#lincoln burrows fanfiction

[theautismcorner]

Once again begging for more people to watch Prison Break. If you like smart, tattooed, autistic men you will like this show. If you like crime shows then please give it a chance. You like when people punch cops? You’ll like this show. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW AND WRITE FANFIC ABOUT IT

[twohearts-hs]

Defying The Odds: 4 - 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 had his hand on Y/N’s lower back as she went back to her cell to gather her items. Cheap soap, shampoo and conditioner and she turned to see him looking at her with those steady, calm eyes.

            “It’s just going to be us?” she whispered.

            “Yes, I don’t want you showering with a bunch of naked men. I don’t trust them.”

            Y/N nodded and followed him while he took her hand. The showers in Fox River were as grim as the rest of the prison – rusted metal, broken tiles, and flickering lights that made the space feel even more suffocating. It was one of the few places where privacy did not exist, and every inmate knew that stepping into the showers alone could mean trouble. But after the events of the riot, Y/N needed a moment to herself, even if it was just under the scalding water.

            She walked down the corridor with Michael behind her, a towel draped over her shoulder, her nerves on edge after the past few days. She could still feel the bruises on her neck and stitches on her arm pulled with each movement, but none of it compared to the lingering feeling of fear that settled deep in her chest. The riot had shaken her more than she cared to admit, and even now, every shadow felt like a threat.

            He walked next to her, his usual quiet, composed demeanour unchanged but there was something different in the way he moved, more protective. They had not really spoken since the vents, since the kiss. But now, as they neared the entrance to the shower block, Michael stepped ahead of her, his eyes scanning the area like he was assessing every possible danger.

            “I’ll clear it out,” he said, his voice low but firm.

            Y/N watched as he walked in first, his presence alone sending the few stragglers scattering, not wanting to cross Michael Scofield. Within minutes, the place was empty, and the only sound left was the drips of water echoing off the tiles.

            “It’ll all yours,” he said, stepping back toward the door, but not leaving completely. He stayed there, leaning against the wall, his eyes soft as they met hers. “I won’t look. I promise.”

            Y/N gave him a small nod of thanks before stepping inside. The heat from the water greeted her like a strange, temporary comfort, and for a moment she closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. She undressed and placed her belongings to the side before looking over to see Michael looking at her.

            “I can’t see anything, you’re behind a wall,” he told her.

            Y/N wrapped a towel around her before walking over to the showers. Turning it on, she waited till it was scalding before dropping her towel. She stepped under the stream, the water cascading over her bare skin, rinsing away the grime, the sweat and some of the fear that clung to her.

            Michael was not heard, but when she turned around, he was not there anymore. However, she thought she was alone for a moment, but as the water poured over her, she caught of movement in the corner of her eye. Turning her head slightly, she saw him.

            Michael was still there, standing off to the side, not too close but not far either. His eyes, though not focused on her directly, flickered with something – something more than just protectiveness. He watched her, his gaze intense but respectful, like he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He could not see anything – only her shoulders up – but the moment felt charged, heavy with unspoken words.

            She turned her head back, staring at the cracked tile in front of her, her heart pounding in her chest. The memory of the kiss in the vents still burned in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a one-time thing, or it there was something more to it.

            Then she heard movement.

            Y/N did not have to look to know that Michael had stepped into the stall next to hers. She could feel his presence, just on the other side of the low wall that separated them. Her breath caught her throat, and she slowly turned her head, her eyes meeting his over the divider.

            Water dripped down his face, his hair wet and his tattoos glistened. She saw pieces of it and admired it. They simply just stared at one another. Neither of them spoke, but the air between them was thick with tension with the weight of what was not being said.

            Finally, Y/N broke the silence.

            “The kiss,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than the sound of the water. “What was that, Michael?”

            He did not look away, his blue eyes locked on hers. “I needed to protect you,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I needed to make sure you were ok. And I–“ he hesitated like he was not sure how much to say. “I care about you, Y/N. I don’t know why or how, but I do.”                 

            Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she found herself unable to look away from him. There was something so raw, so honest in his voice that it made her chest tighten.

            “And what about now?” she asked, her voice barely a whispered, though she already knew the answer.

            Michael did not say anything for a moment. Instead, he reached up, his hand resting on the edge of the divider between them. He leaned in slightly, closing the distance just enough so that their faces were only inches apart.

            “If you let me in,” he said quietly, his voice almost trembling with the weight of his words, “I’ll stay.”

            The invitation hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. This was dangerous. Everything about this was dangerous. But as she looked into those eyes, the world around them seemed to disappear, and all that was left was the steady rhythm of the water and the rapid beating of her own heart.

            Without another word, she stepped back slightly, the water running over her bare skin, her eyes never leaving his. The invitation was clear.

            Michael did not hesitate. He stepped into the stall with her, the warm water soaking him instantly, and before she could say anything else, his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer.

            “Hi,” she whispered.

            He smiled, cupping her cheek and pushing her hair back. He was much taller than her and as he leaned down, he pressed a quick, but delicate kiss to her lips. “Hello,” he mused back.

            She rolled her head back to let the water cascade down her hair and Michael tangled his fingers through her long locks. Y/N eyes were closed, and his hand held her waist, pulling her against his body.

            Opening her eyes, she was faced with his blue eyes as his fingers dragged up and down her hips and waist.

            “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

            “You haven’t even looked at my body,” she responded. “You have just kept your eyes on me.”

            “I don’t need to,” he whispered back with a smile. “I think you’re gorgeous no matter what.”

            “Look down then,” she whispered.

            Michael looked down, seeing her body. The way her breasts hung proud and plump, ready to be held while her hips were the perfect width for him and her thighs…he could imagine gripping onto them. However, as his eyes moved from hers to her body, down her chest, her breasts, naval to her core, she took her hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss.

            Their lips met in a slow, deliberate kiss, the heat from the water mixing with the heat between them. His hands slid up her back, gentle but firm, and she melted into him, all the fear and uncertainty of the past few days washing away at that moment.

            “Your tattoo,” she whispered, pulling away and glancing down to his chest, lowering her eyes to his manhood before going back to his eyes. “It’s not just a tattoo, is it?” she responded. “You’re incredibly meticulous and your brain makes me think you’re a prodigy therefore, there is deeper meaning.”

            His hands drew circles against her stomach.

            “Everything is a plan.”

            She glanced at his chest again, seeing the designs, before whispering, “It’s a map.” Michael did not know what to say, rather instead he just looked in her eyes. “I was taught to always be twenty steps ahead of a plan. That was a skill needed for my line of work. You’re similar. Calculating, entangled, empathetic, conscientious,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw as her fingers dragged up his skin. A shiver went through him.

            “You’re skilled in seduction,” he responded taking her hand from his stomach and pulling away. “Is this an act?” he whispered.

            “Why would it be act? You have nothing I need-“

            “I can get you out of here,” he responded.

            “I don’t need that. I am joining because I care about you.”

            “Because I will be giving you a life outside of the mob,” he stated. “You seduced people for your husband,” he whispered, “didn’t you? Led them to their death.”

            “I was in survival mode,” she responded. “I was roped into crime at fifteen where I did drug runs for Sebastian. He groomed me at sixteen to marry him at twenty-one and now I am thirty and he sent me to prison because he cared about the mob more than his wife. I have been used, abused, degraded and thrown away for most of my life, Michael. Sure, I have seduced men, but I am telling you know you have nothing I need and I am simply acting out of my heart and desire because I like you.”

            Michael nodded, looking into Y/N’s eyes, feeling the weight of her words and the pain that lingered behind them. The steam swirled around them, the water still cascading down their bodies, but the intensity between them had shifted. It was not just about desire anymore; it was about something deeper, something raw that connected them beyond the physical.

            “I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, his voice laced with regret as he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her wet skin. “You’ve been through so much.”

            Y/N leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly, letting herself be vulnerable, of only for a moment. “It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “I just want you to understand…I don’t need saving. I’ve spent my whole life trying to survive, and I don’t need another man thinking he had to fix me.”

            Michael’s hand remained on her cheek as he nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “I don’t want to fix you,” he said, voice steady. “I just want to be there for you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before, Y/N. You’re strong, and you’ve been through hell. But I see you, and I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

            She blinked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For so long, she’d been alone, navigating the dark world of crime and manipulation, always having to rely on herself. But here, standing with Michael, there was something different. It was not about lust or survival – it was about trust something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

            “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

            Michael leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of his presence soothe her.

            As the kiss lingered, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to his tattoos, the map that was etched into his skin, and the intricate plan he was weaving. “You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him again. “You’re going to break out of here.”

            Michael’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, I am.”

            “And you want me to come with you?”

            “I do,” he replied. “I want you to have a life outside this place, Y/N. Away from everything – the mob, the crime, all of it. You deserve better. You didn’t kill those men.”

            She let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “Better? I don’t even know what better looks like anymore, Michael. I don’t know how to live a normal life.”

He shook his head. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice full of determination. “Have a little faith. I’m not asking for promises, or for you to trust me completely. But I’m asking you to take a chance. On me. On yourself.”

Y/N stared at him; her chest tight as she weighed his words. It was tempting – everything he was offering. But she was scared. Scared of what it meant to care about someone again, scared of would happen if they failed.

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

Michael’s hand slide down her arm, his fingers interlacing with hers. “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

There she felt something…hope. Just a little.

“Ok,” she said softly. “I’ll think about it.”

Michael’s eye softened, and he nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the water running over their bodies. Michael washed her hair for her, and they cleaned one another with a cloth as they kissed. For now, it was just the two of them, tangled together in the complicated web of emotions, and Y/N realised that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone as she thought.

-

They left the shower, clean but also assured they had one another. Michael’s touch was small but it was there, hand on her lower back barely touching as they made their way to their cell.

            “Scofield,” a CO came over to him as they stopped in front of his cell. “You have a visitor.”

            “Who?” he asked. Y/N glanced over as she knew his only family was his brother and he was in the same prison. Could it be a lawyer?

            “It’s your wife and she is in the conjugal room,” he said and instantly, Y/N’s heart dropped. She glanced over Michael who went into his cell before coming out to see her face, disappointed and confused. They just scared a intimate moment and he has a wife.

            “Go find Sucre,” he told her, squeezing her hand but she pulled away. “Please.”

-

Y/N sat on a bench in the prison yard, a soft breeze tugging at the pages of the book resting in her lap. It was a copy of Pride and Prejudice, one of her favourites, a source of comfort in the chaos of prison life. She’d read it a dozen times before, but each time, it brought her the same sense of warmth and familiarity.

            Literature was so much of her life. Since she could remember, she would read to escape and now that she can’t escape, she reads.

            “Hey, little lady,” Sucre’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he approached and sat beside her. It was a chiller day, making them dress a little heavier, but that was April for you. Y/N glanced up from her book, closed it with a quiet sigh and placed it beside her. Sucre gave her a warm, concerned look. “How are you holding up?”

            Y/N shrugged, feigning indifference, though her heart still felt heavy. “Did you know that our favourite boy genius has a wife?” she said abruptly, her voice carrying an edge of bitterness that even she had not expected.

