#agent mahone

[seapotty]

Watching prison break and I'm so far past the point where it was watchable but we gotta see Mikey pull another one off. We've gotta prison break out of this Cycle Mike.

[nade2308]

Happy belated birthday, William Fichtner.

Nov. 27, 1956.

@thethistlegirl

[moonlightskin]

sarcastic alex is ridiculously attractive

[deebris]

Choices

Alexander Mahone x Wife reader

Synopsis: In the Sona prison, Mahone receives an unexpected visit from his wife, who secretly traveled from the United States to Panama, under the guise of her work at the embassy. Seeing his terrible condition, you tries to convince him to testify in court in exchange for a better place to stay, closer to you and the baby you're expecting—news he only learns at that moment.

Warnings: Drugs, pregnancy, angst, It takes place during the 3rd season of Prison Break.

Word count: 3k

“Mahone, you have a visitor!” The loudspeaker's voice echoed across the yard, cutting through the hot, heavy air of Sona.

The announcement put Alex on high alert. A visitor? Confusion and distrust swirled in his mind. As far as he knew, no one besides his lawyer had been looking for him, and he had seen him just the day before. Still, he followed the guard to the transfer area, where prisoners were taken to the makeshift “cage” meant for visits.

The guard, with a careless posture, remained at a safe distance, as everyone there preferred to keep their distance from the inmates. Narrowing his eyes against the blazing sun, Alex asked the guards as they prepared him for escort, “Who came to see me?”

No answer.

“Hey! I asked something!” Irritation and anxiety leaked into his voice, but he was only met with a rough shove on the shoulder, signaling that he should start walking.

The damp hallways of Sona were nothing new, but the route they were taking now puzzled him. Instead of turning right as usual, the guard led him left. “Where are you taking me?” He asked, louder now, almost frantic.

“You’ll find out.” The guard's tone was indifferent, as though Mahone's growing anxiety was irrelevant.

Alex’s mind raced. This had all the signs of a trap. If the Company was involved, he knew his already dire situation could only get worse.

Soon they arrived at a metal door. It opened with brutality, and Alex was shoved inside before he could protest.

The room was dark, barely lit by a hanging lamp, but the smell and temperature were different from the usual areas in Sona. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision, and then he heard it.

“Alex?”

The voice was sweet, like an unexpected balm. That voice. Her voice. The same one he used to hear first thing every morning, before everything fell apart, before Scofield, before Sona.

“Y/n…” He whispered, incredulous, thinking he was having another hallucination.

You quickly stood up from the chair when you saw him. He looked so tired, so beaten down. He was a shadow of the man you once knew. “What did they do to you?” You lamented, your fingers hesitantly tracing his hair, smoothing over his sweaty skin in search of injuries.

For a moment, Alex froze. It couldn’t be that you were here, in front of him. Was it a dream? An overwhelming relief flooded his body, weakening his legs, as though he might collapse any second. He started to pull away from you, as if refusing to let himself see you there, and that’s when you knew he wasn’t mentally stable.

“Alex.” You repeated his name, this time with affirmation, as you tried to calm him like a frightened animal. “Sweetheart, it’s me.”

“My love…” His voice came out shaky, broken, before you pulled him into a tight embrace. He buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a man who had found air after nearly drowning. Despite his condition, he realized you were different, though he couldn’t tell how.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” you murmured in his ear. When you pulled away, you noticed his red eyes, his worn-out skin. “A federal agent came to our house.”

The words made Alex sit up alert, his gaze quickly darting to the guard standing outside. This wasn’t normal.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, a mix of concern and admiration in his voice.

“American embassy.” You gave a melancholic smile. “They think it’s a consular visit, so they didn’t question much.”

Alex nodded, almost smiling at the irony. “Of course.” He remembered your position, your ability to find loopholes in rigid systems.

You guided him to a chair, and he collapsed into it without resistance. “I brought water,” you said, opening the bottle and bringing it to his lips. He drank desperately, as if he’d never tasted anything so pure.

“I heard things about this place, so I came prepared,” you continued, showing him a package of food. “Eat.”

Alex took the bread with trembling hands, devouring it without thinking, without caring about being polite, but he suddenly stopped. He placed his hand over yours, a gesture filled with repressed emotion.

“Thank you…” He murmured, his voice heavy with guilt and gratitude.

You tried to smile, but you couldn’t hide the tears. It was devastating to see him in this condition, and lately, you had been feeling more emotionally sensitive than usual. Carefully, you pulled a small vial from your pocket, placing it in his palm.

Alex froze, staring at the pills. He knew what they were. He knew the relief they would bring. But he also knew the shame they would bring to both of you.

“I know you're not well.” Your voice was soft but firm. “Just... do what you need to.”

He closed his eyes, swallowing one of the pills with water, and didn’t thank you. Alex couldn’t bring himself to, knowing how much you hated this, and seeing the situation he’d put you in made him feel disgusting.

When he opened his eyes, you were already preparing the rest of the food, trying to push aside the weight hanging in the air. You couldn’t take him out of Sona, but you would do anything to ease his pain, even if just for a few moments.

Alex accepted every gesture of care you offered, allowing himself to relax under the comforting touch of your hands. Feeling your fingers brushing the hair from his face while he ate brought an unexpected warmth, a long-lost familiarity. It was as though, for a brief moment, the brutality of this place didn’t exist.

