Pair: GN Reader working for the Network x Evan McCone
Summary: It's Christmas time, you're celebrating with friends but wishing someone else was here, unknowingly to you that perhaps you aren't..
Warnings: not much, bit of angst, and fluff, mc cone is kinda stalking the reader also at the beginning...
Word count: 2.3k
~~
The air is crisp outside tonight. It’s Christmas Eve, in Co-op City, so why wouldn’t it be ?
You exhale loudly, a little cloud of white smoke escaping your lips. Winter started only a few days ago, and yet you couldn’t wrap your head around stepping foot outside with a coat on. At least you thought of your scarf, and silently thanks yourself for it as you wrap it fiercely on your shoulders. Doing so, your eyes flicker and you notice all the lights out on the countless buildings of the city.
It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re clearly not feeling it this year.
Dots of green, red, yellow lights are shimmering in the heavy mist of the cold downtown air, while few laughters and Christmas chorals are barely distinguishable with the loud car noises, all of it covered with a thick layer of dirty snow all around the city.
Your hands grip the balcony railing, fingers numbing in contact of the cold metal of the railing’s upper part. Your mind freezes a bit, strangely appreciating the new sensation at your fingertips. Even with the windows closed behind you, the faint giggles and echoes of your friends’ voices are feebly perceptible. A light melody, coming from the upstairs neighbor’s vent, is softly reverberating on the emergencies’ stairs' cage. Funny, how such a distant sound, mingling in with all the noises around, felt comforting.
You’d went out to breath out a bit, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the circumstances of your situation. The bizarre sentiment of being out of place for a brief instant, bumping into you at unexpected times.
And as you breath in, the thick air of this wretched city you loved to hate coats your lungs, while you let your thoughts drift. Oddly enough, not being with your family this year for the holidays made you feel lightheaded. You’d fake having too much work and pressure on your shoulders, half lying to yourself to not have to face their concerned and disappointed looks, but deep down it was the hard truth. Your boss was making you follow a strict agenda, and it was more tiresome and wearing than you’d ever admit it.
Few knew about this, and even if sharing such a usual warm event with your friends in the city helped with the stress messing with your head, you were always keeping much of it to yourself. You felt more than lucky when Hilary and her boyfriend suggested you to join their party, to be fair it was way more cheerful and entertaining than staring at the outside world from your bay window all night long, all alone in your apartment ; yet, something ached in your heart.
The contemplation of it pained a bit too much in your chest.
Lately you’d been closer with one of your coworkers, and you hadn’t felt this proximity with someone in a long time. Coworker was a strange way to call him, as he was a massive super-star hitman. But the both of you were working to the accounts of the same man, infamous Dan Killian.
As you think of him, this unusual coworker, who was always wearing sunglasses even indoors, you’d wondered how this moment could have been different, if he had been here.
You frown at the idea.
Were you supposed to ask yourself this ?
Who were you to ask yourself such questions, were you really that close to him ? He, who was so closeted to everything, and everyone, keeping all at one arm’s length even when responding gently to any member of the film crew ? He, who could penetrate anyone with his strong blue eyes, ferociously looking as if he was marking you as his next hunt ?
You take a moment to ponder on your assumptions. Yet, wasn’t he always there when troubles found you, when Killian wanted to lash out his frustration on someone, or when you tripped and almost lied your whole on the hard glassy floor of the main TV set ?
The feelings in your chest wanted to burst in the open, and at this time you questioned yourself if you were shaking due to the realization happening inside of you, or the bloody cold christmas night.
Your shoulders tensed by themselves.
And near you, someone noticed.
Hiding, perhaps more lurking, in the gloaming area of the place where you stood, in the darkness of the illusion of escape where the emergency stairs were, someone was watching you.
You were too deep in thoughts to hear the indistinct sound of metal clinging, the heavy boots climbing old structures who nevertheless whistled in the evening. To notice the way the air shifted, and smell the new alluring scent of gunpowder appearing in the twilight.
Too absorbed in your head, to feel the intense look of a masked face, tall and imposing figure, observing you in the impromptu moment of the night.
A pair of iced eyes, grey orbs reflecting hushed storms lingering in them, eyeing your form. The way the cold piercing your body obligated you to stand and shake in certain ways, your hands trying to shield you from the chilly wind, your hair ruffled by the hard breeze from being high on a building.
His eyes lingered maybe a bit too much, to be indifferent of you. He often stayed perhaps a bit too close whenever you were near. Leaned possibly much more into your space, than he’d be supposed to.
Tumultuous emotions were battling, dueling with one another, in his body. Sentiments he never thought could one day resurface at the sight of someone else, making themselves be felt a little too much.