            Sucre blinked, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait…you mean Michael?” His confusion deepened, his eyes searching hers. “Scofield’s got a wife?”

            Y/N gave a short, humourless laugh. “Yeah. Isn’t that something?”

            Sucre’s brow furrowed deeper as he studied her. “Don’t you have a husband?”

            “By law,” she muttered. “But any romance between us is long dead. That part of my life is over. Just want the damn divorce.”

            Sucre made a sympathetic sound, shaking his head. “Love’s complicated, mami. It’s hard, but when it’s real, it’s worth all the struggles.”

            Y/N chuckled, though it was laced with sadness. She took Sucre’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, grateful for his kindness. “What’s her name?” she asked softy.

            “Maricruz,” Sucre said, his face lit up with affection as he spoke her name. “She’s my fiancée.”

            A small, genuine smile pulled at Y/N’s lips as she saw the way Sucre’s eyes gleamed with love. “I wish nothing but happiness in your future, Sucre,” she said sincerely, turning her gaze back to the yard though the weight of her chest hadn’t eased.

            Sucre shifted beside her, his expression turning more serious. “What did he do?” he asked after a few moments of silence, his voice gentle but probing.

            “My husband or Michael?”

            “Both?”

            Y/N stared straight ahead, not daring to meet his eyes. The sting of Michael’s betrayal was fresh, but her husband’s hurt her to the core. “Betrayal I would say,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “Men are good at that, aren’t they?”

            Sucre pressed his lips together, nodding slowly as he considered her words. “I get it. I really do. But Scofield…he’s different.”

            Y/N let out a bitter laugh, but there was tremor in her voice, betraying the hurt she was trying so hard to suppress. “Different? I don’t know about that.”

            Sucre leaned against the bench, watching her carefully. “What’s going on between the two of you?” he asked, his tone gentle but the question was loaded.

            Y/N shook her head, a hollow chuckle escaping her lips. “Nothing,” she muttered, brushing her hand through her long hair. “I thought I did…I thought we shared something. But, finding out he’s married? It’s like I don’t even know who he is? Every day, he surprises me a little more.”

            Sucre was silent for a moment, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “Michael…he’s got a lot going on in that head of his. You know that. There’s always a plan.”

            There’s always a plan…it registered with her. Then it hit her…there was always a plan. Was she a plan? What did Michael want with her? Y/N was so used to playing men, that she should know the signs when they are playing with her.

            It dawned on her then…he needed something from her.

            “I got to go,” she whispered, getting up and grabbing her book.

            “Go where?” Sucre asked, watching as she stood up.

            “I just need to go figure something out,” she whispered, climbing down the bleachers, but Sucre grabbed her arm.

            “Just talk to Michael and he will be honest,” he told her. “He is about the truth.”

            She shook her head. “No, he will bend the truth to get what he wants,” she responded walking away.

            Y/N was walking down the yard, when an arm pulled her to the side. Looking up, she spotted Michael wearing a toque and his outdoor clothes. His hand moved from her forearm to her hand where he grabbed it and squeezed it.

            “I only married her so she can get a green card,” he said with honesty.

            Y/N pulled her hand away from him. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered back.

            His eyes faltered slightly, a tinge of hurt in them.

            “Y/N, I am serious. It was an agreement,” he tried, placing his hands in his pocket but Y/N sighed.

            “You went to the conjugal room with her,” she whispered, eyes filled with hurt. “Michael, you saw me naked this morning. You kissed my lips. I touched you. Now, I found out you have a wife.”

            “It’s just business,” he responded, eyes locked with hers. “Just business. Everything has been thought out.”

            Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as Michael’s words hung in the air. Just business. The weight of his betrayal sank deeper into her, intertwining with every lie she had ever heard. She had known how to spot men playing games, but this? This felt different. This cut deeper because she had let herself believe Michael was genuine.

            “Where do I fit in your plan?” she whispered, voice trembling now, but she held her ground, staring into Michael’s eyes as if searching for the truth that always seemed out of reach.

            Michael’s expression softened, his eyes filled with something between guilt and frustration. “You’re not part of the plan. Not originally,” he said quietly, stepping closer but not daring to touch her again. “I didn’t expect you. None of this was supposed to happen. Not with you.”

            “But it did,” Y/N snapped, the emotions she’d been holding back breaking free. “It happened, Michael. And now what? I’m supposed to just believe that all of this – everything we’ve done, everything we’ve shared – was some accident when you think everything through?”

            His jaw tightened as he watched her, his blue eyes burning with intensity. “No,” he said after a long pause. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s not part of this.”

            She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “But you did. You kept something like this from me. A wife, Michael. I trusted you, and I don’t know if I can come back from this.”

            He clenched his fists in his pockets, looking away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “The marriage…it’s not what you think.. She needed the green card, and I–“

            “–And what? You just decided it was easier to keep that little detail to yourself? Easier to have me think we were…what? Something more?” Y/N’s voice cracked, and she cursed herself for how vulnerable she felt. How exposed.

            Michael stepped even closer now, his presence overwhelming. “You are something more,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading. “You have to believe me. This morning…it meant something to me.”

            Y/N shook her head, the doubt gnawing at her. “But how do I believe you now? How can I believe anything you say?”

            For the first time, Michael’s façade seemed to crack. His lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but he hesitated, struggling to find the words. “I–“

            “–Michael,” she interrupted, her eyes searching his, waiting for some kind of revelation, some truth that could make sense of all the lies. But none came. “I need to know where I stand with you. I can’t just be another part of your plan, your business. You promised me a life outside of mob, but I feel like I am diving into another one.”

            He swallowed hard, his eyes shining with a desperation that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. “You’re not just business,” he said firmly. “Not you.”

            But Y/N was not sure if that was enough. She had heard words like this before, words that sounded sweet but left her shattered in the end.

            “Then show me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “Show me that I’m not just part of the plan.”

            For a moment, they stood there, inches apart but feeling like miles. Y/N’s eyes searched his face, looking for something, anything to give her hope. But all she found was uncertainty.

            “I’ll show you,” Michael said softly, his voice low but steady. “I will. I promise”

            Y/N wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that there was still something real between them. But after everything, she was not sure if she could.

            “Promises don’t mean much around here, Michael,” she said quietly, but she took his hand and squeezed it. “But I believe you. Don’t make me regret that.”

            His hand found its way on her lower back as he guided her to the corner where Sucre and Abruzzi were. They settled on the benches, Michael close to her as they began to talk.

            “Y/N is joining us,” Michael announced.

            “A mobster’s wife. What can she bring to the table?” Aburzzi questioned. “Because the minute her husband knows she’s out, he’ll track her down.”

            Y/N chuckled awkwardly. “I can bring money,” she announced looking over at Michael. “And safe havens. I own multiple properties illegally. Private jet.”

            “But Marino will you down like a damn innocent deer,” Abruzzi said. “I’ve done business with him. I know how much he loves his dotting wife.”

            “Well, this dotting wife doesn’t love him anymore. Better keep this under wraps and make sure he does not know.”

            Michael nodded. “Money, that’s good. Where would it be?”

            Y/N smirked. “Why would I tell you now?”

            Michael chuckled. “Fair. Now, think of this place like it’s a map of the US. Our cell over there, that’s New York City. The infirmary, our exit, that’s California. The pipes beneath our feet that connect the two–“ Michael began.

            “–Route 66,” Sucre finished.

            “Route 66,” Michael affirmed, “our ticket out of here.”

            “I assume we’re doing this at night,” Abruzzi said. “We’re locked up, Fish. And your boy is in solitary.” Michael glanced over to Lincoln who was in his segregated yard before glancing at Y/N and looking over the men in front of him. “How we just gonna fly out of our cages and right into your cell, right into New York City?”

            “You’re not. You’re gonna meet me halfway, in St. Louis. Route 66 runs directly beneath that building. It’s the only building sitting on top of those tunnels. All we gotta do is get there, on PI, and dig ourselves an on-ramp. Shortly after, we hit the infirmary. Then we’ll be outside those walls,” Michael said.

            “What’s in there?” Y/N spoke up, wrapping her arms around her to keep her warmer.

            “It’s an old storage room. I figure John here can pull all the strings he needs,” Michael expressed.

            Abruzzi frowned. “It’s not that easy, Fish. That’s restricted area. I gotta be able to justify it to the bulls, you know, there’s gotta be some actual work to be done in there for me to get in there, you follow?”

            “Then you’d better figure it out. ‘Cause if we don’t get in that room, we’re not getting out of here,” Michael told him.

            All of a sudden, T-Bag showed up, strutting over slowly with a taunting look across his face. Y/N glanced at Michael giving him a look but he simply kept his calm.

            “I’m feeling kind of left out. New York, California, St. Louis. What are we discussing?” T-Bag said as he sauntered over.

            “We’re talking baseball, actually,” Michael cleared up.

            “Huh. Well that’s a subject I just happen to know quite a bit about,” T-Bag said.

            “What a shame. The conversation’s over,” Abruzzi finalised, smirking.

            They started to disperse and Y/N followed behind them while T-Bag continued to complain. However, Y/N stayed by Michael and walked with him.

            “I’m coming along on this endeavour whether you like it or not,” T-Bag threatened. “’Cause I got a hell of a singing voice otherwise.”

            Yard time was over and they followed the crowd. They lined up and Abruzi turned to look at Michael. “I won’t take that piece of crap along. I won’t do it.”

            “Me neither,” Sucre added.

            Y/N looked at Michael and leaned in. “He’s a monster, I’m not in favour.”

            “We won’t have to. He’ll be out of picture soon enough,” Michael said as they walked back in.

-

Y/N sat on the cold metal stood in the infirmary, her arm resting on the exam table as Dr. Remington came over while putting his gloves on. The sterile scent of the room mixed with the subtle noise of distant chatter from the halls. She felt an ache not just in her arm but deep inside, like a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong since she set food in Fox River. Her eyes followed Dr. Remington’s practiced movements, trying to distract herself from the tension in her chest.

            “My day gets a little brighter when I see your smile, Ms. Y/L/N,” he mused, sitting down in front of her and grabbing the supplies to inspect the wound. His tone was light, but still professional, however his eyes gave him away. They were warm, lingering just a second longer on her face as he gently touched her arm to examine the wound.

            Y/N could sense the subtle tension, the small but unmistakeable signs of attraction. She leaned forward slightly, her tone playful. “Careful, doc, someone might think there is something between us,” she mused back.

            Dr. Remington let out a soft laugh, shaking his head, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “I think I’m just focused on keeping you in one piece, Y/N. Now, looks like it’s healing well,” Dr. Remington said as he gently inspected the stitches.

            “Yeah, I think so,” she muttered, her voice quiet. “Though I guess it’s hard to tell in here.” She gave him a small, humourless smile.

            He chuckled softly, glancing up at her for a brief moment. “That’s true. The conditions here don’t exactly lend themselves to quick recovery.”

