Vous voudriez à certains moments, m’avez-vous dit, pouvoir revivre le passé. Je crains d’être assez différent de vous à cet égard. Tous les souvenirs sont amers et je préfère les ignorer. Quelque chose est arrivé il y a un an qui a changé toute ma vie, et je désire oublier toutes les phases de mon existence, jusqu’à ce moment-là. Ces jours sont finis. Ils sont effacés. Je dois recommencer complètement à vivre. Je n’y réussis pas toujours, évidemment ; parfois, le parfum est trop fort pour le flacon, trop fort aussi pour moi. Et puis, il y a en moi un démon qui veut déboucher le flacon.
—  Daphné du Maurier, Rebecca.
My Choice - Chris Evans x Reader

My Choice - (Chris Evans x Reader)

Words - 4118 (Yes, it’s fucking long.)

Warnings - Mentions of abuse, kissing, a little sad in some places. 

A/N - This is my longest One-Shot ever, and I loved writing it. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you enjoy your bedtime story!

Your name: submit What is this?

It happened one night, almost out of the blue. Scott Evans came walking out of the cold, bleak streets of New York, on his way to see his older brother. In the backpack he had bought, were Hershey’s kisses, Doritos, and a wide assortment of unhealthy food, and movies.

After reaching the Penthouse level, he silently walked along the dark red carpet, whistling a tune he had probably heard on the radio, and picked up without knowing. His feet carried him along the corridor, hearing the occasional television, or couple shouting, maybe a faint baby cry. A smirk fell over his face, thinking of the fact that one day, his brother would be in a house, the same noises there. 

Scott appeared at number 209, almost the end of the building. The light wood door, centred with the golden numbers was now in front of him. Oddly enough, he couldn’t hear any noise, not even his Brother’s loud breathing. A odd look crossed his face, as he gently reached out and knocked on the door. He waited for two…three…four minutes, until he knocked again, calling out to his older brother.

“Chris? You in there? Chris?”

He kept knocking, wanting to see where he had disappeared to. After a while, and groaning in annoyance, he pulled the phone out of his jacket, unlocking it, and scrolling down to call his brother. He held it up to his ear, waiting to hear his brothers voice, but instead was greeted by the dull answer machine. 

He tried again. And again. And once more. It wasn’t until the fifth call, he could hear his brother’s phone ringing from inside the apartment. Scott raised his eyebrows, knocking again on the door of the apartment, his voice now raising, to try and get his brothers attention. 

The shouting must of eventually caught on to the penthouse along. An old lady came shuffling out, a pale pink dressing gown and faded slippers. She showed a small smile, her eyes beaming behind her rounded gold glasses. 

“Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need to get in?” She croaks, beginning to walk towards the door of the apartment. Scott wasted no time beginning to explain his problem.

“My brother, I think he’s in there. But he’s not answering!” He exclaimed quickly. It took a moment for the old woman to realise, but she soon showed a small key, and stepped towards the door, carefully unlocking it. Scott thanked her quickly, before stepping in, beginning to shout around.

“Chris!” He called, before running to each room. “Chris!” He felt himself growing more cautious by the moment, his breath beginning to increase when he saw his phone on the sofa, and silvery keys on the coffee table. Instantly, he pulled out his phone, harshly pressing down on the ‘999′ buttons.

“Hello?” He said, dramatically. “Police. It’s my brot-”

Scott instantly cut himself off, seeing a scribbled piece of paper, resting underneath the television remote. Still on the line to the emergency services, he pulled the piece of paper, feeling his hands tremble as the read the note, in undoubtedly his brother’s messy handwriting.

“I’m alive Scotty, don’t worry. I just needed to go. Give my love to everyone - Chris”

Scott swallowed the harsh lump which had settled in his throat, soothing the piece of paper in his hand. his eyes began to sting, and fresh tears begin to gather, as he realised that his brother was gone, and maybe for good.

The pint glass slammed onto the edge of the bar, sending a loud vibration across the piece of wood. It was late, dark, and cold. 

