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twohearts-hs · 20 days ago

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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

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

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

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origamiopossums · 3 months ago

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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.

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jojo0039 · 25 days ago

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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.

#prison break fanfiction #jessica donovan #lincoln burrows fanfiction #michael scofield #fox river #book 1

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amis3k · 1 month ago

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#prison #prison break #prison break fanfic #prison break imagine #michael scofield #lincoln burrows #fanfic #fanfiction #oc x oc #oc x oc ship #imagine #wattpad

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afaimsarrowverse · 8 months ago

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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.

#Fanfiction #Meine Fics #Prison Break #The Things we do for Love #Von dyfunktionalen Familien und Fragen der Liebe #Point of View #Der vorbestimmte Weg #Michael x Alex #MiSa #michael scofield #Alex Mahone #lincoln burrows #sara tancredi #Paul Kellerman #Whistler

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okamirayne · 3 months ago

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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 ❤️💜❤️

#pairings ask #awesome readers are awesome #awesome reviewers are awesome #amazingly sweet anon #ships ask #personal ask #asks on ships #pairing asks #merthur #rickyl #sterek #destiel #writing ask #reading ask #fanfic ask

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fichtner-fics · 3 years ago

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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.

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blondie20000 · 3 years ago

Text

Fandoms: Prison Break, Supernatural

Title: Cell Mate

Gen

Crossover

Summary: Michael has a new cell mate.

Word Count: 4033

Complete

Available on Ao3

#fanfiction #one shot #supernatural fanfiction #prison break #Prison Break fanfiction #michael scofield #dean winchester #no slash #season 1 #lincoln burrows #T-Bag #theodore bagwell #john abruzzi #brad bellick #prison #friendship #supernatural

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dbcwinter · 6 years ago

Link

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

#prison break #prison break fanfiction #fanfiction #michael scofield #sara tancredi #lincoln burrows #self-promotion

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twohearts-hs · 14 days ago

Text

Defying The Odds: 10 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.1k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

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

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

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

Y/N heard a scream in the middle of the night and instantly knew it was Michael. Her heart dropped and she went to the bars while she watched Michael get escorted out in a gurney. With much begging and a ransom paid to the guards…

She sat in the quiet infirmary, the dim glow of the overhead light casting soft shadows across the room. Michael laid on the bed, his upper back/shoulder wrapped in bandages where the burn had seared his skin. She had been by his side for hours, unable to leave him, her hand resting in his, even as exhaustion slowly overtook her.

She wanted to be there for when he woke up. Her head had finally drooped forward, resting against his uninjured shoulder as she continued to hold his head. Her breathing had become steady, a soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept, still holding Michael’s hand as though she were afraid to let go.

Dr. Remington watched from afar and he knew…those two loved each other with everything in them.

Michael stirred, the haze of sleep lifting slowly as his eyes fluttered open. His entire body felt heavy, and the burn throbbed painfully beneath the bandages. But the first thing he noticed was not the pain, but his sweet Y/N, whose head was on his bare shoulder, uninjured one, asleep with hand still wrapped around his hand.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched her. Her brow furrowed even in sleep, worry etched on her face. The sight of her there, waiting for him, filled him with a warmth that had nothing to do with the bandages covering his burn.

He squeezed her hand gently, causing her to stir. “Sweet thing,” he whispered, his voice raspy, barely more than a breath. “Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy as she blinked, adjusting to the room around her. It took her a moment to realise where she was and who had woken her. When her eyes land on those baby blues, her heart skipped a beat, relief flooding her.

“Michael,” she whispered, hand coming up, cupping his cheek, and stroking his face.

“Shh, lie with me,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s early, come on the bed and sleep with me,” he whispered, moving his body to his left so she could come up.

“Don’t move, Michael,” she whispered.

“Climb up,” he muttered. Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “You’ve always wanted to share a bed with me; this is your chance. It’s,” he looked at his watch, “four in the morning. Come up.”

Y/N let go of his hand, moving to climb on the hospital bed. She went on her side, as it was small, but she leaned her head against his shoulder. His hand came and rested on her side, pulling her close.

“Now, sleep, sweet thing,” he whispered, closing his eyes. She did too and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Dr. Remington came in that morning in a rush as he was handed his assignments and clipboards. However, he wanted to check on Michael as his burn was quite brutal. However, when he got into the room, he spotted the couple asleep in each other’s arms. Normally, something like this was not allowed. However, he knew how much they loved one another, it was obvious. Y/N had tears in her eyes last night as she begged to let him see him. She cried, threatened, bargained and Remington just allowed her in.

Now, she was asleep, both of them holding one another and for the first time in forever, they both looked incredibly peaceful.

Which made him smile.

“Y/N,” Dr. Remington said as he came in the room two hours later. The couple didn’t move. However, he shook her awake.

Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced up, seeing the doctor who she would call a friend. “Dr. Remington,” she whispered, getting up. Her gaze was hazy as she blinked, adjusting to the room around her. It took her a moment where she was and who had woken her.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” he asked with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He knew it was unprofessional, but he couldn’t help himself. She looked beautiful in the morning…she always looked beautiful.

“Michael is ok,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know, but I asked about you, not Scofield.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered before looking over to Michael.

“You should get out of the bed before someone who is not as chill as me sees you two,” Dr. Remington said.

Y/N nodded, climbing down and back in the chair before taking Michael’s hand. He stirred lightly, moving his head to try and snuggle closer to her, but he realised she wasn’t there.

“Y/N,” he muttered.

“I’m here,” she whispered, stroking his face.

His eyes opened and he saw Dr. Remington and Y/N across from him. He tried to get up, but it was too painful.

“Michael, lie down,” Y/N said. “How are you doing? Are you ok?” she asked.

Michael groaned slightly, the grogginess still weighing him down, but he managed a weak smile. “Groggy,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from pain and fatigue.

Y/N’s eyes roamed over him, concern evident in her every movement. “You scared the hell out of me,” she whispered, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand. “I was waiting for you, and you screamed this horrifying scream.”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes,” Michael whispered smirking, but she didn’t laugh at his joke. “I’m ok,” he muttered, taking her hand and squeezing it. “It’s just a burn. I’ll be fine.”

“You got a pretty nasty burn, Michael,” Y/N said, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s not nothing. How did this happen? Who did this?”

Michael shifted slightly, the pain in his side making him wince. “I’m alright. Really. Just part of the plan.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the infirmary opened, and Dr. Remington stepped in, a small cup of painkillers in hand. He glanced between the two of them with a smirk that made Y/N blush slightly.

“You know,” Dr. Remington began, setting the painkillers down on the small table beside Michael’s bed, “this one’s been here all night. Begged, screamed, bargained to get in. I’m starting to think she’s more concerned about you than I am.”

Michael smiled up at the doctor as Y/N blushed further, holding Michael’s hand. “She begged to stay, practically threw herself in front of the door,” Remington added teasingly, causing Y/N to give him a half-hearted galre.

“I wasn’t leaving until I knew he was alright,” Y/N muttered, looking at Michael whose eyes was focused on her.

Dr. Remington chuckled, giving Michael the painkillers. “Take these. Should help with pain.”

Michael reached for the pills, but Y/N was already there, grabbing the small cup of water on the table and handing it to him. “Here, let me help.”

Michael raised a brow but took the pills and water from her. “Thanks,” he murmured before swallowing the pills down.

“Alright, let’s get you up,” Y/N said, standing and moving to help him. “You need to put on a shirt before you catch a cold.”

Michael chuckled softly, wincing at the movement. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this bossy.”

“Well, get used to it,” Y/N shot back with a smile. She gently helped him sit up, careful of his burn as she reached for his shirt draped over the chair. She held it out for hum, helping him slide it over his head.

Michael groaned as the fabric brushed against his skin, but Y/N was gentle, making sure not to irritate the bandages.

As she helped him adjust, Dr. Remington stood back, watching with a smirk. “You’re lucky to have someone this dedicated to your recovery, Scofield,” he teased, crossing his arms.

Michael’s gaze softened as he looked at Y/N, his gratitude unspoken but clear. “Yeah, I am,” he said quietly.

Once he was settled, Michael reached for his bandages, wanting to inspect the damage. “Can I see the burn?” he asked.

Dr. Remington immediately shook his head, stepping forward. “Nope. That bandage stays on for a while. Y/N make sure that. You take it off now, you’ll be doing more harm than good.”

Michael reluctantly lowered his hand, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. “Fine.”

Dr. Remington’s smirk returned as he leaned against the counter. “Did your cellmate do this to you? I wouldn’t put it past some of the guys here.”

Michael rose a brow, then shook his head. “Sucre? No.”

Y/N shot him a questioning look, but Michael just smirked, clearly dodging the question. Dr. Remington, however, wasn’t amused. “Then who did this to you?”

Michael’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t answer. “This is the part where I stop answering you.”

Dr. Remington raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but understanding that Michael was not going to budge. “Alright, well, don’t make a habit of this. I’ve got other patients to look after, you know. And between the two of you, I can’t catch a break.”

Michael chuckled though it was cut short by wince of pain. Y/N’s hand found his again, her fingers curling around his as she sat back down beside him.

Dr. Remington walked away and looked at Michael.

“Who did this to you?”

Michael simply smiled. “I’ll tell you later, sweet thing,” he mused, kissing the side of her lips.

“Sweet thing?” she whispered. “Thought you were just loopy when you called me that. Nicknames doesn’t sound like a Michael Scofield thing,” she chuckled.

He hummed. “Get used to it.”