“How much time do we have?” He asked, hesitantly, as if fearing the answer would be a final blow to his hope.

“An hour.” Your answer was gentle, but practical. You took a change of clothes from your bag, something you had hidden along with the water and food. “I brought this. You might not be able to take a shower, but changing into something clean might help a little.”

Alex looked at the clothes with a mixture of gratitude and sadness before beginning to change. You tried to look away to spare him the discomfort of your pity, but your eyes inevitably fell on his physical condition. He had always been strong, but what used to be defined muscles were now starting to give way to protruding ribs. It was incredible what just a few days could do to a human being.

"It's funny," you commented, trying to break the heavy silence. "Technically, I should be here to check if the prison offers adequate conditions."

Alex let out a bitter laugh as he pulled the clean shirt over his shoulders. "Are you going to send a report?" The question came laced with sarcasm.

"I will," your reply was dry, almost ironic. However, your gaze remained fixed on him, watching every small sign of wear and tear. Seeing your husband like this, so vulnerable and distant from the man you knew, was almost unbearable. But you couldn’t allow him to notice.

The silence that followed was full of unsaid meanings, a mutual understanding of what this place was doing to him—and, by extension, to you.

It wasn’t long before Alex pulled you closer, his body pressed against his as you sought comfort in each other. He kept a firm arm around your waist as if afraid you might disappear at any moment. His chin rested softly on your head, and the sound of his breathing was the only consolation in the silence of that place. Alex wanted to freeze time, memorize your scent, the feeling of having you there, before returning to the hell that was Sona.

"I managed to get lawyers this week. They are working on your case." Your voice broke the silence that had settled between you two, bringing up a topic he didn’t want to discuss. "I’m going to try to ask for a transfer, to move you to another prison."

The words hit like a blow. He was many things, but innocent wasn’t one of them. Yes, he was here for a crime he didn’t commit, but what about the ghosts of the past? The atrocities he had committed when he was still with the FBI? He wondered why you kept fighting for him, even knowing what he was capable of.

"If I go back to the States, I’ll get a life sentence..." he murmured, his voice laden with discouragement as he turned his gaze away.

"No, you won’t." Your firmness contrasted with his resignation. You touched his face, forcing him to look at you. "I met with a former colleague of yours. The government is willing to make a deal if you cooperate."

"Eight years, Alex."

The mention of the deal didn’t bring relief. On the contrary, he shook his head in denial, cutting you off before you could continue. "I heard that this morning. I’m not going to stay in prison for eight years." His voice was sharp, filled with contained anger. "Scofield set me up on that boat. He put me here; he’s going to get me out."

Michael Scofield’s name came out with so much venom that it made you blink, surprised. But you quickly regained your composure.

"His brother found me," you said, trying to soften the tone, which didn’t go unnoticed.

"Lincoln Burrows?" Alex furrowed his brows, suspicious. "What did he want with you?"

"I’m not sure," you hesitated, crossing your fingers, fearing his reaction. "He asked me to visit Michael, but he didn’t explain why. He just... asked."

He turned away, his mind racing. Michael had never been straightforward with him. Always calculating, manipulative. Lincoln showing up right now, hours before something big was going to happen, wasn’t a coincidence. This was a move.

Michael knew you were an ambassador. Your position could be the key to helping them disappear, to return to the U.S. as free men. This couldn’t be a slip-up. Either it was an attempt to distract Alex and keep him out of the way, or it was a clue—an invitation for him to join the plan.

"He put me here!" Alex exploded, his fist slamming onto the table with force before he managed to control himself. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to tame the anger. "Sorry." His voice came out softer, almost a whisper. "But if that’s the case, you’re going to have to visit all the idiots who came here. The embassy is going to ask questions when they see your reports."

"It’s fine." Your reply came calmly, as always. This irritated him, but it also comforted him. You never lost your composure, and most of your arguments were because of him.

"You shouldn’t worry about me." He shook his head, turning away once more. "You have your life out there. Your job, our house... I’ve lost everything. You need to move on."

"Alexander!" Your voice cut through the air, strong and determined, freezing him. It was rare to hear you in that tone, full of emotion and authority. "You need to get out of here, do you hear me?!"

You gripped his shirt tightly, your gaze locked on his with intensity. Something in your determination broke his defenses, making it impossible for him to hide in self-pity.

"I’m pregnant..." You finally whispered, your voice trembling. "And..." The sentence died before you could finish it, the weight of the revelation visible on your face.

Alex froze, shock written all over his face.

"Eight years, Alex!" You continued, your voice echoing through the room, but this time you weren’t calm at all. "I’m willing to wait for you for eight years, even after everything you’ve done! Even after the crimes you committed! Do you think it’s easy to come here and say what I’m telling you? I should feel like the worst person in the world for giving you another chance."

The words hung in the air, heavy. He tried to process what he had just heard, but the impact was overwhelming. The world around him disappeared, leaving only you, who now looked at him with repulsion, and the revelation of a new life growing between you, and your unwavering determination.

Alex felt a lump in his throat, his thoughts a whirlwind. You were willing to wait? Despite everything he had done, the man he was... you still believed in him. And that hit him deeper than any word or gesture before.