It was after one of the most horrific and painful procrastinations he had ever experienced, that he decided. He became terribly pained of the movies, the interviews, the tabloids lying about every small affair he apparently participated in. 

So, he had taken as much money as he could out of the bank, and shut it down. His phone, keys, and every belonging apart from clothing, toiletries, and the odd item had been left in his apartment, along with his car, and he had taken a taxi as far away as humanly possible.

This was the result: A small, run-down town, in the middle of nowhere. It was traditionally American, and in all honestly, a beautiful place. He had paid the cab driver, keeping on heavy sunglasses and a cap for the entirety of the ride, and then taken his bag, thanking the cab driver.

Within the first few hours of arriving, he had discovered the quaint area. It contained several larger houses at the top of the hill, two apartment blocks, several rows of shops, and a park in the centre. 

After finding out he was also incredibly hungry, the thirty four year old had walked into a traditional grill-house, wanting to buy something to eat. A grilled sandwich, chips, and a pint of beer had seemed to had satisfy him, almost as much as the girl who served him. 

She wore a short, butter yellow dress, a blue apron tied around her waist, and across the skirt of the dress. Her H/C hair was tied up, beginning to fall out of the bun it was placed in. She was surprisingly sweet to him, offering him anything he needed.

Chris had been sitting at the bar, admiring the girl for about six hours, ordering drinks in between. Eventually, he knew that the girl would have to go home. She probably had a husband, maybe a few children. So now, he was resting on the bar, playing with his thumbs. 

He planned to go and try and find somewhere to stay, just for one night. He might be able to find work, somewhere. That was until, he felt a faint tap on his shoulder. Instantly, he turned around, seeing the same beautiful girl who he had his eye on for the past hours.

“Come on.” She said, holding out her hand. “You need somewhere to stay.” The man look puzzled, looking into the girls eyes for a moment.

“How did you…” He was cut off when the girl spoke, rolling her E/C eyes.

“First off, everyone here, knows everyone else. We’re a massive family. Secondly, nobody brings a suitcase into a restaurant, unless they haven’t got anywhere to stay.”

Chris stared, open mouth for a moment, his hands flickering between her stretched out hand, and her eyes. “What did you say your name was?” He asked, a small smile now on his face. 

“I didn’t.” She paused. It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N.” Chris repeated looking back at her a moment. Gently, he took her hand, pulling himself up from the barstool. She sent him a quick wink, before leading him out into the cold night.

“And so, I left. Packed my bag,” Chris motioned to the large suitcase in his right hand, “And left, before anyone could find me.” He finished the story, pausing for a moment.

After leaving the grill house, Chris had been told that Y/N was not in fact married, but living with her mother, father, and little cousin, who was apparently a huge fan of Captain America. The actor couldn’t help but feel his heart break a little, remembering all the young fans he would be leaving behind. 

“But, you left some sort of message. Your parent’s are going to think you got abducted or something.” Y/N replied in the conversation. Chris shrugged, carrying on to talk. 

“I left a note for my brother. He was meant to be coming around. I said I was safe, and going somewhere.” He paused. “I should of told him to his face, should of-” Before he could finish his sentence, a sweet voice cut him off, a hand resting on his shoulder. 

“It can’t be helped. Chris, he’s your brother. And, if he loves you, he’ll understand what you want.” The man felt a small smile on his face, understanding the words the girl had said, and feeling happy about it. 

“Okay, your turn.” Chris said, gently. Y/N looked puzzled, her E/C eyes looking into his baby blue ones.

“What do you mean?” She replied.

“Your story. Born here? Grew up? Jobs? Friends? Family? All of that stuff?” He questioned, eagerly. Whilst doing so, he pulled down the sleeves of his plaid shirt, swapping the case to each hand as he did so. 



Chris turned around, whilst the girl in question looked directly forward. Behind the duo, a blonde man, wearing a dark shirt, and tracksuit bottoms approached them, resting his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. She was quick to shrug it off, beginning to pick up her pace.