For him too, this season was a heavy battlefield on his heart. One he often pushed down, deep and down in what felt like a pitt in his chest, in the stead of his heart. It has been many years. He didn’t allowed himself to feel such particular emotions, not even this intense toward someone. But it was like all this hard years of training, restraining of himself, crushed into a dead end and failed miserably when he met you. That when you arrived on set for the first time, feeling quite out of place but putting yourself together unexpectedly, it stirred something in him. Oh it was hard to impress him, and at first you were kinda annoying, but you learned quickly to do your job, and be efficient at it. When Killian started to get too carried away, making you uncomfortable, he didn’t wanted to let it slip. Not that you couldn’t help yourself, but sometimes it also meant to risk your career in this field. He saw your potential, and as time flown, you’d become a habit to one another. You both mingled together often due to Killian, and a quiet bond formed,
The wind hushes his thoughts, and rustles between the long parts of his reinforced leather coat, buttons tingling against his belt.
Your ears catches the strange sound, and you feel something stirring close. Worried, kinda startled as well, you turn your head and let your gaze enter the shadows of the balcony. Hesitant, you step out of your stance, but your body is stiff due to the cold and the absence of movement you’ve had the last few minutes. You waddle towards the conspicuous sound, entering the darkness, stepping on fresh snow.
Yet nothing could have you prepared for the sight you’d be presented with. As shock creeps into you, your whole body tingles, surprise injecting itself your veins. You’re about to make a sound, and the man lurking in the shadows closes the distance between you and put a large, gloved hand on your mouth, as his other hand reach for your side. He shushes you.
Blinking, you discern slowly his form, and a weight takes off your chest. You take in the imposing form, challenging stance. A part of you urges you to run out of danger. But because it’s him, you don’t listen to it. Plus, he's much warmer than you right now.
Faster than you could have imagined, you recognize the severe look behind the tinted glasses of your obscure source of surprise.
McCone.
Chief, Evan McCone, and favorite super-star employee of your boss.
And lately, the bane of your emotions.
The man lets go of you when he’s sure your panic falters, and your breathing quickens as if to regain consciousness after an event-that-shouldn’t-be-that-much-traumatizing-but-was-nevertheless.
« What the fuck are you doing out there ? » you almost scream, as you try to whisper. You’re too shocked to pretend any politeness, and if you weren’t this bewildered by this weird situation, you maybe would have acted way differently.
Yet in this turmoils of surprise, you perceive in yourself, that his presence, and oddly closeness, sends a flush warmth in your whole body, and by the outside temperature it feels kinda nice.
You wait a bit, excepting an all made up answer from him, but you’re almost sure you’ve seen a rapid flash of hesitation in his eyes as he glances down at you.
« I was just passing by », is the excuse you hear from his lips. The tone of his voice, or maybe the brusk blow of wind which passed thought the air, makes you shiver. He steps closer, shielding you from it.
You scoff at his answer, making a sound.
« Why is it that you’re, somehow, always following me ? »
Evan lifts up his chin, his demeanor becoming more dominant towards you « Well as far as I can recall, you always end up in situations where you could need saving. » The answer is cold, maybe colder than what he expected to be.
You glare at him, unsure. « What makes you think I needed saving this time ? »
A moment passes, and you quiver due to the icy air creeping in your clothes. His eyes never leave yours, and you're trying your best to hold up his intense gaze.
A plane flies above you, and his attention shifts to it, as if escaping your mixed look of disdain towards his actions.
« My intuition. » he starts, a bit too proudly for you liking. « Or maybe, you wouldn’t be staying outside freezing your balls off (at this point why bother being so polite to one another) during Christmas eve, at a party with some friends when all the TV crew’s been hearing from you this past week was your usuals Christmas family traditions, which you’re not attending as far as I can tell. » As he says it, Evan turns his head to you, an accusation look in his eyes. A fraction of worry flashes too, but he isn’t ready to share the vulnerability.
« Touché », you mumble, as his answer, a jab for your feelings, goes straight in your heart.
Something lingers in the air, and the tension shifts. You feel the tip of your ears reddening, and look away. It probably was shame, to be exposed so bluntly, but a part of you noticed that he remembered.
You sniff, your nose chilled by the breeze. His words were harsh, the hurtful truth in fact, but, strangely, deep down you were happy to have him by your side now, unexpectedly. « But I suppose I can accept your company, anyway it’s not even my home so I can’t even force you to go, thought you’re clearly trespassing. »
« Oh am I ? »
You hum in answer, amused by his nonchalant attitude in the randomness of the meeting he provoked up high on a big apartment building, lost in the middle of the city.
He breathes out loudly at your remark, and you’re sure you can almost see his mask fold at the corner of his mouth. You both turn yourselves to the railing again, and observe the night defiling beneath you, in the tumultuous city, between the skyline of Co-op city.