            Y/N winched as he pressed lightly around the wound. “Prison life is a whole different kind of endurance test,” she said, her gaze distant for a second. “Healing’s slower in a place like this.”

            Dr. Remington nodded in understand as he finished checking on her stitches. “You’re tougher than you think, Y/N. But you don’t have to be all the time. Don’t let this place make you think you can’t ask for help.”

            She about to make a comment when Dr. Remington paused, his gaze flickering toward her bruises on her neck.

            “Do they still hurt?” he asked, nodding to them.

            “When I sleep and sometimes when I swallow, but they are ok,” she told him with a small, sad smile.

            “Mr. Scofield has been asking about you,” he began casually, though there was a careful undertone to his voice. “He comes in for his insulin shots, but he seems to have taken a key interest in your well-being. Asking about arm, your bruises or if there’s anything medically happening.”

            Y/N’s brow shot up in surprise, her heartbeat picking up. A small smile came as she glanced down. “He just cares.” Then she looked into the handsome doctor’s eyes. “We’re just friends. He’s…complicated, but it’s nothing more than that.”

            Dr. Remington raised a brow. “I see. Well, it’s good to have friends. He seems like he cares.”

            “Michael is like that,” she said, her voice softening. “He has this way of making you think he’s watching out for everyone. But there’s always a plan behind it. It’s hard to know where you really stand with him.”

            Dr. Remington did not respond right away, finishing up the check on her stitches and securing new gauze in place. He seemed to be considering her words, nodding thoughtfully.

            “Well, whatever his reasons, he’s been pretty insistent about making sure you’re ok.” He gave her a small smile before shifting topics. “Speaking of your well-being… How’s the birth control treating you?”

            Y/N blinked, surprised by the change in conversation. “Oh, right,” she said, fidgeting slightly. “I’m still getting used to it. I’ve never really been on the pill before, only ever had IUDs.”

            Dr. Remington leaned back slightly, nodding. “Did you like the IUD?” he asked.

            She shrugged. “I got pregnant last year, but I was on the copper one before I went to hormonal. Unfortunately, lost the babe, but I don’t want babies. Not now, not while I’m here.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve read good results with this pill. It takes time to get used to, especially it’s your first time, but how are you feeling? Any side effects?”

            Y/N shrugged, but quickly followed it with a sigh. “Moodiness, fatigue, I guess. And my breasts have been super tender, which is annoying. It’s just weird, you know. Didn’t expect it to mess with me this much.”

            Dr. Remington gave her a reassuring look. “That’s normal. The hormonal shift can cause tenderness, and mood swings are common at first. It should level out in a few weeks, But if it doesn’t, or if it gets worse, we can try a different prescription.”

            Y/N nodded, feeling a little better that someone was paying attention. “It’s just…I guess I didn’t think prison would be the place I’d be dealing with this kind of stuff,” she said with a dry laugh.  

            “Your health is important, Y/N,” he told her. However, even though she knew Dr. Remington cares, it was strange to be talking something so personal as birth control in the middle of the prison infirmary, especially with the mess her life had become. Dr. Remington was easy to talk to, and in a place where people rarely cared about your well-being, it meant something.

            “If it gets worst, I’ll let you know.”

            Dr. Remington gave her a nod, his expression kind. “That’s all I can ask. Just don’t hesitate to come back if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.”

            As Y/N prepared to leave the infirmary, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She glanced back and saw Michael being escorted by a guard to the adjacent room for his insulin shot. He looked tired; his usual sharp gaze softened by the weariness of prison life. Their eyes met for a moment before Michael was led out of sight.

            Dr. Remington, who noticed the silent exchange, cleared his throat and gave her a nod. “If you want to see him, go ahead. He’s just getting his insulin – shouldn’t take too long.”

            Y/N raised a brow, surprised by the offer. “You sure?”

            The doctor chuckled softly, waving her off. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. Go on.”

            A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she moved toward the door of the room where Michael was. When she entered, she found him sitting on the edge of the cot, adjusting his sleeve to make it easier for the doctor to administer the shot. Tattoos on display, she smiled, they were masterpieces. His head turned, his eyes lighting up ever so slightly when he saw her.       

            “Didn’t know you were coming in here,” Michael said, his tone a mix of surprise and warmth.

            Y/N leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms across her chest. “Didn’t know you had diabetes,” she quipped, her eyes trailing to the small vial and syringe in Dr. Remington’s hands.

            Michael offered a faint smile. “Yeah, I’ve had it for as long as I remember. Just something I live with.”

            Dr. Remington watched them look at one another without saying anything, and he smiled as he administered the shot, and after a few moments, he left the room, leaving them alone. Y/N walked over, standing a few feet away from him, her arm still wrapped in its bandage. Michael’s gaze shifted from her face to her arm, his expression softening with concern.

            “How’s your arm?” he asked, his voice low.

            Y/N shrugged, holding it up slightly. “It’s healing. Slowly, but it’s getting there.”

            Without saying another word, Michael stood up and moved closer to her. Before she could react, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The suddenness of it caught her off guard, but after a second, she melted into the hug. It was the kind of hug that was not just about comfort, but something deeper, soothing, protective and loving all at once.

            She buried her face into his chest, her hands resting on his back as she held him just as tightly. For a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade away – the walls of the prison, the chaos of their lives, the uncertainty. In that embrace, there was only the warmth of his body and steady beat of his heart against hers.

            “You’re a hard guy to stay mad at, you know that?” she whispered against him, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement but also sincerity.

            Michael chuckled softly, his breath brushing against the top of her head. “I don’t like giving you reasons to be mad.”

            When they pulled apart, she looked over to see Dr. Remington watching them. She pushed that away and looked at Michael, who’s expression was softer than before. “I heard you’ve been asking about me. About my health. Thanks for that. It means a lot.”

            Michael’s gaze held hers for a moment, his blue eyes filled with kind of intensity that made her heart skip. “I care about you, Y/N. I know this place makes it hard, but I still care.”

            She smiled, wanting to go on her toes to press a kiss to his lips but instead, she rubbed his arm.

            “I got to go back,” she whispered, “but I’ll see you around.”

            Y/N held herself together, as she kept her smile to herself as she left the infirmary. Michael watched her leave and all he could do was smile.

-

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

[origamiopossums]

Master List Of My Prison Break Fics

Decided to make a list of my PB fics, since the number continues to grow! All are on AO3 and tagged pretty dang thoroughly.

Oneshots:

★ At The Heart of Cell 40 - Sucre/Michael, a fluffy getting together story based in canon. Rated T.

★And I Inherited My Health - A character study of Theodore Bagwell, dwelling on his past while he terrorizes Seth. Based in canon. Rated M.

★ It Just Screams Out Loud - T-Bag/Male OC. Based in my longfic Broken Machines. Exhibitionism, unhealthy devotion, and just all around very toxic stuff going on here. Rated E.

★ Push If You Still Need My Pain - T-Bag/Male OC. Also based in my longfic Broken Machines. Devotion, getting together, edging, unhealthy angst and romance. Rated E.

★ I Think You'd Like It If I Died - T-Bag/Lincoln. Season 5 canon based. Angst. Hate sex. Rated E.

★ Trying To Find A Place Where I Belong - T-Bag/Lincoln. Fluff and getting together. A partner piece to I Think You'd Like It If I Died . Much sweeter and nicer than that fic. Rated T.

Longfics:

★ Broken Machines - WIP. T-Bag/Lincoln/Male OC. Michael/Sara/Mahone. Lots of love for poly ships here. Canon divergence fic that started when I was a teenager wondering how the story would have changed if T had actually had someone who gave a shit about him growing up. Very dark, so mind the tags. Goes through the entire series with changes made due to new characters and dynamics. Really focused on digging into Linc and T as characters. Rated E.

★ Nuclear Blue Coffee Company - WIP. T-Bag/Lincoln/Male OC. Some Michael/Sara focus. Coffee Shop AU gone wrong. Really more of a hitman/assassin AU. Violence abound. Rated E.

★ Chasing Origami Swans - WIP. T-Bag/Lincoln/Male OC. Michael/Sara. An AU where Michael and Lincoln grow up to work for The Company instead of against it. T-Bag becomes a senator. Sara is caught in the middle of everything due to her father. Rated E.

[jojo0039]

Fox River - Riots, Drills and the Devil Part 2

   Jessica waits as Trish starts to explain.

"I met Paul in college way before I met Hank. And we had a couple classes together. He was really sweet and kind and smart and I fell under his charm." she explains to her.

Jessica gets a look of disgust on her face.

"Oh my god! " she exclaims. "You dated him?" she exclaims with horror.

Trish nods.

"I did. But it didn't last long because he left school and I haven't seen him until recently." Trish informs her.

"If he's threatening you I can talk to him to back off." Trish says making a show of grabbing her phone.

Jessica shakes her head.

"No don't worry about it." she says sitting down and sighing.

"Are you feeling OK? " Trish asks her.

"Are you working on any big cases? You seem really stressed." she says to her already knowing what case her sister is working on.

"Nothing big. I've just been dealing with other things." Jessica says to her.

"What other things?" Trish asks curiously.

Jessica ignores the question and asks her own.

"Has Lincoln ever been up here to talk to you?" Jessica questions out of the blue.

"Why do you ask?" Trish asks angry that her sister still thinks about Lincoln.

"No real reason. I've just been thinking about visiting him and I just wonder if he comes to talk to you." she replies not telling her the real reason.

Before Trish can respond, Jessica's phone rings.

She looks at the ID and sees it is Veronica.

"Donovan." she speaks into the phone.

"Hey, where are you?" Veronica asks into the phone. 

"I'm talking to Trish. What's up?" she says standing up and walking to the other side of the room.

"Good. I need to talk to you. Meet me downstairs." Veronica says before hanging up.

Jessica walks back over to Trish.

"I'll be right back. Veronica wants to talk to me about something." she tells her before walking out the door.

She doesn't catch the glare Trish gives her before she pulls out her phone.

     Jessica meets Veronica outside in the hall.

"OK so explain that to me again." Jessica says not catching everything the first time.

"Nick is here, and he discovered that the  anonymous phone call that said Lincoln was running from the garage in bloody pants was made in Washington DC?" Jessica asks thinking she got everything.

"Yes." Veronica confirms.

"And Nick and I are catching the next flight to DC and going to see if we can find any more traces there." Veronica informs her sister.

"Are you sure you can trust Nick?" Jessica asks not sure if she trusts him.

"OK." Jessica agrees.

"Be careful and keep in contact. If you need me I'll be on the next flight out." she tells her.

      Before she makes it back to Trish's office alarms go off.

Jessica gives her a hug before heading back up to Trish's office.

********************

She knows instantly that it is a lockdown.

She is still in the stairwell.

She hears a commotion and watches as inmates come out of nowhere running down the hall.

She watches as one inmate stops and notices her.

She isn't scared but she backs up anyway.

She backs up into a hard chest.

She turns quickly and comes face to face with Lincoln.

"Jess?" he whispers before seeing T-Bag eye her up.

He grabs her and pulls her behind him protectively.

"Well well." she hears T-Bag say teasingly.

