#and then as im closing the shop down i was wheeling the vacuum back to its place and..

[rexscanonwife]

Save me middle aged whiteman....whiteman save me

[hopelikethemoon]

Freedom (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Freedom  Rating: PG-13 Length: 3000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. This is a Javier-less chapter, which is why I noted that this would be a very different type of update. This chapter is set in September of 1977, when Reader is 16. If you don’t know her backstory you can find info at the link above. If you want to know who I see as Mitch and Darla click on their names.  Summary: Reader finally escapes her situation.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110​

“You’ll have your own room,” Mitch explained, glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That’ll be nice, right?”

You nodded your head slowly, rubbing at your forehead as you watched the outskirts of the city bleed into the towering office buildings and quaint streets lined with brownstones and historic homes. You had never been out of your hometown and Philadelphia seemed like a daunting change of pace. 

Your life up until this point had been confined to a perimeter that contained your house and school. 

“And you’ll never have to live through another one of those floods.” Mitch rambled — he’d rambled a lot since he had picked you up nearly four hours ago. “That had to be scary.”

You shrugged, picking at the hem of your tee. “Not the worst thing to happen to me.” You admitted, glancing out the window again. “My mom acted like the world was going to end because she couldn’t get out of the house. Like goddamn mom, people are dead.”

Mitch cleared his throat, “I’m not looking to parent you, but you know Darla and I have a Tate—“

“Shit.” You laughed quietly, covering your mouth. “I’ll try to curb the cussing.” 

“Thanks.” He nodded his head. “And you know Darla and I are here for you, if you ever need anything.”

“I’m not looking to be a burden, promise.” You told him, winding your finger through a lock of hair as you watched out the window. “You don’t even have to feed me.”

“I’m not going to let you go hungry.” Mitch gave you a look. “Come on now, kid.”

“I can cook!” You scrunched up your nose. “I just don’t want you or Darla to feel like I’m taking advantage of your hospitality.” The last thing you wanted was to become your mother. Leeching off other people. 

“You’re my sister.”

“We share a father,” You pointed out. “Be glad you don’t share my mother.”

“Dad told me plenty of stories.” Mitch grimaced, “I don’t know how you made it out of there in one piece, kid.”

“I might have nine toes. I haven’t counted lately.” You snorted, “Think there’s a black market in toes for coke?”

“Jesus Christ.” He grimaced, before quickly changing the subject. “That’s the school you’ll be going to.”

You peered out the window at the school, “Better than Richland.”

“It’s where Darla went. It’s a great preparatory school for girls.”

“An all-girls school?” You groaned, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“You're more likely to get a scholarship there.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. You still had the two and a half years of school to finish before you could think about college — but a scholarship would help. “I don’t need any distractions anyways.”

Mitch gave you a curious look, “Kid, you’re allowed to be a teen, you know. Don’t hold back from living just because you’re staying with us.”

“It’s not that,” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I’ve never really been a kid or whatever. I don’t plan on regressing just because I don’t have to deal with the witch.”

“Dad always said you were wise beyond your years,” Mitch remarked, turning down Chestnut Street and parking the car in front of a gorgeous brick townhome. 

“You live here?”

“Darla’s folks gifted it to her when they moved out west,” Mitch explained to you as he put the car in park.

“Oh so, rich-rich.” You gave him an amused look. “Looking at you, pitching out of your league.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mitch rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and shutting the car door behind him. 

You climbed out of the car, moving around to the trunk as he unlocked it. “I really do appreciate this, Mitch. I’ll do whatever you guys need me to do. Vacuuming, dishes, I’ll even babysit — I can’t promise I’m good.” 

“Kid, you’re family not the new nanny.”

“New?”

“We’re in-between currently.”

“Jesus.” You whistled. “Well, I promise not to bring the property value down. It’ll be like I’m not even there. Promise.”

Mitch shook his head, “I look forward to you warming up to us. This can be your home, kid. You don’t have to act like a visitor.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you slung your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I tried the ‘home’ thing, but dad’s dead... so.” 

“I’m just saying, you can put down roots.” Mitch pulled the cardboard box out of the trunk, before he started up the stairs to the townhouse. Darla must’ve been waiting just behind the door, because she swung it open the second your feet hit the stop.

“Look at you!” Darla grinned broadly at you, “You’ve shot up like a weed since the wedding.”

“We saw each other at the funeral,” You reminded her with an awkward laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear as you warily looked around their house. “But thanks.”

Mitch was about thirteen years older than you. You had seen him only a handful of times over the course of your life. His mother, Patrice, had always been kind to you — your father and Patrice were the type of divorced parents you’d wished your own mother had been. They were still friends, up until his death. 

