Relationship: Ray Breslin “Anthony Portos” x Reader
Summary: As the Reader has signed on another job to test out prison facilities and essentially break out, the one they are forced into isn’t what was planned at all, the mission turning on its head. But, with strength, smarts, and determination, they are desperate to do as they do best. That is, until a familiar face pops out of the blue, igniting a flame they’d left behind a long time ago.
#2: Their friendship has always been based on a special intimate bond but the disagreement about how this closeness should be explored broke the friendship. But even when they weren’t friends anymore, they couldn’t stay away from and keep their hands off each other.
#6: “It has never been over, has it?”
{gif is not mine, credits go to @thenugu}
*Your Perspective*
Waking up to pitch darkness, I test my limbs, feeling for any answer as to where I am. Almost simultaneously, as I had found myself laying on a hard bed, if you could even say that, I sit up as blinding white light illuminates my room. I soon learn that it isn’t just my room, but all the rooms around me, the cell I am barricaded in being lined with glass panes instead of solid, cement ones.
Finally, as my eyes adjust, I take in everything now instead of feeling, my eyes being able to answer what my hands couldn’t. It is only then that I finally realize the shit I’m in. This was supposed to be a test, something I used to do as a duo, getting quite the hefty pay. I was supposed to get incarcerated under a fake name, taken to the prison in question, find its flaws, and break out, notifying the prison owners and staff of what needed to be done and suggestions.
This...This, however, was a totally different scenario. A set-up. The evidence to justify this thought process settling in my ears, as I had previously had an earpiece, given that the employers were sketchy, my closest friends and squad having one specially hidden for me. “Just in case!” they said, slightly nervous yet cheerful. It had also not helped their case as I had entered, the guards beating me down the second I had entered, just changing into the prisoners’s uniform.
I shake it off however, knowing that dwelling and stressing isn’t going to help my case if I want out. So instead, I use my specialties and intelligence to my advantage, taking every aspect of everything I can see, analyzing even the smallest of details, making note of the hefty amount of cameras along the way.
Deeming the surrounding area unhelpful, I huff, slumping back onto the planks and thin mattress of the makeshift bed, grunting. I wait a while, taking in the numerous rows of stairs, cells, and tables beneath mine, noticing all the people. Hardly any women, very nice. The thought leaves a horrible shiver and knot in my stomach, knowing prison isn’t the best for someone built like myself, almost vulnerable to the more intimidating, hungry, greedy, and dirty men that await me.
Eventually, the glass doors to the cell opens, allowing me out of the boring room, lining up with everyone else in the proximity as we are led to the main floor below us. Breakfast.
Finally getting to the bottom floor, grabbing a tray, and sitting far away from everyone else, I take in the new room, making new mental notes of one of the many more rooms unexplored. However, what I had not intended on seeing was an old friend of mine, a partner. My partner.
Our eyes meet briefly, his eyes scanning the room just as I had, before he realizes the familiar face he had just bounced over, eyes darting back to mine within seconds. I smirk smugly at him in return, his decision being that it was a wonderful idea to come join me, knowing it’s deadly anywhere else. As if I couldn’t kill him myself if I’d pleased.
“What are you doing here?” he says gruffly, the familiar Brooklyn voice, gravelly and naturally husky.
“Probably the same reason why you’re here, am I right?” I answer, rather unamused.
“Yeah...”
“What’s your name this time? Does it fit your ethnicity this time, or is your name fucking Timmy or some shit again?” I say, trying to be lighthearted and give in, knowing that we’re both fucked under the same terms somewhat.
“Anthony,” he starts, about to start teases and jokes, “Anthony Portos.”
“Ah, so the last name is what gets them,” I joke.
///Past///
It was so hard to get brought back into the rhythm of what the two of us used to have. Making jokes, poking fun, working happily alongside one another. We were friends, to say the least, having been the closest things to family either of us had ever had.
It had made me fall for him, shamefully and unbeknownst to myself, the attraction pulling me towards him even as I had tried not to. I didn’t want to ruin what we had, cherishing the friendship we shared on a high pedestal. But, somewhere along the lines, I had felt that he had the same feelings for me hidden within his being.