“Y/N, Babe, don’t ignore me-”

“Please don’t call me ‘Babe,’ Jason.” She almost asked in pain, trying to walk a little quicker. However, in the thin shoes she wore, it was a little harder than expected. Chris’ eyebrows raised in concern, as the man got close again, taking the top of her arm.

“Sweetie, listen,”

“No, you listen!” Chris said, threateningly. “She said to leave her alone, so why don’t you shove off?" 

 His tone had become menacing, and frightening, and this could clearly be seen on the face of the young man. He was silent for a moment, before slamming his hands down at his side, and trudging off, in clear defeat. The second he was out of earshot, Y/N turned to the newly found ‘bodyguard.' 

"Thank you.” She said, as they continued walking, the pace slowing a little again. 

“It’s fine. 2 sisters mean a lot of protecting from ass holes.” He explains, causing her to laugh a little. She nodded, as the two continued to walk, winding up the small hill, to the larger houses.

“Is there anything else you need?” Y/N asks Chris, lingering by the edge of the guest bed. After arriving at the house, and realising that both her parents and cousin was asleep, she motioned for her guest to be quiet. 

He nodded, using the small bathroom to clean himself, and quickly got changed out of his shirt and jeans, into some sweatpants. When Y/N had originally seen him in the bedroom, without a shirt, and that chest…she was close to blushing.

He had nestled under the duvet you had changed, before you were about to make your way to your own room, hoping for a good nights sleep.

“Well…” Chris started, but quickly trailed off. You stepped back a couple of steps, before replying to his small mumble.

“No, it’s fine.” Y/N Paused. “You can stay here tomorrow, if you need to.” Chris shook his head, sitting up a little bit, as Y/N walked back over, carefully.

“I was wondering…do you know if there are any jobs going around?” He looked down where his hands were resting on the sheet. “It’s just, I need to earn some money. I mean, I have some, but it’s not going to last me forever.”

Y/N sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Do you know what a Logger is?” She asks, gently. Chris nods quickly, instantly recognising the job and title. 

“Be up and ready tomorrow by 10am, Okay?” Y/N says, a small smile on her face. He nods, before the girl bids her tonight, and left the room, switching the light off on her way out. 

Chris then curled up into the bed, resting his eyes. However, the moment they shut, endless and cope less questions began to run through his mind. How were his parents? Scott and his sisters? What was the news like? 

He generally wanted to check the television right now. Although he had left a note, they might of thought he was still kidnapped. But it was like Y/N said, it was his choice.

Content of his thought, he closed his eyes, trying to get a good night sleep, which he knew would never come.

At half past nine the next morning, an almost refreshed Chris Evans had awoken, and pulled himself reluctantly from the warm, and surprisingly comfortable bed. He had silently gone to the smaller bathroom, washing his face, and combing his hair. 

Now, wearing one of his old, greyish shirts, and his jeans, completed with trainers, he cautiously left his room, suspecting he was to go downstairs. However, when he was halfway down the stairs, a cold shiver ran down his spine, realising that he was in a house of complete strangers.

Had Y/N even told her parents about the fact she had asked a stranger to spend the night in their house. He could of sneaked back upstairs, and waited until Y/N came to get him.

Instead, he heard soft, gentle footsteps, and a beautiful figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Her H/C hair was plaited neatly, with a red plaid shirt, and black leggings on her body. Here feet were currently bare, and her E/C eyes sparkled at the sight!

“Chris! Come on, come get some breakfast!” She said cheerily. The girl awaited at the end of the stairs, until the man joined her, and she led him into the elegant kitchen.

Sitting at the table, was an older man, with E/C eyes, and light hair. He looked up when Chris entered, nodding towards the man. At the counter, was a woman, wearing a bright skirt and shirt, her H/C hair up,a and blue eyes sparkling. 

“Oh! Y/N, this is the man? I swear, he was on the television this morning-” Chris gently cut her off.