"You..." He started, but his voice faltered. He closed his eyes, searching for the strength to speak. "I... I don’t even know what to say."

"Then, don’t say anything." Your voice came out muffled as you buried your face in his chest, tears silently streaming down. "Just promise me you’ll think about it before you give a definitive no. A relatively light sentence, in a prison close to home... You’ll be able to see our baby grow."

Alex remained silent, the words reverberating in his mind like echoes of a truth he couldn’t face. Instead of responding, he simply held you against him, as if that gesture could protect you from an invisible danger — or perhaps something he couldn’t comprehend. And in that moment, something inside him changed; the gravity of reality enveloped him, bringing with it a weight he had never felt before.

"It’s... watching as a spectator in the VIP section, unable to participate in anything." He murmured, his voice heavy with sarcasm and bitterness. He leaned back, resting one hand on the back of the chair as he looked at the beams of light slipping through the window.

"It’s still something." His voice trembled, tears once again streaming down. You felt the weight of his words as rejection. He was denying the chance you had, the only real chance to rebuild your life together. Unable to maintain his gaze, you turned your eyes away.

"This is all because of the baby, isn’t it?" Although the question might sound passive-aggressive, as if he were accusing you of something, Alex remained calm, his voice laden with caution. You were the only person who, at that moment, seemed to genuinely care about him, the only one he wanted a chance to ask for forgiveness. "You wouldn’t accept me if you weren’t pregnant. Please, be honest." His voice trembled in the last sentence, a desperate plea for honesty.

The silence that followed terrified him. He saw your expression change, as if his words had broken something inside of you. But before fear could take over, the flame of anger reignited in his chest. How could he think that? How could he believe your intentions were so cold, so calculated? That you only wanted him back because of the baby, and not because of him?

Suddenly, you stood up. The urgency in your movements revealed the mix of frustration and pain. The things you had brought for him were left on the table carelessly, and you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

Alex made no move to stop you. He knew he had two hours to leave there, and that he needed to return to his plan before it was too late. But there was something he couldn’t ignore: the sound of your ragged breathing as you tried to hold back your tears.

Before you could fully cross the door, he grabbed your arm. For a brief moment, his eyes fell on the ring on your finger, before shifting away again.

"Goodbye, Alex." His voice sounded cold, but he felt the hurt hidden beneath the words. You weren’t giving up on him — he knew that. But he also knew something inside you had broken. "They’re going to search you when you leave, so hide the pills well." His warning was heard, making him look at the bottle.

"I love you. Stay safe." These were the only words you could find to reassure him, to dispel his doubts and reaffirm that you were there for him — for him and for the family you were building together. And, in that moment, he understood.

You whispered the words like a breath, and before he could respond, you disappeared through the door, leaving him alone with his own demons.

Alex remained still, staring at the empty space in front of him. The sound of the door closing echoed in his mind, as loud as the weight of the decisions he needed to make.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. The flame inside him burned stronger now, but he wasn’t sure if it was courage or desperation. One thing he was certain of: whatever he did next, it wouldn’t be just for him.

The silence in the room seemed to weigh even heavier after you left. Alex stood there, still feeling the remnants of your presence, the echo of the words you exchanged, the gentle touch of your hand, a constant reminder that the things he feared could truly happen. What was he to do with the love you offered him? And with the anger of being seen as a weak man, dependent on a situation he couldn’t control?

He knew he had to make decisions, and quickly. The battle he was fighting was not just against the system, nor against the past. It was against the image he had of himself. He knew something inside him had turned over when he heard the words you didn’t dare finish. You were willing to wait, to keep loving him despite everything, and he wondered if he deserved that sacrifice.

He glanced once more at the table, where the small bottle of pills rested as a reminder of the situation he was trying to hide. Maybe that was the most precious thing he had now — a way to escape, to regain control. But the words you said kept coming back to his mind: “I’m pregnant...”

Alex felt the pressure in his chest grow. It wasn’t just his freedom’s future that was at stake now. It was the future of the family that, somehow, he still held a hope of building.

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the bottle of pills and hid it in his sleeve, thinking about what to do next. The fight wasn’t over, but maybe there was a way out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to save what was left of his dignity — and maybe, just maybe, to do something right for once.

[ziggymars]

The Birthday Party (18+)

pairing: fathers best friend!Alex Mahone x Reader

summary: Agent Alex Mahone is your fathers best friend, his right hand man. It’s your father’s birthday party, and Alex just can’t help himself when he sees you in that pretty dress.

warnings: significant age gap, daddy kink, dead dove DO NOT EAT, fingering, kind of voyeuristic.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I literally cannot get this man out of my head, he is tormenting me. I need him. I need him in ways that physics can’t even explain. I’m absolutely gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. I’m sorry to my parents. I’m sorry to my therapist. I’m sorry to William Fichtner. I need to be sedated. By the way, if anyone wants me to go back to the big font I can, I just am shallow and like how the teeny text looks. If you have any requests for this man please send them, I will probably write them. He has a chokehold on me that is astronomical….. Anyways… Forgive me and enjoy.

In a peaceful suburban neighborhood, the sun had just started to fall towards the horizon, throwing golden orange rays along the rooftops. Alex Mahone, one who had gone to the darkest corners of his mind for his work, drew comfort in the simplicity of this setting. His best friends home, where laughter bounced around the walls, a low rumbling of a birthday party gently flowed into the evenings air.

