I was part of the system; I know what it’s like. I can’t have that,” she whispered, voice croaking.

“Let’s get you a blood test before we jump to conclusions, Y/N,” he said as he got up to get supplies. “We need to confirm if you’re pregnant because with the change of birth control, this can happen.”

Y/N nodded. “I know my body, Matt. I’ve been here before,” she admitted.

“Ok, let me get supplies,” he said as he walked over to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before holding her hand. “You’re not alone, but Y/N…you should stop having intercourse in a prison. I don’t even know where…” he chuckled, but then he went silent. “Let’s get you tested.”

Y/N sat, wiping her tears as Dr. Remington grabbed a needle and other materials for the blood test. Her eyes went over to Michael who was watching her, intensely while they gave him his insulin test.

�� Dr. Remington did the blood test and as he was finishing up, taking his gloves off Y/N looked at him.

“I feel so alone,” she whispered. “Michael, he’s great, but as the only woman and having no other female friends…”

Dr. Remington sat next to her.

“I can’t have this baby,” she whispered again, trying to catch her breath but soon enough her breath became short and fast.

“Oh, Y/N,” he said, rubbing her arm before eloping her in a hug. “You’re not alone.”

Y/N worked fast, one hand rubbing his arm while the other one went straight into his pocket and grabbed the keys before putting it back in her pocket. She then cried further into his shoulder.

“It’s going to be ok. We will take the necessary steps once we know the truth,” he said pulling away. “We should have the results in 24-48 hours.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Remington.”

“You’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together. Do you need to sit here for a bit or…”

“Michael is there…can I?” she whispered.

He nodded, escorting her into the other room with Michael. Instantly, she ran and gave him a hug, placing the keys into his pocket as he rubbed her back. Dr. Remington watched this, thinking it was all completely real.

“You ok?” Michael whispered into her ear.

“I will be,” she responded, keeping up the act, pulling away. Michael wiped her tears, cupping her cheek. “24-48 hours for the results,” she responded. “We will get through this.”

Dr. Remington paced the small infirmary, his brow furrowed in frustration. He patted his lab coat pockets again, though he had already done so a dozen times. He checked his desk, his drawers, his car…the keys were nowhere to be found. Beside him, Nurse Katie offered a sympathetic glance as she rifled through the desk drawers.

“They’re not here,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you sure you had them earlier?”

Dr. Remington sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. I had them just before I saw Y/N.” His mind began to replay the events of that conversation – her tears, the trembling voice, the fear of being pregnant. He had been so caught up in comforting her, his guard had been completely down.

Katie raised a brow. “Y/N? Like Scofield’s girl or rumoured to be?”

He nodded, the gears in his mind beginning to turn. “She came to me, convinced me she might be pregnant. I…” he paused. “I hugged her.” Realisation occurred. “I had the keys when I entered that room.”

Katie straightened, her face reflecting the same understanding. “Do you think she…?”

“I don’t think,” Remington muttered, the weight of the situation sinking in. “I know.” He headed toward his desk, pulling open a drawer with a sharp yank. “I’m going to accelerate her blood test results. If she was lying about the pregnancy… But why would Scofield be involved…?” he whispered.

Katie frowned. “You think she faked the whole thing just to get the keys?”

“That’s exactly what I think.” His voice was firm, and without missing a beat, he picked up the phone to call maintenance “Get someone to change the locks. Immediately.”

Kaite stood frozen for a moment, then hurried off to help as Dr. Remington started running through Y/N’s bloodwork. His heart sank as the results popped up faster than expecting, confirming his suspicions – no pregnancy. His jaw tightened, both in disappointment and concern. Y/N had fooled him, but why? Was Scofield involved? Was it his idea?

Minutes later, he sat in deep though, Michael entered the infirmary for his scheduled second insulin shot of the day. His usual calm demeanour did little to mask the tension in the air. Remington glanced up at him, his eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion burning at the edges of his thoughts. Michael greeted him with a nod, his face carefully neutral.

“Afternoon, Doc,” Michael said, rolling up his sleeve for the shot.

Dr. Remington prepped the syringe silently, his mind racing. As he did so, Michael casually placed something on the desk – keys.

Remington’s eyes flicked to the keys, recognition instantly firing in his brain. The very one that had gone missing. Before he could speak, Katie entered the room, spotting them. “Dr. Remington, your keys!” she said, picking them up from the desk and handing them to him.

He took them, his grip tightening around the metal, and stared at Michael as he administered the insulin shot. “Thanks, Katie,” he said, his voice laced with a odd mix of gratitude and suspicion.

“Also, the maintenance guy is here. Do you still want the locks changed?” she asked looking at Dr. Remington.

Dr. Remington looked at Michael who stared at him, eyes narrowed. He licked his lips, trying to see if Michael would crack. Then he nodded. “Yes, send them in.”

Michael went frozen, eyes open as he stared at Remington. The locks would be changed.

As Dr. Remington pressed the plunger of the syringe, he couldn’t shake the unease settling in his chest. He knew. Michael and Y/N had orchestrated this. His disappointment was palpable, but so was his curiosity. Why did they need his keys? What were they planning.

As Michael finished his shot and rolled his sleeve back down, Dr. Remington leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering on the man in front of him. “Y/N’s pregnancy test came back negative,” he said.

Michael’s brows furrowed. “You said they’ll take 24-48 hours to go through,” he said confused.

“I accelerated them.” Then he scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “You know,” he began slowly, leaning closer to Michael, “there are only a few reasons why someone would need keys to this place.”

Michael’s face remained calm, unreadable.

“And then I remembered,” Dr. Remington continued, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur, “Y/N is an addict. Dilaudid, right?” Then he smirked. “However, I didn’t take you as the junkie type.”

Michael’s eyes flickered, for a moment, but Remington caught it. He was not accusing him of anything outright, but the weight of the statement hung between them like a question answered.

“No, sir. I never have and never will dabble in that.” Michael stood, his tone polite and firm. “Thanks for the shot, Doc. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Remington watched him leave, the unease deepening in his gut.

However as Michael left, Remington called his name. “Do I need to tell Y/N about her test result?”

Michael stood. “It might be wise as she is quite upset.”

It was happening tonight. With Bellick in the hole, they had to leave that night and Michael tasked her one final thing.

And she feels like she is back in her old habits – fooling, manipulating and ruining the crowd.

Y/N sat in the infirmary, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for Dr. Remington to return with her test results. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of medical equipment did little to calm her. When Dr. Remington finally entered, holding a file in his hands, his expression was unreadable. He pulled up a chair across from her and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“Y/N,” he began, looking at her with a seriousness that sent a chill down her spine. “Your pregnancy results came back, and I am happy to say that you’re not pregnant. However, you knew that,” he stated, looking up. He placed the chart behind him and then clasped his hands in front of him. “I know what you did and I wonder if you’re honest enough to admit it,” he stated. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been acting – putting on a show just like your file said. I didn’t believe the file, thinking you’re innocent but you’re an actress.”

Y/N froze, her stomach twisting into knots. “They keys,” she whispered, looking down.

He nodded. “What are you after? Drugs? Needles?” his tone grew harsher. “Are you falling back into old habits.”

Y/N looked down. “I’ve been clean for ten years,” she whispered before meeting his eye. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before gaining the confidence. “No. I am not after drugs or needles.”

“Then enlighten me,” he spat.

She stared at him for a few moments before nodding in acknowledgement. “Michael, Lincoln and I are breaking out tonight,” she said with confidence, “and I need your help.”

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed.

“Michael and Lincoln are getting out tonight and I am going with them,” she said. “Lincoln is innocent. He has been framed. And for me, the longer I stay, the closer to my death date I will be. My ex-husband is out to kill me.”

Remington sat back, his face pale. He held a hand out as he pinched his nose. “Stop talking, Y/N, for your own good.”

She ignored his wishes. “I never wanted to involve you, believe me.” Y/N leaned forward, desperation creeping into her voice. “But now you know, and you can help us. I just need you to forget to lock up. That’s all. I don’t need you to do anything else. Just forget.”

Remington shook his head, standing up abruptly. “Do you realise what you’re asking me? This is aiding and abetting a prison break. I’m legally required to report everything you’ve just said.”

Y/N quickly stood up, grasping his hand, her eyes wide with desperation. “Please, just listen to me. I know why you took this job. You’re not a man who wants to be part of the system that crushes people. You want to be part of the solution, not the problem. An innocent man is going to die.” Her voice softened, pleading. “That’s why you’re here, in this prison, working with people like us.”

Remington’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering down to her hand on his arm. “This will destroy my career, Y/N. Do you understand that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice steady. “I’m asking you to make a mistake. Not to hurt anyone, not to steal anything. Just forget to lock up. That’s it.”

There was a long, heavy silence between them as the weight of her words hung in the air. Dr. Remington’s eyes darkened with understanding as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

“You’re–You’re getting out of here?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” she said.

His face twisted in frustration. “Everything you’ve done, every tear, touch, word – has it all been a act?”

Y/N hesitated, the vulnerability in her eyes breaking through the façade. “At first yes, but Matt–“

“Don’t.”

“You mean a lot to me as this progressed and I will say that you’re a good friend of mine, but it is killing me that you will never believe that. However, I didn’t know about the plan until I fell in love with Michael and him for me. I can have a life away from the mob, away from Sebastian. I’ve been in this mess since I was fifteen, and if I don’t get out now, they’ll ruin me. The murders. The deals. The crimes. They will pin it all on me when really I was just a good wife.”

Dr. Remington stood, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He walked to the door, gripping the handle. His face was a mix of anger, fear and conflict.

“I can give you money,” she said.

Dr. Remington turned around. “I don’t want your mob money, Y/N. I want the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Did you do it? The six murders? The seduction, the hotel. Did you pick up these men in speakeasies across the country and murder them in their hotel bathroom with a knife? The clean cut on the neck and the messages on the mirror with red lipstick, warning them of their crimes? I read your file.” His voice was so sincere, wanting to know.

“They hurt people,” she said seconds later. “I made sure they’d never hurt someone again.”

Remington nodded. “You’re asking me to break the law, Y/N.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m asking you to make a mistake.”

“Would you murder someone again if I do let you go?” he asked.

“It was either my life or theirs. I promise to never touch a knife or a gun again,” she said. “On my mother’s grave.”

“How much did they pay you for the murders?”

“Six million for all six,” she said.

“Where’s the money?”

“With my brother.”

“Cash?”

“Never touched a bank account. It’s dirty money, Matt. I can send you–“

“I don’t want your money.”

He grasped the door, the weight of words pressing on him like a heavy burden.

“Does Scofield know the truth?” he whispered.

“He knows enough to not get him killed,” she responded. “I love him. I really love him.”

Remington nodded, opening the door and slamming the door behind him, leaving her there in the infirmary…alone with the truth out.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I tried to edit it.

I was falling asleep.

Sorry for the lack of response.

Enjoy!

Ava <3

Taglist:

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

@enha-stars @wonuskie @believeinthefireflies95 @esposadomd @peachmartini

#michael scofield imagine #michael scofield smut #michael scofield fanfiction #michael scofield #michael scofield x reader #michael scofield angst #prison break imagine #prison break #prison break fanfiction #prison break x reader #lincoln burrows #lincoln burrows x reader

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jojo0039 · 1 year ago

Text

Fox River - Pilot Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or plot of prison break. I only own Jessica, Jason, and my other add-ons. **

Jessica is in her car heading to the station. She has a lot on her mind. Her ex-husband's execution is coming up and she keeps getting calls from his son wanting to talk. Just then her radio comes on.

"We have a 132 in progress at the Chicago National Savings Bank. All officials closest please respond." Jessica snaps to attention.

She is only two blocks over. She turns on her lights and races over to the bank. She gets out and spots the officer in charge.

" What do we got?" she asks showing her badge to the officer.

"One man armed, he already has the money but hasn't left let. We heard gunshots, but nothing else." the officer tells her.

"OK go ahead and try to make contact." she says to him grabbing her gun and standing behind the police car.

" This is the police." the officer says into the speaker.

"You are completely surrounded. Drop your weapon and come out with your hands on your head!" he speaks loudly.

Jessica holds her breath and prepares for the worst.

She sees that the man drops his weapons and heads to the officer.

"OK follow my lead." she says to him as they step inside.

She prepares for a fight but is not prepared for who is in front of her.

She stops dead in her tracks in surprise.

"Michael?" she asks in shock as she sees her smart and successful ex-brother-in-law standing in front of her.

She watches as the officer handcuffs him and leads him to the car.

2 days later, she is sitting in the middle aisle of the courtroom where Michael is having his hearing. She sees that her younger sister is representing him. She looks over when the door opens and sees LJ walk in. He quickly spots her and sits down beside her.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" she whispers to him.

He just shakes his head and engulfs her in a hug. She puts her arm around him and hugs him to her tightly. She listens on as the hearing starts.

"Rarely for an armed robbery do we hear a plea of no contest." The judge says before looking over to Michael.

"Are you sure about this Mr. Scofield?" she asks him.

Jess looks over at him to see what he would say.

"I'm sure your honor." he says with certainty.

Jess looks at him in confusion but holds her breath as her sister speaks up.

"Your honor we would like to recess. My client is not thinking right at the moment." Jessica still gets angry from hearing Veronica's voice.

LJ looks up at her.

"What's happening? Why is Uncle Mike not doing anything to defend himself?" he asks her with a look that breaks her heart.

Poor kid, having to see his father in prison, now his uncle too.

"I don't know kid. I don't know." she whispers to him.

She hears the judge declare recess and looks up and sees the defeated look on her sister as Michael looks over at the two of them.

LJ stands up as they start to lead Michael out.

"Uncle Mike?" LJ pleads as Michael looks over at him.

"I didn't want you to come." he tells him softly.

"Go home LJ. Jess make sure he gets home please?" he asks her looking at her.

"I didn't want you to see this. Neither of you." he says as the bailiff leads him out.

Jess watches with a heavy heart as they take him back.

She wraps her arm around LJ and pulls him out of the room.

"I need you to stay here for a second. Then I'll take you home OK." she says leading him to the waiting room.

"It's OK Jess. I wanna walk to clear my head." he tells her before giving her another tight hug.

"It was good to see you. I miss you." he whispers

She hugs him back.

"I miss you too kid. Every day." she says back.

He lets go of her and backs away and heads outside.

Jessica starts walking back to the holding cells.

She catches up with Veronica and Michael.

"He is not going to take this well." she hears him say.

She scoffs before walking around the bailiff to walk beside Veronica.

"Can you blame him." she says glaring at the both of them.

"He's your nephew. He's starting to think anyone he attaches himself to is going to wind up in prison." Jess says as Michael goes into the cell.

"He's not the only one starting to feel that way Michael." Veronica says as the bailiff locks him in.

