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Defying The Odds: 4 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 6.1k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

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

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

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

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she heard movement.

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

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

Finally, Y/N broke the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she whispered.

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

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

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

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

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

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

“Look down then,” she whispered.

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

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

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

His hands drew circles against her stomach.

“Everything is a plan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you want me to come with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There she felt something…hope. Just a little.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My husband or Michael?”

“Both?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“–Route 66,” Sucre finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither,” Sucre added.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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