Alex Mahone. A man of many talents. Not all of which he revealed to the world. Alex Mahone… with the strong jaw and the piercing blue eyes. He had an air about him that commanded attention whether he wanted it or not.

He had arrived ahead of time to help organize the birthday party, his muscular arms assisting with the moving of tables, chairs. The guest of honor was his best friend, your father, a man who had known him in good times and bad.

But the real party, the one that really got Alex’s blood racing, was the secret that only the two of you share.

You watched him a little too long from the kitchen window, heart leaping at the sight. Months of stolen trysts had only served to fuel the flame between you. You carried the weight of the lie happily, it only served to spur on your desire. No matter how shameful it felt sleeping with your dad’s best friend.

The party was nearly in full swing when Alex finally saw you, cutting through throngs of people. A beer clutched in your hands and a shy smile clad on your lips. Your eyes met and for a moment, the entire world melted away. The laughter of party guests faded into background noise as he crouched down a bit, his taller frame towering as he breathed near your ear “Let’s get out of here for a little while, yeah?” The rough tone sent shivers down your spine. You knew exactly what he meant. You always did.

You only nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the crowd, into the house and then the bathroom. All the while, your eyes both scanning the room for any lingering glances that might spot the two of you leaving.

The sound of the door clicking closed beside you was almost deafening in the way it silenced the small space. Alex wasted no time, he hoisted you onto the sink, his hands trailing up your already parting thighs. He peppered soft, wet kisses at your neck, fresh goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips. You could feel pressure, wetness pooling betwixt your thighs, a familiar sign of just how much you wanted him. Alex made you wetter than any man you had ever been with, a fact that he knew. A fact that made pride swell in his chest every time he thought of it.

With an uncharacteristically gentle tug, Alex brought your sundress up to your waist, marveling at what you wore in anticipation of him being able to get a peek. At the sight of the wet spot forming on the soft fabric he sucked in a labored breath. His eyes darkening as he rubbed a circle against it with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this since this morning.” He breathed out, his words heating against your cheeks. “Have you, sweetheart? It looks like you have.”

With the way he said it, how it sounded coming from his mouth— your lips parted and your jaw fell slack as you nodded. Always so submissive when you found yourself in his grasp. “Yes, Daddy.”

That earned you a low, pointed “Good girl.” as he maneuvered his fingers into the fabric of your panties and pushed them to the side. Baring your wet, puffy folds to the cool air of the bathroom. You gasped at the sensation and curled your hands around his broad shoulders as the pads of his fingers began to run along your dripping slit.

You whimpered and clung onto him tighter, gripping onto his shirt as he started to explore, rubbing against you agonizingly slow. “That’s it.” Alex cooed, his eyes trained on your every breath and expression. “Let me take care of you.”

Alex’s fingers parted your slick folds, feeling the heat emanating from your aching core. A low, quiet groan tumbled around in his chest as he teased along your entrance, coating his digits in your arousal. Your body responded as it always did for him, eagerly. Legs falling apart wider and your hips undulating into his touch, silently begging him for “more, more, more.”

“Oh, fuck,” it was strangled and followed by your name, soft and hot against your ear. “You’re dripping for me. Soaked.” He circled your throbbing clit gently with the rough pad of his thumb, just enough pressure to make you gasp and buck against him. His other hand slid up your side to cup at your breast, kneading your soft flesh through the thin fabric of your dress. Alex’s eyes were glazed, hungry, as he watched your face intently, taking in every single hint of pleasure he could illicit from you. For his eyes only. Greedy, greedy man.

When he finally decided to stop teasing and push two fingers into you, you let out a strangled whine of his name which he was forced to swallow with his lips. His tongue dipping into your waiting mouth, groaning like he had been waiting for years to get a taste. His strokes were agonizingly slow at first. Teasing and calculated as he curled his fingers upwards just how he knows you like. But as you grew wetter and your hips bucked towards his hand, they gathered pace and urgency. The sensation sent shivers of delight through your every nerve ending.

You pulled away from each others lips and your eyes both fell down to his forearm, which you promptly grabbed for, and then to where his fingers worked inside of you. The sight heated up your cheeks and your head lolled back towards the mirror behind you, lips parted in a silent cry of “Alex!” Always a quiet litany of ‘Alex, Alex, Alex’. His favorite sound, besides the sounds your pussy made when it swallowed his fingers or his cock.

You gathered your shaky legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer to you so you could bury your face into his shoulder, the heat of your pleasured mewls heating up his skin through his crisp, white button down. Your throat threatened to close as the pressure built. Your world narrowing to the feeling of his fingers as he expertly edged you closer to your breaking point. His lips brushed along your jawline, your cheek and then your ear as he murmured, “That’s it, baby. Take Daddy’s fingers.” His words made you sigh against his shirt, arousal dripping onto the counter now as his fingers repeatedly nudged against the special spot deep inside of you. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Want another?”

You frantically nodded against his shirt, a babbled string of “yes!” and “please!” and “Alex!” tumbling from your lips. He’s not cruel, he obliges. Pushing a third finger into you, relishing in the way your pussy pulsed and stretched around his working fingers. He curled them just right, stroking them in a way that made stars explode behind your eyes and your toes curl and uncurl over and over around nothing. Pleasured tears pooled in your eyes and you had to bite down on his shoulder to stop from crying out and alerting the entire party outside of your unholy activities.