"Can you give us a minute please?" Veronica asks him.

He nods and walks away so he isn't in hearing distance.

"What are you thinking?" Jess asks him.

" Ronnie just did everything she could but you just threw that book right into the judge's hands didn't you." Jess states lecturing him.

Veronica glances at her in shock. It has been a while since Jess defended or complimented her.

"I know." Michael says looking at both of them.

"Will you please tell us what is going through your head?" Veronica asks wanting to know why he is making this easy.

"We've all been over this." Jess rolls her eyes.

"We have known you our entire lives. You do not have a lying bone in your body." Veronica says to him.

"And we all know you definitely didn't need the money." Jess inputs..

"Guys please." Michael pleads.

"You both have been good to me my whole life. Jess you have been the best sister-in-law a guy can ask for and Veronica you have been an amazing best friend. But you both have to just let me do this please." he tells the both of them.

Jess just looks at him with tears in her eyes.

She turns around and walks out without another word to either of them.

#lincoln burrows #prison break fanfiction #michael scofield #prison break #jessica donovan

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rurousha · 2 years ago

Text

From Fox River to Central City, Ch 13/14

Chapter 13 - Going Home

1 – Team Flash & Legends, Mick-1 & Palmer 2 – Mayor Snart, clearly the most crooked here 4 – Cold-4, retired 11 – Killer Cold & Heatwave, bad guys 16 – Cold-16 & Sara-16, thieves 19 – Leonard-19 & Mick-19, smugglers 22 – Snart-22 & Rory-22, cyborg survivors 27 – Len-27 & Mickey-27, freedom fighters 29 – Michael-29, Lincoln, Veronica, & LJ, criminals but the good guys? 30 – Scofield-30, structural engineer 53 – Leo & Ray, 4-ever

Leo and Joe arrived too late. Leonard-19 was pretty banged up but alive. Cold-16 was pissed he missed the fight. Mayor Snart was not.

But it was when Ray returned with Rory-22 that had people rushing to comfort him.

“Mick, I am so sorry.”

Rory just snorted at them. Then he rubbed his hands together and formed a magical heat between them. “You squishies and your thermal sensitivities. Don’ know how you survive anything.”

Then he held his hands against the block of ice that held his partner. It steamed and quickly melted into a puddle. Snart-22 regained his footing and just looked evenly at everyone.

“You all didn’t think something like the cold would kill me, did you? No don’t –.”

Barry hugged him.

Michael and Lincoln stood shoulder to shoulder, happy to be alive.

The next morning, Cold-16 cracked his eyes open when he heard quiet arguing just outside the med bay. Well, relatively quiet, considering that one of the people was Mick.

“No.”

“Come on, Mick, this’ll be good for both of you.” That was Palmer for sure.

“You’ve been talking to Leo again,” Mick argued. “That’s good for none of me.”

“Just, just go.” Palmer tried to shove Mick-1 towards the doorway. Mick shoved back. Palmer slapped Mick’s chest in retaliation. Mick slapped back. A lot harder.

“Owwww, Mick.”

“You idiots know I can see you, right?” Cold-16 said. “Because you are only 10.3 feet away from me.”

“Really? Looks more like 8.8 to me,” Palmer said.

“I’m counting from my center of mass, Raymond, you pedantic nerd, not the end of the bed.”

“Oh, then yeah, 10.3.”

“Glad we agree for a change. Did you two want something?”

Palmer gave Mick a pointed look, and Mick finally slunk into the room. He took a seat next to Cold and glowered at Palmer until he left.

“So, uh, Haircut seems to think we should have a heart-to-heart,” Mick muttered.

“We don’t have hearts,” Cold immediately replied. It was an easy, familiar response, and it contrarily made him feel calmer to have Mick’s doppelganger so close to him.

“Yeah, that line don’t really work with Ray. Punching don’t really work with Ray.”

“If you’ve got something to say, Mick, then say it.”

“Just that your me… sounds like he died killin’ the Time Bastards.”

Cold nodded.

“Then it was probably for the best,” Mick said. “’Cause things weren’t ever going back to the way they were before. With us. Too much happened.”

“You mean how I pressed you into a mission that wasn’t ours, how we betrayed each other over and over, and you got tortured and brain washed into being the Time Masters’ puppet until only your hate for me could snap you out of it? That was the ‘too much’ that happened to you? Because that’s what happened over on Earth-16.”

“Yeah, ‘bout the same.”

“I know Mick. We weren’t coming back from that.”

“What I’m supposed to tell you is that… I always thought we’d go down in a blaze of fire or a rain of bullets. But then you died – died to save me – and I got a better life than I ever deserved out of it. So if your Mick died to save you, then maybe you could pull your head out of your ass and get that better life too.”

Cold barked a surprised laugh. “That’s what you came in here to say?”

Mick counted off with his fingers. “You died a hero… made me a better person… head out of your ass. Yeah, that’s it. Ray made me practice.”

“Ray again,” Cold-16 drawled. “Seems like you’ve got a new partner after all.”

“Only ever had one partner. But I got an alright crew.”

Cold quirked up a mocking smile. A little one. “Maybe I’ll have to give them another shot.”

“They got a lot better once Sara became captain.”

“Oh thank god. I hated Rip.”

“And on that ringing endorsement, gentlemen,” a new voice said, “it is time to get off your very fine posteriors! We got work to do.”

Both men turned to see not just Palmer but Sara Lance, the Black Raven, and Sara Lance, the White Canary in the doorway.

“We ready to go, Boss?” Mick asked and stood.

“No more vacations for you two,” Sara-1 agreed. “We’ve got a bunch of magic rocks, so we gotta kill a time demon.”

“Never mind,” Cold-16 said. “I’m never leaving Central again.”

Michael stood in the cortex, looking at the displays Dr. Snow had up on the computers on the walls. His knowledge of genome comparisons was only rudimentary, but the gist of what she was saying was obvious.

“They don’t match.”

“No,” Dr. Snow agreed.

“Not even 25 percent.” A 25 percent match would still make sense, was still possible given all of Michael’s suspicions.

“No.”

“I understand. Could you not bring this up with Lincoln?”

Dr. Snow chewed on her lower lip. “Honestly, I was debating whether to bring it up with either one of you. After all, proving fraternity isn’t why I took these samples, and it’s really not any of my business. But if you know, then it becomes less my staying out of it and more actively keeping a secret from Lincoln.”

“Which you’re not willing to do.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

“So if I don’t tell him, you will.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I understand. Will you leave all this up? I’ll do it now.”

“Of course.” She squeezed Michael’s shoulder briefly. “Good luck.”

She left, and Michael went to find Lincoln. Better to get this over with. He brought him back to the cortex and closed the door for a bit of privacy.

“What’d you want to show me? We’re missing breakfast, and you know the Micks will eat all the donuts if we don’t get there soon.”

“I wanted to show you something that Dr. Snow found. You know she took DNA samples from everyone.”

“Yeah. She wanted to see if we were genetically identical to our doppelgangers. So what?”

“So… we are. Except for evidence of degradation due to age and variation typical among different worlds, we’re all identical.”

“I guess that’s nice. What’s the point?”

“But, Lincoln, the other doppelgangers out there – Leonard and Mick – they’re not brothers. And genetically, biologically, we’re not either.”

Lincoln slowly sat down and stared at Michael, brow furrowed. “We’re not brothers.”

“Of course we are, Linc. Just, one of us is adopted.”

“Me, you mean. I remember Mom being pregnant with you, so I’m adopted. I guess… that makes sense. Mom was always kind of distant with me. We never clicked like you and she did. I thought we just didn’t have a lot in common. I guess I was right.”

“Lincoln, that’s not true.”

“And you knew this already, didn’t you? You’ve known for a while.”

Michael hesitated, which was the same as answering. “I… suspected. We just have some traits that… don’t match up.”

“Like our eyes.”

“What?”

“One of the other Snarts said, ‘With those eyes?’ Honestly, I wasn’t positive he wasn’t hitting on me. But, within a few minutes of meeting him, he knew we weren’t related.”

“Lincoln, this doesn’t have to mean anything.” Michael knelt down in front of Lincoln. “You are my brother. I love you. You are the only family that matters to me. I didn’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

“Michael… you are some kind of moron, you know that? Come here.”

Lincoln led Michael downstairs to what had been converted to the mess hall. They looked over the room from the vantage point of the stairs. Three pairs of Snarts and Rorys were there. Cold-16 and Mick-1 were huddled together, plotting what appeared to be a heist. Snart-22 threw a piece of bagel at his partner when Rory stole his donut. Len and Mickey-27 were getting into an argument that looked like it might turn violent soon.

“Look at them, Michael. None of them ever thought they were brothers, but they are. We are. It’s been the two of them – the two of us – across the multiverse. Which is crazy, by the way. All of this is crazy. Just so long as that’s said. But my point is, little brother, that the good doctor’s tests don’t change anything. Okay?”

Michael nodded and chose not to say anything. If he did, he was afraid it would end up horribly sentimental. But he did lean over to drop his forehead against Lincoln’s shoulder, more relieved than he could express.

The arguing Mickey finally took a swing at Len, who ducked under it to knee Mickey in the ribs. The two started tussling in earnest, and the other pairs yelled both encouragements and complaints.

“You think we should break that up?” Michael asked.

“I’m not getting in there,” Lincoln said. “Those guys are armed.”

“At least our arguments never involved fire or bullets.”

“See, we’re really not that bad.”

Then a napkin dispenser caught on fire. No one was sure which Rory was responsible.

Barry was tired but not like he had been for the last several days. It was that bone-deep weariness that came after a big fight and a full ten hours of sleep that told him everyone was alive and safe, and it was time to relax his muscles and his mind. It felt like he could happily just eat, sleep, and watch TV for three straight days.

But he still had work, and he wanted to check in on Cisco – the crazy one from Earth-11 – before going in.

Barry walked into the pipeline just in time to hear a shout. He found Caitlin locked in the pipeline cell with Cisco-11.

“I can’t see!” Cisco shouted. He threw a hairbrush at Caitlin, and she had to duck out of its way. “You can’t keep me in here, I can’t see!”

Barry ran over to the controls and opened the door. Caitlin rushed out, crying, and Barry ran in to keep Cisco from escaping. Cisco struggled and shouted “You’re not Barry” over and over.

Not wanting to hurt him, Barry released Cisco, who fled to the corner of his cell and curled up into a whimpering ball on the floor.

“I can’t see I can’t see I can’t see,” Cisco muttered.

At a loss, Barry backed out of the cell and closed the door behind him. He went over to Caitlin, who was sobbing quietly against the wall. Caitlin almost never cried, and the sight upset Barry more than he wanted to admit.

“Caitlin, what happened?” Barry asked.

“I was stupid,” she said. She rubbed at her eyes. “I came in to give him breakfast. He seemed fine, so I decided to help him clean up and brush his hair and he seemed completely fine with it. He just sat and ate and was fine but then he started shouting, and I don’t know what set him off.”

Caitlin wasn’t much of a crier or a hugger, but these were some pretty extreme circumstances. He gave her a light hug around her shoulders and let her finish her tears.

“I know. I know it’s hard to see him like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Everyone filtered into the commissary for breakfast shortly after. The mood was considerably more amicable and upbeat than it had been just yesterday. Michael realized that this was the first time that everyone had been in a room together. There were three Micks, seven Leonards, two different Rays, Barry, Iris, Cisco, Caitlin, two Saras, Lincoln, Veronica, LJ, and Michael himself. Even Michael’s doppelganger from Earth-30 was there, talking quietly with Mickey-27.

It was loud enough and busy enough that Veronica had to lean over their table to them to say, “Linc, should we be worried that Cold-4 is over there teaching your son how to get out of handcuffs.”

“What?” Lincoln leaned to the side to see them. “Huh. I don’t know whether to break that up or join in the lesson.”

“Could be a useful skill,” Michael agreed.

Then Sara walked into the room. Not Sara Lance. It was Sara Tancredi. Michael felt his heart rate pick up, and he couldn’t help but stare. Her red hair was graying, and the lines around her mouth had deepened, but she still held herself up tall as she surveyed the room.

She was absolutely breathtaking.

She smiled when her husband – Cold-4 – stood to hug her, and she kissed him easy as anything.

The Flash from Earth-4 shuffled in behind her, looking apologetic at Cold-4.

“Sorry, Leonard,” he said. “She insisted.”

“Mikey, what’re you staring at?” Lincoln asked. Then he turned. “Holy hell, is that Dr. Tancredi?”

“Yeah.”

“Michael, go talk to her.”

“I don’t think so.”

Lincoln elbowed Michael in the ribs, Michael shoved his hands off, Lincoln shoved back, and somehow Michael ended up across the room, standing next to the sixty year old doppelganger of the woman he fell in love with just a few months ago.

“Well, hello handsome,” she said to him. “You look rather like the man I married. I wonder whatever happened to him?”

“He got old and bitter,” Cold-4 answered. “Don’t worry; I’m sure being married to you had nothing to do with that.”

Sara smacked her husband upside the head. Their easy teasing and happy smiles were completely foreign to Michael. The Sara he was used to carried a constant worry and sadness with her. It was probably for the best that he remind himself that this wasn’t his Sara and this wasn’t a future for him.

“Hello Sara. I’m Michael.” He held up his hand to shake hers.

She smacked his hand away, said, “Don’t be silly,” and wrapped him up in a hug. “It’s very good to meet you, Michael.”

Michael held her around the torso and silently told his Sara goodbye.

Barry got off work mid-afternoon and decided to check on Cisco-11 before his Cisco. He entered the pipeline entrance, expecting another outburst. Instead, he found Cisco-11 washing his hands in the sink over the toilet.

“Uh, hey Cisco.”

“Hey Barr.”

“You feeling better?”

“Better? Oh, did I freak out on you earlier?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad.”

“Yeah, I do that sometimes.”

“So, if I open this door, are you going to freak out again?”

Cisco shrugged and made a noise that roughly translated to ‘I don’t know’.

“Guess that’ll have to do.” Barry opened the door to Cisco’s cell and stepped in with him. After a bit of awkward shuffling, they both sat cross-legged on the floor.

“We need like a bench or something in these,” Cisco said.

“We really do,” Barry agreed.

“So, what’re you going to do with me?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet. It’s not like we can let you go. You could breach anywhere and start killing again.”

“To be fair, I never killed anyone. Cold did.”

“But you helped him. You encouraged him. I heard you, Cisco, telling him to kill Leonard. I’ve never heard you sound like that, Cisco. It scared me.”

Cisco shrugged again and refused to look at Barry. “Killer Cold’s dead. I think that’s enough for me.”

Barry buried his face in his hands. “What happened, Cisco?”

“You died.”

“Yeah, we figured that part out. The three of you were trying to kill Leonard Snart’s doppelgangers to protect all versions of me, which is insane and doesn’t make any sense, by the way, but we still don’t know why.”