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual early morning hum of prisoners lining up for their rations. Metal trays clanged, guards paced along the perimeter, and the smell of cheap, lukewarm eggs and burnt toast filled the air. Y/N and Michael sat at their usual corner table, a small sanctuary from the chaos, but the tension between them was palpable.

Y/N picked at her food, barely tasting it as she kept glancing at Michael’s bandaged back. He was moving stiffly, the burn clearly bothering him more than he let on. She hadn’t wanted him to come out here, not when he was still healing, but he insisted. It was just like him – stubborn, focused on the escape, always focused on the escape.

Michael poked at his food with the same distracted air. His jaw was tight, and his eyes kept darting around, as if searching for something, anything, that could fix the mess they were in.

“You should eat,” Y/N muttered.

Michael ignored her. “There’s a hiccup,” he finally muttered, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N looked up at him, her corner immediate. “What do you mean?”

Michael sighed, running a hand through his buzzed hair that getting longer, his frustration barely concealed. “The burn on my shoulder. It’s right over the asylum blueprints.”

Y/N blinked, confusion crossing her features before realisation dawned on her. The blueprint to the psych ward. The intricate tattoo of the prison layout was inked across his body. “It burnt off,” she whispered more to herself. “It’s gone.”

Michael nodded, his eyes darkening. “It’s destroyed part of it. A key section. I don’t have access to it anymore.”

Y/N frowned, reaching out instinctively to touch his hand. “Michael, who care about the blueprints right now? You’re hurt. Incredibly hurt. You could’ve been–“

“That’s the problem,” he snapped, lowly taking his hand back. “You’re worried about me when you should be worried about the escape. Do you realise how crucial the part of the plan was? Without it, we’re stuck.” His voice was low but snappy. Never had she been on this side of his anger.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, her own frustration starting to bubble up. “I am worried about the plan, but I’m more worried about you, Michael! You could’ve died or gotten an infection. I am trying to be a nice girlfriend–“

“–You’re not my girlfriend,” he cut.

Y/N froze the sting of his words like a punch to the gut. Her hand hovered mid-air, as if reaching out to something that wasn’t there anymore. She could feel her throat tighten, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her voice came out softer than she intended, but the hurt was evident. "What do you mean, I’m not your girlfriend? After everything… after all we’ve been through, Michael?"

He avoided her gaze, his jaw clenched as if he didn’t want to have this conversation at all.

“This isn’t a relationship,” he muttered, his voice low but clipped. “You knew what this was. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than labels or… whatever this is between us.”

Her chest ached, a wave of vulnerability crashing over her. She tried to hold it back, tried to stay composed, but his dismissal cut deeper than she expected. “I’ve been vulnerable with you, Michael. I’ve told you things, shown you parts of myself no one else has seen. I’ve been… naked, honest in front of you. And now you’re telling me it doesn’t matter?”

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter,” he shot back, his frustration mounting. “But there’s more at stake here than your feelings or mine.”

“I don’t care about the damn plan right now!” she finally snapped, her voice rising, her patience fraying. “I care about you. I care about what we’ve been through. And if this—” she gestured between them, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, “—if this isn’t something real to you, then I don’t want it. I can’t keep doing this if it’s just some... temporary thing for you.”

Michael rubbed a hand across his face, exhaling in exasperation. He was overwhelmed, she could tell, and the burn was making him irritable, but it didn’t lessen the sting. “Y/N,” he said slowly, “this can’t be about us right now. We need to focus on getting out. If you’re going to keep getting emotional every time something goes wrong, you’re going to jeopardize everything.”

Her heart dropped further. "Jeopardize everything?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief and hurt flooding her words. “So, I’m just a liability now? Is that it?”

Michael let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “That’s not what I said.”

"Well, that's what it feels like," she replied, her voice tight, her body trembling with frustration and pain. “I’ve been with you through all of this. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve risked everything for you, Michael. And now, when I need to know where we stand, you’re brushing me off like I don’t matter. Like we don’t matter.”

The air around them felt heavy as if the entire cafeteria had gone silent, though she knew it hadn’t. But it was just them, locked in this moment, the weight of everything pressing down.

Michael’s eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. His entire focus had been the escape, the blueprints, the plan. He hadn’t thought beyond that.

Suddenly, a guard appeared behind Y/N, clearly noticing the escalating tension. “Hey, break it up,” the guard barked, stepping closer. “Don’t need any trouble this morning.”

Y/N didn’t move, her eyes locked on Michael, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

Another guard came around, this time pulling Y/N back by the arm. "I said break it up. Step away."

Her gaze never wavered from Michael’s face, but his expression was unreadable.

Finally, the guards pulled her further away from the table, the distance between them widening—physically and emotionally.

Her heart sank. Maybe it had been wrong to hope for something more. Maybe she was the fool for thinking there was more between them than the mission, than survival.

And as the guards escorted her to the other side of the cafeteria, Y/N couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that, for the first time since they’d started this, she might really be on her own.