"If it isn't Linc the sink with a rookie CO and a beautiful woman."

She tenses up and slowly moves her hand down to her gun.

"Take those handcuffs off of him now." she commands the CO as Linc turns and holds his hands out.

Jessica just stares ahead and keeps her focus on T-Bag.

Lincoln grabs the keys off of the CO and uncuffs himself.

"Get out of here T-Bag now!" he shouts in a low threatening voice moving back in front of Jessica.

"Oh I get it you found them first I respect that I do." he looks Jessica up and down.

She glares at him and moves closer to Lincoln.

"But I think we can work something out." he says walking closer to them.

"What do you got?" Lincoln asks him knowing he has to find a way to get Jessica safe.

"I can make your last few weeks here very enjoyable. Some Demerol, some X. I can make you forget all about that chair." he bargains.

Lincoln looks at him before shaking his head.

"No deal." he tells him moving so he can reach Jessica if he needs to.

"You know what?" T-Bag shouts at him. "You need to know how to negotiate better." he says moving closer to them.

Jessica jumps when she sees inmates come up the back stairwell but is luckily caged in.

The CO tries to make a run for it but Jessica stops him.

"Where are you going? You're never going to make it." she holds onto him.

"Oh whee. We got a tough one on our hands here."

Jessica looks up and glares at the five inmates who thought they could take them on.

T-Bag notices how Lincoln moves instinctively closer to Jessica.

"See here Sink no blood has to spill. I see the way you're standing in front of this girly here." T-Bag points out licking his lips.

"My best bet is you know her." he gives Jessica a suggestive look.

Lincoln gets mad and wraps the cuff around his knuckles waiting for the fight.

[afaimsarrowverse]

Meine „Prison Break“-Fics:

A/B/O-Verse:

The Things We Do For Love

A/B/O-AU, A/B/O-Dynamik, Seximus, Gefängnis, Erpressung, Nötigung, Gewalt , Character Death, PTSD, Polygamie, Machtmissbrauch, Vergewaltigung,, die Handlung spielt vor allem in den ersten drei Staffel, es gibt aber ein paar Spoiler für Season 4, während Season 5 wird als das seltsame Paralleuniversum, das es ist, ignoriert wird, Michael/Alex, Michael/Sara, Alex/Pam,  Linc/Veronica, Alex/Whistler/Michael, Kellerman/Sara, Kellerman/Caroline, Caroline/Terrence, Gretchen/Whistler. Michael glaubte niemals wirklich daran, dass er damit durchkommen würde. Von all den komplizierten Winkelzügen, die er sich ausgedacht hatte um seinen Bruder aus dem Gefängnis retten zu können, war das hier derjenige, in den er am wenigsten Vertrauen setzte. Ein Teil von ihm war zutiefst davon überzeugt, dass es früher oder später irgendjemanden auffallen würde, dass ihm früher oder später irgendjemand auf die Schliche kommen würde. Michael schleicht sich als Omega in ein Alpha-Hochsicherheitsgefängnis ein um seinen Bruder zu retten. und hat mit allem gerechnet, daber nicht mit dem FBI-Alpha-Spurhund Alex Mahone.

Von dysfunktionalen Familien und Fragen der Liebe

Fortsetzung von „The Things we do for Love“. Sammlung zugesammenhängender One-Shots, die während der 4. Staffel von „Prison Break“ spielen. Michael/Alex, Michael/Sara, Alex/Pam, Linc/Sofia, ein Hauch von Gretchen/Sara, Alex/Whistler/Michael, Gretchen/Whistler. „Ihr wart niemals nicht auf ihrem Radar, sie haben nur beschlossen euch kurzfristig in Ruhe zu lassen. Das könnte sich jederzeit ändern, und ihr würdet es nicht einmal kommen sehen“, behauptete Whistler. Michael hat sein Happy End gefunden, doch eine Bitte um Hilfe bringt ihn und sein Rudel zurück auf auf den Radar der Company.

Point of View

Companion Piece zu „The Things we do for Love“. Die Fic spielt während des Prologs bzw. des ersten Kapitel von „The Things We Do For Love“ funktioniert aber eigenständig. 5 Personen, die dachten zu wissen, dass Michael Scofield nicht das war, was er vorgab zu sein, und eine Person, die es wusste. Gen-Fic mit ein bisschen MiSa.

Die ganze Serie auf AO3:

Kompass-Verse:

Der vorbestimmte Weg

Kompass-Verse-AU, Gefängnis, Erpressung, Nötigung, Gewalt, Gen-Fic, mit ein wenig MiSa, Spuren von Michael/Alex und Kellerman/Sara, Nein, niemals, er konnte es nicht. Er würde alles opfern um Lincoln zu retten, doch was er nicht opfern konnte war der Wegweiser von drei anderen Menschen, die ihm genauso wichtig sein sollten wie Lincoln es war. Michael befreit seinen Bruder aus dem Gefängnis, nicht nur weil er auf seiner Haut steht, doch als er von einem Mann, der ebenfalls auf seiner Haut steht gejagt wird und die Ärztin, die ihm geholfen hat und auf seiner Haut steht, in Bedrängnis gerät, muss er entscheiden, wo seine Prioritäten liegen.

[amis3k]

[okamirayne]

Hello lovely human whom I have loved for… 13 years? Damn. Silly question for you. Since I simply adore your writing, and that includes your answers to asks. I would love to see inside you brain regarding ships I have seen you re-blog about over the years. Like if you were to read a fic for that ship what would you want to see from it, from plot to dynamic etc. I’ve seen you post about Ricky’s, merthur, destiel, sterek—anyways that’s who I can’t think of at the top of my head… any secret ships?? :o anyways you’re amaaazzzinggg tha bessttttest. Patiently waiting for the day I get to finally throw money at you for whatever you publish. I’ll go feral for it. I owe you after 13 years ~ 🐝 (Oooh! Has the UK finally let you watch the new TWD content 😩)

Hello fellow Earthling (Little Bee 🐝) whom I deeply appreciate and am sending all the big love to for taking the time to write me this delightful message. 💖 So wildly happy to hear from you! Thanks for your patience as I get to messages. 💜

I would love to see inside you brain regarding ships I have seen you re-blog about over the years.

Like if you were to read a fic for that ship what would you want to see from it, from plot to dynamic etc. I’ve seen you post about Rickyl’s, merthur, destiel, sterek—anyways that’s who I can’t think of at the top of my head… any secret ships??

Ah, Rickyl...absolutely my OTP of TWD.

What would I want to see from a Rickyl fic? Plot/Dynamic etc? Well. It always depends where in the timeline, you know? I mean, for me TWD sadly lost it way plotwise (which can happen with long-running series) so I would love to just ERASE CHUNKS OF IT 🤦🏻‍♀️. There's what I'd write and then there's what I've read, you know? I tend not to read fanfiction when writing fanfiction, oddly enough. But with these two I'd love to see them navigate a slowburn connection through any given shitshow scenario depending on the timeline of the show (The Farm/The Prison/Govenor/Negan/TOWL)...it really depends on when and who is in the picture (at least regarding Rick, seeing as Daryl shys away from relationships) and what craptacular event the characters are having to survive...to say nothing of what struggle they might be going through mentally/emotionally. Daryl coming to terms that he's got feelings for a dude? Rick straddling the fence between crazy and stable and getting hit with a wave of "wait a second I'm feeling ten kinds of different about my ride or die best friend". 🫶🏼

That season Rick exited held so much potential after that fight 😭👇🏼

For me the relationship aspect is usually set against some backdrop of big story (oh god, you see what I'm like? I can't even manage a one shot - WHY AM I LIKE THIS?) because that fleshes out tension and emotional intimacy. I have various little plot bunnies that hop around at random when I see these two pop up on my dash.

Outside of Rickyl: I have big love for Donnie (Daryl/Connie)

…but that ship never left the harbour despite all the legit wind in its sails...so, so sad and waste of a beautiful character (Connie) 😭.

Oooh! Has the UK finally let you watch the new TWD content 😩

YEESSSS, my dear!!!! FINALLY! I literally just finished watching The Ones Who Live (sadly, i was never sold on the Richonne pairing, but I can appreciate the storyline, even if I don't feel the dynamic between those two at all - despite Andrew Lincoln's absolutely phenomenal acting, he's undoubtedly one of my fav actors). DARYL DIXON airs in a few days time (1st August), so I'm preparing myself and girding my damn loins for what might come bursting out of a burrow in my fangirl brain. If they don't have some kind of Rickyl reunion at some point in TWD-verse, I shall have to generate at least 10 different headcanons for myself. 😏

Merthur...

Oh god...this one HURTS. It will never NOT hurt. Huge potential for pre-ENDING and post-ENDING (can't even say it). I've enjoyed reading some post-ENDING scenarios in fanfic as well as those that take place before the ...ENDING....either way, there's so much deliciousness surrounding prophecy, Arthur's ignorance of Merlin's magic, Gwen and all that jazz. There's a lot of canon to support the ship, which is great as I like to stay in the canon world as much as possible when writing fanfiction. I'm not a massive AU fan. Ideally I try to get it to read like 'this could legit have happened' - with a lot of creative license, sure. Would definitely enjoy exploring post and pre ENDING. Two whole different worlds, especially a modern era fic. Dynamic? Their banter is awesome. The loyalty. The social challenges standing in the way (to say nothing of the whole 'oh by the way I'm a warlock' issue). Then of course a modern day setting brings with it its own challenges and delights. It's a pairing full of wonderful temptation.

Destiel....

Oh hell, it's a no-brainer with these two. From start to finish. Dynamic-wise? I cannot stand weak Castiel. So a strong, "I am the one who pulled you from hell and I can toss your ass back into it" Castiel rather than the fawning cas-trated Castiel is an absolute MUST for me personally. I can't stand the weak Castiel who takes shit from Dean...I lamented the death of his balls and self-respect. Dean...just a whole bag of angst and complicated homophobic issues. As with most ships I ship, certainly the m/m pairings, I personally need both males on an even keel. That's how I roll and that's what I look for in what I read on the occassions I'm reading fanfic. The Supernatural plot murdered my willingness to suspend my disbelief a few seasons in and totally lost me. But I would personally stick with the Lucifer threat and stay in that mythological playground if exploring a plot with these two. Cas would still be funny, he'd just not be a total wetwipe when it came to dealing with Dean's shit.

Sterek...

Big caveat. Reading/writing these two requires me to look a few good years POST Teen Wolf series -- so basically when Stiles is older and working his big brain badassery in some bureau or the other (FBI or otherwise)...this is the whole 'even keel' coming into play. He has more power (or energy) in the dynamic; same banter, but levelled-up chemistry and a bit rawer. So...older Stiles teaming up with Derek and let's go wandering into that delightful forest of possibility. So many paths the plot bunnies could go bounding down.

Okay...I'm not even sure if any of that properly answered your question about the pairings you mentioned, luv??? 😅 I hope so?? Feel free to let me know if not. I could write essays on my thoughts with these pairings and all the other ones sitting in their respective little burrows, deep in my dastardly brain. So sweet that you'd be interested in my rabid plot bunnies. Just need to teach them how to produce ONE SHOTS.

