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twohearts-hs · 4 months 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 · 6 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.

★ I'm Breathing, So I Guess I'm Still Alive - WIP. T-Bag/Male OC. Mostly takes place before the show. About T-Bag slowly learning and growing as he falls in love with a new cellmate.

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jojo0039 · 4 months ago

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Fox River - Riots, Drills and the Devil Part 2

Jessica waits as Trish starts to explain.

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

Jessica gets a look of disgust on her face.

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

Trish nods.

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

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

Jessica shakes her head.

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

"Are you feeling OK? " Trish asks her.

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

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

"What other things?" Trish asks curiously.

Jessica ignores the question and asks her own.

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

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

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

Before Trish can respond, Jessica's phone rings.

She looks at the ID and sees it is Veronica.

"Donovan." she speaks into the phone.

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

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

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

Jessica walks back over to Trish.

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

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

Jessica meets Veronica outside in the hall.

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

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

"Yes." Veronica confirms.

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

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

"OK." Jessica agrees.

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

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

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

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

She knows instantly that it is a lockdown.

She is still in the stairwell.

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

She watches as one inmate stops and notices her.

She isn't scared but she backs up anyway.

She backs up into a hard chest.

She turns quickly and comes face to face with Lincoln.

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

He grabs her and pulls her behind him protectively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She glares at him and moves closer to Lincoln.

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

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

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

Lincoln looks at him before shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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afaimsarrowverse · 11 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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amis3k · 5 months 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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okamirayne · 7 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 · 7 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 · 4 months ago

Text

Defying The Odds: 9 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.5k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

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

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

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

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

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

The pipe had been replaced.

The escape had failed.

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

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

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

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

She needed to get out.

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

She wanted to see Michael.

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

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

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

“–No,” she barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded and thanked him.

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

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

“Hey,” he muttered, voice defeated.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

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

“How’s the stitches?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N looked at Michael

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad…” she winced, “Frank…it’s Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N’s heart sank and she nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled. “I love you too.”

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

“Michael?” she whispered. He moved back.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The psych ward?” Y/N whispered.

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

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

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

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

“Sort of.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How complex?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sure,” Bellick replied, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Whatever you say, Scofield. But I don’t think the warden’s gonna be too happy about this. Also, do you know her crimes? Have you read her file?” he asked with a smirk, taunting tone. “She would seduce men and then murder them…”

Michael knew that. Y/N told him. She told him a lot about her life with Sebastian. His protective stance only grew more rigid as Bellick’s smirk widened, the guard clearly enjoying every second of the uncomfortable situation. Y/N’s pulse raced with a mix of frustration and fury, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The way Bellick looked at her, the smugness in his voice – it was enough to make her blood boil.

“Michael,” she whispered her hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. But she could see the tension rolling off him, feel the heat radiating from his taut muscles as he tried to hold himself back.

Bellick’s eyes farted from Michael to Y/N, his grin widening as he titled his head mockingly. “Oh, come on now. You think you’re gonna get away with this? Fraternizing in the showers, playing house…it’s almost cute.” His gaze shifted to Y/N, lingering for a second too long. “Maybe if I came in a few minutes later, I’d get to see you naked. That would’ve made my day.”

Before she could stop herself, a surge of anger took over and Y/N swung her arm toward Bellick. Her vision tunnelled, the only thought in her mind being wipe that digusting grin off his face. But before she could land the punch, Michael’s had shot out, catching her arm in mid-air.

“Y/N, don’t,” Michael said firmly, pulling her back. His grip was strong, but his touch was gentle as he guided her behind him again. “You’ll be sent away, and I can’t have that.”

Bellick’s laugh echoed through the showers, low and condescending. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Can’t take a joke?” He stepped closer, leaning in with that same infuriating grin. “I guess privacy is hard to come by in a place like this. But then again, you know that, don’t you? Clearing out the showers…smart.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, barely containing the anger that bubbled up inside her. “I just want a moment to myself, without you breathing down my neck.”

Bellick scoffed, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Then don’t commit crimes, honey. This is prison. Privacy doesn’t exist here. Especially for people like you.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. People like you. He knew exactly what he was doing—picking at the scabs of her past, bringing up the things she wanted to forget, the things she was trying to survive. Her fists clenched tighter, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.

Michael’s body remained tense, his gaze unwavering as he glared at Bellick. “You’ve had your fun. Now get out.”

Bellick chuckled again, taking a step back but not without a parting shot. “You two lovebirds should remember where you are. This ain’t some romantic getaway. It’s a cage. And I’ll be watching. Always.”

With that, he turned and swaggered out of the showers, leaving Y/N and Michael in the echo of his mocking laughter.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her heart still pounding in her chest. She leaned her forehead against Michael’s shoulder, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he wrapped an arm around her.

“I hate him,” she muttered.

“I know,” Michael replied softly, running a hand through her hair. “But he’s not worth it. We can’t afford to draw any more attention.”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes as she let herself be comforted by his presence, even if the weight of the prison walls never truly left her.

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

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

Lots of love,

Ava <3

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