Cisco looked at the floor. “It was his fault,” he said softly. He curled in on himself again, and his voice started to strain. “You died, and it was his fault. And my fault.”

“No, Cisco. I can’t claim to know what really happened to you, but I know you would do anything to help me.”

“I failed you, Barry. You died.”

“No, Cisco, please, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me.”

“Yes, he did.”

Both Cisco and Barry looked up to find that they had gained an audience. Michael Scofield from Earth-30, the one that had barely said a word throughout this whole mess, came up and knelt beside the distraught Cisco.

“You did fail him. But killing these people won’t make up for it. Nothing you do can ever make up for it.”

Confused, Barry let Cisco lean towards Scofield.

“Then what do I do?”

Scofield shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know at all. But… if you’ll let me, I’ll help you find out.” He looked at Barry this time. “He can come with me. I’ll take care of him.”

Cisco of Earth-1 had spent most of the day in the speed lab avoiding his doppelganger and breaching people home. Thankfully, Flash-4 had come to get his supervillain and saved Cisco that extra headache.

“Alright gentleman and Rory, here’s your stop. Earth-22.” Cisco’s breach stabilized. “Please keep your arms to your sides as you disembark.”

“Thanks for the loot, geeks,” Rory said as he slung a backpack onto his shoulder. It was weighed heavily down. He hopped through the portal without a backwards glance.

“That backpack was full of Hostess treats, right?”

Snart-22 stepped up beside Cisco. “There were definitely baked goods in there, yes.”

“That was ominously open-ended.”

Snart smiled fondly, and Cisco realized that it was the first time he had seen anything other than a neutral scowl on his face.

“I don’t suppose I could get the specs to that cold gun?” Snart-22 asked. “I might get it worked into my arm.”

“One, no. Two, I designed that gun, and no one else can handle its intricacies, okay? Okay.”

Snart gave Cisco a meaningful smirk. “Well, then it’s a good thing I only trust my bio-mechanical engineering to the very best. I’m sure my guy could handle it.”

That sounded an awful lot like Cisco’s doppelganger was Snart’s engineer. Cisco gave his best attempt at a smirk back. It came across as mostly sweetly proud. “You think your guy could handle my tech?”

“I know he could.”

“He’s that smart?”

“He’s brilliant. Creative. Good looker, too. Great hair.”

“Well,” Cisco practically preened. “I might consider sending the plans over. Don’t suppose he’s anyone I’d know.”

“You might have heard of him.” Snart picked up his own bag and sauntered towards the portal. “Hartley Rathaway.”

“Oh you son of a - !”

Michael and Lincoln sat on the ledge in the speed lab. They said goodbye to Mayor Snart as he left for Earth-2 and watched Scofield-30 leave with Cisco-11. (There was no way that would turn out well.)

Barry and Sara-16 entered, hovering over Cold-16 as he entered the speed lab. Once Cisco opened the portal to Earth-16, everyone was surprised when someone immediately stepped through it to their side.

It was the Flash.

“Oh, uh, hi. Flash,” Barry stumbled.

“Flash,” Flash-16 said back, smirking in amusement. He didn’t look quite the same. He was more muscular than Barry and a little shorter. But he looked at Cold-16. “Snart.”

“Hey, kid. Come all this way just for me?”

“I did. Are we going to have to fight before I take you to Iron Heights?”

Cold-16 hissed in through his teeth as if thinking over the question. Then he nodded towards the sling. “Four cracked ribs and a broken clavicle. Not today, I think.”

Flash-16 cringed in sympathy. To Sara-16, he said, “Go ahead. The team’s waiting for you guys.”

Sara helped Cold-16 through the breach.

Barry smiled at Flash-16 and held out his hand. “Barry Allen.”

Flash-16 smiled and shook it. “Barry Allen.”

“Oh yeah? You look like my dad.”

“Really?”

“Well, like he did thirty or forty years ago.”

“That makes more sense.”

“So, you’re taking Cold to jail?”

“Yes. He has a lot of outstanding warrants. I don’t know what happened here, but it doesn’t change that.”

Barry nodded. “I understand. The Leonard from this Earth… there was a lot of bad in him. But there was a lot of good too. In the end, the good won out. It did for a lot of them here.”

Flash-16 looked down at his feet. “I thought that too, once, about Snart. I was thrilled when he went with the Legends a few years back. I thought maybe he was starting to believe in the good in him too. But when he came back…” Flash-16 shook his head. “He lashed out at a lot of people. He was worse than I’d ever seen him. Worse than he was before he was Captain Cold.”

Barry fidgeted a bit. “Maybe you could give him one more chance. He worked through some things here. I think he might surprise you after all.”

“I hope so. But it’ll have to wait. He’s got a lot of time to serve at Iron Heights.”

“Meaning he’ll be out as soon as his clavicle heals.”

“Obviously.”

The two laughed at their own joke.

“Hey chuckleheads,” Cisco interrupted, “this breach isn’t keeping itself open, you know.”

“Sorry, Vibe,” Flash-16 said. Then he saluted at Barry. “Flash.”

Barry waved. “Flash.”

The Flash left, and Cisco closed the breach. Then Cisco cracked his knuckles. “Alright. Who’s next?”

“I guess that’s us,” Lincoln stepped up. Cautiously, he asked, “Where to then? Are you dropping us off at Fox River?”

Barry and Cisco smiled at each other.

“Actually,” Cisco said, “we’ve got something to show you.”

Confused, Lincoln and Michael followed them back to the cortex. Veronica and LJ were already there, talking to Caitlin Snow and Iris West, and they smiled at them as soon as they walked in. Veronica came over and hugged Lincoln.

“Hi, V. What’s… what’s goin’ on?”

“We’re going to be free, Lincoln.” She pulled back to smile at him again.

“What do you mean?”

Barry was the one that answered. “I overheard you say that you’ve got a setup in Panama? So that’s where we’re going to drop you off.”

Michael’s heart stuttered. That was it? They were going to let them go? No prison. No death row. No escape with too many sacrifices and too many compromises. Just Panama with a dive shop and 50 cent beers. Could it really be that easy?

It was Lincoln that voiced Michael’s thoughts. “What? Panama? You’re just going to open that breach to Panama, and we can just leave?”

“Of course not,” Iris said, and Michael froze. “We aren’t just going to leave you like that. Here.” She handed Michael a silver device that glowed blue. “This will open a small breach to here if you ever need us. It also acts as a communicator.” Then she held up a thumb drive. “Our friend Felicity wrote this computer virus for you. We’ve used it before. It erases a person’s digital history. Birth records, video footage, criminal history… Plug this into any computer with internet access, and the four of you will effectively cease to exist.”

Michael had to sit down. He rubbed a hand over his face.

Then Veronica said, “There is a catch, Lincoln. This will destroy any digital evidence that we could use to exonerate you. If we use this, we won’t ever be able to prove you’re innocent or that it was Terrence Steadman and the Vice President that did this to you.”

“But no one will be able to prove he was guilty,” Michael said. “All that will be left will be hard copies, which you said were destroyed, and people’s memories, which will fade as soon as we’re not breaking news anymore. We’ll be free.”

“So, the question is, do we want to go after answers and some justice of our own,” LJ said, “or do we want to be free.”

Lincoln stepped forward and took the thumb drive. “No question on my part. I want my family safe.” He hugged his son and ruffled his hair. “Panama. Beaches and surfboards and local girls. Think you can handle that?”

“And school,” Veronica added. “You’re going back to school.”

LJ nodded into his dad’s chest. “I can handle that. School and all.”

Michael stood and approached Barry. “Why would you do this for us?”

Barry’s smile turned a little sad. “My dad served 15 years in Iron Heights for a crime he didn’t commit. I’m not going to let that happen to anyone else.”

For once, Michael acted impulsively and enveloped Barry in a hug.

“Oh, we’re hugging,” Barry startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Michael and happily returned the hug.

“Why does Barry always get the credit?” Cisco complained. “I did most of the work, and I am so huggable. Speaking of, there’s one more thing.”

Everyone broke apart to give their attention to Cisco.

“What is it?” Michael asked.

“New identities. I’m making you passports. You’re all from L.A. now, by the way. I just need your new names.”

Michael thought. He thought of Killer Cold and Heatwave looking out for each other when they were at their absolute worst. He thought of Cold and Sara desperately trying to grieve Mick. He thought of Len and Mickey settling their fight with their fists and Mayor Snart begging forgiveness from his sister. He thought of Mick becoming a hero with the Legends and Leo getting a happy ending with Ray. He thought of Captain Cold keeping an eye on his retired Rogues and their families while Sara – older and still so beautiful – kept an eye on him. He thought of Snart and Rory watching each others’ backs and Leonard and Mick smuggling refugee metas to safety.

He thought of his own family, safe and free at last.

“Leonard Snart.”

#from fox river to central city #cw's the flash #the flash #dc #prison break #crossover #fanfiction

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barnesbabee · 4 years ago

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[B]reeding Kink || C.S

[ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴇ��ᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʙ]

Summary: He broke into your house, and now he’s breaking you. (it's not fucking consentual non-con it's just inmate!San istg)

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: my fairy godmother said it was 4311 words

Genre: Smut

⚠ mention of drugs, breeding kink, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, inmate!San ⚠

You woke up with loud banging on your door. It was so sudden, you didn’t know what time it was, what was happening, or where you were. It took you a quick second to scan your surroundings.

It was 2am, or so said the clock on your bedside table, and you were sitting up in your bed, startled and confused about the booming sound echoing through your house.

You got up from the bed and hurriedly wrapped your robe around your body, however, just as you were getting to the living room to look through the peephole, the door burst open. You covered your mouth with your hand to prevent any noise from coming out and hid behind the sofa, praying to whatever wanted to help you that he hadn’t seen you.

You closed your eyes tightly and started breathing heavily as you heard the loud footsteps roam around your house.

It was hard to breathe and you felt as if someone was pressing on your chest.

You opened your eyes slowly and peeked behind the couch. You could see a man… His appearance wasn’t clear as the whole place was dark, the only thing illuminating the room being the moon. He had a broad back and dark hair, that you noticed, and he wore heavy, black boots, that left a trail of dirt wherever he walked.

Who was he? What did he want? Why was he in your apartment?

You hid back and waited until you could no longer hear him.

The silence of his steps felt unsettling… Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and it took all of the courage you had to peek around the couch once more.

However, this time you were met with a man’s face. He wore a wide, Cheshire Cat-like smile on his face as he stared right at you. You could almost feel his warm breath hit your face…

“Hello, doll!”

You opened your mouth to scream but the male was faster. He slapped his hand over your face, preventing you from yelling for help or anything of the sort.

The male approached his lips to your ears.

“I’m gonna need your help doll…”

You took a look at his appearance. He had on a white, stained, and slightly ripped wife-beater, along with a flashy orange jumpsuit. You examined his body carefully. His hair was damp and his inked, very well-built arms were shiny, he had been running. You were inspecting everything as carefully as you possibly could.. when you noticed.

Was that blood!?

There were little spots and splatters of dried, red liquid all over his clothes, which made you widen your eyes. What the fuck had he done!?

He noticed your sudden change of emotions and realized you had seen the state of his clothes.

“Listen, I don’t wanna hurt you. I need you to hide me, I’ll explain everything but you’re not in danger, yet.”

The ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence sparked something in you and you began struggling under his hold. He gripped your arm and forced you to stop shifting.

“Calm. Down. You’re not in danger, but if you call the police on me, if you yell for help, you will be. All you have to do is be a good girl and cooperate, because if anything goes wrong, all you need to know is that there are eight of us, if I get caught it won’t be looking too pretty for you.”

You looked at him, eyes still widened and breathing very heavily.

“You got it?” He asked.

He slowly removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on his thigh. You were full-on crying in fear at that point.

The male said nothing, he just sighed and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. He also didn’t know what to do. He had no idea where the other seven were, he had no idea if they were still alive and he honestly didn’t know what happened next.

“Y-you should take a shower.” You told him, as you finally felt the reek coming from him.

He looked down at himself and nodded. The male stood up and looked at you.

“I can’t trust you though.”

“W-what then? You’re just going to stink forever? Are you going to make me sit in the bathroom while you wash?”

You were just mocking him, but from the way he shrugged you could tell he didn’t mind one bit to have you in the bathroom with him. You refused at first, but you didn’t really have much choice as he dragged you around looking for the bathroom.

You sat on the toilet, facing the wall as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.” You complained.

“I was in prison, doll, I had hundreds of men looking at my ass every day when I showered, having a girl in a bathroom with me isn’t exactly a nightmare.”

You were both silent. The sound of the water hitting the floor echoed in the room and the water was so hot that the atmosphere around you two became foggy.

“Fuck, this is heaven…”

You would’ve chuckled if you weren’t so scared and uncomfortable.

“You know, we have warm water in there, but there are so many people taking showers at the same time so it just ends up being cold all the time. The showerheads are also really old, so they get clogged all the time and there’s barely any water coming out… You come out looking mustier than when you went in.”

You smiled at that. You could tell he was a people person, he was comfortable enough in this situation to tell life stories and maybe that was the purpose, but you started slowly feeling a little at ease. So much so that you gained the courage to ask the question you were scared of.

“What were you in there for?”

You had to know. You couldn’t have a conversation with him, you couldn’t not feel uncomfortable and uneasy without at least knowing.

There was silence, and the water turned off.

“Murder.”

Your eyes widened from the nth time that night and you felt all blood be drained from your body. The sense of fear and anxiety washed over you once more, and you didn’t know how to react. Should you run? Should you stay? Should you speak, or should you be quiet?

A little childish giggle sounded in the bathroom almost forcing you to look behind. He pulled the shower curtain to the side, and although this man was naked from head to toe right in front of you, your eyes were glued to his face. The giggling was creepy, you hated it.

“I’m joking, I went in for drug abuse and distribution.”

You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes, letting your head fall forward. You shed a couple of tears out of stress and relief.

“You… fucking idiot.” You cursed at him, still feeling a little lightheaded.

He giggled once more and wrapped a towel around his waist, after roaming about the bathroom looking for one.

“Why… Did you have blood all over you then?”

He pointed at his abdomen, where a deep cut that your eyes had completely missed stood.

“It was mine. Mostly… Listen escaping prison isn’t that easy and there’s trap wire and people shooting, if you’re not bleeding it’s because you’re Michael Scofield, and sadly we’re all kind of stupid.”

Although he moved like the wound didn’t hurt, you couldn’t help but worry about it. You pointed at the ripped flesh.

“Can I… Can I fix it for you?”

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, silently questioning himself as to why you would want to help him. He shrugged, nevertheless. He wasn’t about to decline help…

“I’d like that.”