His palm pressed against your slicked clit, rubbing tight circles as he fingered you, hard and fast. The obscene sounds of your wetness echoed around the bathroom. It was a wonder how he was able to keep himself so composed, even during all of this. Your breath was hitching in your throat and your back arched. Soft whimpers spilled all over his shirt, he could feel your tremblings. Feel the way you clenched around his invading digits.

“Oh, yeah.” He grunted, “You’re cumming.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a guess. He knew. And by the time he had said it, it had already struck you. Your body was shaking but Alex just held you tight to him, muttering sweet praises into your ear as you felt the waves of pleasure rocking through you. “Good girl.” A gentle coo that made you want to beg for more. But you didn’t, you could beg later tonight when you sneak off to his apartment.

When the shaking finally subsided, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and gently wiped the tears from your face, his gaze never breaking yours. He then gave your pussy a soft slap before he slipped your panties down your legs and into the pocket of his jeans. Alex held out his hands for you and helped you off of the counter, ironing out the folds in your dress that he had created. You could hear commotion from outside, everyone gathering together for a family photo. He just smiled at you and said “Run along and go smile for the pictures, sweetheart.”

“Come with.” You protested with a whine, trying to tug him along by his shirt.

“I can’t.” He said, eyes drifting down to his cock that was clearly straining hard against his pants. “Just give me a couple minutes to do some long division.” It sounded like a jest, but it wasn't one. “I’ll find you, okay?”

Finally, “Okay, Daddy.” It came out as a huff, quick to add “But we’re not done.”

“Of course not.” Accompanied by a wink as he opened the door for you. You begrudgingly stepped out by yourself, your cheeks flushed, your knees weak and your mind reeling with nothing but Alex and his fingers.

[jansqu]

Criminal reader x mahone

Thank you for the request, hope you like it<33

The Hunter And The Hunted (Alexander Mahone X Reader)

I sat on the edge of the bed, wrists bound with zip ties, watching as Special Agent Alexander Mahone paced the length of the room, his jaw clenched tight, his mind clearly racing.

"You made a mistake, Agent," I murmured, my voice smooth despite the situation. "Bringing me here instead of a federal holding cell."

Mahone shot me a sharp glare, his blue eyes glinting with something between frustration and intrigue. "You and I both know the second you’re processed, you’ll find a way out. I don’t have time for your games."

I smirked, leaning back against the headboard. "So what’s your plan? Keep me tied up here until you figure out what to do with me? That’s not very FBI protocol of you."

His fingers twitched at his side, the weight of his sidearm visible in the shift of his stance. "I don’t play by the rules when the rules don’t work," he admitted. "And you, Y/N, you make a damn good case for throwing the rulebook out."

My heart pounded, but I wouldn’t let him see it. Mahone was dangerous—dangerous in a way that wasn’t just about guns and power. He was meticulous, obsessive. A man willing to do anything to get his target.

But I had been a target before. And I had never been caught for long.

"So what now?" I tilted my head, my voice softer, almost teasing. "You gonna sit here all night, watching me? Because that sounds a little intimate for an FBI agent."

His jaw tensed, and for a brief moment, his eyes flickered downward—just for a second. The realization sent a slow thrill through me.

"You think this is funny?" His voice was lower now, huskier. "You’ve left bodies in your wake. You’ve played both sides, stolen, lied, killed. And yet, you sit there like none of it matters."

I shrugged. "Because it doesn’t. Not to you, anyway. You only care about catching me because someone told you to. But what happens if you stop chasing? If you realize we’re not so different after all?"

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and unspoken. Mahone was a man on the edge, and I knew how to push people just far enough to make them question everything.

He stepped closer, towering over me. "You like to play with fire."

I smirked, tilting my chin up defiantly. "And you like to chase things you know you can’t keep."

His breath hitched for just a second before he caught himself. His hand twitched again, this time not toward his gun, but toward me. He didn’t touch me—not yet—but I could feel the heat between us, a tension crackling in the air like static electricity.

"Tell me, Agent," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. "If I wasn’t in cuffs, would you still be able to resist me?"

His eyes darkened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "That doesn’t matter."

"Doesn’t it?" I leaned in, just enough to close the space between us, to let him feel the heat of my breath against his jaw. "Because you’re looking at me like you don’t know whether to turn me in or—"

"Enough." His voice was rough, raw, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he was closer now, his own resolve cracking under the weight of whatever this was between us.

The air was heavy, thick with something far more dangerous than a chase. Because now, I wasn’t sure who was really hunting who.

[kiss-my-freckle]

The power of Sara Tancredi

This is about Michael Scofield's potential for murder, and the reason I love Prison Break's third season. I'd gif this, but I'm having a lazy day. But here, have a soundtrack for the post... How I Could Just Kill a Man by Cypress Hill.

Michael's assumed inability to kill makes sense according to the scene Sara has with his doctor in the first season.

"He became very attuned to all the suffering around him. He couldn't shut it out. He became a rescuer, one of those people who are more concerned with other people's welfare than their own."

Mahone touches on the subject of Michael's inability to kill in the second season.

"There's one big difference between you and I, Michael. And you just proved it. You can't kill."