I was wrong however, when I’d brought the situation up to him in hopes of what I wanted coming true. He didn’t want a relationship, he didn’t want ties that could break and fall apart, ripping him into shreds once I’d walk away. I had simply nodded as he had denied any feelings, that day being the last I’d seen him.
///Present//
“Whatever. What’s yours?”
“Adrian Jones, guess they thought I was a man alongside you,” I giggle, poking at his pride.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” he says, letting me take the win...this time.
We sit in a comfortable silence, having forgiven him the moment he’d taken his seat in front of me, never being able to deny him. Loving him even as he had never loved me.
“I’ve missed you, ya’ know that? I don’t know why you left...” he says after a while, our eyes having been caught in a trance, just staring at one another for some time.
“Yeah, you have no clue. You never have a clue, do you? You knew! You knew, you son of a bitch! Why?! Why would you leave me hanging for so long, just to cut me off?!” I scream at him, the unspoken heartbreak finally coming to the surface and showing in my posture and face. He sees it now, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
I stand in the midst of my vent, posture stiff and still as I finish, staring at him in sadness and confusion. He stares blankly at me, saying nothing.
///Past///
I remember that day like it was yesterday, the memories flooding my senses. After the brief talk and Ray shutting down any sort of things that led to us getting together, I left the back porch in a hurry, eyes already burning with unshed tears.
Speeding into my room, closing and locking the door behind me, I collapse on it, falling to the floor in despair. He knew I loved him, so he tried to back off. He should’ve just told me, why didn’t he tell me?! I scream as the thoughts swirl in my head. He could’ve told me so that I’d move on, not get hung up on him. I throw a shoe at the wall, causing a hole to form in the drywall.
“Fuck!” I scream, causing more tears to rise and bubble over from my eyes.
If he doesn’t love me, then why should I stay? Getting up quickly, I wipe the tears in vain, even as they continue to run down my face. Grabbing a back pack from my closet, I grab any sort of clothes I had in our shared home. Another thing I thought meant something to him in our relationship. And with my stuff packed, I did what I felt was right. I left.
///Present///
I go to say something once more, even more pissed as he doesn’t even try to back anything he did up, or even give a small explanation to argue with me. To show me. To tell me that I did matter to him.
I am cut short however, as a bulky man stands beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. Instantly, I tense, going to shrug him off, but he just latches on harder. This makes me start to pry his hands off in a panic, his grip solid and unyielding as he stares at Ray.
“Well, it looks to me like ya’s fucked up, huh? A break up?” the man states with bone chilling sarcasm, making my body just stop moving altogether.
Going to disagree, I open my mouth to speak, noticing Ray somehow go stiff, him staring the man down in menace. The man turns to me, placing a finger to my lips, prompting me to bite it, “Does that mean that I can take you now? Be my little pet, mmmf, wouldn’t that be a treat?”
That was all it took for Ray to snap, shoving the man off of me. Another man appears at my side, an Austrian accent evident as he lightly places a hand on mine, tugging me away from the men in a flurry of violent attacks. I almost yank my hand away, but see a kindness in his eyes, smiling lightly, and shaking his head. I nod, understanding.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” he says after I am a safe distance away from the fight that has now consumed the who cafeteria as a whole.
“Y-yes, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, just scared me is all. A-are you with R- Anthony?” I say, slightly shaken as the fear washes off in tiny waves.
“Yes, I am Emil Rottmayer. He’s told me about you, you know? He knows you quite a bit. He saw you this morning, you are not too far off from our cells.” he says kindly.
“Oh. Well that’s comforting, knowing you are both in close distance, I guess. I’m Adrian Jones by the way,” I manage, pulling my arm out and extending my hand for a proper shake. He obliges, then nods in Ray’s direction as he goes to pull him away, the guards now approaching.
The man, who is still unknown to me, follows after Ray as Emil makes the scene look as if the man is going after him instead of Ray. The guards whack him down with batons, going for their tasers as the man continues to fight relentlessly. I watch the scene unfold, smiling lightly as I realize just how fucked this man is.