He tied the towel tighter around his hips so it wouldn’t fall, and sat down on the toilet you were previously resting on. You reached for the cabinet over the sink and took the medical supplies from it.

“This is going to hurt a bit so just, distract yourself by telling me about you.”

The male scoffed at your words.

“I’ve been to prison, I don’t think I’ll be hurt by- oh f-fuck!”

You giggled at his little curse as you pressed the gauze with hydrogen peroxide against his wounded skin.

He rested his head against the wall and flexed his abdomen.

“O-okay so, my name is San I’ve been in there for 2 years and- fucking Hell go easy on me!”

You giggled and mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ as you listened to his stories. You tried very hard to focus on your job, but your eyes would sometimes wander around his torso and covered thighs.

“I uh, I started selling drugs when I was eighteen, I got thrown out of the orphanage and my little sister came with me, and I wanted to make good money so she could go to university.” he paused for a second, wincing as you switched products “It was fine for a while, I made some friends there which was nice. I never really had friends, cause I kept moving from the orphanage to foster houses back and forth, so I never stayed in one place long enough to make lasting friendships… B-but it didn’t go so well cause I got caught in a swoop and the eight of us went in.”

When he finished the story you had no idea what to say… You felt a little bad about what he had just told you.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, life isn’t always kind. Plus,” he stopped to grab your chin and bring your gaze up to his “I never said I was a good person, doll. I just said I was tryna get my sister to a better place.”

You stared into his eyes for a second, before snapping back to reality. You stood up and mumbled something along the lines of ‘I’ll get you some clothes’ as you walked off.

Some of your larger garments fit him quite well. A pair of large, black joggers and a yellow hoodie that looked stupidly big on you. He had to go commando however, since you didn’t happen to have a pair of boxers lying around.

You set up the couch for him to sleep in as you weren’t about to give up your bed for an inmate that had just broken in, but he seemed pretty content in the comfort of your couch.

“You sure you don’t need some company in there, doll?”

You chuckled at his bold attempt and pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“Yes San, I’d rather keep the convict at least one hallway away.” You joked.

Although you felt a little more comfortable around him, knowing that he wasn’t 100% a scumbag, you couldn’t let your guard down.

Your theory was proven when you woke up not much later after you fell asleep with a shadow looking straight at you from the doorway. Not remembering that you had a guest, you yelled.

He immediately came rushing to your side and shut you up with his hand.

“Why did you scream!?” San asked, panicking.

You removed his hand from your face harshly.

“Because a huge shadow man was standing in my doorway like a lunatic! What are you doing!?”

“It’s… It’s 7am I’m hungry.”

You shot daggers at him through your sleepy, hooded eyes.

“Do you not sleep?”

“Not really… We have a lot of sleep deprivation in there.”

Somehow he had this habit of making you do things by making you feel bad. And this was no exception.

You groaned and dragged yourself off of the bed, feeling kind of embarrassed about how terrible you looked compared to him. Although his hair was messy, it still made him look good, as it further defined his jawline.

You didn’t know what he wanted to eat, so you just pointed at your cabinets and began teaching him what was inside of each of them.

As you did all of this, you realized how often he’d brush his dark locks back, in order to get them out of his face. You looked at your wrist and surely enough there was a spare hair tie on it. You offered it to San, who gladly accepted the item and tied his hair in a small ponytail.

You started walking back to your bedroom, to resume your interrupted sleep, but a pertinent question popped in your mind, and sleep was no longer your biggest preoccupation.

You turned around and walked back to the kitchen, to find San shoving his hand down the cereal box and eating it dry.

“San… What’s your plan here? I mean, in the long run. You can’t just crash in my sofa forever.”

The male in question looked at you, a suggestive gaze playing in his eyes.

“I can always crash on your bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said this.

“I’m serious, San. This can be really problematic for me! Do you realize the trouble this could put me in? If someone finds out you’re here I’ll have so many legal complications! I’m on the fourth floor, why did you even choose my apartment!?”

San went quiet for a second and looked at the floor.

“You’re the 69th apartment…” He replied quietly.

You rolled your eyes and turned around, stressed out about his response, while rubbing your temples.

Before you could get very far, however, the man grabbed your wrist and made you turn around.

“You’re right, I’m sorry… We agreed to meet up in an abandoned building a couple blocks down from where we lived. We needed to lay low for at least a couple of hours. I got lucky I managed to lose the coppers, but I don’t know about them…”

He had sat down by the dining table and buried his head in his hands. For some reason,

you felt as if you should comfort him, so you approached the male softly and pet his head slowly.

“I can try to help with the smaller things!”

But little did you know that that statement would soon come back to bite you in the ass, when you came home later in the day, after your very tiring night shift, and found eight very big men sitting around your living room, just chatting it up as if it was their own house.

Ignoring the possibly dangerous men sprawled on your floor and couch, you closed the door and walked towards San.

“What… The fuck.” You said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm.

“Well, you said you could help with the smaller things, and that side of the town was flooding with cops looking for us, so I figured we could come here to lay low!” He said, gesturing to his friends.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply.

“When I said small things I meant maybe food or warm water to shower with. I didn’t mean I’d be the shelter for eight hooligans!”

“What did you just call us?” One of them calmly asked.

You looked behind San to face the bleached haired male, who had a mixture of angry and offended on his face. It suddenly hit you that all of these escapee inmates were in your house, staring at you as you insulted them, and nervous tears started brimming in your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry Sir, but you are sitting on my rug and you came from jail I think I’m entitled to be upset right now.” You told him, holding up your index finger.

“Listen I’m sorry but overstaying my welcome-”

“Oh, you think you’re overstaying!?”

Already sick of your snappy attitude, San gripped your arm and pushed you back against the wall, causing you to wince and drop your keys. His face was millimeters away from yours, so close you could feel his breath on you.

“Listen doll, I don’t think anybody wants eight wanted criminals in their living room but you don’t have a choice, okay!? Neither of us would be here if we had a better choice but we fucking don’t, so why don’t you make this easier for all of us and cooperate?”

You had no choice but to nod, as you swallowed nervously. San let go of you and sighed, disappointed that he had to resource to violence.

There was an awkward silence, that the male you had known the longest felt the obligation to fill.

“So, uhm, these are my friends… “ He said and began introducing them one by one.

Some of the men remained expressionless, only giving you a nod as a greeting, while a couple smiled politely and the rest chimed a small ‘hello’.

“Did you… All go in for the same thing?”

“Friendship goals, right?” The male you now knew to be named Mingi said, stealing a smile out of you.

There was the heavy silence again… And you searched deep in your head for what could solve the awkwardness.

“Are you guys hungry? I don’t have enough food here but I could go out and buy some chicken. I don’t think it’s safe to have people deliver.”

They all agreed and so you went on your way, to buy food for all the unwanted guests. It was probably a bad idea to go out on your own and carry all this chicken and alcohol (that you bought hoping that the eight men would become bubblier and less threatening after consuming it) but you still thought that was a better scenario than being caught in public with a wanted criminal. So after about forty-five minutes of struggling, you managed to get into the house with three huge bags: two for the chicken and one for the drinks.

Their eyes all lit up once you stepped foot inside of the house and suddenly they resembled little kids. The men instantly attacked the food, proceeding to hurriedly unwrap the chicken.

“Damn Y/N, were you in jail too?” San asked when he saw you hungrily devour the food. It seemed like you too hadn’t eaten anything that good in years.

You quickly flipped him off and continued eating.

Your speculations were correct, and as the empty alcohol bottles started piling up, the room started echoing with happy chatter and laughter.

All of the stress and panic about the situation started washing off from them as the hours passed by and you had to admit, hadn’t they been wanted criminals you wouldn’t have minded being a part of their odd friend group.

“H-hey Y/N, you should sit here, it’s more comfortable.” San joked with a sly smirk, as he patted his lap.

“Keep trying, lover boy.” You told him as you rolled your eyes.

San then placed his hands around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap, keeping a slight grip on your body, soft enough for you to leave if you were uncomfortable.

“Was this a good enough try, doll?” He whispered in your ear.

You said nothing, and your silence made him chuckle as he pulled you back, until your back hit his chest. Somehow he was right. It did feel more comfortable… And maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that San was actually insanely hot, but all of the tension left in your body evaporated, and you felt yourself melt into his touch.

All of the sounds started fading into the background and you didn’t even acknowledge the rest of the boys, as all you could feel was the way San was drawing shapes on your thighs with his long fingers, and how you wanted them a little farther up your body. You pressed your thighs against each other, and this action didn’t go unnoticed by San, who squeezed them tighter in his hold and groaned in your ear.

You could feel a hard-on beginning to form in San’s pants, as it began poking your ass. You shifted in his lap, causing his boner to harden by the second. He gripped his waist tighter and pressed you down on his growing problem.

“I really want you, doll, I think you want me too…” He whispered in your ear.

“You’re imagining things San.”

He rolled his hips up and held you in place, so you could feel every curve of his fully hardened member press against you. Of course he noticed the way you inhaled shakily and giggled. Giggled.

San was indeed an intriguing person…

He kissed a couple of spots on your neck, and bit down on an area he found softer, managing to steal a small whimper out of you.

A couple of heads turned towards you and they smirked, acknowledging what was happening, but not wanting to bother or steal the moment away. They turned their attention back to the other men, leaving you two isolated once more.

“Please, let me fuck you, doll… I wanna feel how well you clench around me. Will you let me do that?”

Your mind was clouded by pleasure and curiosity, and so you stood up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards your bedroom, not even bothering to give him a verbal response.

The second the male heard the door click, he pushed you against it with his body and smashed his lips against yours. His hands were obsessed with your hips and thighs, constantly squeezing them as you grinded against his crotch.

He tapped the back of your legs and you wrapped them around him. San carried you to the bed as if you were made of feathers, and even though his tongue was harsh against yours, the way he let you down on the bed was soft.

The two of you only pulled away when the confinement of your clothes started becoming unbearable. You peeled the work clothes (that you had never changed from) hastily from your body. San undressed just as quickly, and he couldn’t believe his view. After all that time being incarcerated he managed to have someone so good looking so willing to fuck him… He smirked and slapped your thighs, proceeding to grab them as he kissed your jaw, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach, only stopping when his lips were dangerously close to a place you’d be wishing for him to touch you. He stopped and looked up at you. God, he wished he could take a picture of you right now… All jittery and messy, needy and aching for his touch.

"F-Fuck San, please!“ You begged, finally, when the teasing became too much.

"Anythin’ for you, doll."

He teased your entrance with his tongue before entering two fingers, as to prepare you for what was to come. San squeezed and bit your thighs as his fingers entered you in a high speed.

"Oh my G-God, San- I want you in me."

He groaned at your neediness, and shoved the fingers that had previously been in you past your lips.

You maintained eye contact as you sucked slowly on his digits.

San lined up his cock with your entrance and pushed into you slowly, causing you to wince slightly and bite his fingers.

The male immediately removed his hand and moved both his hands to rest on your waist.

"Y-you okay, doll?” He asked, afraid he’d hurt you.

"Yes- yes, move…"

San bottomed out inside you with a loud groan. He didn’t move for a second, trying to take in how tight you were and how good he felt. And even though he tried to hold back by starting to thrust into you slowly, he soon lost control. His hips snapped against yours uncontrollably fast and neither of you cared if the moans and whimpers could be heard in the next room.

"S-shit, look at you doll, taking my cock like a good girl-“

You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin, loving the way he talked to you.

Something about seeing all of those artworks in san’s body made you feel more attracted to the male.

"You feel so good inside me Sannie.”

The pet name and the little praise caused his cock to twitch inside of you, and you could tell he was almost there, by the sloppiness of his thrusts.

You wanted to see what he looked like in pure lust, you wanted to do the dirtiest things with this man, his sinful figure bigging out someone you didn’t even know you had in you.

"I-I need to cum doll, where do you want me to-“

"Inside me! Please, please cum inside me San!” You begged as you clung onto him for dear life.

His cock twitched once more, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and lust in his eyes.

"Y/N are you sure cause-“

"Fucking breed me, San! I want your cum dripping out of me, please!"

The intensity of his thrusts increased as did the grip he had on you.

"You want me to breed you? Hm? Make you mine forever? Turn you into a bad girl for me? Y-you’re so dirty…”

"Y-yes! God yes!“

"Oh f-fuck!” Was the last thing he managed to yell as he buried his member deep inside of you, shooting white spurts of cum that covered your walls.

It was the way his body trembled and the way his mouth fell open with small whimpers that caused you to climax right after him.

His sweaty body collapsed on top of yours as he slowly pulled out, and you could feel the cum drip out of your hole.

For a couple of seconds all that could be heard was the heavy panting, until San lifted his head and looked at you.

"Fuck, I guess you belong to me now…“

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alexcabotgf · 3 years ago

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tag 9 people to learn more about their interests

TAGGED BY: @punishebe (thank u sm angel 🤍 🤍 🤍)

MUSIC

fave genre? rock of all kinds (classic/pop/indie/alt/punk etc)

fave artist? bands: fleetwood mac, the gits, counting crows, the 1975; solo artists: stevie nicks, joan jett, phoebe bridgers, halsey, lana del rey

fave song? you missed my heart by phoebe bridgers

song currently stuck in your head? male fantasy by billie eilish but also that our god is an awesome god gospel for whatever reason

5 fave lyrics? i have so many faves so these are gonna be the first ones i can think of off the top of my head

it hurts me to be angry / kills me to be kind — bob (cousin o) by the gits

you couldn’t have / stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody / who loves you more — moon song by phoebe bridgers

and she wonders is this real / or does she just want to be queen — the highwayman by stevie nicks

rulers make bad lovers / you better put your kingdom up for sale — gold dust woman by fleetwood mac

so you pull down the shades and you shut off the lights / because somehow we mixed up 'goodbye’ and ‘goodnight’ — possibility days by counting crows

BOOKS

fav book genre? mystery/thrillers but boy have they been disappointing me lately

fav writer? not to sound uneducated but i don’t think i have one. i haven’t read enough books from one singular author to consider them my favorite, the closest one would be gillian flynn since i’ve read and liked all of her books but idk

fav book? once again i don’t think i have an all time favorite standalone book, but the two favorites of 2020 for me were sleepers by lorenzo carcaterra and white oleander by janet fitch

fav book series? the millennium trilogy by stieg larsson

comfort book? probably something i used to read as a kid like the sisterhood of the traveling pants series

perfect book to read on a rainy day? either a hard hitting contemporary or a thriller

fave characters? i don’t have many favorite book characters but an all time fave would be miss lisbeth from millennium trilogy

5 quotes from your fave books that you know by heart? here are some that have stuck with me (even tho i haven’t read some of the books they’re from,,,,anyway)

for you, a thousand times over — the kite runner by khaled hosseini (leech rally haven’t even read this book but i think about this quote at least once a week)

for the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. they may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change // what woman here is so enamoured of her own oppression that she cannot see her heel print upon another woman’s face? — the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house by audre lorde

always learn poems by heart. they have to become the marrow in your bones. like fluoride in the water, they’ll make your soul impervious to the world’s soft decay — white oleander by janet fitch

i’ll take care of you / it’s rotten work / not to me. not if it’s you — anne carson’s an oresteia ofc! a classic!! that i haven’t yet read lmao

a painful truth, and yet we must endure // he’ll have my hatred anywhere he goes — oedipus at colonus and oedipus rex respectively, transl. by david mulroy

TV AND MOVIES

fave tv/movie genre? drama, horror, thriller

fave movie? a few years ago i would’ve said girl interrupted but i’m not sure if it'd hold up at this point so i’ll have to go with my all time favorite franchise which is scream <3

comfort movie? anything that i have fond memories of watching (e.g american honey, empire records) or anything i used to watch as a kid (e.g lotr)

fave tv show? prison break. those bald men running around just make me feel a certain type of way

most rewatched tv show? probably house md but desperate housewives is a close second

5 fave characters?

gale weathers — scream

michael scofield — prison break

lisbeth salander — millennium trilogy i know i’ve already used her for fave book character but noomi rapace’s portrayal is chef’s kiss

tauriel — the hobbit

and of course i have to include my wife, the loml alex cabot — svu

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging (i usually binge older shows but prefer when only 1 episode is released per week) | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once

TAGGING: @joanna-lannister @xavierdalon @retrodame @henry-cavill @hannahhunti @moonlight @sonosions @anyataylorjoy @simmonsjemma @anistonjen + everyone else who’s interested in doing this!