He touches on the subject again when he realizes Lincoln is no different than Michael.

"But, when it comes right down to it, he's just like you. He has a heart that won't kill a man."

Even T-Bag is aware of Michael's inability to kill.

"You ain't going to kill me, Mr. Michelangelo. You ain't got it in you."

Their Sona storyline changed everything. I personally consider all people capable of murder, it's just a matter of pushing the right button. For Michael Scofield, Sara is that button. A heart that loves a woman as much as he loves her would most certainly kill a man.

"And without rules, we are nothing but savages. Therefore, with proper respect for the rules, this fight is engaged with only one rule: No weapons."

What you're given, is a storyline that starts out with Mahone killing for Michael because he can't kill, and he uses the fight's golden rule as an excuse for taking Michael's role in the killing.

"No weapons. Rules are rules, remember? And if we don't have them, we're savages."

What you're then given, is the reason Mahone changes his tune at the end of the season... Sara's assumed death.

"She's dead, Michael. I lied to you. I'm sorry."

Michael's threat of revenge is 100% truth.

"And I'm gonna find out who's responsible for taking her life. And I'm taking theirs."

When Sammy steps in on his escape plan, he basically steps in on his revenge plan. A move that proves to be a huge mistake, as it results in Michael's first kill. This was the moment Mahone realized he was capable of murder despite feeling bad about it afterward.

"Never gets any easier."

Mahone not only knows Michael is capable of murder, he knows why. So... the season ends complete opposite the open.

"She'd better be able to handle a lot more than that. Because if she has done what you think she has... Sara. She's the weak link. And he will find her. And then Scofield will find you and me. And I'm not paying for your mess."

Sara realizes Michael's potential for murder when he kills someone right in front of her. The reason she's focused on the man's head wound.

"The general should know by now not to mess with us."

It's not really about Michael, it's about Sara. I'm 100% certain had she not stopped him, he would've killed T-Bag for assaulting her.

"Michael, please."

Even though it's a misfire, he pulled the trigger on his mother. This is attempted murder.

"Oh, dear. Misfire. I guess that's what they call a Pyrrhic victory."

It's the same with Poseidon. Michael basically hires T-Bag to kill for him, and he allows T-Bag the continued belief that he's incapable of killing.

"Scofield ain't gonna do it. He don't got the killing gene."

It's not about an inability to kill, it's about the future Michael wants with his family. Poseidon's kill is 100% premeditated, and he's a CIA agent. Michael knows the risk of getting caught, plan or no plan.

"It won't be the work of a cold-blooded man. And it won't be for sin or for hate. f there's blood on my hands, know this, world… it'll be for love."

Michael is capable of murder, but he's still the same man that can't handle watching someone suffer. It's because of this, he wouldn't be able to kill as his father did.

"How could you do that to another human being? With your own hands?"

His kills would be quick and painless... like a bullet to the head.

"This is for Sara."

It's entertaining to watch Michael and Mahone work together.

But mostly, the power of Sara Tancredi. Because when you love someone, you have no control. That lack of control makes killing possible for Michael. That's what made season three worth watching. Sara was gone, but her absence could be felt through Michael's character.

Seriously though. Watch his escape from Sona, how he sets it up so three of them could get shot. Don't screw with his revenge plan... it's for Sara. Mahone knew better.

[oopsnewaccount]

Moments of Peace/Alex Mahone

Summary: Tension breaks between you and Alex after getting him out of jail.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, smut

...

The daytime was too tense here. At the compound, all of you sitting around the long metal table wracking your brains until it hurt - it was too rigid. You felt like you couldn't breathe until the lights went out, like exhaling wasn't an option until you were alone. You stayed up a little later than everyone else to soak this in, to bathe in silence and to just not think.

You sat tonight on the edge of the table, eyes closed, just breathing. The air was chilly, but not uncomfortably so. You wore a black sports bra and a pair of loose pajama pants, your hair down. You fiddled with the drawstrings of your pants and rubbed your socked feet together, thinking about absolutely nothing for as long as you could.

A deep, gentle voice startled you from your silence.

"I know it was you,"

Alex.

"You know what was me?" You still didn't open your eyes.

"They wouldn't have broken me out if it wasn't for you. I couldn't blame them. This was all you,"

Ah, yes. It had been hard. Alex had been caught at the horse race yesterday afternoon and taken into custody. Agent Self had made a lackluster attempt at freeing him, but ultimately failed. Practically you understood why breaking him out was not in the best interest of the group or the mission. Hell, a few months ago you would have said fuck him. But, after the time you'd all spent with him, you had grown very attached to Alexander Mahone. As soon as you saw him in cuffs your heart dropped. You begged and begged the group nonstop to find a way to get him out, and eventually Michael agreed.

Now he was back and standing right in front you - like, right in front of you. If he was any closer to your perch on the edge of the table he'd be touching you.

"It wasn't all me. They agreed, they were given the option to opt out and they didn't."

You opened your eyes. Alex was looking down at you just slightly, his lips holding the slightest smile. He was wearing sweatpants you struggled not to look at and a tight grey t-shirt that showed off his strong arms. He had a bit of scruff on his face, much nicer than the clean cut version of him you first met, and his hair was just messy enough to be attractive rather than unkempt.

