John Doe Pt 3

Season 2 Masterlist

Michael Scofield x Reader

Word Count: 1,404

Warnings: Language, Angst

   Paul was looking at a map in a book, deciding the best course of action.

   “We can use the fire roads that the park rangers use in Glacier National Park. They don’t patrol them at night. We get up into Canada, we head east, we cut down through New York,” Paul devised. Michael stared out the window, his arms crossed, and Terrence passed, giggling creepily.

   “The borders won’t be a problem. No, nobody will look for us there,” he giggled again.

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anonymous asked:

I don't really have a prompt, per se, but have you thought about Michael's wedding ring Sara's using in the end of TFB? Cause I can imagine that she kept it and after everything is over, wants to return it to him

It had been a few weeks since they had settled into their new house in Chicago, as New York just didn’t quite feel like home after everything that had happened.  A move had been exactly what they needed.

They’d been hesitant to yank Mike out of school, but he was eager to see the place where both of his parents had grown up, and a fresh start sounded ideal in the wake of the truth being revealed.

Sara was still adjusting to the new home, not quite sure where she’d unpacked everything, a few boxes still scattered about, and more than a few stubbed toes healing after running into tables during late night walks to the bathroom or for a drink of water.

Michael seemed to be more at ease in his transition back into a relatively normal life with his old surroundings comforting him.

Standing on her toes, she reached for the top shelf in the kitchen, a pan she needed waiting for her several inches away.  Her hair tumbled down, hitting the small of her back, and and plaid shirt moved up her stomach, exposing a sliver of skin.

She feels his fingers on her skin before she hears him coming, his warm hands scorching her skin, as he easily reaches up and grabs what she had been reaching for.

He wears a silent grin, his eyes twinkling at her with amusement, before stepping back, taking his hand from waist, and she instantly feels the absence of warmth from the loss of contact.

“Thanks,” she says, a blush heating her defined cheekbones, as she yanks her shirt down.

He backs up to the island, leaning against the counter.  She can feel his eyes, his gaze hitting the back of her head.

“What are you up to?” She asks, moving around the kitchen to get the ingredients she’d need for dinner tonight.

“About to go pick up Mike from school,” he announces, and she nods with a smile.

“He’ll be excited about that,” she says, and he shyly looks down, still in awe at his role of Dad.  He was slowly gaining confidence in his abilities, but his love never wavering for the boy that he’d adored since the moment he found about him.

Stepping over near him, she leans against him as she reaches for a wooden spoon.  Her hair brushes against his face, and something catches his eye, as she reaches out to hold her still.

His long fingers move to the dip in her shirt, using his index finger to trace the chain she was wearing, lightly pulling up, causing the metal to slide against her chest, sending goosebumps all over her body.

“What’s this?” He asks in a soft whisper, before pulling the object attached to the chain up to reveal his wedding ring from before.

“I uhh, I found it when I was unpacking,” she says, her palm coming to support the ring in her palm, as her stares down at the object.

“You kept it,” he says, but it almost comes out as a question, both shock and awe heard in his voice.  Like he couldn’t believe she had actually held on to it.

“I wore it for a long time,” she says with a smile, a quiet laugh attached.

He seems to sense what she meant, moving to her own index finger, the one that always seemed to have some sort of ring before, and he closes his eyes, as if picturing the last time he’d worn that ring.  She had to admit, it seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it had been.

“I figured I’d wear it around my neck until…you were ready to wear it yourself,” she says, almost shyly, tucking her long hair behind her ear.

He closes her hand, forming a fist around the ring resting in her palm, before covering it with his own fist.

“It looks good on you,” he admits, and she nods in agreement.  That ring having been constantly twirled on her finger whenever she had been particularly anxious or scared during her pregnancy.  

“It would probably look better on my finger though,” he says with a smirk, his charm worming its way into a smile from her.

“You want it back?” She asks, holding it up, her eyes wide at the significance.

“How about you keep that one,” he says, letting the chain drop back down her shirt.  “And we get new ones this time around.  Fresh start and all.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, Michael Scofield?”


Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

michael scofield be like: i will use this single stale cheetoh to feed the dog that roams outside the east wall of the prison at precisely 4:36 pm on the third wednesday before the 5th full moon of a year a corpse flower blooms after which the dog will take a shit which will be stepped on by the prison guard’s cousin’s financial advisor, causing him to be late for work, which makes him throw his recycling in the garbage by mistake, which will then be transported on a garbage truck traveling at 22 miles per hour driven by a man whose father just landed in yemen yesterday and dropped a napkin on the floor which was carried on the wind through our window and landed in my lap exactly 1.7 seconds ago which i am now folding into a lockpick so we can escape