Patiently waiting for the day I get to finally throw money at you for whatever you publish. I’ll go feral for it. I owe you after 13 years ~ 🐝

I just...right in the heart. I can't formulate a proper response to this but I am prepared to teach an interpretive dance to someone who can masterfully perform it on ice. Because it deserves ice. There's too much nuclear-powered heat coming off my face. Thank you so much. You made my heart do some hardcore base drumming which counts as a cardio workout right now. THANK YOU for the love, fun ask, and support, sweetheart ❤️💜❤️

[fichtner-fics]

Rebuild the Ruins (Alex Mahone)

Warnings: shouting, mention of bloody scratch on wrist, first kiss, spoilers from Prison Break God knows which episode (as usual)

A/N: yes I do have a thing for calming raging agents, what’s new in that

I was quietly typing on my computer, when suddenly I heard a crash from the office next door. I happened to be working alongside Alex Mahone, who was investigating the Burrows-Scofield case, at that moment as well, as we could hear. The case started about six months ago, and since then there has been a noticeable increase in tension in the office and in our relationship.

I wouldn't say that we were together with the agent and we didn't even have a date, but we communicated our feelings to each other through kind glances and little touches. We discussed without words that we didn't want to jump right into the middle. I loved him and he made me feel interested in me. I especially enjoyed that he showed his tender side only to me, occasionally, little by little.

Next, a harsh male voice shouted a clearly audible yell of "everybody out", then a door slammed with untold force. I was sure that the next district could hear Alex kicking everyone out. I tensed my muscles ready to go, but I forced myself to remain calm. I gave him a few minutes alone, while I finished the spreadsheet I was working on, and only then stood up.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you" my colleague said to me when I had my hand on the door handle of the officer's door. "He's an asshole" she snarled, shaking her head. I sighed regretfully and slowly entered the room anyway.

Mahone was sitting at the small table under his window and shook his head in fright as he heard me approaching. He looked me over, then turned back to the window he had been staring out of without any reaction.

I looked around his (otherwise tastefully decorated) office and saw destruction. The posters that had been hanging on the wall were torn down, and pieces of paper lay crumpled and torn on the floor. Even the fax machine had fallen over, and if my senses hadn't been deceiving me, the whole thing must have been triggered by a message he got from there. I had never seen him in such a mood before, or rather, I had never seen any of his moods leave such a mark on his surroundings.

I slowly picked up the scraps and larger pieces to carefully (they were full of pins) toss them in the trash. Mahone was silent, not saying a word that maybe I shouldn't be doing what I was doing.

When I was done, I sat down across from him. He was staring at his two hands, and it was only then that I noticed that he was scratching the thin skin of his wrist, which was bleeding quite badly by then. I immediately fished a clean tissue out of my pocket. Reaching across the table, I gently held his right hand down, pulled his wounded left forward a little, then pressed the material against it.

“Alex, stop” I whispered.

The man didn't look at me, but he gave a big sigh. Holding one hand on the wound, I stroked his palm. I looked at every tiny crease and wrinkle, ran my finger along every tiny vein. The pins had stuck to his skin, too, and there were red streaks of blood here and there.

I could do this until Alex slowly pulled away. My mouth fell, but I didn't blame him. Instead, I stood up again and poured some water from a nearby water jug into the tiny glass cup next to it. I carefully dripped a little onto another tissue and returned to the table with it. This time I stopped next to Mahone.

"Here, drink, please" I asked quietly. "And put this on your wrist" I continued, pressing the soaked tissue into his hand. Fortunately for him, he did as I asked, making me feel a little relieved.

I knew there was nothing more I could do, so I considered giving him a kiss on the forehead. In the end, I decided against it and strode out of the room without a word.

Hours after work I was still thinking about what happened, as I packed up my groceries I bought on the way home. I was almost certain that something had happened in connection with the investigation. However, I was shocked to the extreme at how close Alex had let me get. The rational part of my brain wanted me to believe that it was just exhaustion and that he simply didn't have the strength to push me away anymore, but my heart was racing at the thought that my presence may gave him some strength and calm.

I was gathering up the paper bag and heading for the door when someone knocked. I smiled at the coincidences, but when I opened the door, my smile turned to surprise. Mahone was standing on the threshold.

"Hi," he greeted me quietly. Scanning him, my confusion was further heightened by the beautiful bouquet of flowers he was holding.

"Come in" I took a step back, collecting myself and my thoughts. My heart nearly skipped a beat. I quickly placed the paper bag I was holding on the counter and hurried after him. "Have a seat," I said already in the living room, but instead of listening to me, he turned to me, this time looking right through me.

"Thank you for coming in this afternoon" he shyly held out the flower to me. "It meant more than a lot, even if I couldn't thank you then" he smiled faintly.

"You shouldn't have" I stepped closer. I was about to give him two kisses, but Alex took my shoulder gently in his free hand and leaned down, pressing his lips to one side of my cheek. I was sure both my cheeks were red as he released me.

"I'll put these beauties in water" I looked up at him with a smile. "Sit down" I nodded my head towards the couch as I did so.

I returned to the room with a glass of tea, where the policeman was looking at my bookshelf.

"Here" I held the mug out to him. "I've brought you this now, since you're driving."

I got a smile of thanks. We sat down on the couch, close to each other. I waited for him to say something before the silence became too awkward. I didn't want to start questioning him, because I didn't know how much he would like to share about what had happened.

"I'm really ashamed of myself for freaking out like that" he sighed slowly "but I'm telling this only to you" he smirked at me mischievously.

"What happened?" I finally asked the question. My boss took a slow sip from his tea.

"Those bastards escaped" he shook his head angrily, putting the mug down on the table. "The the fax came from the Central. They just made it, see?"

"It doesn't decide anything, and you know it. You'll get them anyway" I smiled encouragingly at him.

"Now everyone in the office must be thinking bad things about me" he snapped at me. "So far, so good."

"Nonsense" I shook my head immediately, almost giving him no time to finish. "You're a perfect boss and they know perfectly well that your priorities are inviolable. And what your temper is like."

I placed my hand softly on his knee, hoping the touch would add emphasis to what I was saying. Alex took it between his own two palms and stared at it. I just couldn't believe if that was happening what I thought was happening.

"It really means a lot to have support" he raised his sky blue eyes at me. "You know what I thought of when you sat down across from me?"

I blinked at him in shock, shaking my head a little. I had no idea what was going through his mind, let alone whether I would be happy if he said it.

But Alex stopped talking. He leaned in close and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, then pressed his lips to mine. My surprise was too much for me to do anything, but the shock wore off in a matter of seconds, and I was happy to pull him to me. In a short time, the shy kiss turned into a heated one, my hand wandering in Mahone's hair while the man's fingers danced on my waist. The policeman leaned back so that I could lean on his chest. It was a long time before we finally let go of each other, and by then we were both out of air.

"Alex..." I whispered, even as his lips were millimetres from mine. I snuggled into him as he put his arms around me protectively. In the silence between us, I took in his scent.

"Will you be here with me?" he asked quietly.

"I'll be here" I lifted my head, looking him straight in the eye.

[blondie20000]

Fandoms: Prison Break, Supernatural

Title: Cell Mate

Gen

Crossover

Summary: Michael has a new cell mate.

Word Count: 4033

Complete

Available on Ao3

[dbcwinter]

In case anyone is interested in a Prison Break fanfic. Post-2x10.

[twohearts-hs]

Defying The Odds: 7 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.6k

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

Y/N sat on her cot, staring at the small velvet box that had arrived for her just moments ago. Her hands trembled as she opened it, revealing a sleek, elegant watch nestled inside. It looked expensive.

            A note was nestled inside of it, and she took it out.

Doll,

Happy birthday

S.

It was just the kind of gift Sebastian would send. But her heart raced with unease as her eyes drifted to the face of the watch. Her heart dropped, watching it.

            This beautiful, sterling silver and 14k gold watch was not telling time.

            Instead, the digital display showed a countdown. Hours, minutes, and seconds tick away ominously.

            Y/N’s blood ran cold. It was her birthday, and of course, Sebastian would know that. He always did. But this was not just a gift. It was a message. A threat. The countdown mocked her, and she knew exactly what it meant – time was running out, and Sebastian was reminding her that no matter where she was, he was always one step ahead.

            Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as the seconds slipped away.

            Just then, she heard footsteps approaching her cell. She quickly closed the box, hiding it under the pillow. Michael stepped into her cell, his presence instantly calming, but Y/N could not shake the anxiety twisting in her gut.

            “Hey,” Michael greeted, his eyes softening as they landed on her. “You ok? You look…distracted.”

            Y/N forced a small smile, trying to steady her breathing. “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”

            Michael raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. His eyes flickered over her, noticing the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands fidgeted in her lap. “What’s going on?” he asked gently, moving closer. “You’re not yourself.”

            Y/N shook her head, trying to wave it off. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice a little too tight. “Just got…just got a birthday present.”

            Michael’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s your birthday?” he asked, small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Happy birthday.”

            Y/N nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. “Thanks.”

            Michael studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing as he sensed there was more she was not telling him. “So…what’d you get?”

            She hesitated, her fingers brushing over the pillow where the watch was hidden. She couldn’t tell him. Not about the countdown, not about Sebastian’s message. Michael had enough to worry about, the last thing she wanted was to drag him deeper into her mess.

            “It’s just a watch,” she said with a shrug, trying to keep her tone casual. “From my father…I haven’t seen him in a while. He was never really there…ever. So, kind of shocked me,” she whispered, lying through her teeth.

            Michael didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. “A watch, huh?” he said, his voice light. “Well, I didn’t get you anything so…how about I make it up to you later?”

            Y/N raised a brow, the hint of a smile ghosting her lips. “Make it up to me?”

            Michael grinned, stepping closer, his voice dropping as he whispered, “Shower, this afternoon. Just us. I’ll make sure it’s a birthday you won’t forget.”

            Usually, an offer like that would make Y/N’s heart race in a very different way, and she’d never say no to Michael’s intimate invitations. But today…today was different. The weight of Sebastian’s threat hung over her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with the countdown ticking away under the pillow.

            She shook her head, her smile faltering. “I…I can’t, Michael. Not today. Thank you, though.”

            Michael’s expression shifted from playful to concerned in an instant. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “You’re turning me down?” he asked, his voice soft, but edged with confusion. “That’s…not like you.”

            Y/N bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. “I’m…Michael, don’t make me say it,” she whispered, looking down.

            “Say what?” he mumbled.

            “I’m on my period,” she whispered the lie.

            Michael looked at her, seeing her body language. “That doesn’t make sense,” he admitted. “Then you’re early. Like really early.” Michael didn’t believe her. He could tell something was wrong – he always could. And the fact that she was pulling away from him, on her birthday no less, set off alarm bells in his mind. He crouched down, taking her hand in his. “Y/N,” he said gently, taking her hand in his. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”

            Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she considered telling him the truth. But the fear of Sebastian’s reach, the power he still held over her, made her stay silent. She couldn’t drag Michael into this. She couldn’t let Sebastian win by putting Michael in danger.