Before the funeral, the last time you had seen Mitch was at his wedding. He’d wanted you to actually be part of the wedding, but someone had gone postal at the thought of someone else’s family liking you. You were also only ten — what could you do about anything?

“Tate, sweetheart, this is your aunt.” Darla crouched down beside the little boy. “Say hello.”

“Hello!”

“Hi, Tate.” You smiled at him. “And how old are you?”

“Almost six.” He beamed, “Do you like cars?”

You shrugged, “They get you from point a to point b.”

“He’s been collecting Hot Wheels.” Mitch explained to you, “I’m sure he’ll show you his collection.”

Tate nodded excitedly. “Do you wanna see them now?”

“Oh—“

Mitch ruffled Tate’s hair, “Actually buddy, I’m sure your aunt would love to see them, but we need to get her unpacked. Alright?”

You glanced at Mitch before looking back to Tate, “You can show me after dinner.”

“Why don’t you go play out back?” Darla suggested, sending Tate down the hallway. “He’s been so excited about having someone to play with.”

“I see.” You nodded, your eyes flickering around the entryway, back towards the living room area. It was different to see a house that was put together. They had nice pieces of furniture and none of them were broken or unusually stained. 

Mitch cleared his throat, “If you want to, of course. Six-year-old boys can be quite rambunctious.”

You offered a strained smile, “I’m happy to help, like I said.” 

“Do you need help with anything from the car?” Darla questioned, clasping her hands together. “That can’t be all you broug—“

Mitch made a gesture to silence her, which you caught out of the corner of your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“This is all I have,” You gestured between your duffel bag and the box he held. “I promised I wouldn’t take up too much room.”

“Speaking of your room,” Darla grinned at you. “I hope you don’t hate purple. I went a little overboard once Mitch brought up you moving in.”

She led you up a flight of stairs lined with family pictures, which led to a hallway of bedrooms. 

“Ours is at the end of the hall, beside Tate’s. You’re over here.” Mitch explained, pushing open the doorway that led to a bedroom that was at least double what your room had been before.

“Wow.” You breathed out as you stepped inside, holding your duffel bag close to you as you looked around. “Guys, I told you I didn’t need much, this feels…”

“Homey?” Darla questioned. “That’s what I was going for.”

You put on a smile as you nodded your head. You knew you had to be grateful. Mitch didn’t have to give you a place to live. Sure, your dad had wanted it, but that didn’t mean he had to. 

You were emancipated from your mother now, you could go anywhere — live…. anywhere. Realistically, you had three options; your mother’s, Mitch’s, or the street. 

“Homey… is a great word.” You threw your duffle bag down on the foot of the bed, watching as Mitch sat the cardboard box with your few personal items down on the floor. 

“You’ll be starting at Girls’ High next week.” Darla explained. “We can go shopping for your uniform this weekend. That’ll give you a few days to settle into your new life here.”

“Thank you,” You told her with a slightly more sincere smile. “Thank you both.”

Mitch scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, it’s what dad would’ve wanted.”

“I miss him.”

“Me too.” He nodded. “Alright, well we will give you a chance to settle in. Dinner is usually around six.”

Darla smiled at you, “No pressure. You can join us or I can bring a plate up. I know things have been a bit chaotic for you.”

You tucked your hair behind your ears and nodded, “You don’t have to make dinner for me. I would be happy with a cheese sandwich.”

She shook her head, “I won’t hear of that. I’ll bring it up to you. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” You kicked off your shoes and sank down on the side of your bed. It was a real bed. Matching sheets, a mattress topper, and nice metal headboard. 

It looked new, which really was a novelty. 

You waited until Mitch and Darla could be heard walking down the steps, before you sank back on the bed and finally relaxed. 

You didn’t know how long it would take you to really be relaxed. Being on edge had kept you alive this long. But it was a feat not to give into the urge to grab the chair that sat at the vanity and wedge it under the doorknob. 

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a heavy sigh as you let the reality of your new life settle in. 

Next week would mark a new beginning. A new school, a new chance to be someone. You weren’t beholden to anyone but yourself now. If you failed, it was your own fault. You weren’t trapped under the shadow of your mother. 

Though, the thought of having to wear a uniform until you graduated sounded like bullshit. 

You pushed yourself back upright, looking around the room for the folder you’d spotted sitting on the vanity. You climbed off the bed to retrieve the fold. It was white and yellow, with the school seal set in the center. Darla had clearly gone to great lengths filling everything out for you — the forms were mostly filled in, save for your name and signature where it was necessary. 

Apparently, you had just missed the father-daughter dance. 

You closed the folder and sat it back on the vanity, before you retreated back to the bed to collect the cardboard box. You didn’t have much to unpack. 

A framed picture of you and your father that had spent the better part of its existence hidden from your mother’s sight; the trophy you won freshman year for the science fair; three of your favorite books; and bedside alarm clock. 