There was still tension between Y/N and Michael. They have not uttered a word between one another since that morning besides talking about PI or the escape plan with the group. Everyone was in the storage room, painting. Y/N was leaned against the table with a paint brush in hand.

However, she was more focused on the fact she got paint in her hair.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to take the white stuff out of her long locks. She set down the brush as she tried to come through it and take her sleeve to remove it.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, talking to her the first time since that morning.

“Nothing,” she responded, not even looking him in the eye.

“Y/N,” he tried again.

Y/N turned to him. “I said, nothing. Mind your damn business, Scofield,” she snapped.

Michael’s eyes widened as took her hair and threw it in a bun before grabbing the paintbrush again.

“Trouble between the romantic couple?” T-Bag mocked with a smirk.

“No,” Michael and Y/N both said as they went back to work.

Bellick came in eventually after the panic of putting everything back, so he doesn’t see the hole. He whistled as he entered.

“This place is sweet. I heard we’re getting satellite,” he retorted as he sauntered in.

“Yeah, all the porn you can watch, boss,” T-Bag smirked.

“Good, good,” Bellick said. “You know, you girls…and lady,” he looked over to Y/N, “have done such a good job, I thought you could use an extra pair of hands on the crew.”

Michael glanced up from looking at the ground to look at Y/N who was staring at him. They knew what this meant. Silence was between the group.

Bellick whistled and Tweener walked in, swaggering with a smirk across his face. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“What’s up?” Tweener nudged, trying his best to look cool.

Y/N rose a brow and scoffed before going back to her work. Michael let out a loud sigh.

Tweener was humming when Y/N turned around. “Can you shut up, please? If I wanted music, I would’ve brought a radio,” she stated.

The team voted for Tweener to go clean the brushes as they needed time to fill the hole. Y/N threw hers into the bucket too and looked at Michael. “I need a break, I’ll come.”

Y/N and Tweener stepped out of the storage unit, the faint smell of paint and chemicals clinging to their clothes. The air in the prison hallways was stale, but it was a relief compared to the cramped, stuffy room where they’d been cleaning for the better part of the morning. Y/N felt drained, physically and emotionally. Her mind was still swirling with thoughts of the argument with Michael, the hurt still raw and gnawing at her.

She carried a tray of paint brushes, glancing at Tweener, who walked alongside her with his usual swagger, trying to seem nonchalant but clearly curious about something. She knew him well enough to pick up on the subtle shifts in his tone, the way his eyes darted to her, as if waiting for the right moment to bring something up.

“So,” Tweener started, breaking the silence, his tone casual but not quite convincing. “You and Scofield, huh? You guys, like, got a thing goin’ on?”

Y/N stiffened, her grip tightening around the brushes. She should’ve seen this coming. Of course, people would assume. Prison gossip was relentless, and Tweener wasn’t exactly known for minding his own business. She wasn’t sure if it was his curiosity or something more that made him ask, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of any answers.

“No,” she replied curtly, her voice sharper than intended. “We don’t have a thing. Whatever you think, it’s not like that.”

Tweener raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a cold response. “Oh, my bad,” he said, lifting his hands as if in defense. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, just heard some talk, y’know?”

Y/N shot him a look, one that said she wasn’t interested in the rumors or in indulging him. She shifted her grip on the brushes, trying to redirect the conversation as they reached the utility sink where they’d clean off the dried paint. “It’ll be so nice to have a cigarette in here,” she muttered under her breath, mostly to herself, hoping to change the subject.

Tweener smirked, sensing her deflection but unwilling to let it drop. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, watching her as she started rinsing the brushes under the tap. “Yeah, cigarettes’ll do that. But seriously, Y/N,” he continued, trying to sound casual, “you’re around Scofield a lot. You gotta know what’s goin’ on with him, right? He’s always got some scheme in the works. What’s the deal with you two?”

Y/N felt a flare of irritation rise in her chest. She shot him another look, this one more pointed. “I told you,” she said, her tone steely, “there’s nothing going on. And whatever Michael’s got going on is his business, not mine. Or yours.”

Tweener shrugged, his smile thin, like he was trying to play it off cool, but his persistence was starting to grate on her nerves. “C’mon, I’m just askin’. You don’t have to bite my head off.”

Her suspicions started to grow. He was being too pushy, too interested in her and Michael all of a sudden. The casual, easy-going Tweener she knew wasn’t like this. He was usually more focused on himself, more interested in keeping his head down and out of trouble. But now he was probing, and not very subtly either.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

Tweener hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for her to notice. “I don’t. Just… you know how it is in here. Everyone’s lookin’ out for themselves. I just wanna know what’s up, that’s all.”

Y/N’s suspicion deepened. She rinsed the last of the brushes, setting them aside as she turned to face him fully, arms crossed over her chest. “Right,” she said slowly, her voice laced with doubt. “Everyone’s looking out for themselves, huh? So why are you so interested in what Michael’s up to? What, you got something you want to report back to Bellick?”