            So instead, she forced a smile and shook her head. “I just keep thinking of my dad,” was her response. “How he hasn’t seen me since the trial and now he sends me a birthday present.”

            Michael didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push her either. He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ok,” he said softly. “But if something’s bothering you, I want you to tell me. I’m here.”

            Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “I know,” she whispered. Then she took his hand. “Tomorrow. Showers?” She knew she did not have tomorrow.

            He nodded. Michael lingered for a moment then his hand came to brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was warm, comforting, and for a brief second, Y/N allowed herself to lean into it, wishing more than anything she could forget the countdown, about Sebastian, about everything.

            But the reality of her situation loomed over, and as Michael pulled away, she felt the weight of it settle back on her shoulders.

            “I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice soft but filled with concern.

            Y/N nodded, watching him leave the cell. The moment he was gone, her hands instinctively reached under the pillow, pulling out the box once again. She opened it, her eyes narrowing as she watched the seconds ticked down.

            Five hours…

            Whatever Sebastian had planned, it was coming.

            And she had to be ready.

-

Michael just told the team they had eighteen inches to go until they hit the pipe, which meant they were breaking out Friday. C-Note came in threatening them and asking about another hand. He got signed up by Abruzzi.

            “Now it looks like Darwin wins after all, eh, Fish?”

            Michael heard him but he glanced at the door then around him. Where was Y/N? His brows furrowed in concentration – except it wasn’t just the escape plan on his mind or the fact C-Note was here.

            He focused on his team and said, “Has anyone seen Y/N?” His tone was sharp, breaking the steady rhythm of work.

            Sucre looked from the ground to see Michael’s serious face. “I didn’t see her at lunch. Thought she skipped to read those books she’s been readin’. Maybe she took the day off?”

            “It’s her birthday,” Michael whispered more to himself. “She was frazzled about a gift she was sent from her father.”

            “Then she took the day off for her birthday,” Abruzzi said. “I don’t get that.”

            “She would’ve told me,” Michael said.

            “Y/N? The girl?” C-Note asked.

            “Yeah, Fish and her are an item,” Abruzzi stated. “Welcome to the club.”

            “I don’t think she’s taking the day off. She knows how important the job is,” Michael snapped, his nerves starting to fray.

            Abruzzi glanced over, his cool demeanour shifting slightly as he recognised the growing concern in Michael’s eyes. “She’s smart. If she’s not here, there’s a reason.”

            Lincoln stepped forward, placing a hand on Michael’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “We’ll find her. She’s probably fine. You know how she is – tougher than all of us.”

            But Michael’s mind was racing. Y/N never missed a PI assignment. Something was wrong…seriously wrong.

            “I’ll go check the yard,” Michael said abruptly, not waiting for a response before making his way toward the door. The rest of the team exchanged glanced but kept working, though the tension was now thick enough to cut through. Michael’s mood had set everyone on edge.

            As he walked through the yard, through the prison hallways…his heart began to pound harder with every passing second. His usual calm, methodical nature was slipping, replacing by a deep, gnawing fear. When he spotted a CO walking by, he moved toward him quickly.

            “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Where is she?” Michael demanded, his voice firmer than usual.

            The guard barely spared him a glance, disinterested. “Why aren’t you at PI?”

            “Y/N? She’s missing,” he pressed further.

            “I don’t know. Ain’t my job to keep tabs on her.”

            Michael clenched his fists, taking a deep breath to control his anger. “She didn’t show up to PI. I need to know where she is.”

            The guard raised an eyebrow. “She’s probably fine, Scofield. Don’t start getting all attached.”

            “Find out where she is,” Michael insisted, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

            The guard paused, clearly not used to being challenged. He narrowed his eyes, but eventually relented, pulling out his radio. “Hold on,” he muttered into the device, signalling one of the COs on duty. “Inmate Y/N Y/L/N. Where she at?”

            The radio crackled with static for a moment before a voice responded. “On her way to infirmary. Attacked by another inmate.”

            Michael’s heart dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His stomach twisted as his breath caught in his throat.

            “Attacked?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. But the guard was already walking away, indifferent. Michael stood frozen for a moment, his mind reeling.

            Without wasting another second, he bolted toward the infirmary, adrenaline coursing through his veins pushing him faster.

-

The yard was buzzing with the usual noise of inmates milling about, and Y/N had just been on her way to PI when it happened. The crowd was dense, and she had her focus ahead, walking with purpose toward the fence where she knew Michael and the others would be waiting. However, the time was up. Had been for a few seconds…

            She barely noticed the person who sidled up behind her until it was too late.

            A sharp, searing pain shot through her abdomen, her breathing catching in her throat. The world seemed to slow as she looked down, seeing the hilt of the knife sticking out of her stomach. Panic flood her senses, but she instinctively gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness. Her vision blurred as she stumbled, blood soaking through her shirt, hot and sticky against her skin.

            The shank was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and the person – whoever it was – melted back into the crowd before Y/N could react. She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, trying to hold herself together.

            Inmates scattered around her, some looking, some ignoring the scene as it were just another day in Fox River. The guards shouted, their radios crackling as they called for medical assistance. Her legs felt weak, like they couldn’t support her anymore, and the pain was becoming unbearable.

            A gurney appeared in her line of sight as she was hoisted up by the guards, her world spinning. She was vaguely aware of the rush toward the infirmary, the walls of the prison blurring as her consciousness began to fade in and out.

            The next thing she knew, she was on her back, staring up at the harsh, sterile lights of the infirmary. Dr. Remington was there, his expression serious as he assessed her injury, his hands already working to stop the bleeding.

            “She’d been stabbed in the stomach,” one of the nurses said quickly, helping Dr. Remington get a better view.

            Y/N looked up, grasping Dr. Remington’s hand. “No painkillers,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “None.”

            Dr. Remington applied pressure to the wound. “We need to get her into surgery,” he muttered, his voice sharp with urgency. “Prep for–“

            Before he could finish, the doors to the infirmary burst open, and Michael bolted in, his eyes wild, searching the room. The moment he saw Y/N lying on the gurney, his breath hitched, and he ran to her side, ignoring everyone else.

            “Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with fear. He reached for her hand, squeezing it tight as he looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with worry. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

            Y/N tried to focus on him through the haze of pain, her vision swimming. She managed a weak smile, but every moment sent a fresh wave of agony through her body.

“Michael, I’m fine,” she whispered, though it was clear she was anything but.

“You need to leave, Michael. As much as I love you two, you need to leave,” Dr. Remington said firmly, trying to get Michael to step away so they could work on Y/N. “We need to stabilise her, and you’re in the way. Say your love yous and go, please.”

But Michael didn’t budge. His grip tightened on her head, and he shook his head, his voice low and strained. “I’m not leaving. I’m with her…I’m with her,” he repeated. “I’m with her. She’s mine. I’m her family.”

“Michael, please,” Y/N mumbled, her voice barely audible. “Let them work. I love you.” Her hand came up, to clasp his cheek. “Please.”

Dr. Remington exchanged a glance with one of the nurses, his patience wearing thin. “If you care about her, you’ll step back and let us do our jobs. I need to close that wound before she loses more blood.”

Still, Michael hesitated, his eyes locked on Y/N’s. It was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, of not being by her side when she needed him most. But the urgency in Dr. Remington’s voice finally broke through.

“Michael, go,” Y/N whispered again, her hand trembling. “I’ll be ok.”

Reluctantly, Michael nodded and stepped back, though his eyes never left her. His heart raced, his mind spinning with all the worst-case scenarios as Dr. Remington worked quickly to patch up Y/N. The room buzzed with activity, but all Michael could do was watch, his chest tight with fear.

He was escorted back to his cell. However, as the surgery happened, he paced back and forth in his cell. Sucre was watching him as he ran the water, wet his face then went back to pacing.

“Hey, man,” Sucre said quietly, sensing something was wrong the moment Michael walked in. “Where’s Y/N?”

Michael shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N…got stabbed,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Sucre’s eyes widened in shock. “What? When? Is she ok?”

“They just got her into surgery. Dr. Remington say she’s stable, but…” Michael trailed off, leaning against the wall, his hands clenched into fists. “I should’ve known. I should’ve done something. She was acting funny this morning. She declined,” he chuckled, “she declined a shower with me. She never does that.”

Sucre stepped closer, his voice calming. “Hey, papi, this isn’t on you. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Michael sighed, his frustration and fear simmering just beneath the surface. “She’s more than just someone I care about, Sucre. I don’t know when it happened, but she…she means everything to me. I can’t let anything happen to her.”

Sucre nodded, understanding the weight of Michael’s words. “I know, man. I’ve seen how you are around her. She’s different for you.”

Michael leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes closing for a moment. “She told me she loves me and if anything happens to her because of me…or if Sebastian is behind this – I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sucre smiled. “She loves you?” he repeated, and Michael simply nodded.

“I didn’t get to tell her it back,” he whispered.

“You’ve always got a plan, right? You’ll figure this out. And Y/N’s tough. She’ll pull through.”

Michael’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, appreciating Sucre’s support. “Yeah,” he whispered, though the uncertainty still lingered.

He was about to sit down when the guard approached Michael, escorting him to the infirmary for his insulin shot. The guard’s face was expressionless as he led Michael through the halls, but Michael’s heart was racing, his thoughts still with Y/N.

When they arrived at the infirmary, Michael’s eyes immediately sought her out. She was there, on the other side of the room, resting after the surgery. The bandages were wrapped around her abdomen, and her face was pale, her body motionless. His heart clenched seeing her like this, so vulnerable.

Dr. Remington entered, moving with purpose as he prepared the insulin shot for Michael. However, he could not hold it back much longer.

“Dr. Remington?” Michael asked as he rolled up his sleeve and the doctor sterilised his arm.

“Yes, Scofield?”

“Please,” Michael’s voice wavered, filling with desperation. “Let me see her. Just for ten minutes.”

The doctor delivered the insulin shot before sighing, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She needs rest. She just got out of surgery, and I don’t want her agitated. She’s been through enough.”

Michael’s expression softened; his voice almost pleading. “I love her, doctor. I can’t just stand here and do nothing. She needs to know I’m here. Please.”

The sincerity in his voice must have hit Remington hard. The doctor studied Michael for a long moment, his stoic expression faltering slightly before he let out a small sigh. “Alright. But don’t do anything to stress her out. She’s still recovering.”

            Michael nodded quickly, his heart leaping. “Thank you.”

            Ten minutes turned into hours as Michael sat beside Y/N, watching her breathe, willing her to wake up. He held her hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. Every second felt like an eternity. He was lost in thought, running over everything that could have led to this moment, when finally, her eyes fluttered open.

            “Y/N?” he whispered, leaning closer, his voice filled with concern.

            Her gaze was heavy, still groggy from the medication. She blinked slowly, her lips parting as she mumbled. “They gave me painkillers…I said…I said no.”