“Yeah, I..left. But please, you won’t tell anybody I’m here, will you?” He says, almost in a panicked tone. The woman nods, before looking back down to the pan, which the bacon was frying with.

“So, Y/N.” She continued. “Is the nice man joining us for breakfast?” She asks, sweetly.

“Yes, he is.” Y/N replied for the man. The mother nodded, before beginning to set up five plates. One for Chris, Y/N, The Mother, Father, and who else?

Behind the kitchen island, and now spotted by Chris, was a young boy, about five years old. He worse pale blue pyjamas, and in his left hand, he held a teddy bear. Gently, he moved away, and towards his cousin. 

Y/N took his hand, lifting him up, and pulling him onto her waist. “Alex, this is Chris. He is going to be staying with us for a little while, okay?” She says, gently. He nodded, before looking into Chris’ blue eyes, smiling a little.

“You…You’re Captain ‘Murica.” He says, quietly. After that he giggled a little, with the fact that one of his idols was resting in the same house as him. Chris nodded gently, patting his head.

“Listen to me, buddy. We need to keep it a Secret that i’m here, okay?” He says. The boy nods, wriggling to be let down from his cousin’s grasp.” 

A small smile appears on Chris’ face, as he turns to Y/N. She shows a gentle smile, before beginning to talk again, this time more directly to him.

“Good night?” She asks questioningly.

“A little rough, actually.” He murmurs, causing Y/N to pat his shoulder sympathetically. 

“It will get better, I promise.” She murmurs. At that point, she pulled him closer, curling into his grasp. He was a little cautious at first, before wrapping his arms around her frame, and resting his head atop of hers. Eventually, she pulled away, Chris feeling a sudden loss of contact.

“So.” She says sweetly. “A Loger.”

1 Week Later…

Sweating and rugged were probably the two best words to describe Chris currently. He was wearing his new found Loger outfit, and now completely sweaty, and dirty.

After beginning the job, lead by Y/N’s close friend, he had grown close to not only the job itself, but the people who he worked with. Of course, there had been a few raised eyebrows, about who he was, but that never took away the fact he worked just as hard as the other men, and therefore, earned just as much money. Chris, being the man he was, insisted that some of it went to the keep of the house. 

There had also been several whispers about if the two were a couple or not. Like Y/N said, everyone here, knew everyone, and they all knew Y/N was never one for relationships. But now, a man shows up, and she almost seems inseparable with him.

Chris gently tapped on the white door of the house, waiting so see if anybody was in. The door eventually opened, and there, was Alex, a beaming smile on his face.

“Chris!” He said, charging towards the man, throwing his arms around his waist. The elder chuckled, hugging him back. Over the past days they had been antiquated, and now closer than ever.

“Hey bud. How was school?” He asked gently. The child shrugged his skinny shoulders, before responding.

“It was okay. I got a new book out.” He paused. “Can you read it with me later?” He asked. Chris nodded, patting his forehead again, before he ran back to the living room, beaming.

He chucked, watching the young boy fly away, before making his way up the stairs. On the way, he almost bumped into Amelia, Y/N’s mother, who was carrying a bundle of washing.

“Hello Chris.” She spoke. Chris nodded, before looking at the large pile of clothing. Almost as if reading his mind, the woman shook her head, the elegant bun almost falling out. “No dear, I don’t need help. Go and get a shower. Dinner will be ready soonish.” She said. 

“Thanks.” Chris said kindly, before making his way down the corridor, and towards the back bathroom. The man gently pulled on the metal latch of the door, opening it gently, before entering, and closing it behind him.

He then peeled out of the sticky clothing, realising his dressing gown that Y/N had got him was already on the hook. He felt himself smile a little, as he stepped into the shower, warm water rushing over his body.

Over the past week, his feeling towards the girl had grown ever stronger. She was there for him, as he tried to be there for her. Weather they were running to the store moments before dinner, to pick up something, or he was picking her up from her job, the two would talk, share memories, anything.