"My theory," your breath caught in your throat as Alex reached up, gently tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear. "Is that no one can say no to you."

He let his hand linger on the side of your face and you leaned into it, smiling when he moved his hand to softly hold your jaw.

"Does that include you?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. What I do know is that I think of you every second of the day and somehow you always come to my rescue."

You sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying the tense moment. You leaned up just slightly, Alex in turn leaning down a bit. You laid a hand on his chest, his coming to cover yours. With your other hand you held his wrist, keeping his hand on your jaw.

"I would never have left you there."

"I know." The words barely left his lips before he leaned down, pressing his mouth to yours. Your hand on his chest grabbed his shirt, and the hand laid over yours moved to your hip, gripping you tightly. You released his wrist and moved to hold his face. You didn't know how, the compound wasn't exactly stocked with Bath and Body Works, but Alex smelled like cedar and cologne. His lips were soft but rough against yours. His tongue was in your mouth and his hands were tight around you. You let out a soft moan as he kissed you, your heart beat quickening and your thighs pressing together.

Alex pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. He was a bit out of breath, it pleased you how restrained he seemed, like he was just barely holding on to control. "I think we should go to my room,"

You bit your lip, rubbing his jaw with your thumb. "I mean... the table is a good height."

Alex let out a breathy laugh, dropping his head. "You sure about that?"

You released Alex, lifting your hips from the cold table and pulling your pajama pants down and tossing them from your ankles to the floor. Alex stepped back, eyeing you like a predator watching its prey. You lifted your bra just over your breasts. You shifted to the very edge of the table, bringing your knees up and apart, totally spread out for him.

You could see him calculating his next move, hand palming the delightfully large bulge in his sweats. To your surprise, he reached down, collecting your discarded pants, and then scooped you up off the table. You let out a surprised sound, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you. You giggled at him as he brought you through the compound and to his little room, kicking closed the door and then tossing you on the bed. You removed your bra completely, dropping it on the floor of the bed where Alex had laid your pants. He took off his shirt and kicked off his pants and underwear and you couldn't help the little 'mm' that left you as his thick cock bobbed in front of you.

This was a long time coming. You two were always watching each other, unnecessarily brushing by each other, trying to get paired up during missions. You'd almost kissed several times in fleeting moments together, you just hadn't been alone long enough to get anything else done.

Now, Alex was crawling over you as you leaned back on your elbows, legs parted and face flushed. He nestled his head in your neck, leaving wet kisses from your collar bone to the spot beneath your ear. You sucked in a quick breath when you felt his fingers graze your lower lips, dipping in slightly to see if you were ready.

He let out a quiet laugh when he felt the wetness in your pussy engulf his fingers. He pressed his two long digits in deepers, swallowing thickly at how tightly you held just his fingers. You felt smooth and hot and sopping inside and he didn't think he could wait any longer. "You ready?"

You nodded eagerly, clenching your pussy to try to draw him back as he removed his hand from your cunt. He reached his two wet fingers up to your mouth, his lips twitching as you sucked them in. He let out a quiet hum as you sucked them clean, and you shivered as his cock twitched against you.

"Good girl," he mumbled, taking back his fingers. He gave himself a few pumps before lining up his cock and rubbing the tip against you. You shifted up your hips, trying to push him in yourself, whining when he pulled back. He intended on teasing you, but when he took in the sight of you he couldn't help himself. Thick thighs parted to give way to a glistening pretty little pussy. Your tummy was soft and your hips were wide, your breasts slightly pink because your chest was as flushed as your cheeks. Your hair was messy and your pupils were dilated. He could be coy another day.

He leaned down over you, taking your lips in another steamy kiss. He slowly pushed himself in, moaning into your mouth as he bottomed out in you. He stretched you so nicely as he pulled out a bit, pushing back even deeper, his tip pushing against the soft little spot that made your toes curl. You let out a few unintentional moans as his thrusts began to speed up, trying to lift your legs even higher. You weren't trying to be too loud, but you'd wanted this for so long that now that you felt like all of your nerve endings were twice as sensitive. Alex kept his pace up as he leaned back, pushing your legs up and settling his hands in the crook of your knees for leverage. He pounded into you now, the new angle damn near bruising your cervix and making your head spin. You gripped his forarms tightly, head lolling back on his pillow. Alex's expression was intensely concentrated but you could tell he was struggling to hang on. The deeper he pushed and the more he pushed your legs the more you felt the heat in your belly build. You didn't want to cum already, but you wouldn't be able to hold it back.

"Fuck, I'm - I'm -"

You didn't make it through the sentence. It started as a tingle from your fingertips to your toes, a spreading of a euphoric, warm sticky feeling from your lower belly up. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried not to cry out too loudly, your body shuddering as your orgasm hit you. Alex could feel your leg muscles twitching and your cunt clenching. He was almost there too. He kept thrusting in and out, your pussy making a vulgar squelching sound now that you'd cum. You watched his eyebrows furrow, his determined expression faltering. He was almost there.

"In me, Alex. Please cum in me," You begged, riding the high of your orgasm as he continued plunging into you.