            Michael smiled softly, though his heart ached. “You need them. You were stabbed, Y/N. You have to let them help you.”

            She stayed quiet, looking into his blue eyes as his hand came to brush her cheek. “Who did this to you?” he whispered.

            Y/N’s face tightened slguthly as if the weight of what had happened was starting to hit her. Michael could see it – the pain, the fear – but also something deeper. She was holding something back, and he knew it.

            “Y/N?” he whispered.

            Her eyes darted away, avoiding his gaze. She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

            “Y/N, please. You need to tell me the truth. If someone’s targeting you, I need to know so I can protect you.”

            She swallowed hard, still not looking at him. “It’s a warning,” she finally muttered, her voice low so he could almost not hear. “The watch counted down. It was gift from Sebastian. He’s warning me. I thought he would never hurt me but he’s more ruthless than I thought he was.”

            Then she closed her eyes again, dosing into sleep.

-

Michael walked beside Y/N, his hand hovering protectively near her back as they made their way down the dimly lit corridor. His eyes flickered to her every few seconds, watching her every move, every slight wince of pain that crossed her face. She walked slowly, still weak from the time spent in the infirmary after the stabbing, but she was determined to get back to her cell on her own terms. Michael, however, was not about to let her do it without his help.

            “You sure you’re ok? Maybe we should stop, just for a minute. I don’t want you to push yourself,” he said, his voice gentle but tinged with worry,

            Y/N rolled her eyes slightly, her patience wearing thin. “Michael, I’m fine. It’s just a few more steps. I don’t need to be carried,” she snapped, though there was no real heat behind her words. She was just frustrated by her own vulnerability, and by how suffocating Michael’s care felt at the moment.

            “I’m not trying to carry you,” Michael replied, giving her a small smile as he kept his pace slow to match hers. “I just…you’ve been through a lot. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

            Y/N sighed heavily, the tension in her chest building as she felt his eyes on her again. “I get that. But I’m not used to someone hovering over like this. It’s–“ she paused, searching for the right words. “It’s just a lot, ok?”

            They reached her cell, and Y/N gratefully sat down on the edge of her bed, exhaling in relief. Her body was still sore from the wound, and the effort of walking from the infirmary had taken more out of her than she’d expected. Michael lingered by the door, watching her with concern.

            “Do you need anything? Water? Food? I can–“

            “Michael,” Y/N cut him off, her voice sharper than she intended. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at him. “I just need some space. You’re being very kind and caring, thank you, but you’re also being too much right now. I can’t handle all this attention. I’m not fragile.”

            His face softened as he stepped closer, lowering himself to sit on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I’m just…I was scared, Y/N. Seeing you like that, not knowing if you were going to make it…it messed with my head.”

            Y/N glanced at him, the raw emotion in his voice pulling at her own guarded heart. She smiled, cupping his cheek and leaning down to kiss the edge of his lips borderline his cheek. Then her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. Michael dipped his head into her neck, breathing her scent in.

            “You said something to me before you passed out,” he muttered as he pulled away to look at her. “You told me you love me. Is that true?”

            Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She felt a surge of panic rise in her chest as she remembered the words slipping from her lips in a haze of pain and fear. She had been vulnerable, more so than she ever allowed herself to be. And now, Michael was asking her to confront it.

            She scoffed, trying to brush it off. “I was out it, Michael. I don’t even know what I said.”

            Michael shook his head, not letting her dodge the question easily. “No, Y/N. I know you. You don’t say things like that unless you mean them. So, was it true?”

            Y/N shifted uncomfortably, the walls she’d built around herself trembling under the weight of his gaze. She looked down to her hands, her fingers twisting together as she tried to find the right words. Michael took her hand.

            “Yeah,” she whispered eventually. “Yeah, it’s true.”

            “Good,” he whispered as his fingers tucked hair behind her hair. “Me too.”

            Then she smiled. “How’s the escape plan going?” she changed the topic.

            “Back to business then. After I tell my feelings-“

            “–Michael. I love you. Now tell me what we are doing as I’ve been in the infirmary for three days.”

-

Y/N watched as Michael in the distance buried the watch. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she worked in the yard, pushing through the heat and the soreness still lingering from her recent recovery. PI work was gruelling, but it kept her mind focused, giving her some sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of prison life. She bent down, grabbing another shovel full of dirt, when she saw Bellick approaching from the corner of her eye. She stiffened, already bracing herself for whatever nasty remark he was about to throw her way.

            Bellick sauntered over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked her up and down. “Well, well, look who’s back from the dead. Guess they patched you up real good, huh?” he muttered, voice dripping with mockery.

            Y/N didn’t respond, keeping her focus on the task at hand. She knew better than to engage with him, but Bellick was not one to let things go easily.

            “I heard a rumour, you and Scofield are a thing,” he muttered. “A romantic thing.”

            Y/N ignored him, focusing on her work.

            “Funny thing, though,” he continued, leaning closer. “While you were in the infirmary, Scofield’s wife paid him a little visit. You know…in the conjugal room. Do you know he has a wife…does the wife know about you? Or is this some prison rendezvous? A little fun?”

            Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her composure, but Bellick’s words hit harder than she expected.

            The bitch was back…

            She had known about the green card marriage…but the conjugal room? That was where people went to fuck. She shook her head, trying to shake off the images that flooded her mind.

            “Yeah,” Bellick sneered. “I bet you didn’t know about that, did ya? While you’re out injured and alone, Scofield’s getting his rocks off in the conjugal room with his wife. Hell of a guy, huh?”

            Y/N felt a wave of hurt and confusion wash over her, but she forced herself to keep working. She would not let Bellick see her crack. But soon as he walked away, the thoughts gnawed at her, eating away at her focus. Michael and her had not had sex yet, despite their connection. Once in the shower, they were close for T-Bag to ruin it. And now, the thought of him being with someone else, even if it was just a green card wife, made her stomach turn.

            When she finally saw Michael later that day, she couldn’t hold it back any longer. She found him by the fence in the yard, leaning against it with that calm, unreadable expression he always wore. Y/N marched over, the hurt bubbling up before she could stop herself.

            “Michael,” she said, voice sharper than she intended. He looked up, his burrows furrowing instantly.

            “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” he asked, immediately sensing her agitation.

            “I know I shouldn’t read into this,” she muttered as she leaned against the fence next to him. “I know Bellick will taunt me, lie to me, annoy me…anything to make my life hell. However, he told me your wife came to visit again… In the conjugal room,” she finished.

            Michael’s eyes flickered with recognition, and she saw his expression harden. “Y/N, I–“

            She cut him off, her words spilling out faster than she could think. “I know I’m not giving out, ok? I know, but you have to believe me I don’t want to get caught…fucking. I don’t want to fuck in the showers cause its gross. We are never alone, but the conjugal room…people go there for a secret rendezvous.”

            Michael watched as she rambled and he took her hands in his, kissing it before dropping them. “I didn’t do anything with her,” he replied. “I had to get a key from her and that was the only way. Trust me. I am loyal,” he responded. “Nika…it never happened. It never will happen.”

            Michael reached out, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from worrying. His touch was calm, steady and it immediately grounded her. “Y/N, look at me,” he softly said, his blue eyes locking into hers. “I understand why you’re upset, and I’m sorry you had to hear it from Bellick of all people. But nothing happened. I swear to you.”

            She nodded, rubbing her face before licking her lips.

            “I want it to be you too,” he continued, his voice low and full of emotion. “But when we do this – when we’re together like that – I want it to be right. I don’t want it to be rushed or because we feel like we have to. I want it to be because we both want it, and because we both know it’s what we need.”

            Y/N let out a shakey breath, her heart still racing, but she nodded. He was right. She knew he was right.

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered, running a hand through her hair. “I just…when I heard-“

            “–You don’t need to apologise. I get it. But I’m here with you and when the time is right, we’ll have that moment and it’ll be worth it.”

            Y/N nodded and then smiled. “Ok,” she whispered.

-

The showers were empty, save for the sound of water hitting the tiles, the steam rising and curling around the room. Michael did this every other day at the same time…clearing out the shower, making sure no one would disturb them for a while. It was the only time they were truly alone.

            Y/N stood under the spray, her eyes closed as the warm water cascaded down her body, washing away the grime of the day. She was aware of him standing nearby, across the way, leaning against the wall, watching her intently.

            Her hand brushed over the stitches on her stomach, wincing slightly at the tenderness. She glanced up at Michael, who hadn’t moved from his spot, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of concern and something else – something deeper, more intimate.

            “How are your stitches?” he asked, his voice soft but carrying in the quiet room.

            Y/N smirked, knowing exactly what he was thinking but was too cautious to act on. Her lips curled into a teasing smile as she tilted her head back, letting the water run over her neck. “Why don’t you come over and check it for yourself, boy genius?”

            Michael’s jaw tightened, and she could see the flicker of temptation in his eyes. She was flirting, pushing him in that playful way she always did, but this time she could tell he was fighting with himself, not wanting to hurt her or do anything reckless.

            “You know I can’t. Doc’s orders,” he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed how much he wanted.

            “Doc said no extraneous activity. Showering with me isn’t extraneous, plus you still owe me a birthday present,” she challenged, her voice low and sultry as she took a step back, letting the water hit her chest and stomach, droplets glistening against her skin. “Because I know you want to. And I’m not as fragile as you think, Michael Scofield. Come on…I want you here.”

            Her words were a temptation he could barely resist. Slowly, Michael began to undress, peeling his shirt and slipping out his prison uniform. He was methodical, almost careful in the way he moved, but his eyes never left hers. Y/N watched with him with a mix of anticipation and hunger, her heart beating faster as she him bare himself for her.

            She loved that tattoo. It was a work of art, but it was also her ticket out of her.

            When he stepped into the shower, the steam enveloped them both, cocooning them in the warmth of water. He stood just inches away from her, the heat of his body radiating toward her, but he didn’t touch her. His eyes travelled down her body, lingering on her stomach where the stitches marred her skin.

            “You should be careful,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, a bit strained. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Y/N smirked again, this time stepping closer, so that their bodies were almost touching. Her hand came to wrap around his waist, and she leaned her head against his chest. His hand came up cradling her head as he held her. “You won’t hurt me,” she whispered, lifting her hand to trace the lines on his chest, her fingers moving slowly, sensually. “I want you to touch me, Michael. I’m fine. Just… touch me.”

            Michael swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides, but he hesitated. He looked down at her, his gaze drawn to the delicate stitches on her abdomen, but when he glanced back up at her face, he saw the desire in her eyes, the trust. Slowly, he raised his hand, brushing the back of his fingers against her skin, trailing lightly over her stomach, careful to avoid the stitches but not afraid to touch her anymore.

            Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, leaning into his touch as if she had been waiting for the moment forever. “See?” she whispered, her voice almost a purr. “I’m not going to break.”

            His hands moved to her side, gentle but firm, and he pulled her closer, their bodies finally pressing together under the warm spray of the shower. Michael’s breath hitched as he felt her against him, her skin soft and slick from water. He was being so careful, so restrained, but Y/N wanted more.