I jump as a hand makes contact with mine firmly, dragging me out of the room. Looking up, I notice the back of Ray’s head, scrunching my eyebrows together in confusion, but follow him blindly anyways. Turning some corners in numerous hallways, we finally stop somewhere once the commotion is unheard.
He instantly pins me to the wall, making me yelp lightly, meeting his eyes. It’s only now that I see the emotions in his baby browns: guilt, regret, admiration, sadness, and...love. His arms cage either side of my head as he hesitates, only now registering what he intends on doing, might needing a buffer now. I don’t waste another breath, pulling him in by the collar of his orange jumpsuit, kissing him passionately.
Even when we intended on pulling away to say something to one another, we pull each other closer each time, much happier having our lips attached rather than not. Finally, as we part for air, I giggle at him, a tint in both our cheeks.
He looks down at me once more, whispering, “It has never been over, has it? You still love me, maybe as much as I still do...”
“What?” I ask breathlessly, “You-You loved me?”
“I-I always have, I just have issues with expressing emotions,” he says jokingly, albeit honestly.
“...Yes,” he answers, knowing an onslaught of joking is to come.
“And you still do, huh?” I say teasingly, wrapping my arms around his neck playfully now.
But I don’t give him one, at least, not right now. Instead, I busy myself with my lips attaching themselves back to his, all my worries depleting instantly as I feel him kiss me back.
“I love you Ray Breslin, or Anthony Portos, or Timmy. Whatever you prefer really. You’re a dumb ass though.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can ya’ shut up now? We’re in the middle of something here,” he says, pulling me into him once more before I had something smug to say once again. All I do is smile into the kiss, knowing that no matter what happens, I still have him. The love of my life.
Context: after escaping the Tomb, the reader finds herself in need of a friend.
A/N: Not entirely sure where this came from, but to anyone who reads this, enjoy!
Masterlist
My hopes are slowly starting to fade as I stand there in the pouring rain, my body freezing and drenched, my clothes soaked through from the last couple of hours of running back to find this place, hoping to find shelter here. I can feel myself becoming more and more worried, afraid now that I got the wrong place, trying to recall exactly what the address was when I'd looked it up, back in the office. Checking the number and road again, I confirm what I think and go to knock again, pleading under my breath that the inhabitant will answer soon. If not, well, then I'm not sure what I'll do.
When another few minutes pass with no answer, I curse to myself, trying to fight back the tears of frustration and helplessness that start to prick at my eyes. Stepping away from the door, I go to head back into the darkness, annoyed at the ungodly hour I chose to call in at, glancing up the street to make sure there are no idling vehicles waiting for me. The rain overhead starts to increase in volume, dowsing me in a fresh volley of icy water, leaving me shivering and pulling at my soaked coat to try and keep warm.
It's at that point that I hear the door behind me open, a familiar, gruff voice calling out grumpily, clearly annoyed at having been woken at this time. Whirling on my heel, I look up at the man standing in the doorway, his dark eyes widening as he realises who it is.
"(Y/n)?!" He exclaims, looking me over in shock.
"Ray! You answered!" I respond, some relief flooding me as I hesitantly walk back to the doorstep.
"Yeah, well you were pretty insistent." He remarks, frowning in confusion at me, "What're you doing here? I thought you were in New York?"
"Change of plans. Things went a bit wrong on that end." I give him a weak smile, my body shaking badly now, "I need shelter, is there any chance I can stay with you for a night?"
"Shelter? From what?"
"Well, the rain, for one, but the other reason has a long backstory attached, which I'll tell you somewhere more private than your front step." I quip back, rubbing my arms now to generate some heat.
"Right." Ray looks slightly sceptical, but stands to the side, "You can stay as long as you need."
"Thank you, thank you so much!" I rush out, relief flooding me now as I stumble inside, standing back to let him close the door behind me, waiting for him to walk me further into his home.
"Jesus, you're dripping!" Ray comments, looking concerned as he reaches out to take my coat from me, "You'll catch a cold staying like that, I'll get you a change of clothes."