Y/N’s past had come up, one night. Whilst the two were sitting in the back garden, watching the stars which were so hard to see in the bright lights of Chris’ old life.

She had grown up in the town all her life. Though, many of her childhood friends and family had left for bigger things, she has stayed, wanting to carry on her life there. And for one moment, she had never regretted it. 

Once he had stepped out of the shower, refreshed, his eyes averted to the small window, which looked out onto the back porch of the house. He was confused to find Y/N herself sitting there, her face almost looking pained.

Of course, he was cautious, and worried for the girl. Quickly,he pulled on his dressing gown, warm and fluffy, before making his way out of the bathroom, and to the porch.

Y/N was there, of course. Her hair, which today had been in a plaited bun, was now loose, and floating freely. She wore a large shirt, and her comfortable leggings. 

What Chris didn’t notice, until he sat by her, was her tear stained cheeks, or her shaking breath. However, the moment he sat on the step next to her. She sighed, looking at him.

“Y/N? Baby, what happened?” He asked softly. She broke into shaky breaths, hiding her head in her hands. 

“J…Jason. He, He called me a whore, and tried to take me back. I…I’m so bad at this!” She said, her voice muffled slightly. 

This broke Chris inside. Terribly. He had never seen a girl as beautiful, amazing, and perfect as Y/N, and he wanted her to know that. His larger hand gently took one of her wrists, then the other, pulling them down so she would look at him.

Her eyes. Beautiful, tear stained, but still perfect. 

“Y/N.” He whispered gently. She swallowed, a small smile returning to her face. Both of them, could now feel themselves leaning in gently, her sweet breath on his lips. One more inch, and they felt soft lips upon one another. 

The kiss was slow, sweet, and everything in between. After a second, he pulled away, noticing her eyes, widen. He paused. Maybe he shouldn’t of-

He felt lips, back on his. This time, he didn’t pull away. They moulded together, almost perfectly, kissing each other sweetly, lovingly. After a long time, they pulled away, Chris speaking first.

“Y/N, I love you, so much.” He pauses, waiting for her reaction. She breaks out into a smile, before replying.

“I love you too.” Almost in a whisper. Before anything else can advance, the porch door opens, and Alex appears, holding his book from earlier. Chris chuckles, instantly knowing what he wants. 

“Come on buddy.” He smiles. Alex giggles, making himself comfortable next to Chris, as Y/N lies her shoulder on the fluffy towel of his dressing down, one of her hands now holding his. 

“Scott, are you sure about this?” Mrs Evans asks from the back-seat. The younger brother nods, before parking his car, just in front of the Grill Restaurant. 

It had taken almost two months, but after a tip off from an old friend, Scott found himself at this small town, alongside his mother. His sister had been too emotional to visit, and his father was completely disembarked by the idea, thinking if Chris was gone, he was gone for good.

The two quietly exited the car, looking into one of the windows of the building. Their eyes darted around, until Lisa’s hand flies up to her mouth, covering it quickly.

There, in the window, was her son. Sitting with a five year old boy, who was resting into his chest. From what it looked like, they were colouring in, using the large box of crayons visibly seen. She continued watching, as a beautiful woman walked over, talking for a moment, before quickly kissing Chris’ lips. 

“Come on.” Scott said, resting a hand on his mother’s shoulders, before leading her towards the door. 

The atmosphere inside was calm, relaxing. Couples, and the odd old man or women were scattered around the area, talking to one another. At the booth at the back, Scott and Lisa saw him.

It took a moment, but Chris looked up to where a cold draft had been let into the building. And, the second he saw them, his eyes locked. He murmured something to the boy next to him, pulling himself up.

Scott couldn’t wait any longer. He charged over to his brother, engulfing him in a huge hug. Both of the boys started crying, as they saw one another. Scott pulled away, dabbing at his eyes a little, before beginning to talk.