            “Michael,” she murmured, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, pulling him down to her level. “Don’t hold back.”

            He exhaled sharply, his control slipping as he finally gave in, his hands moving with more confidence now, tracing the curve of her waist, the small of her back. He leaned down, brushing his lips against the damp skin of her neck, breathing in the scent of her, the heat of her body overwhelming his senses.

            Y/N titled her head back, letting the water and his touch consume her. She had never felt so close to him, so vulnerable and yet so powerful all at once. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, but there was a fire in his movements now, a desperation he could no longer hide.

            “Michael,” she whispered, and he looked into her eyes. Y/N spread her legs and took his hand pressing it against her heat…her womanhood. “Please,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to his jaw.

            Michael swallowed hard, knowing exactly what she wanted. Therefore, licking his lips be pushed his finger down, spreading her lips before touching her clit. A moan came from her as she grasped his arm. He watched at her breath rose and fell from its breath.

            “Michael,” she moaned, and he knew what she wanted.

            Slowly, he moved his fingers against her clit, spreading the lips and grasping her womanhood. His spare hand came to cup her jaw and cheek, bringing her lips to his as his fingers worked wonders below.

            “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered against his skin, her breath hot against his neck. He gripped her cheek, nodding along.

“So have I,” he breathed as he played with her wetness…with her heat.

Michael inserted two fingers in her, feeling her arousal as he pumped it slowly before his thumb went to her clit.

Their lips met, slow at first, tentative but soon enough the tension exploded between them, and it quickly deepened. Her hands roamed his body, careful, but possessive as she melted into the pleasure. She felt like she finally got something from him…the connection she had been craving for so long.

His speed picked up and she turned into a moaning mess. Michael simply smiled, looking down to her pleading eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing her lips.

In that moment, nothing else mattered – the prison, the danger, the stitches. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the heat of the water and the intensity of their emotions.

And just like that she came.

-

The steam still lingered in the air, swirling around them as Y/N stood in front of the small mirror, methodically applying her cream to her skin, her movements slow and deliberate. Her body still hummed and buzzed from the post orgasmic bliss she was in…the intimacy from the shower and the way Michael touched her, held her, loved her. She wanted to return the favour, but he denied, scared about her stitches.

            However, as she stood in front of the mirror, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her from across the room, half-dressed and completely entranced.

            She glanced at him through the mirror, catching his soft smile, the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever they landed on her. It was a look she had not seen often – one of pure affection, one that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

            He touched her, fingered her and granted her pleasure. She was in heaven.

            “You’re staring,” she teased, running her fingers through her damp hair, combing I tout with slow strokes.

            Michael chuckled, pulling his shirt over his shoulders but leaving it unbuttoned as he leaned against the wall, his gaze never wavering. “I can’t help it,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “You’re beautiful.”

            She smiled, but quickly turned her attention back to the mirror. “Beautiful for prison, you should see me outside of her. All dolled up, in leather, silk or lace,” she mused. “Stockings and lingerie from Paris. Louboutin and lashes.”

            Michael bit his lip and chuckled, coming up to her. “I don’t need you in that shit,” he mused, kissing her cheek. “I like you natural.” Then he went back to dressing himself.

            After a moment of quiet, she glanced back at him, her tone shifting to something more serious. “Michael…I overheard you talking to Lincoln yesterday,” she started, her fingers pausing as she smoothed the cream over her arms. “You seemed…off. There was bad news, wasn’t there.”

            His smile faltered just a little, his expression darkening as her question hit. He sighed, running a hand through his buzzed hair as he pushed away from the wall and came to stand behind her again. Y/N turned to face him, her eyes searching his for answers. She could tell something was weighing on him, something big.

            Michael hesitated, his gaze shifting away for a moment before he spoke. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “According to my calculations I’ve made…we’re one person too many for the escape.” His brows furrowed when he said it, the weight of the problem settling between them. “We need to drop a person. We only have twenty minutes to get the window open and crawl across.”

            Y/N’s heart sank at the words. She knew the escape plan was already delicate, every detail critical to their success, and now they had to make the impossible choice of who to leave behind. “Who…who are you thinking?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing with possibilities.

            Before she could spiral into worry, Michael stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind. His hands slid slowly up her sides, gentle but firm, his touch instantly grounding her. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “I’ll figure it out.”

            “T-Bag,” she whispered. “Get rid of him.”

            Y/N’s body relaxed slightly under his touch, the tension in her shoulders easing as his hands moved up to rest on her stomach. She leaned back against him, letting the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing calm her racing thoughts.

            “I trust you,” she whispered, her voice soft, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

            Michael smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as if to protect her from all the chaos outside of the small, stolen moment of peace. “Good,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against her hair. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

            And now for this fleeting moment, Y/N believed him.

-

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

[origamiopossums]

I posted a Lincoln/T-Bag oneshot for those interested

Takes place in season 5!

[jojo0039]

Fox River - Riots, Drills and the Devil Part 1

  Jessica is running late.

She is due at the prison to do her inspection.

She has been ignoring all of Jason's calls.

Just as she makes her way to the door to leave there is a knock.

She opens it and Jason is on the other side with to-go coffee cups.

"Good I was hoping you would be home." he says pushing his way past her to get through.

"Now is not a good time." Jessica states standing by her door.

"We have to talk about this." he says to her.

She rolls her eyes.

"I have a meeting today. I don't have time for this." she states raising her voice at him.

"You're going to make time Jessica. We have been playing ring a round for a couple weeks now. I deserve to know what's going on." he says getting angry.

Jessica sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

"You're right. You deserve to know what's going on. But I can't explain things right now. I have to go." she says turning and waiting for him to follow her.

"OK. But we are talking about things. Tonight." he says giving her a kiss on the cheek and walks away.

     Jessica drives into the parking lot of the prison.

She has a strange feeling that something bad is going to happen today.

She ignores her gut and makes her way inside.

She walks through the hall and gets to the check-in desk.

"Hi. I'm Jessica Donovan. I have a security check today. I'm supposed to be meeting with Officer Bellick." she explains to the man.

"Hold on just one minute ma'am." he turns away and gets on the radio.

"I'm sorry Bellick is up in sickbay. Here's a pass. You have clearance at every security entrance. Good luck." the man says giving her the keys.

She makes her way through the halls going straight up to Trish's office.

She doesn't even bother knocking she just walks right in.

Trish looks up from her desk in surprise.

"Jess? What's going on?" she questions seeing the angry look on her face.

Jessica just closes the door behind her.

"I want to know how you know Paul Kellerman." Jessica asks glaring at her sister.

That question catches Trish by surprise.

"Paul? You want to know how I know Paul?" she asks trying to stall.

"Yes, Trisha. I've seen him at your office. The man threatened me." she explains angrily.

"Not only that he sent in a request at the station to have me suspended! You are the only one I've seen have contact. I want to know how you know him." she demands standing in front of Trish's desk.

"Fine. I will tell you about Paul." she tells her.

[afaimsarrowverse]

Der vorbestimmte Weg

Status: Fertiggestellt

 Verse: Mein Kompass-Verse, diese Fic spielt in selben Multiversum wie meine anderen Kompass-Verse-Fics, aber auf einer anderen Erde. Es ist eine „Prison Break“-Fic und ist aber sozusagen ein Spin-Off meiner anderen Reihe, da das gleiche Setting verwendet wird.

 Pairings: Gen mit ein wenig MiSa, Spuren von Michael/Alex und Kellerman/Sara, vergangenes Alex/Pam, Kellerman/Caroline und  Linc/Veronica, impliziertes Caroline/Terrence

 Warnings: AU, Gefängnis, Erpressung, Nötigung, Gewalt ,andere düstere Themen, existenzielle Ängste, Character Death, PTSD, Slash, Het, Machtmissbrauch, Inzest (Caroline/Terrence), die Handlung spielt vor allem während der ersten beiden Staffeln, es gibt aber ein paar Spoiler für Season 4

 Inhalt: Michael Scofield würde alles tun um seinen Bruder zu retten, außer denen zu schaden, die ebenfalls auf seinen Kompass stehen. Doch was wenn er sich beides nicht vereinen lässt? Sara Tancredi muss lernen, dass sich jeder immer für denjeningen entscheiden wird, dessen Name als erster auf seiner Haut auftaucht. Und Paul Kellerman muss lernen zu akzeptieren, dass der Kompass nicht für alle das Gleiche bedeutet.

 Leseprobe:

 „„Ist es nicht merkwürdig? Wir tragen Namen auf unserer Haut, deren Bedeutung wir nicht kennen. Wir können unser ganzes Leben damit verbringen nach der Bedeutung zu suchen, und doch werden wir uns niemals sicher sein, ob es mit unseren Kompass mehr auf sich hat als mit einer simplen Laune der Natur, und wenn doch, was er wirklich zu bedeuten hat. Deswegen halten wir hier bei Lackler die Zeit für reif uns nicht mehr von unserem Körper unser Leben bestimmen zu lassen, sondern im Gegenteil selbst über unseren Körper zu bestimmen. Wie bieten ein Service, das kein anderer anzubieten wagt: Wir entfernen Kompasse“, erklärte der blonde Mann in der Werbesendung, „Trauen Sie sich, brechen Sie das Tabu und rufen Sie uns an.““

                                                                                             Links:

 https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5f0adab200000b7b30f85706/1/Der-vorbestimmte-Weg

 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13641392/1/Der-vorbestimmte-Weg

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34179856/chapters/85047769

[okiegrl]

For love. For family.

They’re bad men, Lisa tells her and it takes everything Sara has to not laugh out loud. Instead she gives the woman a smirk and leans against the bathroom counter. She would love to explain to her how these so called “bad men” are the definition of loyalty. Brothers who love one another so much, they’re willing to risk their lives again and again.

Some would call them crazy. Some would call them foolish. But Sara now understands why Michael did the things he did.

He’s doing it for Lincoln.

He’s doing it for her and for Sucre.

He’s doing it for love.

He’s doing it for family.

It’s true what Mr. Kim said, right before she shot him. You don’t see this type of fidelity these days. That’s what makes these brothers, these men, so special. Every day could be their last. They could die. They could get caught. But they keep going. They keep fighting.

For love.

For family.

Sara never had anyone who cared about her the way Michael does. Her Father loved her, of course, but he was never around. There are days where she can’t help but think if things between them would have changed, had he not been killed.

She hopes he would understand why she’s doing the things she’s doing. Why she’s currently holding a woman at gunpoint in a bathroom.

For love.

For family.

Her life has been turned upside down since she unlocked the infirmary door for Michael. She no longer has a job. Her Father is dead. Bruce is dead. She’s been chased, shot at, arrested. She’s been tortured (twice).

No one, especially Lisa Tabak would believe her, if she told them that every moment, no matter how hard or frightening, has been worth it.

Michael will go to the ends of the earth for her. So she will do the same for him.

For love.

For family.

[sarahscofeld]

Taking Prompt requests!

Hey! If you have a prompt leave it in my inbox! I’ll try my best to make something out of it! Fingers crossed.