#tag games #punishebe #ro tysm for tagging me this was FUNNN #the only reason it took me this long to complete is because of book quotes #listen i might not be able to tell you what my five favorite book quotes are but i can easily tell you fifty fic quotes that made me want t #i have a separate folder for that with like 200 screenshots godbless #*made me want to lie down

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variousqueerthings · 3 years ago

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rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better: I feel like everyone’s done this one, I’m laaate. If you HAVEN’T done this one, please do it and tag me!

Tagged by finally doing one of these (apologies, as per, that I am bad at these, but I appreciate the tagging!) thank you @rvspberryjvm and @deputychairman

favorite color: I’m bad at favourites. I feel sorry for the rest of them…...

currently reading: ahaha, I’m reading Angela Carter’s “The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories,” but actually not because of Terry Silver

last song: Girl you have no faith in medicine – the white stripes

last movie: I believe Oceans 13!

last series: I’m watching Prison Break, because I missed Wentworth Miller’s face. He’s a good-faced bean (I know, I know, he’s actually playing a gay man in Legends of Tomorrow, but Prison Break was The show I watched for him back in the days of teenagehood – anyway, Michael Scofield is autistic and queer, that ain’t even a stretch of a read)

sweet, spicy or savory: Saaavoury I wanna say… in this moment.

craving: it’s breakfast time and I have my tea, so no cravings atm. Always takes me a sec to become a person.

coffee or tea: Tea!

currently working on: My piece for the zine. An screenplay that is at 100 pages so far (wild!!!) And a short-story fairytale/horror/scifi erotica - me at me: vore sexy ? (vore sexy)

#me #personal

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prisonbreakempress · 5 years ago

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Wentworth Miller is one of my favorite actors. I fell in love with him on Prison Break and I am thankful to say that he has portrayed one of my favorite fictional characters on television (Michael Scofield of course). Although I miss seeing him play as our favorite genius, I am extremely happy to see him get the opportunity to portray characters that match his sexuality. I pray we see more in the future. Here's to you Wentworth!

#wentworth miller #prison break

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fangirlfanwritings · 5 years ago

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Michael Scofield Request

Hi, do you still write for Prison Break?:) If so I would love to request an imagine where the reader is Michael’s wife/girlfriend and she’s slowly moving on from him and he then shows up and she has very mixed feelings? Something like that. Thank you!

As your alarm clock rang your eyes jolted open and you reached for your phone. Turning off the alarm you stumbled into the bathroom; if there was any hope of looking decent today you needed to get yourself together before Mikey woke up. An hour quickly passed and just as you fixed the last piece of your hair you heard the pitter patter of feet make their way towards you.

“Momma,” he called into the room. You peered out of the bathroom and saw him dragging his blanket by his side.

“Good morning, baby.” He walked over to you and tightly hugged your leg. You lifted him up and pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he laughed. “What doing today,” he choppily asked?

“First, we are going to have breakfast. Then, we are going to run and get groceries. Then, later this afternoon, Kaitlyn is coming over to babysit.”

“Miss. Kaitlyn,” he cheered. You carried him into the kitchen and made him some eggs and toast. After he was done you cleaned his face and took him to get dressed.

After walking the isles of the grocery store you found yourself leaving with more than you anticipated...or needed. Mikey had definitely gotten his sweet tooth from you, evident in the sweets that were now in the cart.

You looked at the clock as you drove and realized you would be cutting it close. By the time you made it home, unloaded the groceries, and gave Kaitlyn the run down of today, you would have about 10 minutes to meet Bob at the restaurant downtown for lunch.

You pulled into the driveway and got Mikey out first. “Can you go open the door for Mommy?” He went up to the door and let himself inside as you gathered as many bags as you could.

“You need any help?” You jumped and hit your hit your head on the trunk door of your car. “I’m so sorry.”

You turned and saw the man who had been your fiance before he ended things and then got sent to prison. “Micheal? What the hell are you doing here?” Your heart felt like it was bursting as you looked at him.

“I’m...uh...out.”

“Congratulations. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you turned to get more bags and run inside but he was by your side grabbing the rest.

“Here, let me.” He grabbed them but you tried to stop him.

“Michael, you can’t...I can’t let you go inside. I have plans.”

“Looks like you’ll be here long enough to unload and talk to me.” Before you could find another reason to get him to leave you, Mikey appeared in the doorway.

“Who’s that, Mommy?”

You looked nervously up at the little boy who looked just like his father. “An old friend of Mommy’s, baby. Let’s go inside,” you cut Micheal a look telling him you’d speak inside. You set the bags on the counter and looked up at Michael. “If we’re going to talk I’ll need to make a few calls.” He nodded and kept his eyes on Mikey as he played with his toys.

You called Kaitlyn first and told her something came up and asked if she could pick Mikey up and take him to her house just down the road. She agreed and started walking over. “Mikey, go back your bag. Miss. Kaitlyn is coming over to get you. You’re going to play at her house, ok?” He ran off to pack his favorite toys. “I’ve got one more call to make,” you told Michael and walked out onto the front porch.

As the phone rang Kaitlyn walked up and you told her she could go on in. “Bob, hey,” you said as he answered. “I’m sorry to do this so last minute but something came up.” As you continued to apologize outside while Kaitlyn walked into the house and saw Micheal.

“Oh, hello. Y/N didn’t tell me she had a guest. I’m Kaitlyn, Mikey’s sitter.”

“I’m Michael. I’m an old...um...friend of Y/N’s. I surprised her so it’s a good thing you could sit so quickly.”

“Actually I was already supposed to watch Mikey. Y/N had a date with her boyfriend this afternoon.” Hearing those words made his stomach twist.

Before he could ask anymore questions you were walking back in, thanking Kaitlyn, and hugging Mikey goodbye. As the door closed you turned slowly back to Michael. “Mikey, huh?”

“Don’t start this with me, Michael.”

“I had the right to know.”

“The right?” You scoffed. “You ended our 6 year relationship out of the blue. You ripped my heart out. Then you robbed a bank and got thrown in prison. When I found out I was pregnant with Mikey I was still heartbroken and only saw you as the evil bastard convict that wasn’t good enough to be in my son’s life. You lost the right to know what happened in my life the second you ended things.”

“I did what I had to do, Y/N. It was the only way I could free Lincoln.”

“Well you going into prison and then breaking out with a handful of convicts also didn’t make me want to tell you about him.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. But everything I did, I did for you and Linc.” You continued to put things up. “So you have a boyfriend?”

You paused from the shock of him knowing. “Not really. I have been seeing someone though.”

“Is he a good man.”

“I don’t know if I know what that is anymore, but he seems like a decent guy. We’ve only been seeing each other for about a month.”

“But you’re not dating?”

“I’ve got a kid to think about,” you reminded him, but you knew that wasn’t the entire truth.

“What else? You’ve got that look.”

“What else, is that the man who I planned to spend the rest of my life with broke my heart into a million pieces and left me with a little boy that I love more than anything. He left me and just as I start getting back into the dating game he shows up at my door acting like he hasn’t been gone for four years.” You slammed your hands on the counter and looked at him, trying not to get too emotional.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really didn’t want to hurt you. I still- I still love you. You know that, right?”

“We can’t have this conversation right now, Micheal. We just can’t.”

“I understand. Maybe I could come back tomorrow after Mikey goes to bed and we could talk.”

You looked at your feet and nodded. “Ok, sure. Be here around 8:30.” He got up and stopped beside you. You could tell he was debating on whether to reach out and touch you. Luckily, he didn’t and moved on to the door. When you heard it shut closed you felt yourself become overcome with feelings you had spent the last four years bottling up.

#michael scofield imagine #michael scofield imagines #prison break imagine #prison break imagines

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twohearts-hs · 1 month ago

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Defying The Odds: 9 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.5k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

Warnings: Swearing, Prison, Intimacy, Murder, etc. you know the deal...

A/N: this is a complete series of ~105k words. Based on Season 1 & 2.

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

Y/N lay on the infirmary bed, her body aching as Dr. Remington tended to her infected stab wound. The sting of the antiseptic made her wince, but it was nothing compared to the emotional storm swirling inside her. Her thoughts were split between the infection in her body and the knowledge that she had missed out on the escape. She had told Michael to leave her behind, and now, as the minutes dragged on, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N spotted movement in the next room. Lincoln was crouched in the corner, hidden from most of the guards’ view, his eyes darting around as he tried to quietly pry open the vent with the mop. Y/N’s heart sank. She recognised the desperation in his movements – it wasn’t part of the plan.

The pipe had been replaced.

The escape had failed.

A part of her felt relieved – at least Michael was still here, safe for now – but another part of her was angry. She had stayed behind, telling herself it was for the best, but what good had it done? The plan had fallen apart, and now they were still trapped.

Lincoln looked up briefly, his eyes locking with Y/N’s and he was frazzled. What was she doing here? However, she saw the frustration etched on his face, the same frustration that mirrored her own. He quickly turned back to the vent, still working at it, but Y/N knew it was hopeless. There would be no escape tonight.

Dr. Remington didn’t seem to notice Lincoln’s actions as he continued working on Y/N. His voice was a steady hum, asking about the pain, checking her wound, but Y/N was barely paying attention. Her mind was already on the next step.

She knew Michael would not stop. The failure was only temporary, a bump in the road. If she could hold on, if she could heal, there would be another chance. And next time, she wouldn’t let herself get left behind.

She needed to get out.

Y/N was told to stay overnight in the infirmary to see if the infection dies down with the antibiotics. Y/N laid on the same bed, staring at the ceiling as she waited for Dr. Remington to return to tell her she could go. She had been in the infirmary for what felt like forever, and all she wanted now was to get out and figure out what came next.

She wanted to see Michael.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door to the infirmary opened, and Michael walked in, escorted by a guard for his insulin shot. He glanced at her immediately, his gaze lingering on her as he was led to the room next door. There was no smile, no words exchanged, just that intense look that spoke volumes.

He stood there for a moment, watching her. The connection between them was palpable – like there was so much he wanted to say but couldn’t. But before he could do anything, his focus shifted to his brother in the other room. Y/N could see the weight of worry in his expression as the door closed behind him.

Moments later, Dr. Remington returned. He gave her a small smile, carrying a clipboard. “A few things, I am willing to discharge you if you do not do any extraneous activity including PI work. I am asking to get you transferred to laundry–“

“–No,” she barked.

Dr. Remington glanced up from the clipboard to look at her. “No? You enjoy labour?”

Y/N bit her lip. “Pays the best, plus I like fixing things, and its different every day. Laundry…I am not a maid and if the men in here find out I’m doing laundry, I will be a punching bag due to the patriarchy. Please,” she begged.

“Light activity,” Dr. Remington lectured. “Now,” he said, sitting down and getting his glasses from his pocket and looking at her chart. “I want you to take antibiotics for ten days. Additionally, I got your test results back for your pregnancy test and it was negative. I think if its annoying you that much, we can change the birth control–“

“What if I paid for the IUD?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not an option. However, I know it’s been a few tough days, and I know you mentioned your concerns with your birth control so I am ok with prescribing a different one that can help with the cramps, mood swings, fatigue and tenderness. It’ll take some time to see a change, though. You’ll have to stick with it.”

Y/N nodded, her mind half-focused on the conversation. She appreciated that Dr. Remington was trying, but the gnawing thought of the failed escape was hard to shake.

“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. Just try to take it easy,” Dr. Remington said as he took her hand, squeezing it. “I’m always here.”

She nodded and thanked him.

Y/N was in her cell when the guards announced it was yard time. It was a cold day and she was stuck with the overly large jacket and the scratchy hat, but she was fine with that. There were worse things. However, she spotted Michael sitting on the bench with Sucre when she wandered up.

“Hey,” she muttered, rocking back and forth on her toes with her hands in her pockets. Michael looked up and saw her.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice defeated.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

Michael nodded, patting the spot next to him as Sucre bid his farewells and left. Y/N settled next to him, their shoulders bumping as she put her hands on her knee. Michael put his hands on top on hers, intertwining them.

“How’s the stitches?” he asked.

Y/N looked over to see him looking at her and she smiled. “Fine, on antibiotics for ten days. However, the infection is slowly disappearing. I can’t do any extraneous activity which includes most PI work therefore, they want to switch me to laundry,” she told him. His brow furrowed and he was about to open his mouth. “I talked Remington out of that. So, it’s all good.”

Silence happened before she looked over, her voice careful but direct. “Michael,” she started, watching his face for a reaction. “Do you…do you want me there? At Lincoln’s execution?”

Michael’s head snapped to her; his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her. His expression softened almost immediately, a familiar blend of protectiveness and hesitation clashing across his features. He swallowed, glancing away toward the fence where the guards stood on patrol, his mind racing.

A knot twisted in his chest. He had thought about this, probably more than he should have. The idea of sitting in that room, watching as Lincoln’s life was taken – it unsettled him deeply.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his voice low, almost a murmur against the distant sounds of the yard. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the weight of the decision visible in the tension of his shoulders.

Y/N didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. She knew him well enough by now to understand that Michael was someone who needed time to work through his thoughts. He wasn’t one to speak impulsively.