Tweener’s face tightened just slightly, the flicker of guilt crossing his features before he could hide it. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out awkward. “Whoa, whoa, what? Bellick? Nah, I ain’t no rat. I’m just sayin’, you’re close to him. People talk. Figured you’d know stuff, that’s all.”

Y/N took a step closer to him, her eyes hardening. She wasn’t buying it. “You think I don’t see what’s going on? You’ve been hanging around Bellick more than usual lately, haven’t you? Acting like you’re trying to get in his good graces. You’re not subtle, Tweener.”

Tweener swallowed, his bravado fading. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Look, it ain’t like that, alright? I just... I gotta do what I gotta do in here.”

Y/N shook her head, feeling the weight of the betrayal before it fully hit. She had a feeling something like this was coming. In prison, alliances shifted constantly, but it still stung to know Tweener had been trying to play her. “I get it,” she said, her voice cold. “You’re just looking out for yourself. But don’t come to me trying to use me to get to Michael. You can tell Bellick whatever the hell you want, but you’ll get nothing from me.”

Tweener flinched, his shoulders sagging slightly as he realized the conversation had gone sideways. “Y/N, I wasn’t tryin’ to—”

“I don’t care,” she cut him off, turning her back to him, her patience worn thin. “Just stay out of my business.”

And with that, she grabbed the clean brushes and walked away, leaving Tweener standing there, silent and uneasy.

When Y/N got back, the team was filing out due to being told they were done. Michael glanced at her and she sent him a small smile.

He was going to see Pope.

It was nearing night and Michael never returned to his cell which created Y/N to be anxious. She knew he was working on the Taj Mahal for Pope, but that couldn’t have taken as long as he had been gone for. She was growing anxious and needed to find out.

“Geary,” she whispered as she stood at the bars. The guard walked over, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What do you want?” he spat.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and tried to keep her tone calm. “I’m looking for someone. Michael Scofield. I haven’t seen him since this afternoon and its nearing lights out. Do you know where he is?”

Geary raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting lazily over her before he snorted. “You think I keep track of every inmate here? Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Y/N gritted her teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but she knew better than to show it. She needed information, and being snappy would get her nowhere. She glanced around quickly to make sure no one else was paying attention before reaching in her pocket and pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. She had a storage of them.

“What if I made it worth your while?” she whispered, holding the money just out of sight but enough for him to see. “I just need to know where he is. Please.”

Geary’s eyes flickered to the bill, a slow smirk creeping across his face. He glanced around before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Scofield, huh? Little boyfriend, Scofield? I guess I can tell you. Double it.”

“150,” she whispered. Heart sinking a the greed in his tone. She tightened her grip on the money, hesitating for only a second before pulling a little more from her pocket. “Where is he?” she asked again.

Geary took the money and shoved it in his pocket, his smirk widening. “Scofield got himself into some trouble,” he said, his voice low and amused. “Got sent to solitary this afternoon. Must’ve pissed off the wrong guy.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped at the words, her breath catching in her throat. Solitary. The one place Michael wouldn’t be able to plan or even think straight. Hours, maybe days, alone in a tiny, dark cell, with nothing but his own thoughts to torment him. Her hands clenched into fists at her side, her mind racing.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “What did he do?”

“Didn’t ask. He’ll be in there for a while, though. Guess that’s what happens when you don’t play by the rules,” Geary said before walking off.

Y/N sat down, hands in her head as she sighed. “Oh, Michael, what did you do?”

The midday sun streamed through the barred windows of the cafeteria, casting long shadows across the room. Y/N sat at the edge of the table, staring blankly at the uneaten food on her tray. She hadn’t touched it, her mind consumed with worry about Michael. He had been in solitary for hours, and the uncertainty gnawed at her insides like a slow burn. Every scenario played through her mind: What if he was hurt? What if the guards were messing with him? Or worse—what if he was losing hope in there, all alone?

Across from her sat Westmoreland, C-Note, and T-Bag, their conversation fading into the background as Y/N’s thoughts spiralled. She barely registered C-Note nudging her shoulder.

“Yo, you’re not gonna eat that?” C-Note asked, nodding toward her untouched tray.

Y/N snapped back to reality, her eyes blinking in focus. “Huh? Oh… no, I’m not hungry.”

Westmoreland leaned forward, his weathered face creasing into a concerned frown. “You need to keep your strength up, especially with everything going on,” he said kindly, his tone fatherly.

“Yeah, you ain’t gonna do Michael any favours starvin’ yourself,” C-Note added, crossing his arms. “We need you sharp.”

T-Bag, lounging lazily at the end of the table, smirked as he picked at his food. “Honeybun’s right, darlin’. Worrying ain’t gonna get you nowhere ‘cept tired. Besides, we’ve got more pressing matters to discuss, don’t we?”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to focus on the present. “Yeah, I know. I just… I can’t stop thinking about him. Solitary can mess with your mind.”