Aside from that, you had only taken the clothes you wore most often, not even bothering to worry about other seasons. You had enough money to buy new clothes in the winter. 

And with uniforms for school — you didn’t have to worry about other classmates judging you for repeating outfits. 

School was just a means to an end. Get good grades, get a scholarship, and do something worthwhile. Something that would actually help someone. 

Your mother had screamed at you that you were worthless — that you would never amount to anything because you were ungrateful — more times than you cared to recall. You had to prove her wrong. One day, she’d see that her daughter had amounted to something. Not because of her, but in spite of her. 

 ——

 “How did you sleep last night?” Darla questioned as you joined her in the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Tate. 

“The bed was super comfortable,” You offered, preferring not to tell her that you hadn’t slept at all. Though there were bags under your eyes that told a different story.

You had slept for an hour — maybe two. You couldn’t relax, despite how hard you had tried. You had gone to sleep on a comfortable bed, with clean sheets, and a full stomach, but sleep just didn’t come to you. 

The only reason you slept at all was because you had gotten up and put the chair in front of the door. The house was quiet — there were no addicts down the hall getting high, no yelling, no chaos, but your mind told you there could be. 

Darla sat a glass of juice down in front of you, “Do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, taking a sip of the juice. “Cream and sugar if you don’t mind.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t mind at all. I know you think you’re a burden to us, but I’m happy to have you here. Really.”

“I don’t want to be a charity case.” You told her, taking another sip of your juice as Mitch walked down the stairs and joined all of you in the kitchen. 

“Well, you’re not one. So don’t worry.”

“Hey, kid.” Mitch gave your shoulder a pat as he walked past the table. “Didn’t know if you’d come down.”

You shrugged, “The smell of coffee was too strong of a temptation.” 

“Do you have plans for the day?” He questioned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

Tate rolled one of his model cars across the table to you and you turned it around and rolled it back. 

“I thought I might check out a book shop we passed yesterday. What does a normal Monday look like for you?”

“I’ve got work,” Mitch explained before gesturing to Darla. “She’s got her committees.”

“Committees?”

“I’m on the board of the Philadelphia Museum of Art,” Darla offered. “And the Daughters of the American Revolution.”

“Don’t forget the Trocadero,” Mitch supplied, pressing a kiss to Darla’s cheek, before he circled back around to the table. “She’s very connected to the art scene here in the city. If you have any interest in the arts, I’m sure she can find you a job or an internship.”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” You admitted, playing with the end of your braid as you stared down at the glass of juice in front of you. “I never thought I’d get out of Johnstown.”

“Hopefully you can figure that out,” Darla said as she handed you your cup of coffee. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do,” She told you, “But I found a passion for art in high school.”

“Does it pay well?”

“Oh,” Darla exchanged a look with Mitch. “Technically I’m a volunteer.”

“Ah.” You frowned. Given the house you were eating breakfast in and what Mitch had said last night — Darla had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. “As nice as that sounds, I really need something somewhat lucrative.”

Mitch day down beside Tate, across from you, “You’ve got plenty of time to figure out what you want to be. Don’t grow up too fast.”

You smiled a little, “I’ll try not to.” You drummed your fingers against the side of your mug, “What do you do again, Mitch?”

“I’m a real estate broker.”

Your brows furrowed together, “I have no idea what that is.”

“I work for a real estate agency as a manager.” Mitch clarified, sipping at his coffee. “If you wanted to work in real estate, I could get you an internship.”

“I don’t know if I could sell houses,” You made a face. “I’m just going to focus on high school right now. Work on getting a scholarship.”

Tate rolled his car across the table again, “Do you like my car?”

You picked the car up and examined it, “I do. It’s very cool.” You rolled it back to him, glancing at Mitch. “I’m pretty self-sufficient. I'm sure I’ll figure out what my life’s calling is.”

“Philadelphia has so much going on. It’s very up-and-coming in areas.” Darla told you. “You could make a whole life for yourself here in the city.”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of coffee then. Now that you were free — there was a whole world of possibilities. You didn’t have to stay in Pennsylvania for the rest of your life. 

You could go anywhere, be anything, make a name for yourself. 

Mitch and his little family were great, but you didn’t feel any attachment to them. You didn’t feel any attachment to much of anything, frankly. Maybe you were broken. Maybe you’d been through so much shit with your mother, that you’d just shut down emotionally. 

You knew what love was; you even knew what home and family was supposed to feel like, but you weren’t sure you had it in you to feel those things. It was like falling asleep on your hand — you could feel touch, but it didn’t feel real. 

Maybe that’s what your mother felt. Maybe Rebecca was the way she was because there was a big black hole where her heart was supposed to be. 

But you weren’t going to let yourself become her. Maybe one day you could feel something. 

Wouldn’t that be something?