Your arms are touching, but not a word is shared. The silence is sometimes disturbed by lourd alarms blaring from beneath, rushes of wind, and still the faint melody of the neighbors’ music. But it isn’t heavy, or awkward. It’s comfortable now, as if it’s been waiting to happen one moment or another, always waiting patiently. You indulge in each other’s presence, and the scent of gunpowder, mixed with what you’re sure is his musk sticking to his leather coat and cologne, smells soothing. Weirdly out of place for such strong smells, but your upbringing was already quite odd anyway.
« It still doesn’t explain why you’re up here, you know », you call back.
« I do urban climbing for work »
And even if it’s true, and quite disturbing to ponder on how and why he decided to join you unannounced tonight at your friends’ house, you snort.
Some minutes passes, and you tighten your scarf. And then, you lean more into his shoulder. Evan lets you. His guards fall down, just a little this time. Doing so, he absentmindedly plays with the hem of your knitted sleeve. Inside him, a storm rages in his ribcage, as he wanted so bad to want to touch you, to hold your hand, his heart pounding in his chest, screaming to himself to cup your face, while telling you that you weren’t alone in any of this. But he wasn’t ready to say it yet. To act on it, but most importantly, to accept it to himself.
Behind you, back of the hard glass of the window, you both hear the people activate in the apartment. Maybe your absence is getting noticed, and what would have been wanted to last an eternity has to come to a quicker end.
Blood flushes to your cheeks, and in a bold move, you dare to take his bigger hand in yours. The world seems to slow down around you, in the dark corner of the balcony where you stand close to one another, and you see a flash of hesitation in his blue iced eyes.
Was it fear, or something else as well that made both his mind and body stop functioning at the same time ?
It lasted for a few seconds, but it should never have happened. Quite instantly, he looks away. But he doesn’t push back your hand in his.
You squeeze it, feeling the hard, cold and moist leather in your hand. His heart slows down. His body is now shouting at him to move, to forbid the action, to make it stops. But something, something stronger is retaining him to do so as well. He doesn’t listen. Instead, he squeezes back. Maybe a bit too strong, but his action is noted.
Warmth blooms again in you.
Maybe one day, this could be more.
One day, the Christmas lights will be lighter in both your chest.
But for tonight, it’s enough. You let go of his hand, its touch still heavy on your skin, as you make it back inside, knowing he’ll disappear in the shadows of the city once more, until you’ll miss his presence again.
thank you for reading!! hope you had a nice holidays :) this was inspired by a prompt from @/luna-azzurra again, but I did adapt it again and got lost in the plot
xx
This man has somehow dragged my ass out of ff retirement, that and the lack of fic about him. I haven't written for anyone since middle school so gimme some grace, still relearning that bike. First chapter is a bit short but more is cominggg. Im just testing the waters.
Anywaysssss, triggers and disclaimers: Ivy is 21, Evan is mid 40s. Stalkerish!Evan.
Summary: while checking out a tip about a runner, Chief Evan McCone stumbles upon a bar housing the most incredible voice he's ever heard. And what starts as casual observation turns into something much more.
The sweep wasn't supposed to take this long. The hunters should have been able to find the target by now. Unfortunately for McCone, this meant instead of being home in a hot bath like he wanted, he was stuck crawling through slumside late into the night. The air was thick and stunk of piss and garbage; people scattered as he walked by, smart enough to stay out of the way.
Usually, slumside was quiet as everyone tried to mind their own business, but down an especially clear alleyway, he could hear the distinct sound of cheering. Following the sound, he found an old wooden door with light streaming through the cracks. As quietly as he could, McCone pushed open the door and slid inside.
The air in here was just as thick, but it smelled like sweat, alcohol, and an underlying scent of incense. In the back of this makeshift club stood a stage where a band was setting up. A small bar was tucked into the left wall, shelves lined with brown bottles. The crowd was excited, pushing to get close to the stage; nobody even noticed the hulking figure near the door.
Just as the chief was about to leave, thinking he stumbled into a dive bar of some kind, the crowd goes wild. Everyone shoves as close to the stage as they can get, leaving McCone alone against the shadowed wall
his eyes focus on the stage as he sees what everyone is so excited for. A girl- no a woman walks accross the stage. her long red hair tumbles over her shoulders in waves. ink flows arces her skin in the shape of flowers and vines, her eyes are shadowed by black eushadow and... glitter? her outfit is just as stunning, a shimering black slip of a dress that hugs her curves perfectly, and a pair of red tights draws his attention to her long, thick legs, ending in a pair of large platforms, making her seem much taller than those around ner. in less words. She's stunning. Before she makes it to the mic stand one of the band members walk up and grabs the mic while gesturing to her
"Ladies and gentlemenof this fine neighbor hood. You all know who she is, I give you, our darling of the city, Ivy'"
the crowd roars with exitement as she takes the mic from the man. She's smiling, slightly shaking with laughter.