Blushing slightly at his protective nature, I nod and follow him inside, feeling a sense of happiness at being back in his presence, having felt in the past months after breaking out of the Tomb a need to be back with the two men I spent so long with. No one else around me could understand the loneliness and dread that plagued me from my incarceration, and the reception I received back at work had made it even more apparent how I'd probably never find any company to replace Rottmayer and Breslin's. When things had gone awry back in New York, I'd immediately sought out the location of the two men I considered close friends: naturally, Rottmayer, or Manheim as I should really call him, was off-radar, though I had known this as soon as I tried to search for him. Having found Ray's address, I made my way here, avoiding the people sent after me, staying off-grid to remain hidden. Now that I'm here, I feel even less inclined to leave again, wishing I could stay with the dark-haired man for the remainder of my life.
"I'm sorry, I haven't really got any...female clothes," Ray interrupts my thoughts as he quickly emerges from what I'm assuming is his bedroom, having previously signalled for me to wait outside, a pile of neatly folded clothes in hand.
"No, that's fine, thank you! I'm just grateful you're letting me stay, honestly." I say to him, taking the clothes with a thankful smile.
"Like I would let you stay out there in the rain." He grins at me, gesturing to a door just across the corridor, "The bathroom is in there if you want to freshen up. I'll be in the living room."
"Thank you." I smile, heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.
Swiftly, I strip off, leaving my soaked clothing in a pile, quickly going under the shower to warm up slightly, before climbing out and using a nearby towel (neatly folded as I reckoned it would be) to dry myself off. Taking up the clothes he got out for me, I easily pull them on, replacing my lower underwear after a moment's hesitation, feeling them dry enough to be comfortable. The clothes swamp me, the shirt easily reaching my mid-thighs, the trousers dragging on the floor as I go to take a step. Grinning to myself, I roll up the legs and tuck in the shirt, before picking up my old clothes and leaving the bathroom.
Carefully, I locate the living room, entering the spacious room hesitantly, surprised to see Ray sitting on one of the large sofas with a tray of tea and biscuits laid out before him. As I enter, his eyes instantly snap to me, taking in my appearance quickly, gaze lingering slightly too long, making me blush under the intensity.
"Where should I put these?" I ask him, gesturing to the clothes in my hand.
"Err, just leave 'em by the foot of the stairs. I'll move 'em later." He says, pointing back the way I came.
Doing as he says, I quickly drop them in a pile at the bottom step, before returning to the living room, hovering awkwardly by the door.
"You just gonna stand there? Or are you gonna sit down?" The muscular man grins at me, patting the seat beside him.
Smiling shyly, I go over and sit down beside him, feeling a little awkward, though I really shouldn't.
"Hey, relax. I'm not gonna bite." He chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder as he leans over to take up a teacup, pouring some tea into it and handing it to me.
"Yeah, sorry. Thank you." I blush, cursing myself for being so timid around him.
"No problem." He smiles, leaning back in his seat, watching me do the same.
Drinking the tea, I feel myself slowly get more comfortable, my muscles loosening, the aches in my muscles starting to fade slightly.
"So, you gonna tell me why you're here?" Ray finally asks the question I knew was coming.
Sighing, I place down the cup and sit back, looking down at my hands.
"Well, you remember how I said someone framed me? To get me into the Tomb?" I begin, waiting for his response before continuing, "Yeah, well it turned out that it wasn't one person, it was the whole department I work for. They wanted to get rid of me, so they sent me somewhere where they thought I'd stay for the rest of my life."
Ray is quiet for a moment, seemingly shocked.
'Your colleagues framed you? For what?" He finally asks, leaning forwards, concern etched into the lines of his face.
"I'm not sure. I never knew I was disliked, though I knew some people had a little jealousy because I am pretty good at my job. All I know is now I'm being hunted down by a squad of my old friends." I inform him, looking away as I feel tears start to push at my eyes again, still hung up over the loss of some close friends.
"Damn, (Y/n), I'm sorry. If I'd known, I would've helped you out sooner." The concerned man says, placing a hand on my shoulder, which makes me unconsciously lean into his touch.
