Leather Liberation// Thomas Hewitt x reader

Chapter 11: Liberosis

Liberosis.

The desire to care less about things, to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone. Letting go of the anxiety that everyone is looking at and judging you.

Something like that, anyway.

Before her capture, before she injured her hands, and before she moved back to Texas, y/n lived in an apartment next to a bookstore. It was a common occurrence for her to stop by on her way home from college.

She would spend a good hour browsing the selections on the shelves, tracing spine after spine and page after page.  Reading word after word and buying book after book.

One day, probably a month before her accident, y/n picked up a book titled "Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows."

Although the read was not a boring one, most of the dictionary is a blur to her now. Yet, that one word managed to climb it's way out of the fog and back into her memory. She thought about all day.

It was an interesting word, one she'd have to remember to tell Thomas later during his free time.

Tonight, she sits in the bath, water rippling  against her thighs, bouncing off her skin and then against the bathtubs edge. Steam rolls off the water's surface, filling the bathroom with it's hypnotic fog.

Beads of sweat roll down her skin and join the waters below. Her fingers wrinkle from too much time sitting in the tub. Despite the warmth of the water, she shivers. To quell her anxiety, she leans back in the water, letting the tiny waves tickle her face. 

"You almost done, dear?"

She sighs, rising from the water and calling out to Luda.

"Yep, I'll be right out!"

Water from her hair drips down her back. The sensation reminds her of fingers tracing her spine, leading down to her lower back in a shiver-inducing movement.
She watches the water drain out in a tornado at the bottom of the tub.  her body, shivering from the cold, rises from the tub, grabbing the towel and drying off.

Her ankle has healed completely, she doesn't need assistance anymore, yet Luda still stands outside the door, waiting to help her get ready.

It was usually Thomas waiting when she opened the door, but Luda insisted that he must not see the bride until the ceremony.

"Ceremony " wasn't the best word. There was no fancy clothing, no golden venue, no vases of flowers or dance floor full of guests. Instead, it is y/n, Thomas, Monty,  Hoyt, and Luda gathering at the table for a feast as celebration.

Tonight, she officially becomes a Hewitt.

"I've never had a daughter before," Luda says, helping y/n into a little white dress.

"I hope you don't mind the lack of fanciness, it's the only white dress I got. We don't got much money right now."

"It's fine." She says, examining her figure in the mirror. The dress is loose and flowy below the waist, ending at the knees. The top has a modest neckline, hugging the line of her waist in a flattering way. 

The radio in the corner of the room plays an orchestra. Y/n takes a moment to identify the song. Was it Tchaikovsky?

"You like classical music?" She asks Luda.

Luda shakes her head.

"Nope, it's the only station that reaches us out here.

Y/n watches as Luda turns off the radio, filling the room with awful silence.