Westmoreland gave her a reassuring nod. “Michael’s strong. He’ll get through this. But we have to focus on the plan. If we’re gonna get him out, we need to stay on track.”

“Westmoreland’s right,” C-Note agreed. “We’ve still got that problem with his cell going up for auction. If we don’t get it, all his work’s down the drain.”

Y/N sat up straighter, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. How are we supposed to get the money? The guards aren’t just going to hand it over to us.”

“That’s where things get tricky,” Westmoreland mused, his voice low. “The auction isn’t exactly public knowledge. It’s all done through the guards and a select few inmates with money. The only way we’re gonna get in on it is if we can scrape together enough cash.”

“We could hit up the poker game,” T-Bag chimed in, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. “It’s risky, but some of the boys in here got money to burn. If we play our cards right, we might just be able to out-bid the competition.”

Y/N perked up at the mention of poker. Her mind whirred, and a plan started to form. “Poker?” she repeated, her tone shifting with interest. “I could do that.”

C-Note arched an eyebrow. “You play?”

“Play?” Y/N scoffed, her confidence blooming despite the worry gnawing at her. “I don’t just play—I’m good. Really good.”

T-Bag chuckled, amused by her sudden confidence. “Oh, really now? What makes you think you’re gonna waltz into a high-stakes game and walk out with enough dough to buy Scofield’s cell?”

Y/N leaned forward, locking eyes with him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Because I’ve done it before. Poker isn’t just a game to me. When I was a teenager, I had to survive. It wasn’t just drugs that got me by. It was poker. I learned how to count cards, read people, and clean them out before they even knew what hit them.”

T-Bag’s smirk faltered slightly, interest piqued. “Well, colour me intrigued. Didn’t peg you for a card shark.”

C-Note exchanged a glance with Westmoreland, his scepticism slowly fading. “You serious?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. “You really think you can pull it off?”

Y/N nodded firmly. “It’s not just about winning. It’s about survival. Back then, losing wasn’t an option. I got good because I had to. And if it means getting Michael out of this mess, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Westmoreland studied her for a moment, then nodded, a look of approval crossing his face. “If you think you can handle it, I say we give it a shot. But you have to be careful. These guys won’t take kindly to being hustled.”

“I’m not worried,” Y/N replied, her tone confident but not cocky. “I can handle them.”

T-Bag’s grin returned, wider now, as if he were savouring the possibilities. “Well, sugar, looks like we got ourselves a plan. You clean house, we get that cash, and we buy Scofield’s cell right out from under the bastards.”

C-Note chuckled, shaking his head. “I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming, but I’m down. We’re runnin’ out of time, and this might be our only shot.”

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of the task settling on her shoulders. She was still worried about Michael, still aching to know he was okay, but for now, she had to focus. This was her chance to make a difference, to help him the only way she knew how.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s do this.”

There was a plan in place for this poker game. C-Note and T-Bag were going to not be in her favour, play the game and put on act. She needed to look like she was on her own.

The dimly lit storage pantry was thick with smoke and the musty smell of sweat. Inmates hunched around a rickety table, their focus solely on the cards laid out in front of them. The low hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of poker chips being tossed into the centre. At the table sat, Jesus, C-Note, T-Bag, Pao and Zach. All of them were deep in the game, intense concentration etched into their faces.

Y/N stood by the door, watching them with sharp, calculating eyes. Her presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. T-Bag with his usual sneer, leaned back in his chair and glanced up at her.

“No open seats, sweetheart,” T-Bag drawled. “This is men’s business. Best you stay on the sidelines.”

Jesus smirked, leaning back smugly. “Yeah, we ain’t got time to babysit. Don’t wanna take your pocket money.”

Y/N, unfazed by their condescension, raised an eyebrow and muttered just loud enough for them to hear, “Then that’s one less you have to worry about beating.”

C-Note chuckled from his seat, amused by the boldness in her tone. But it was Zach who finally spoke, his voice gravelly and worn with age. “Let her play, if she wants. If she loses, she loses. Ain’t no harm in takin’ her money.”

T-Bag snorted, dismissive. “It’s your funeral, darlin’. You’re sittin’ with sharks. Sure you’re ready to swim?”

Y/N slid into the seat with a casual air, cracking her knuckles before resting her hands on the table. She looked each one of them in the eye, daring them to underestimate her again. “Deal me in.”

The cards were shuffled and dealt, the tension palpable as the men exchanged glances. Y/N scanned her cards, her expression unreadable. She had spent years perfecting her poker face – survival in the streets hadn’t given her a choice. This wasn’t just a game to her. It never had been.

The first few rounds passed without much incident. C-Note won a hand, Jesus another. Y/N stayed quiet, folding at strategic moments, sizing up each player as they revealed their tendencies, their tells.