"It's not your fault, you couldn't have known." I reassure him, rubbing at my eyes.
He hums slightly, watching me, before he suddenly leans in and wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his body. Surprised, I freeze for a split second, quickly relaxing into his hold as his scent makes its way into my nostrils, his grip around me comforting. Sighing in contentment, I sink into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him as he manages to manoeuvre us so that he's lying on his back, my body nestled into his. His hands rub my back, eyes gentle as they stare at me, a smile on his face.
"Thank you, Ray." I whisper to him, burying my face into his chest, feeling much more relaxed now.
"Anytime, (Y/n)." He replies, leaning down to kiss my forehead gently, before tightening his grip around me and lying back, the two of us falling into a relaxed sleep together.
Emil Rottmayer x reader x Anthony Portos -All platonic!
Warnings: swearing, injury, mention of torture, mention of abuse, imprisonment
Context: The reader is an inmate in the Tomb, and is interrogated by Hobbes, leaving them very injured.
A/N: so I watched Escape Plan, and absolutely loved the dynamics of the two characters, (and I have to say I kinda ship them ngl) and felt the need to write something for them, even though I know no one will read this 😅
Masterlist
(Verdammte Bastarde - fucking bastards)
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, beating out the rhythm of my previous panic, mingling with the raucous voices around me, making for a wall of noise that seems to surround me, pressing in on me. Tremors wrack my body, my tired muscles shuddering harshly as they struggle to recover, cold sweat coating my pallid skin in a thick sheen, making my hair stick to my forehead. The locks are already matted and soaked by the copious volumes of water, but the sweat only helps them glue themselves to me, giving me the appearance of a fatally ill person. Every breath I take is forced and ragged, chest heaving with each inhale as air rushes past the raw skin in my throat, heart threatening to erupt from my chest, though I don't notice it especially, my eyes remaining fixed on the table in front of me, unseeing and blank.
Images of the past hour flash through my head, each more distressing than the last. Numb terror has long since flooded me, but it comes roaring back to life with each memory, my bitten lip quivering slightly, my uniform suddenly feeling highly repulsive to me, the remnants of my past torture still plastering the thin shirt to my body. If I had any energy, I would be pulling it from me, but my fear-induced paralysis has left me unfeeling to it, and unwilling to give in to the simple urges. That and the knowledge that I am in a room filled with other men, who will simply bully me further.
I can feel eyes on me, but with the overwhelming noise still assaulting my ears, as well as the new sensitivity in every nerve of my body, i find it hard to focus on anything but the turmoil in my head. It's no surprise, then, that I never notice the two men taking a seat at the table I'm at until one of them gently taps me.
Flinching away from the touch, I snap from my trance and turn my gaze to the person beside me, my eyes wide in fear, breath hitching painfully.
"Hey, hey! Don't worry, it's just me! Emil!" The Austrian withdraws his hand, brow furrowed in concerned confusion, glancing briefly across at the other man at the table, Anthony Portos.
Shakily, I swallow and blink, hastily trying to apologise only to find my voice completely shot.
"Jeez, what'd they do to you?" Portos mutters, looking me over in the same way Rottmayer does, worry etched into the lines of his face.
I shake my head, fighting to find my voice again. As I finally do, I manage to explain to them what happened, outlining the multiple waterboarding attempts I was forced through, as well as the usual beating, without breaking down at all. My hand instinctively goes to my throat, which is badly bruised from my encounter with the faceless guards, angry red marks mottling the skin at my jaw and neck from where they held me still, similar marks littering my body in a variety of places. Their eyes follow this movement curiously, widening in shock when they see the livid discoloration, Portos' hands clenching in anger on the table, Rottmayer's jaw tightening in outrage.
"Verdammte Bastarde." The Austrian growls, shifting closer to me on the bench as he eyes the faceless guards patrolling the walkways.