"Thankyou my friend for that overdramatic introduction, and thank all of you for the warm welcome!" she sighs dramatically
"We all suffer at the hands of the network, and I know how scary it can be to speak up. That's why I do these shows, to give you a voice, let me me your voice, this is a safe place, be yourself."
Her eyes slide over to McCones figure and he freezes, plerced by that stare, when they make eye contact his breath catches, gray eyes meet his and he Swears he sees them sparkle. She opens her mouth to speak once more, her lips slightly tilting up in a smirk
"no one enters without our knowledge" and it seems like shes speaking directly to him.
"enjoy the show," and with that, the beauty on stage begins to sing, Her voice is loud, slightly raspy in a way that could only be described as seductive. The song itself was angry, loud chants of agreement are
heard from the crowd as she sings some anti goverment ballad.
McCone should be outraged at the disrespect, but all he can do is watch in awe as this woman hypnotizes him with ler voice and body movements, her hips swaying with each verse and beat. She reaches into the crowd to hold the hands of those closest to the stage, McCone pushes slightly off the wall, ready to stop anyone trying to pull her in, expecting things to get bad. But nothing happons, these people really love her, he thinks. They respect her, no one is trying to harm her like he expected. Unfortunatly for the woman called Ivy, she just gained a new fan and this one is not content to Simply Stay in the audience. over the course of the next couple weeks, McCone finds himself at that bar every night, watching the temtpress sing her rage to like minded individuals. Being the chief comes with certain privileges, such as blueprints for every building in the city-including the one hes standing in. Gving him the knowledge that there happened to be an extra room behind the stage.. and after Paying the bartender handsomly for the knowledge he learned that they made that room into a private dressing room room for their star. During her next song he planned to sneak in, and learn as much as he can about this Siren.
I've written before that Anton Chigurgh's microexpressions are very telling in No Country For Old Men, revealing far more going on under the surface than what we immediately see and interpret.
Then I subsequently forgot to write an analysis post on this (oops, it's still on my list!).
Going through my screencaps for The Running Man... Obviously, these are very, very different movies and to me, NCFOM is a masterful adaptation.
In truth, I don't feel that way about TRM (this is not intended as a dig at the movie or jumping on the "it sucks" bandwagon, just to clarify). I enjoyed the movie. There's some amazing world building and details (that kind of don't get the time and attention they deserve). I loved certain aspects of the story, especially Evan McCone being a narrative foil for Ben Richards. I wish certain things were given more screen time and room for exploration, but also get why they weren't.
BUT Evan is another really good example of powerful microexpressions. Little moments, however fleeting, that reveals what's going on beneath the surface. It's another analysis post to add to my list. There's genuinely these little moments where I think, Evan knows he's going to die. He knows it's over. He puts up a semi-convincing fight, but I don't think it's a real fight. A part of him wants to lose, and I feel there's other moments which showcase this too - there's this sort of suicidal chaos to his actions and demeanour as those final scenes progress.
There's several screencaps I've taken where I feel this part of him that wants it to be over is captured really well. The moments just before he dies, and immediately afterwards, are particularly telling: A glimmer of fear and challenge, followed by realisation, resignation and then...A look that I interpret as relief, even gratitude.
It's all up to interpretation of course, and that's the beauty of film for me - how we can all watch the same scene and characters, and take away something completely different from that experience.
But I was struck by how much depth and emotion was conveyed in such a short scene, and I think it's a really significant part of why I found myself drawn to Evan as a character, why he stood out so starkly to me.
This is a testament to Lee Pace, of course. His mannerisms, microexpressions and body language for each character I've seen him portray are just incredible. And I feel much the same way about Javier Bardem, hence my adoration for his portrayal of Anton. Just phenomenal, captivating actors who breathed new life into these characters.
Some pretty caps as a thank you for reading my ramble!
and oh dear LORD, the head hunter is so BIG and SCARY !!!!! All masked up, with his beret, and he's SO VIOLENT GRRR
Did i already tell you that he's big and scary? And Oh-so-condescending???
The thought of him just chasing me around the woods,,or through the dark alleyways,,maybe cornering me at the back of dingy motel, pressing the muzzle of his gun flush against my temple...
HE'S.SO.BIG AND MEAN AND SCARYYYY. >~<°•
Ahh!! And he's in a mask!!! arrgrhrhrh and look!! at his biceps!! his forearms!! Oh god he's gonna get meee!!! He's gonna tear me apaarttt >~< I wonder what he'll do to me when the camera's aren't rolling and it's five hours until show starts again. What then? As he's grazing his knife against my arm? What then? As he's manhandling me against the dirty brick walls and pressing my face against the filth? What then? As he's carving his initials into my thigh, and laughing cruelly as he watches me tremble underneath him????
I wish!!! there was more screentime of him, I really really loved Lee Pace's portrayal of McCone!