“I don’t know if I can do it…without you there.” His voice cracked ever so slightly, the vulnerability of the statement hanging between them. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. Every step. But…” he paused, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to be there.”

Her brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and concern. “Why not? You know I’ll be there for you, Michael. For Lincoln too.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

His gaze met hers, those piercing blue eyes full of conflict. “Because it’s different. It’s not like planning the escape or figuring out the next step. This is…final. Watching that – watching him die – it’s something I don’t want you to see. I can’t put that on you.”

Y/N shifted, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She knew this side of Michael well – his instinct to protect everyone around him, especially her. But she was not fragile, and he needed to know that.

“It’s not my first time witnessing death, Michael. I’m in here for a reason. Don’t shut me out just because you think I can’t handle it.”

“It’s not that I think you can’t handle it,” Michael said quickly, his tone pleading. “It’s that I don’t want you to. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want to add something like that to the list. Seeing Linc…like that…I don’t even know if I can handle it.”

Y/N looked at him, her chest tightening as she processed his words. He was scared – not just losing his brother, but of losing her too. Of breaking her spirit by dragging her into the darkest corner of the world.

A quiet moment passed; the noise of the yard distant in the background. Finally, she brought his hand to her lips, kissing it.

“I’m not going to pretend this isn’t terrifying,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. Even if you don’t want me in that room, I’ll be here. Waiting. Whatever happens with Lincoln, we’ll face together. I need you to know that.”

Michael exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening ever so slightly at her words. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he got closer to her, his body touching hers.

“I do know that,” he said, his voice low and tender. “You’ve been the one constant in all this chaos. But sometimes, protecting you means…keeping you away from things that could break you.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, and she reached up, gently resting a hand against his cheek. “Maybe I don’t need protecting as much as you think I do.”

Michael’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. He was torn, utterly conflicted but he couldn’t deny the strength he saw in her eyes – the same strength that had carried them through so many impossible moments.

After a long pause, he nodded slowly. “I know,” he whispered. “But I need to protect you. Even if it means keeping you away from the execution.”

Y/N didn’t argue. She understood Michael’s reasoning, even if it hurt. She could see the weight he carried, the burden of trying to save Lincoln while also trying to shield her from more pain. But a part of her felt reassured – he cared enough to want to protect her even if it wasn’t always what she wanted.

“Ok,” she said softly, her hand still resting on his face. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

Michael leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment as he let the comfort of her presence wash over him. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Michael pulled away and focused on front of them and Y/N had the aching question besides the one she just got an answer for.

“How was the escape? You’re still here,” she whispered looking around to see who was around that could overhear.

“Failed. We got to the vent by the infirmary but they fixed it so we could not go up,” he said. “Lincoln doesn’t even know what happened.”

“He knows you tried. Knowing you, you tried,” she responded.

“Do you think so?” Michael said unsure, voice low.

“He’s your brother. He knows you,” Y/N stated, squeezing his hand. “I watched him try to get that vent open as well. You both tried.”

Y/N looked at Michael

“I promised I would get him out of here,” he whispered, looking down and licking his lips before looking back up to see T-Bag sauntering over.

“You promised a lot of people, Pretty,” T-Bag taunted.

“T-Bag, drop it,” Y/N muttered, letting go of Michael’s hand. Sucre came back, sitting next to them.

“This don’t concern you, sweetheart,” T-Bag said to Y/N. “You don’t get a man’s hope up like that and then just–“

“Back up or I’ll beat your skinny ass into the ground,” Sucre threatened, standing up and towering over T-Bag. “And it wouldn’t take much to do it.”

T-Bag glanced between Michael, Sucre and Y/N before pointing to Michael. “You owe me a ticket out of here, Pretty.” He turned around, walked a few steps before turning around. “And I will collect.”

Y/N left them and walked to the old payphone dangling by its metal cord as she stared at the numbers she had dialled. Her heart was pounding, hands trembling slightly as she waited for the voice on the other end. It had been years since she’d called her father. The Governor. Frank Tancredi. A man who was simply a sperm donor and nothing more.

The phone rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a click.

“Governor Tancredi,” a familiar, formal voice answered. Her father’s voice.

Y/N’s breath hitched. For a moment, she almost hung up. But then she gripped the phone tightened, forcing the words out.

She glanced over the field, seeing Michael looking at her. Curious who she was on the phone with.

“Dad…” she winced, “Frank…it’s Y/N.”

There was a pause. A long, awkward silence that felt heavier than all the years between them. Finally, his voice came back, colder than she had hoped.

Y/N,” he said, curtly. No warmth. No surprises. Just…acknowledgment. “I didn’t expect to hear from you, especially since you got yourself locked up.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “Yeah, well…me neither, but here we are.”

Another pause. She could hear papers shuffling on his desk, the sound of his disinterest ringing louder than anything he could say.

“Is this important? I’m busy. Do you need money again?” he said. Just like that. Dismissive.

Y/N felt surge of anger rise in her chest, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t let it get to her – not now. Not with everything on the line.

“No, I haven’t asked for money since I was sixteen. I wouldn’t be calling if this wasn’t important as I do not want to talk to you, but I do need a favour,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “This is about Lincoln Burrows.”

Her father was silent for a beat, then his voice turned sharp. “Burrows? The man on death row? What are you getting yourself involved with, Y/N? First the mafia and now this…?”

“Frank, listen to me – he’s innocent. You need to look at his file, the evidence. It doesn’t add up. Michael–“ she stopped, realising she shouldn’t bring Michael into this. “I know it sounds crazy, but if you just review the case, talk to his attorneys, you’ll see. Something’s not right.” Y/N sighed. “I will expose everything in the mafia if you get this man off death row,” she whispered.

There was a long sigh on the other end. The kind that told her he wasn’t even considering her words. “Y/N, I’m not getting involved in this. The courts have made their decision. This is beyond you – beyond me.”

The frustration bubbled up, tightening her throat. Y/N slammed her hand against the payphone booth. “It’s not beyond you! You’re the governor. You have power to look into this, to stop this from happening. He’s going to die for something he didn’t do.”

“I don’t meddle in legal cases, Y/N. This isn’t how it works. You’re wasting your time,” he said, his tone cool and patronizing.

She clenched her jaw, feeling the sting of his words, the way he dismissed her. Just like always. She had known this conversation would be different, but it didn’t stop the hurt from cutting deep.

“I’m not asking for a miracle,” she snapped, her frustration spilling over. “I’m asking you to do one decent thing for once in your life. Just look at the file. Just consider that maybe – just maybe – an innocent man is about to be executed, and you could stop it. Imagine if it was me.”

Her father sighed again, this time with more annoyance. “Y/N, this conversation is over. I’m not discussing this with you.”

Y/N looked up to see Michael walking over to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose before covering her mouth with her hand. She let out a scoff. “No, you don’t get to just hang up and act like none of this matters. You’ve never been there for me. Never. You weren’t there when I needed you growing up. You didn’t even care. When mom died, you put me in the system. You refused any connection with ne. But if you do this, I will move on. I will put everything away. Just do this…not for me but for mom. You loved her once upon a time.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Y/N. But I won’t be manipulated into something like this. Goodbye,” he spoke, voice measured.

Click.

The dial tone buzzed in her ear, sharp and relentless.

Y/N stood frozen, the phone still clutched in her hand. Michael approached quietly, his presence calm but filled with concern, his voice low so as not to startle her. “Y/N.”

She didn’t respond at first, too caught up in her own thoughts. Michael stepped closer, gently touching her arm, a silent gesture that he was there.

“Who were you calling?” his voice was soft, careful, as though he didn’t want to pry but knew she needed to talk.

Y/N clenched her jaw, the anger she’d tried to bury surfacing. She took a breath, trying to steady herself, but when she looked up to him, her eyes were filled with pain and frustration. “My father,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michael raised a brow, knowing who exactly she was talking to.

“He’s the governor,” Y/N continued, biting back the bitterness in her voice. “Frank Tancredi. I haven’t talked to him in years, but I thought…I thought maybe he could help. Maybe he’d actually care enough to do something about Lincoln’s case.” She scoffed, running a hand through her long hair, pacing again as the anger built. “But he didn’t even listen. I begged him to look into the case, to just consider the possibility that Lincoln’s innocent, and he didn’t care. He wouldn’t even hear me out.”

Michael’s brow furrowed in concern, his eyes never leaving her. He stepped closer, his presence steady, unwavering. “He wouldn’t even consider it?”

“No,” Y/N spat out, her voice cracking. “He doesn’t care. He’s always been like that. I was a mistake, a reminder of something he never wanted to deal with. He hated me for it, and he still does. And now…now that hatred for me outweighs any sympathy he could have for an innocent man on death row.”

He squeezed her hand. “You tried. You did everything you could. That’s more than most people would do.”

Her eyes met his, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed hard and quickly wiped them. “I’m sorry. I tried my best.”

In Bellick’s office, Tweener sat across from the CO, dipping his fries into his milkshake before eating them. A smirk danced across his face as Bellick watched him savour the junk food meal. The office was dimly lit, cold, and dark, but it felt like a slice of heaven to Tweener, who was used to prison food. This little taste of outside world was his one luxury.

“So, you like doing that too?” Bellick asked, eyeing Tweener’s peculiar habit.

“Dipping a fry in the shake? Hell yeah,” Tweener replied, stuffing his face with another dry drenched in choclate milkshake.

“Good times, good times,” Bellick muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of urgency lurking beneath the surface. He wasn’t here for small talk. “Sp, what’s going on out there?” he finally asked, cutting through the pleasantries and getting straight to business.

Tweener shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Nothin’, you know. Just staying out of trouble.”

Bellick narrowed his eyes, leaning over his desk. “I meant in terms of any office gossip you might have for me,” he pressed with a knowing smirk.

Tweener’s eyes darted around, trying to keep up the charade. “Yo, check it. This one fool’s been trying to cop a joint. So, I’ll keep ear-hustling on that.” He took another bite of his burger, thinking he had sufficiently deflected the conversation.

But Bellick wasn’t in the mood for games. He snatched the burger right out of Tweener’s hands and tossed it into the trash. Leaning in close, his voice dropped to a low, menacing tone. “We had an agreement. You were supposed to bird-dog Scofield and get back to me.”

Tweener’s posture stiffened. He swallowed hard realising Bellick wasn’t going to let him slide so easily this time. “I’ve been trying, man. I’ve been working the corners. Trust me, I aint’ got nothin’.”

Bellick scoffed, his patience wearing thin. “You think I’m playin’ with you, kid? I don’t care about some food trying to score a joint. I want real dirt. Scofield’s got something going on, and you know it. Spill it.”

Tweener shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. He knew Bellick wouldn’t let him out of here without something. He let out a long breath, resigning himself to it. “A’ight, there’s been talk. Word on the block is Scofield and that chick, Y/N, are…you know, close. Real close.”

Bellick raised an eyebrow, the intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Go on.”

Tweener shrugged, playing it cool even though he knew this was juicy. “They’re always together, man. Touchy-feely, even. I heard Scofield clear the showers for her and him…alone. Some of the guys are sayin’ they’re like a couple. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that’s what people are talkin’ about.”

Bellick leaned back in his chair, his mind already turning over the possibilities. “Interesting…very interesting,” he muttered, a sinister grin tugging at his lips. “Scofield’s got a girlfriend. Keep your ears open for more. And next time, don’t feed me this ‘nothing’ crap. You keep an eye on those two, you hear me?”

Tweener nodded, quickly regretting that he opened his mouth, but he didn’t have a choice.

Hours ago Michael was escorted to the Final Visitation room for Lincoln’s execution. Y/N stayed up, waiting for Michael to come back because she knew he would want to talk or not… However, she waited and when it hit 12:01am, she closed her eyes and sent a prayer she which she rarely did.

The prison was eerily silent, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air like a thick fog. Michael walked back toward his cell, his face set in stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm swirling beneath the surface. He had just come from the failed execution, from witnessing his brother strapped to the electric chair, only to be saved by the last minute revelation of new evidence. The reprieve, though a relief, came at an emotional cost neither of them could fully process yet.

As Michael approached his cell, Y/N’s figure came into view. She was pacing anxiously inside her cell, just a few feet away from his, her hands gripping the cold metal bars. Her heart raced the moment she saw him, desperate for answers. She hadn’t known what happened, only that Lincoln had been led to the execution room. The minutes had stretched into an eternity, and the fear gnawed at her, imaging the worst.

“Michael,” she whispered, her voice laced with worry as she rushed to the bars. “Michael, are you ok?” Michael looked at her and there was nothing she could read off him. “Talk to me,” she begged.

Michael’s eyes flickered to her, but his face remained stoic. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, to reassure her, but right now, eight of the night clung to him like a shadow. He couldn’t – he wasn’t ready to unravel it all. Not yet.

“Later,” he muttered, his voice low and heavy as he passed her cell.

Y/N’s heart sank and she nodded.

She was reading, glasses perched on her nose as she read 1984 by George Orwell. She was staying awake knowing that Michael would be thinking himself in circles and would soon talk to her.

What had happened? Did Lincoln die? Survive? Michael had no tears in his eyes. She wouldn’t shake the image of Michael’s haunted eyes, how they seemed to hold everything inside while giving away nothing. She felt sick knowing he had to witness his brother’s death.

�� Dead of night, when the world was quieted down, that she his voice on the other side. He was by the bars, sitting on the concrete while she scurried to the end of her bed.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Michael, what happened? Are you ok?” she whispered back. “I’m so sorry,” her voice trembled.

There was a brief silence before Michael spoke again. “It didn’t go through. New evidence came to light…at the last second,” he explained, his voice still low, but the strain of the night was evident in his tone. “The execution didn’t go through. They stopped it.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through her, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. “Thank God,” she muttered, but her heart ached knowing what Lincoln had gone through. “But Michael…he was in that room, wasn’t he? Strapped in, thinking it was the end?”

Michael’s silence told her everything. She could hear the weight of it in his breathing, the way he seemed to hold back the pain that came with reliving it.

“He was strapped in,” Michael finally said, his voice tight. “He thought it was over. So did I.”

Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the wall as a tear slid down her cheek. The thought of Lincoln – an innocent man – being moments away from his death, the fear and helplessness Michael must have felt…it was too much. “I’m so sorry, Michael. I wish I could hug you. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“It was…” Michael’s voice trailed off, and for the first time, it sounded like he might break. “It was worse than anything I could’ve prepared for. But it’s not over. We got more time. We still have a chance.”

Y/N nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She felt a small glimmer of hope, knowing that Lincoln still had a fighting chance, but the pain of what they’d all just gone through lingered. “I just…feel awful, Michael,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “That you had to watch your brother go through that and I couldn’t do anything to help.”

“Just knowing you’re here…it helps more than you think,” Michael replied, his voice softer now. “But I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want you to know until it was over.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. He was always protecting her, even when he was the one going through hell.