Swallowing tightly, I glance down at my hands again, the shaking appendages painful from where I've been picking at the skin. Another hand comes out and takes hold of mine, the grip gentle as my arm is pulled towards the owner, his fingers carefully tightening around my wrist. Glancing up, I am met with the piercing stare of Rottmayer, his expression concerned as he lightly brushes his fingers over my knuckles, down to the heel of my hand, where the beginning of a purple bruise creeps onto my palm. Turning his gaze downward, Rottmayer slowly rolls my sleeve up, jaw clenching at the sight of the marks, the older man looking across to Portos, whose face is dark with anger. Looking to me for permission, Rottmayer lifts his hand to my chin, waiting for me to nod as he softly takes hold of my face and tilts my head up, revealing the marred skin there. His touch brings goosebumps to my skin, my body unused to being touched in such a gentle way after the mistreatment I've faced for weeks, but I find it is calming, allowing the discomfort of the past few hours to seep away.
"Jesus Christ." Portos mutters to himself, reaching over the table to lightly run a finger over my jawline, shooting another inmate a scathing look as they notice, his glare enough to put them off.
"Why did they do this? What did they want with you?" Rottmayer questions me, removing his hands from me, his paternal instincts taking over: as soon as he found me here, the youngest inmate alone in the corner, close to being picked on by another group, he'd taken an interest in me, deciding to make it his mission to watch over me. When Portos had been incarcerated a few months later, he'd found himself doing the same, which I had only been too thankful for. Hell, I'd been helping them both with whatever they were up to, getting myself thrown in the Box a couple of times for them, forcing myself to fight through the derision and torture. They look out for me, I'll do what they ask.
"They...Hobbes was...questioning me...about my work…" I inform them, still finding my voice.
"Your work?" Portos asks, still unaware of my previous occupation.
"Yeah...I'm an...anti-terrorist agent. It's why I'm in here...I was wrongly framed by someone, and they chucked me...In here." I tell him, souring at the memory of the person who got me in this hellhole in the first place.
"Anti-terrorist? Didn't see that one coming." The man comments, clearly impressed.
"Not many people do." I smile wryly at him, putting my head in my hands.
"And I'm assuming that's what makes you good at your job?"
"Yep."
"But what did Hobbes actually want? Why did he interrogate you?" Rottmayer breaks in, still confused.
"Not sure. He just asked me about previous jobs." I respond, lifting my head again, "I'm pretty certain they know I'm innocent."
"Yeah, I agree." Rottmayer muses, scratching his chin a little, clearly deep in thought, "What's next in the plan?"
Portos pulls a face, looking at me in concern again.
"Well, I need to get back into the Box."
"Mind if I sit this one out?" I gesture to the bruising on my neck.
"No, of course not." Both Portos and Rottmayer are quick to reassure me, waving me off.
So something just kind of stuck with me after watching „Escape plan“ with Sylvester Stallone, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, so I went back and skipped through the movie until I found it –
In the movie, when talking about his (late) family, Stallone (in the movie called Ray) tells Schwarzenegger “Taking a man’s life is nothing. Taking his heart… that’s everything, isn’t it?”
And in GotG Vol 2, Stallone (Stakar) tells Yondu “You broke all our hearts.” with the same sad, broken expression on his face.
Just… ouch.
(Mister “Sly” Stallone, you’re not allowed to break my heart like that, you hear me, dude.)
Emil didn't have to get himself into isolation with Ray. He could have sent anyone to start shit, he could have had one of his gang members or whatever beat the shit of Ray but instead he got himself thrown into isolation with Ray. That's important. It builds trust between them. Emil needs to show Ray that he is willing to sacrifice so they can work together to escape. If Ray didn't trust Emil, or believe that Emil would pull his own weight and hold up his end of the bargain, their escape never would have worked.
Emil is so determined to escape that he's willing to be tortured for Ray's plans several times. Emil is willing to be tortured for Ray. Emil trusts Ray enough that he's willing to be tortured and has the strength to never give in to the torture.
AND THEN HE LIES TO RAY. RAY ASKS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM AFTER HE GETS THE METAL DISK AND EMIL PLAYS OFF GETTING BEAT UP AND ALMOST BEING DROWNED LIKE IT WAS NOTHING SO RAY DOESN'T WORRY ABOUT THE SACRIFICE AND KEEPS WORKING ON THE PLAN TO ESCAPE.