Finally, a bigger hand came. The pot grew larger with each bet, and the energy around the table shifted. C-Note threw in more money, his poker face solid as ever. T-Bag smirked, pushing in his chips with that cocky grin of his. Jesus, ever the showman, leaned back with a knowing smile and tossed his money in, too.

Then it was Y/N’s turn.

Without hesitation, she met their bets and then raised them. The room seemed to quiet as eyes darted towards her, surprise flickering in their gazes.

“Feelin’ confident, are we?” Jesus mused, eyeing her with a new intensity.

Y/N didn’t answer, her expression never changing. She knew she had them.

C-Note leaned in, trying to read her, but she gave him nothing. T-Bag snorted, shaking his head as he reluctantly tossed in more chips. Pao folded, unwilling to take the risk, and Zach followed suit.

With the bets placed, the cards were revealed.

Jesus threw down a straight, his grin widening. “How about that? You’re sittin’ at the big boys’ table now.”

T-Bag followed, revealing a flush with a smug look. “Looks like luck ain’t on your side today, sugar.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. Instead, she slowly flipped her cards over, revealing a royal flush.

Silence.

C-Note’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise. Jesus blinked, his grin fading into a stunned expression. Even T-Bag was momentarily speechless, his mouth hanging open as he processed what had just happened.

Y/N leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but firm. “Like I said, one less you have to worry about beating.”

She reached forward and raked in the pot, the stack of bills and chips sliding into her hands. The men around her sat in stunned silence, the reality of their loss sinking in.

C-Note chuckled lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Girl’s got skills.”

T-Bag’s eyes narrowed, clearly not used to being shown up, especially not by a woman. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, though there was a flicker of respect in his voice, despite himself.

Y/N, pocketing her winnings, stood up, her calm confidence never wavering. “Poker isn’t luck,” she said, her voice cutting through the room. “It’s survival. And I’ve had plenty of practice.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the storage pantry, leaving behind a table of stunned men and the faintest smile on her lips.

When Y/N sat the boys next, she handed them the cash.

I hope you enjoyed! I had so much fun writing this.

Let me know your thoughts, opinions and comments! :)

Lots of love,

Ava <3

Taglist:

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

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

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

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origamiopossums · 3 months ago

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

Takes place in season 5!

#prison break #theodore bagwell #lincoln burrows #I'm pretty much the only writer for this ship lol #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic

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jojo0039 · 2 months ago

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Fox River - Cute Poison Part 1

Lincoln is sleeping on his cot.

Then all of a sudden the guards burst into the cell.

"What's going on?" he asks still half asleep.

They don't say anything to him as they drag him from his cell all the way down the hall.

He keeps screaming.

"Where are you taking me? What's going on?" he keeps shouting at the guards.

They drag him into the execution room.

"No!" he shouted struggling.

"I have a month! Please!" he begs as they drag him to the chair.

He looks and catches sight of Jessica standing in the corner with her arms crossed.

"Jess please help me." he begs looking to her for help.

She ignores him and watches with hate in her eyes as they strap him to the chair.

"Jess please I love you." he says with fear in his voice not wanting to die.

Jess walks over and stands in front of him.

"I don't love you. You're getting what you deserve." she says to him in contempt as she backs away and pulls the lever to give him the shock.

He jumps up. He is still lying on his cot.

He sits up and tries to get his heart to stop racing.

It was just a dream. He leans back against the wall and rubs his face.

He doesn't want to die.

At least not without seeing Jess one more time.

*********

Jessica walks through the prison doors.

She is supposed to be meeting Veronica here.

Veronica said that she was going to talk to Lincoln and that she thinks that Jess should talk to him too.

She doesn't see Veronica's car but decides that she is going to honor the Warden's request and speak to Lincoln.

Just as she makes her way to the private visitor rooms, she gets stopped.

"Miss Donovan. I'm sorry but Burrows is in a meeting with his lawyer he only gets one visit a day." the guard says to her before walking away.

Even though she is relieved she doesn't have to talk to him a part of her is disappointed that she can't see him.

She decides to head up and see Trisha since she has the day off.

She walks up the stairs and makes her way over to the Psych ward.

She makes it to Trish's office and knocks. Trish opens the door and sees Jess standing there.

Trish looks surprised to see her.

"Hey what are you doing here?" she asks Jess stepping out and closing the door behind her.

"I was in the building and figured I would stop by and say hey." Jess says wondering why her sister is acting weird.

"I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of something but call me later and we'll talk." she says to Jess and goes back into the room and closes the door.

"Sorry about that my sister was at the door." Trish says turning back to her guest.

Paul Kellerman turns in his chair and smiles.

"That's no problem Trish. I know you're a busy woman." he says to her smiling.

Jess walks back down to the front and sees Veronica signing out.

"Hey V." Jess greets walking up to the sign-out desk.

"Hey what are you doing here?" she asks surprised to see her here.