“I wish I could touch you,” she whispered.

“Me too, but tomorrow’s another day,” he responded. “I will see you tomorrow. You should get some sleep and not stay up reading that book,” he mused with a chuckle. “I love you, Y/N.”

She smiled. “I love you too.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered moving to go back to bed, but she called his name again.

“Michael?” she whispered. He moved back.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t wait for the day I can fall asleep in your arms,” she whispered.

He smiled, imagining such a thing. “I would really like that.”

It was another cold day in Illinois. Snow covered the ground, and the frost air nipped at the skin. Y/N was layered up with her hat on as she shovelled rock salt on the ice. Its been a while since she was in the infirmary and now her wound was quite healed up. Michael was behind her.

“We’re still going through the infirmary and we’re still gonna do it from the guards’ room. It’s just the in-between that’s gonna have to change,” Michael announced.

They jumped right back into the escape and Y/N was excited, but getting exhausted and tedious from it all. She just wanted out of there.

“Wait a minute, why are you changing the plan, man? We’re already through to that room beneath the infirmary. That’s all we gotta do is get through that pipe and we’re home free,” C-Note said, coming up to Michael.

“There’s a reason they replaced it with a 12-inch pipe, Darwin – people can’t get thorugh it. The only way we’re getting into that infirmary is from beneath. We’re gonna have to find another way,” Michael stated, eyes landing on the title, ‘Fox River Asylum’.

“The psych ward?” Y/N whispered.

“It’s the only building that shares a sub-surface line with the infirmary.”

“Are you telling me to get to the infirmary we gotta go through the whack shack?” T-Bag exclaimed, getting close to Michael, Y/N and C-Note.

“Unless you got a better idea,” Michael hummed.

“And there’s a sub-surface line that runs from the guards’ room to the psych ward?” Westmoreland asked.

“Sort of.”

“Whoa, whoa, what do you mean ‘sort of’?” C-Note scoffed.

“We can go into that hole in the guards’ room. About 40 yards up Route 66, there’s a grate that’ll get us halfway there,” Michael explained.

Michael explained how the plan was suicide as they would have to be above grounds. However, when he explained the grate was below them, people were not a fan. C-Note particularly thought the plan sucked.

The dull hum of the prison echoed around them as Y/N stood in the dimly lit corner of the communal showers, holding up a small mirror. She had her back to the wall, watching Michael as he carefully adjusted the mirror in her hand so he could see the intricate web of tattoos sprawled across his back. His focus on was intense, eyes darting to specific marks on his skin that represent the pipes and vents leading to the psych ward, his next target for the escape. She could watch him topless for days, just admiring.

“You’re staring,” he whispered as his eyes focused on the mirror.

“Can’t I stare at a masterpiece?” she piped. “Especially one as handsome as this.”

Michael flickered his eyes to her and see her smirk. “If only I can return the favour, pretty girl,” he mused.

However, Michael went back to focusing on the tattoo. “The pipe system beneath the psych ward is…well, it’s complex. It’d be real easy to get lost,” he stated as he examined his tattoo.

“How complex?”

“Very. When they built this place in 1858, the pipes were lead. A century later, they discovered lead was a health risk. So they went to copper,” he explained. “They never removed the lead pipes. Cost too much. There’s thousands of yards of the stuff still down there. And then a few years ago, they switched to industrial plastic.” Michael looked at her and seeing her watching him. “Again, it was cheaper just to lay it over the old stuff. If I make a wrong turn down there tonight, I won’t make it back by count,” he told her.

“Michael, don’t give me that anxiety,” she whispered, taking the mirror down. “But, you got to do what you got to do.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer, pretending to be absorbed by his meticulous description of the escape plan. She knew how focused Michael could get, but there was something undeniably attractive about his intensity, his intelligence. As he continued speaking, her gaze flickered from the tattoos to the strong lines of his back, the way his muscles flexed as he moved. A sly smile spread across her lips.

“This escape plan,” she started, her tone dropping to something a little more sultry, “as much as I love your devotion, it doesn’t sound as sexy as me being very naked in the shower in about…thirty seconds.”

Michael paused, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smirk, but he tried to stay focused. “Y/N…you promised to help me…”

She took a step closer, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she moved, tiliting her head with a playful glint in her eyes. “And I hate being alone,” she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief. She got on her toes and pressed a kiss to his jawline before moving to behind his ear. “I can imagine all the things we can do in the shower…all the positions…I’ve been thinking…”

Michael’s resolve wavered for a second, the corner of his mouth curving up in amusement. He glanced at her, his blue eyes locking with hers, filled with that familiar intensity but now mixed with something deeper, something personal. “Is that so?” he asked, voice low.

“Mmm-hmm,” Y/N replied, inching even closer. “Wouldn’t want to get all wet…by myself.”

His gaze flickered over her, the tension between them unmistakable. He knew what she was doing – distracting him – but damn, it was working. And maybe, just maybe, he needed this distraction, too. A small break from the constant pressure of the escape, from the weight of everything they were fighting for.

“I didn’t know you could have a dirty mouth on you,” he whispered, turning. A grin finally breaking through his serious exterior and closed the distance between them. His hand found her waist as she leaned into him, their lips hovering close. Y/N’s heart raced, anticipation building as she felt his breath against her skin.

He was shirtless while she was clothed, but she felt him feel the hem of her sweater. Michael played it before dipping his hand under it and on her stomach, wrapping around and pulling her flush against her.

“I can’t wait when I fuck you,” he whispered in her ear. “Make love or whatever you call it,” he chuckled. “I can just imagine the pretty noises come from you as I grant pleasure to you.”

She smiled, kissing his lips as her hand drew circles on his tattoo. The kiss was heated, full of passion as they fought for dominance.

But before they could lose themselves completely, the door to the shower creaked open. Footsteps echoed across the tiled floor, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Y/N pulled away instantly, backing up to see Bellick.

Michael’s body tensed immediately, his instincts kicking in as he shifted in front of Y/N, blocking her from view. His arms came up, shielding her in a protective, almost primal move as Bellick sauntered in the room with an obnoxious smirk already plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?” Bellick drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he strolled closer. “Caught you two lovebirds at just the right time, huh?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the rage bubbling inside her at the sight of Bellick’s leering expression. Michael, ever the calm under pressure, kept his gaze locked on Bellick, his body tense but controlled. He shifted slightly, keeping Y/N completely hidden behind him.

“Bellick, back off,” Michael said, his tone measured but firm.

Bellick let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You think I’m gonna let thise one slide, Scofield. Fraternising with another inmate…a woman too. This is the highlight of my day. I mean, I always knew you were clever, but this? Getting cozy in the showers? Bold move.” His eyes flickered toward where Y/N was tucked behind Michael, a slimy grin spreading across his face. “Who’d thought?”

Michael took a step forward, head cocking but Y/N pulled him back. “Michael, its not worth it.”

“The dog has a owner…getting pulled by your leash, Scofield? Got a master?” Bellick taunted

Michael’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “This isn’t what you think.”

“Oh, sure,” Bellick replied, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Whatever you say, Scofield. But I don’t think the warden’s gonna be too happy about this. Also, do you know her crimes? Have you read her file?” he asked with a smirk, taunting tone. “She would seduce men and then murder them…”

Michael knew that. Y/N told him. She told him a lot about her life with Sebastian. His protective stance only grew more rigid as Bellick’s smirk widened, the guard clearly enjoying every second of the uncomfortable situation. Y/N’s pulse raced with a mix of frustration and fury, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The way Bellick looked at her, the smugness in his voice – it was enough to make her blood boil.

“Michael,” she whispered her hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. But she could see the tension rolling off him, feel the heat radiating from his taut muscles as he tried to hold himself back.

Bellick’s eyes farted from Michael to Y/N, his grin widening as he titled his head mockingly. “Oh, come on now. You think you’re gonna get away with this? Fraternizing in the showers, playing house…it’s almost cute.” His gaze shifted to Y/N, lingering for a second too long. “Maybe if I came in a few minutes later, I’d get to see you naked. That would’ve made my day.”

Before she could stop herself, a surge of anger took over and Y/N swung her arm toward Bellick. Her vision tunnelled, the only thought in her mind being wipe that digusting grin off his face. But before she could land the punch, Michael’s had shot out, catching her arm in mid-air.

“Y/N, don’t,” Michael said firmly, pulling her back. His grip was strong, but his touch was gentle as he guided her behind him again. “You’ll be sent away, and I can’t have that.”

Bellick’s laugh echoed through the showers, low and condescending. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Can’t take a joke?” He stepped closer, leaning in with that same infuriating grin. “I guess privacy is hard to come by in a place like this. But then again, you know that, don’t you? Clearing out the showers…smart.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, barely containing the anger that bubbled up inside her. “I just want a moment to myself, without you breathing down my neck.”

Bellick scoffed, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Then don’t commit crimes, honey. This is prison. Privacy doesn’t exist here. Especially for people like you.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. People like you. He knew exactly what he was doing—picking at the scabs of her past, bringing up the things she wanted to forget, the things she was trying to survive. Her fists clenched tighter, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.

Michael’s body remained tense, his gaze unwavering as he glared at Bellick. “You’ve had your fun. Now get out.”

Bellick chuckled again, taking a step back but not without a parting shot. “You two lovebirds should remember where you are. This ain’t some romantic getaway. It’s a cage. And I’ll be watching. Always.”

With that, he turned and swaggered out of the showers, leaving Y/N and Michael in the echo of his mocking laughter.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her heart still pounding in her chest. She leaned her forehead against Michael’s shoulder, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he wrapped an arm around her.

“I hate him,” she muttered.

“I know,” Michael replied softly, running a hand through her hair. “But he’s not worth it. We can’t afford to draw any more attention.”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes as she let herself be comforted by his presence, even if the weight of the prison walls never truly left her.

I hope you enjoyed! I had so much fun writing this.

Let me know your thoughts, opinions and comments! :)

Lots of love,

Ava <3

Taglist:

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

@enha-stars @wonuskie @believeinthefireflies95 @esposadomd @peachmartini

#michael scofield x reader #michael scofield #michael scofield smut #michael scofield imagine #michael scofield fanfiction #michael scofield fluff #prison break fanfiction #prison break imagine #prison break x reader #prison break #lincoln burrows x reader #lincoln burrows

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jojo0039 · 2 months ago

Text

Fox River - English, Fitz or Percy Part 2

Jessica goes with Veronica and Nick to meet the guy who can help them with the tape.

"Are you OK?" Veronica questions Jessica as she makes her way to them.

Veronica notices that her sister seems quiet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had a run-in with Lincoln that's all." Jess says wanting to change the subject.

"Why haven't you gone to see him yet? You've been working on his case. You know he's innocent.

So why haven't you seen him." Veronica asked her sister.

"He misses you." she baits her.

Jessica just shrugs her shoulders and moves on.

They find the guy that Nick knows and then they hand him the tape.

After watching it, he turns to them.

"This is some top A shit work. Do you know who did it?" he asks them rolling on his chair to his work space.

"No. Do you?" Nick questions him sarcastically.

"People who do this kind of work are like ghosts." he explains to them.

"Do you see any places on the tape that could've been cut or doctored?" Veronica asks the guy.

"That's the thing this tape is completely clean no footprints. Usually, when you pull a tape apart anything fake comes off. But not this one. This is laced, engraved ya know." he explains to them pressing forward on the tape.

They watch the part where Lincoln pulls the trigger.

The guy instantly notices something.

"Whoa... whoa." he says moving some of his equipment around.

"Do you see something?" Jessica asks him.

"No. The problem with your eyes is that they play tricks on you. But your ears don't lie." he informs them looking between the three of them.

Jessica smiles briefly this guy is very good.

"OK here's the audio track from the tape." he says playing the audio of the gun firing.

"It sounds pretty true right?" he asks them rhetorically.

"Yea." Nick answers anyway.

Jessica leans closer to listen better.

"OK, but noise is a noise it just doesn't die like that. Stripped out all those levels should be dancing still. That size would echo out farther not just have one blast and be done." he says getting excited.

"OK, so what does that mean?" Veronica asks him.

"It means that that gunshot was not recorded in that room."

The three look to each other all having ideas of their own.

"Will you testify to that?" Veronica asks him.

"Ah I don't know this tape it wouldn't hold up. If you want me to I need to get my hands on the original tape." he informs them.

Jessica leaves after agreeing that Nick and Veronica say they will go get the original and Jess will head to work and see if she can uncover other footage from the computer system.

She is making her way back to the station when she gets the call on the radio.

An inmate is missing from the prison.

Jessica's mind instantly goes to Lincoln wondering if it is him.

She races over to the prison.

She is coming down English Road following the other police cars.

She parks the car and gets out.

"What's going on?" Jessica asks going up to the group of cops talking to the warden.

"We had a misunderstanding all is under control now. We found him he wasn't missing." The warden informs them.

Jessica moves around and comes to stand in front of him.

"Who was it?" she questions him.

"It was Michael Scofield." he tells her.

Her eyes widen in surprise.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she asks him pulling him aside.

"Is there any way I can come back tomorrow? I want to do a follow-up investigation." she explains to him.

"There is no way you lost an inmate just like that." she says to him.

He starts to object but she goes ahead.

"I won't make a big deal. I just want to check the security in the place." she reassures him.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that this was Michael Scofield who went missing and you have been visiting him?" Pope questions her.

"I just want to make sure everything is up to date. We wouldn't want another false alarm. I could do this quietly or get my supervisor and a whole lot of paperwork involved." she threatens.

He sighs before agreeing.

"Fine. You can check in with Bellick in the morning." he tells her before walking off.

She smiles in triumph.

She doesn't know why she jumped at that opportunity but she just has to make sure Michael is OK.

#prison break fanfiction #jessica donovan #lincoln burrows fanfiction #michael scofield #fox river #book 1

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rurousha · 2 years ago

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From Fox River to Central City, Ch 9/14

Chapter 9 - Nightfall

Michael was not surprised to learn that Saints and Sinners was a bar or that Cold-4 knew exactly where to find it.

“It looks a bit different,” Cold-4 said. “It’s part of a strip on my Earth. No side alleys.” He reached for the door, but it swung open first.

Mark Mardon and Shawna Baez stepped out. Mardon took one look at Cold and went, “Nope.”

Shawna quickly followed, shaking her head and muttering, “Mm-mh.”

Michael sighed. He thought he knew what they were going to find in there.

Inside, Sara and Mickey-27 were finishing up a game of pool, Mayor Snart and Len-27 were pushing a couple of tables together so that Mick-1 could set down shot glasses, Leonard and Mick-19 were eating dinner with Snart-22 nearby, and Cold-16 was arguing with Rory-22 over at the juke box. At least, Michael thought that’s who everyone was. If there were other patrons in the bar, they were making themselves scarce.