“Chrissy, where on earth? Why did you do all this?” He asked, almost crying again.” Chris, who had been practising this for a while now, opened his mouth, and explained.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. The fans, constant pressure. I wanted a new start. So, I found it.” His voice stayed strong. Honestly, Scott was pleased to see him. And by now, Lisa had come over, hugging her son tightly, the crying beginning all over again.

By now, Y/N and Alex had walked over, both of them holding hands. Lisa’s eyebrows raised at the girl. Chris, feeling rude for not introducing them, took his chance to speak.

“Mum, Scott, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. And her cousin, Alex. She helped me when I first got here.” He spoke. Y/N waved gently, her smile resting on her face. Scott looked at her for a split second, before hugging her tightly.

“Thank you for looking after him.” He spoke softly, a small smile on his face. Y/N nodded, patting his shoulder.

“Do you guys want a drink?” She asked sweetly. “Alex, show them to the table you were at.” She tapped her cousin’s nose gently, causing him to giggle. He did so, leading the two new found companions. 

Before Chris followed, he took Y/N’s wrist, causing her to spin around, and close in tightly to his chest. A small smile passed, before he kissed her lips, his hands holding her cheeks gently. As they pulled away from one another, she was the first to speak.

“I’m so glad you made this choice.” She said, sweetly.

“So am I.” He paused, kissing her nose. “And it was my choice.”

Request A One Shot Here! (Always Open) -

anonymous asked:

i always get ???s in my head when i see tumblr saying that we are latinos because i just like have always seen our neighbours as latinos but not us. i mean, we have very few in common with them and we don't even speak the same language. i don't know, i don't think that as a brazilian i identify as latino to be honest.

 I understand, and I used to think like that as well. For many years I found it hard - and it still kind of is sometimes - to embrace the fact that we are, by definition, latinos. I’ll work on the reasons that I think gave me the feeling first. Mostly, it comes from our language and our lack of deep historical bond to some things. Not speaking castellano absolutely has a strong impact, cause we can’t even bound by the simplest of things - communication with our fellow nations. Sure, we understand them, most times, but it’s not the same, is it? Having been an Empire instead of participating in the fights that freed the rest of america also is part of the roots of our differentiation there. And then there’s a very personal fact for me, that is I don’t look typically latina AT ALL, and I think a lot of us feel that since our origins are all mixed up, more than in other latin america countries. 

So how can I still fight to identify us as latinos? Well, I decided that, upon looking at the past hundred years, we had more things in common than otherwise. If in the 1800′s we had a completely different historical process, in the 20th century, we suffered with the rest of south and latin america all the same. Dictatorships, economical crisis, entirely latino phenomenons as was populism, poverty, being considered an underdeveloped or “in development” nation under the thumbs of bigger economies, being stereotyped by our women and targeted for not-so-legal sorts of tourism are just some of the things that happened to most of countries south of the US, and happened all more or less at the same time. Not to mention how social relations in general, politics, and the very way of life in our countries are close.  That made me realize that, as hard as the language barrier (the only one that stills stands for everyone) could have hit us, we still should not turn our back in calling ourselves latinos. 

Cause we’ve had the same struggles. We still do have similar problems. We cannot pull away from all that decades of the same treatment left us as marks nor should we distance ourselves from the fact that each latin nation has their own culture and quirks. And we should not distance ourselves from this universe because, especially if we, a country that as far as latin america goes, isn’t that bad economically and socially, decide not to fight for respect and a better look for the Latino community, who will?

 At the end of the day, even if it is hard to bound with our hermanos (and if we just love to fight about soccer), I think we should try and wear our latino roots proudly - It is not just geography: not identifying as latino several times comes with the extra weight of forgetting that, for so many people outside, it is just what we are, and they do not mean it in a positive way.

SYRIA, DAMASCUS : A rebel fighter, reportedly belonging to the Faylaq al-Rahman brigade, looks up from his hiding spot in the rebel-controlled area of Arbeen, on the outskirts of the Syrian capital, Damascus on January 29, 2016. AMER ALMOHIBANY / AFP