Alex nodded, unable to speak anymore. He released your legs, leaning on his elbows over you. He buried his face in your neck, trying to muffle the moans he was no longer able to hold back. You felt his thrusts begin to slow, and with one long moan, you felt him twitch inside you. Spurts of his cum filled you deep inside, and you locked your legs around his waist to keep him in. He stayed in you for a few moments, regaining his breath. You massaged his scalp with one hand, your other hand trailing up and down his spine lightly. He eventually pulled back, kissing you gently and pulling out his now soft cock.

He laid beside you, pulling you tightly into his chest. You tucked your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. His arms wrapped around you and your legs tangled together. You felt warm and untouchable and content. Alex's fingers ran up and down your spine, his other hand playing with your hair. Sleep began to overtake you, your body exhausted from the stress of your current 'job' and the energy of sex, your mind tired of worrying and momentarily at rest.

As your eyes began to close, you felt Alex press soft kisses to your forehead. You lifted your head, kissing his jaw before laying it back down on his broad chest.

"I would never have left you," You mumbled.

"I know." Alex kissed your head again. "I know, Y/N."

You weren't sure where this journey would take you, but at least you knew you'd be with Alex. On one hand you felt more secure knowing you had him, on the other hand you finally had something to lose. It was intimidating, but you wouldn't trade it for the world. You would soak in moments like these whenever you had them, when it was just you and Alex, still and at peace.

[wheezelord]

I could say “agent Mahone come investigate this” and cause like five people traumatic flashbacks

[hvnlygrl]

I started watching Prison break before I discovered Night Agent and Supernatural but OMG Lincoln Burrows and Surce the men you are 😩😩

I honest to god hated T-Bag (WHY THAT NICKNAME 😭😭😭😭) he creeped me out so much but I know he’s a good actor if he’s able to pull that off.

NO I HATE TBAG BUT HES ALSO LIKE HILARIOUS (but literally michael, lincoln, sucre, mahone, tweener can all get it whenever idc

[seapotty]

Agent Mahone... the expertly crafted union of the Yandere and the Sigma Male, the total collapse of a G-man. Apex predator Killer, skull showing hair & Ugly as shit but in a badass way. My man!

[lisarpgheadcanons]

whatif dice mahone was a real estate agent and his name was dice mahomes

Does anyone remember The Ballsons?

[sxf-sideweek]

Do you know what would be elegant?

Participate to the Spy x Family side character week of course!

An elegant reminder :

📅 When : From 18th to 25th of June 2023

Day 1 : SSS (Yuri and coworkers)

Day 2 : Garden (Mc Mahon, Shopkeeper etc.)

Day 3 : WISE (Sylvia, Fiona, other agents)

Day 4 : Beautiful disasters (Franky, Daybreak)

Day 5 : Eden teachers (Henderson, Austin etc.)

Day 6 : Eden students (Emile, Bill, George etc.)

Day 7 : City Hall (Dominic, Camilla)

📋What to do? Fics, drawings, drafts and headcanons.

This blog is made to reblog/like all the works related to the side character week.

💌 Dm me if you have any question!

[saehapark145]

Can we imagine agent Mahone with wink? Haha if you can give a clue to him about those magnificent 7.

[kiss-my-freckle]

What makes Michael most dangerous is his ability to blend. Not just on the phone, but in person. He got the judge to send him to the prison he wanted, walked into that prison and acted like he belonged there.

Scofield, the criminal.

He sold false medical history for the sake of having access to the infirmary for their escape.

Scofield, the diabetic.

He put on a guard's uniform, walked into their whack shack and had their correctional officer believing he worked there. Not just once, but twice.

Scofield, the co.

He faked a mental break, complete with catatonia just to get close to Haywire.

Scofield, the nutjob.

He put on a cop's uniform and blended with a thousand others at a benefit just to get close to a card holder.

Scofield, the cop.

He put on a suit and sold himself as an agent of the bureau just to talk to Mahone's wife.

Scofield, the fed.

He put on a labor uniform and gained entry to a woman's garage to dig up Westmoreland's money.

Scofield, the electrical worker.

He put on an employee's vest and had other garden employees believing he worked there.

Scofield, the garden employee.

When they try to rescue LJ, he poses as his representation to get close to him.

Scofield, the attorney.

He faked his death at least twice.

Scofield, the walking dead.

He blends so well that he sells himself as Kaniel Outis.

Scofield, the terrorist.

He knew Bellick was the guard he needed to worry about because Bellick was dumb enough to tell him that nothing flies under his radar. Michael was being honest when he said, "Good to know."

People are best not to open their mouths to him because they're likely to reveal everything he needs to know.

When Mahone killed Tweener, he outed himself as a murderer to Michael. "Sometimes things happen that are just out of your control."

"There's one big difference between you and I, Michael. And you just proved it. You can't kill." Michael is a man impossible to predict because circumstances and experiences change us. That's why Michael told Sara, "The man you're talking about died the moment I stepped inside these walls." That's why he told the General, "Maybe. Three months ago. But she's changed. We've all changed." That's why Mahone warned Whistler. "She'd better be able to handle a lot more than that. Because if she has done what you think she has… Sara. She's the weak link. And he will find her. And then Scofield will find you… and me. And I'm not paying for your mess."

Scofield, the killer.

That, and because he's a genius capable of creations on the fly.

Scofield, the structural engineer.

"It is the job of a structural engineer to make sure everything he creates is designed to withstand the weight placed upon it."

What happens when the structural engeineer doesn't consider the weight placed upon himself.