“Oh, come on,” Cold-4 complained. “This is my bar.”

The woman behind the bar yelled, “Here’s yet another Old Fashioned for whichever one of you ordered it.”

Cold-16 retrieved the drink.

The bartender asked him. “It all this on one tab?”

“No!” five people answered at once.

“Yes,” Mick-1 answered. He pulled out a credit card and handed it to her.

“Good,” she said, “’Cause I didn’t want to try telling you all apart. Thank you,” she looked at the card, “Raymond Palmer.” She rolled her eyes at Mick but took the card behind the bar.

“I’ll have a beer,” Lincoln ordered. “Whatever’s on tap.”

Michael spotted a promising sign propped up on one of the shelves. “I’ll have a couple of those pickled eggs.”

“That’s disgusting,” Lincoln said.

Cold-4 held up a couple of fingers to indicate he wanted two also.

“This ain’t everybody,” Mickey-27 said. “Who we missing?”

“The other Scofield,” Leonard-19 said from across the room. “Haven’t seen him all day.”

“He’s holed up in the labs,” Lincoln said.

“Nah,” Mick-19 said. “I think the Killers got to him, and nobody noticed.”

Or cared, Michael thought. “Leo and Ray,” he said out loud.

More than one person snorted.

“Does he even drink?” Cold-16 mocked.

“Not enough,” Mick-1 answered.

“Well, that tight-ass Leo with his tight-ass white board might be a complete twat,” Leonard-19 started and held up an empty shot glass, “but I will grant him this much. Never have I ever.”

“No,” Mayor Snart said. “We are better than this.”

“Never have I ever!” Leonard-19 insisted, “punched a Nazi in the face.”

Mick-1 lined up a bunch of shot glasses, poured something clear and probably very toxic into them, and promptly knocked one back.

“Well, alright then,” Leonard-19 said, “well done you.”

Surprisingly, Cold-16 and Sara-16 also took shots. “Time travel,” Sara said by way of explanation. “We didn’t even start it.”

The others started to drift towards the middle tables.

“Now, do trashy neo-Nazis count?” Lincoln asked. “Like trailer trash white guys that shout really racist things at protesters?”

“No,” Leonard-19 clarified, “it’s got to be proper Nazis. Like swastikas and guns and heils – the whole bit.”

“Okay, then no.”

“I’ve got one.” Cold-4 took a seat next to Michael while some others pulled more chairs over. There were rather a lot of them here. “Never have I ever time travelled.”

Roughly half of the people present took a shot and hissed once they drank whatever Mick-1 had poured them. Rory-22 nodded at his glass and said, “That’s nice.”

Michael decided that this was actually an excellent information-gathering technique. He had to admit that he was incredibly curious about the other worlds. Now that he thought about it, that was probably why his doppelganger started this game in the first place. “Never have I ever broken someone else out of prison. Not for lack of trying.”

Lincoln laughed when every single person at the table – including Mayor Snart – took a shot. “Wow, Michael. I think I’m seeing the similarities now.”

“My favorite one was this really messed up place in Panama,” Cold-4 said.

“Sona!” exclaimed three people at the table. Michael assumed that was the name of the prison, as they all seemed to be nodding in camaraderie.

“My turn,” Lincoln said. “Never have I ever set a building on fire.”

There were boos all around, and every Mick took a shot. So did Sara and two Snarts. “What?” one defended. “They make for excellent distractions.”

“You sure?” Michael ribbed his brother. “Not even Mr. Amaris’ shed?”

“I told you that wasn’t me. It was Terry Jace, and he was a moron.”

Mick-1 said, “I guess this makes you the boring one.”

“Okay, never have I ever until five seconds ago, been accused of being ‘the boring one’,” Lincoln objected.

Michael took his first shot. He was the only one. “That felt kind of personal,” he coughed roughly. That stuff was awful.

“Never have I ever slept with the Flash!” Sara-16 shouted.

There were cheers all around when Leonard-19 and Mayor Snart took a shot.

Mick-1 narrowed his eyes at the mayor. “Didn’t your Flash turn out to be a serial killer? Not judging.”

The mayor’s expression shuttered for just a beat before he responded, “At least he was a little more age-appropriate than this Flash. Seriously, that kid’s barely out of high school.”

“He’s 29 and married,” Michael corrected. He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend Barry’s age, but he did.

“Enemies with benefits?” Sara-16 asked Leonard-19.

“Something like that,” Leonard-19 hedged.

Rory-22 elbowed Cold-4. “Really? You two seemed pretty chummy in the hallway when he dropped you off.”

Cold-4 shrugged. “He’s just a chummy guy. Plus we’re both straight, if you can believe it.”

“I don’t,” Len-27 said.

“Stranger things have happened,” Michael defended. It was looking like he and the older, married Cold were the only completely straight ones among his doppelgangers. He wasn’t used to being in a minority in that regard.

“That’s true,” Mayor Snart agreed. “For example, never have I ever…”

Palmer had shown up at some point. Mick-1 had immediately handed him three shots and said, “Catch up. You’ve time-traveled, punched a Nazi, and been the boring one.” Now the two of them were arguing over the music. Or the bill. Michael wasn’t sure which.

Some time later, Michael was feeling more than a little fuzzy. He didn’t often drink more than the occasional beer or glass of wine, so even the three shots he’d had of Mick’s drain cleaner were running through him very fast.

Lincoln unsteadily stood up next to him with a very smug smile. “Never have I ever!” he announced to the room. Everyone had scattered a little and were in various states of inebriation, “made out with one Dr. Sara Tancredi.”

Cold-4 took a shot without blinking. He was playing pool with Snart-22, but they had shot glasses nearby just in case someone decided to keep playing. Like Lincoln.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Michael complained. The room was tippy. Lincoln was ridiculously happy. Michael wanted to punch him.

“But have you ever?”

“And made out is a high school thing. We’re not in school, Linc.”

“But have you ever, Michael?”

Michael grumbled low in his nose and took a shot.

Lincoln whooped and slapped him on the back. “I knew it.”

“It’s good Flash and Cisco came to get us,” Michael mumbled. “I would have ruined her. And Sucre. And C-Note. And Pope.”

“No, no getting gloomy, Michael. Here, have a drink.”

“Yeah,” Mickey-27 agreed from across the room. “You’ve only got a psychotic, super-powered version of yourself after you. No reason to get sad.”

“No. Never have I ever thought it was a good idea to get black-out drunk while there was a hit out on my life.”

Every single person in the bar took a shot.

Michael got dinner. It was greasy, but he felt better already. Beside him, Lincoln was talking to Mayor Snart again.

“Let me get this straight,” Lincoln said. “You are openly gay.”

“Right,” Mayor Snart confirmed.

“And you have a criminal history.”

“Juvenile, but yes.”

“How exactly did you get elected?”

Mayor Snart grinned. “In a landslide.”

That wasn’t Lincoln. That was Mickey-27. Or Mick-1. No, there was Mick-1. Where was Lincoln?

Michael finally spotted Lincoln chatting with Sara-16. Cold-16 was standing beside them, slipping on his jacket. It wasn’t the parka. He held Sara’s coat open for her to put on. Lincoln smiled at the both of them and then came over to Michael.

“Hey, Mike, you awake enough to head somewhere else?”

“Where?” Michael asked.

“We’re not sure. We’ll find someplace.”

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

“It’s…” Michael checked the time on a clock on the wall, “almost eleven.”

“Yeah?”

“This really isn’t a good time to go bar-hopping, Lincoln.”

“Completely disagree, Mikey. I’m going. Stay or don’t; it’s up to you.”

Asshole. Lincoln knew Michael couldn’t just stay behind again. He chased after Lincoln and the 16s out the door. The cold air hit him like a wall, and he suddenly felt much more awake.

“Coming kiddo?” Cold-16 asked of him. He had Sara’s arm in his and led the group closer to downtown.

“I’m 30!” Michael objected. He was dismayed to note that there was a hint of petulance in his tone.

They ended up in a much nicer part of town. There were still a few restaurants open for drinks or dessert, but Sara seemed to be looking for a club. But she found something else instead.

“Ahhh, that’s sweet.”

Michael looked across the street. Sara was looking in the window of a dimly-lit restaurant that was still open. Sitting at one of the tables was Leo and Ray, chatting and grinning at each other. They looked happy. They looked in love.

In a dark, bitter part of himself that he refused to acknowledge, Michel hated them in that moment.

“Adorable,” Cold-16 agreed, but there was something dangerous in his tone.

Cold had a brick in hand. Just as Michael shouted “Don’t!”, Cold ran a couple of steps into the empty street and threw the brick through the window, just missing Ray. Someone inside the restaurant screamed, and both Leo and Ray stood, immediately at the ready.

“Oh shit,” Sara chortled. Smiling, she grabbed Cold’s wrist and dragged him down another street.

“Yeah, we really want to be somewhere else now,” Lincoln said and chased after them.

“But…” Michael objected. He liked Leo and wanted to stay and help. But he heard sirens and decided that being not here was an excellent idea. He followed his brother.

They ran down a couple of streets, but Sara and Cold-16 were nowhere in sight.

“Where’d they go?” Lincoln asked. They could still hear sirens a few streets over.

“I’m guessing there.” Michael pointed at the entrance to what was obviously a club. It didn’t have a name displayed out front, but there was a bouncer and a couple of patrons exiting. The tell, however, was the clapboard sign on the sidewalk that read Captain Cold Cosplayers – first round free!

“Good call.”

Lincoln and Michael entered the club, quickly ushered in by the bouncer. They came in on a platform at the top of some winding stairs going down. They could see the crowd of dancers below them and the bar on one side. It was better lit than most dance clubs, and they could spot Cold and Sara already finding a spot to dance.

“So… this is a gay bar, then,” Lincoln said over the music. There were a few heterosexual couples among the dancers, but the group was overwhelmingly male.

“Looks like it,” Michael agreed.

“Was this world’s Captain Cold publicly out or something?”

“I don’t think he was publicly anything except snarky and well-armed.”

Lincoln tipped his head in agreement. Then he sighed. “What are we doing here, Michael?” he asked over the music.

“Those two are loose cannons. We need to get them back to STAR Labs.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

Michael sighed. Then he pulled out the phone that Cold-4 gave to him.

“No,” Lincoln objected. “We are not calling Cold-4 or the Flash. I’m not going to be the snitch in this scenario, Michael.”

“Well, I don’t have any other ideas, Lincoln. This has gotten out of hand.” As he spoke, Michael’s eyes swept over the dance floor again, looking for ideas. What he saw instead was something entirely different.

The mirror behind the bar rippled. Then a well-dressed man stepped out of it. His eyes went straight to Cold-16, who was spinning Sara around the dance floor. The man reached back into the mirror and helped a woman step out beside him. One of the bartenders finally noticed them, dropped what he was holding, and fled. No one else seemed to notice them.

They stepped around the bar and made a beeline straight for Cold and Sara. They didn’t look happy.

“Sara,” Michael said. Then he shouted as loud as he could, “Sara! Sara!” He leaned over the railing and waved to get her attention.

“Mike, what are you doing?” Lincoln asked, a little embarrassed. A few people were looking at them, and the bouncer poked his head in.

The well-dressed man slipped a concealed pistol out of his jacket, and Michael screamed, “SARA!”

Finally, Sara’s head snapped up to look at Michael. She gave a confused shrug, and Cold-16 frowned at him.

Michael pointed. “Gun!”

The two spun around just in time to see the man close in on them and point the gun at Cold. Sara blocked his arm with her forearm and knocked the gun out of his hand. Cold kicked him in the ribs.

The crowd right around them screamed and scattered.

“Scudder,” Cold-16 sneered. “This world really is different, because I’m pretty sure I killed you already.”

“You certainly tried, Snart,” Scudder replied, “but I’ve got a few new tricks this time.” He snapped his fingers, and the mirrors all around the room – behind the bar, in the hall by the bathroom, over some of the seating – all rippled, and a handful of men stepped into the room.

Sara leaned over to Cold. “Can we beat them up now?”

“My dear, I wish you would.”

Sara grinned and dove for one man wielding a taser, and Cold spun to shoot a line of lighting fixtures on the ceiling. The brittle ice broke, and the fixtures crashed to the ground.

Michael and Lincoln tried to run down the stairs to help Sara and Cold, but the crowd of people going up slowed their progress. By the time they made it to the ground, they had gotten separated. Lincoln couldn’t see Michael, but he did see someone approaching Cold from behind. Lincoln grabbed a barstool and hit the assailant just as Cold spun around.

Cold smiled and said, “Your timing is perfect as always, Mi…”

Then he looked over at Lincoln properly, and his glee visibly faded. It was replaced with the closest thing to honesty Lincoln had seen from him, and it was all pain. Just as quickly, it disappeared, and Cold was back. He shouldered past Lincoln to join Sara again.

Sara was face-to-face with Rosa Dillon.

“You’re new,” Rosa cooed. “Let’s see how pretty you look with your brains splattered all over the walls.”

Rosa’s eyes flashed, but Sara quickly closed hers. Then, eyes closed, she drew her favored staff and extended it.

“Uh, what are you doing,” Rosa asked cautiously.

Sara spun her stick around a few times between her hands. “Warming up.” Then, eyes still closed, she charged Rosa, who screamed and ran back towards the bar.

Lincoln punched out another guy and scanned the club for Michael. He saw Scudder grab Dillon and escape through a mirror as Cold-16 knocked out the last thug. Then, across the room, on the other side of the destroyed lighting and décor, he saw Sara grab Michael’s arm and pull him out the back exit along with the last of the club staff. There were still a few patrons in his way, and he couldn’t get over there easily.

Cold-16 shoved at Lincoln’s shoulder and barked, “Come on, time to leave!”

Disoriented by the fight and the running people, Lincoln followed Cold back up the front stairs.

People poured out of the building, and Lincoln hurried around the side looking for Michael. Instead, he found Cold-16 holding a lit match between two fingers, staring at the flame.

“Do you know, Lincoln Burrows,” Cold asked conversationally, as if this encounter were completely normal, “what Mick Rory wanted from the world?”

Lincoln floundered for a second. He just wanted to find Michael, but this psychotic look-alike brought chaos and confusion everywhere with him. “I don’t know. To eat, drink, and set it on fire?”

“Yes,” Cold said. The flame had almost reached his fingertips. “Exactly. He wanted to make it all burn.”

Then he flicked the match to the ground, where several bottles of very high proof alcohol had been broken against the wood-paneled wall.

“No!”

The wall immediately blazed to life.

~~~

This chapter's club scene is brought to you by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crdMfAAp20M.

Yes, I know Michael didn't actually kiss Sara Tancredi until after this point in Prison Break, but the line was too good to pass up.

#from fox river to central city #cw's the flash #the flash #dc #prison break #crossover #fanfiction

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