"Well I was trying to see Trish but she's in a meeting so that can wait." she responds as they make their way to the parking lot.

"So how did the meeting go with Lincoln?" Jessica asks her trying not to sound like she really wanted to know.

Veronica gives her a knowing smile.

"Why don't you just go back in there and ask him how it went?" she asks her teasingly.

Jess gives her a teasing glare.

"You know why." she says walking over to her car.

"Well, he was surprised to see me there. And once I told him that we both believed him he definitely got a lot happier. He asked me how you and Jason were." Veronica says baiting her.

Jess looks at her with a slight glare.

"And what did you say to him?" she asks curiously.

"I told him the truth. That you don't love Jason but won't dump him." Veronica says getting into her car.

"Oh by the way. I have a meeting with Project Justice today. You should go with me." Jess moves closer to the car.

"For what?" she asks her sister.

"To get further access to Lincoln's case. I could really use you." she says wanting her to go with her.

"Yea, I'll go. I do have the day off today." she says going over to the passenger side and getting in.

"So you are under the impression that both of my sisters are reinvestigating Lincoln's case?" Trish questions not believing him.

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

"Yes. I am. They had already talked with the man who represented him before and the guy gave Jessica a tape from the garage that night. And Veronica was taking Latoya Barrison's statement." Paul informs Trish of all that has happened.

"And I spoke to her on the phone and she wants this taken care of as soon as possible." he says to Trish and she just looks at him with a glare thinking of what to do.

"You know that they are not going to stop until they uncover the truth. And both of your sisters are that smart enough to where they will uncover every secret that you and I are protecting." Paul says again.

Trish finally looks back up at him from her thoughts.

"Then we have a big problem." she says leaning forward.

"I will talk to my sisters. You don't do anything until I give the go-ahead do you understand me?" Trish asks completely caught off guard about her sisters.

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

"Maybe but we just found all this out in the last couple of days. I feel that between the two of us, we can find out a whole lot more now that Veronica is dedicating her whole time to the case and I'm going to ask for special privilege to only work cases related to this." Jessica tells him.

"Even if Latoya showed up her testimony would be useless. Most criminal junkies don't really shine on the stand." Benjamin Foliack says to them as they sit across the desk from him.

"Secret Service Agent came to visit you both. What did he want?" the other guy sitting in the room asks them.

"Nick please." Benjamin sighs to the guy before addressing Jess and Veronica again.

"Ladies, I'm afraid if you can't produce us more evidence even after reviewing Burrow's case thoroughly. Can you give us anything else?" he asks them.

"No. Not right now but-" Veronica gets cut off.

"But is what you're trying to tell us right?" Foliack says to her.

"Yes. We all know what you're trying to point out. We are here to ask for help. I don't think an innocent man should be punished for something he didn't do. And I believe that's what it says on your mission statement." Veronica says to him feeling like they are losing the case.

"We get hundreds of representations." he says to them.

"I know you do." Veronica retorts back.

"We are very limited on who we give our time to." He says trying to get them to understand.

"We will do all the footwork. But since neither of us has experience in the death penalty we're just asking that you point us in the right direction please." Jessica begs them.

Foliak sighs before looking between the both of them.

"I'm sorry ladies. I understand that you are two very smart, very resourceful women but we just don't have the manpower to grant your request."

Jessica makes her way down the steps and out the door.

Jessica stands up and leaves the room abruptly.

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

She stops to catch her breath and waits for Veronica to come back out.

She comes back out a minute later.

"Are you OK?" Veronica asks her.

"I'm fine let's just go." Jess says wanting to get back home.

They head for the car and don't notice that someone is following them.

The guy following them dials a number and waits for the phone to pick up.

"They're leaving now. I don't know how much time you have." he says to the other end.

Paul is standing in Jessica's apartment.

That night Jessica makes it home.

"That's OK I've uncovered plenty." he says holding up a wedding photo of Jessica and Lincoln kissing.

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

As soon as she makes it through her front door she instantly knows something isn't right.

She slowly makes her way through her apartment but stops short when she sees what is wrong.

The photo of her and Lincoln is not where she last put it.

Confused she moves it back to where it is supposed to be.

She continues to look around but can't find anything else out of place.

A knock on her door makes her jump.

She tries to control her breathing as she walks over to the door.

She opens it and sees Jason on the other side.

"Hey you haven't picked up your phone is everything OK?" he asks seeing that she is a bit jumpy.

"Yeah. I'm fine but now is not a good time." she says not letting him in.

He sighs.

"Jess we have to talk. You have been avoiding me and I want to know why." he says finally putting his foot down.

"OK we will talk tomorrow but right now I'm just tired and I want to go to bed OK." she says letting him down easily.

He nods his head.

"OK tomorrow then." he says before turning around and walking off.

#prison break fanfiction #jessica donovan #lincoln burrows fanfiction #michael scofield #fox river #book 1

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