#petition to let wee John light something on fire

[mermaidlighthouse]

I REALLY REALLY want for the crew to come for a visit and Ed and Stede are like yeah we don’t really like being innkeepers tbh there’s people in our house ALL THE TIME…can we come back to the ship please? The crew jokingly grumbles but are excited about it and while Stede goes to get his half of the treasure orange, Ed’s like well we gave it a try but this place is shit and Wee John asks “Can we light it on fire?” And Stede pops his head around the door jamb and says “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Do You Want To?

A/N The second prompt-inspired Metric Universe fic, this time in response to a request for Jealous Jamie/Claire by @stellarpuffin. Often we see Jamie being the jealous one, but this idea came to me fully formed. Set way back at the beginning of the Metric timeline, sometime between Breathing Underwater and Lost Kitten. Claire POV, and also just a hint of Jamie/John. Inspired by the Franz Ferdinand song and video referenced in the title, which is gloriously sexually ambiguous and can be seen here.

The entire Metric Universe is available on my AO3 page.

November 14, 2015

Village Underground, Shoreditch, London, England

"Are ye gonna bid on something?" Geillis asked as they made their way through a Tube car converted into an art installation space.

The friends stopped in front of a nine foot pastiche of rubber hoses, protrusions of oil paint and copper plating that seemed to be the artist's interpretation of what it might look like if a factory puked.

"I made my donation when I paid for my ticket," Claire replied. "Intriguing as these pieces are, if I don't mind every penny I'll end up homeless myself."

"Like I'd ever let that happen tae ye," her friend scoffed. "Let's head back tae the main buildin' then and make certain ye get yer money's worth in free food, at least."

Crisis UK's semi-annual fundraiser was a charity auction. Despite her jest, Claire was a regular contributor, having seen the physical and social toll of homelessness first-hand through her work at the hospital. The venue was a converted coal storage warehouse, renovated to the height of Functional Industrial Disrepair, and it echoed with the voices of patrons from all walks of life. Signature cocktails in hand, the two women stood to one side of the room and gossiped between morsels of finger food lifted from passing servers.

"Weeeel, if it isn't the wee fox cub," Geillis remarked with evil glee.

Muddled by several drinks downed in quick succession, Claire looked about for a stray forest animal. What she saw was nearly as unexpected. Standing out amongst the crowd of black dresses and expensive distressed jeans, Jamie Fraser's defiantly chaotic curls and trim navy blue uniform drew her eyes like a magnet. He was leaning down, listening in apparent rapt attention to a petite blonde woman with eyes take took up half her face and a crop top that started its life as a handkerchief.

"Thas' Leery Mackenzie," Geillis noted. "A more persistent flirt ye ne'er did meet, an' thas' comin' from me. Puir lad is in need of rescue."

In truth she barely knew the young fireman, besides having once been the only obstacle standing between his mangled body and the afterlife, but she found herself vaguely disappointed in his choice of company. But who was she to judge? Even heroes were entitled to an easy piece of tail now and then. After all, hadn't he dated Geillis once?

"Don't let me stop you, Duncan. I'll just stand here and hold up this derelict wall."

"Och, nah. Been there, done that. I think ye're the right woman fer the job, Beauchamp."

"Me?" she began to protest, but just then the background music ceased and a well-dressed man called for everyone to take their seats so that the auction could begin.

In addition to the art on display, a number of companies had donated services and experiences to be bid upon. Claire found herself wishing she could afford to indulge in the spa getaway package or a weekend for two in Margate. But then again, who would she take? Instead, she sipped on her drink and observed the crowd as item after item went on the block. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but his blond friend sat in the front row, her bare shoulders glimmering under the bright lights. Who wore glitter to a charity auction, even in Shoreditch, she wondered uncharitably.

"Our next item on offer is sure to bring a smile to some lucky lady's face," the announcer intoned. "Lot 23 is an all-expenses paid night on the town with one of London Fire Brigade's bright young stars, Mister April himself, James Fraser. And here he is now. I'll start the bidding at fifty pounds."

Claire didn't know where to look first. Next to her, Geillis let out an abbreviated cry, sounding like a strangled goat. On the stage, Jamie had sauntered into the limelight, copperplate curls alight and tall, broad form neatly sheathed in navy blue. And in the front row, a glitter-strewn arm shot skyward before the auctioneer even named his starting price.

"Excellent, I have fifty pounds from the enthusiastic young lady in the front row. Do I hear sixty pounds?"

Hands were raised from elsewhere in the audience, but each time Leery answered with a higher bid.   Soon it was only the blonde tart and a slim dark-haired man with astonishingly long eyelashes who were bidding against each other.  

Claire watched to see if Jamie appeared uneasy with the idea of going on a date with another man, but he smiled easily any time the rivals outbid each other.  He wasn’t a vain man, in her estimation, but he wore his striking looks with an easy confidence that was undeniably sexy.  If you were into that sort of thing, that is.

“I have one hundred and sixty pounds from the young lady in front.  Do I hear one hundred and seventy pounds?”

The dark haired man shook his head, looking sincerely disappointed.  Claire felt a pang of sympathetic compassion.

“...once. Going twice. Final call.  I have one hundred and seventy pounds from a new bidder in the back!”

Every head swiveled around to where Claire sat, her arm raised on high.  Leery narrowed her eyes as though Claire had just cursed her lineage.  From the stage, Jamie made eye contact, instantly recognizing her. Perhaps she was deluding herself, but she felt he looked relieved.

“What happened tae livin’ on the streets?” Geillis snickered as the auctioneer recommenced the bidding.

“I’m banking on the fact that you took me in as a stray once before,” Claire retorted as she lifted her hand a second time.

When all was said and done, she ended up paying two hundred and ten pounds to go out on a date with a man she barely knew.  For reasons she couldn’t fathom, saving Jamie from Leery’s avid clutches was more important than her own ambivalence and enforced frugality.

“Ye never cease tae amaze me, Claire,” Geillis laughed after the auction concluded.  “Never in a million years would I have predicted ye had a crush on yon fox cub.”

“That’s because I don’t have a crush on him,” she denied.  “I just find the whole idea of a man, or a woman, mind you, selling himself like a piece of meat incredibly distasteful.”

“Oh, aye,” her friend grinned.  “Tis a noble deed ye’ve done, tae be sure.  An’ now that ye’ve saved him from the butcher’s block, whatever are ye tae do wit’ him?”

“I haven’t the faintest...”

“Good evenin’ tae ye, Nurse Beauchamp.  Geillis.”

The piece of meat in question stood before them, even more impressive at close range.  Just over his left shoulder she could see Leery looking on in disgust, a moue of despair painted on her ample lips.

After a few casual pleasantries, Jamie said, “Sae, Ms. Beauchamp, shall I give ye my number so we can arrange a time fer our wee outing?  I was thinking dinner an’ a show, but if ye prefer live music we could...”

“There won’t be any need to exchange numbers, Mr. Fraser.  Save your money, or better yet, donate it to the fundraiser.”

The look Leery gave her as she and a hysterical Geillis left to grab their coats was worth every penny.

[anasatsia98]

The Devil and The Daughter  Chapter Three

The bakery was closed.

As it was every Sunday and there was no white envelope under her door on this day… there never was. Instead of getting up at the crack of dawn and kneading copious amounts of dough or mixing batter, Cora was sat in Pol's kitchen, idly sipping tea and munching on a piece of toast—with butter and grape jam, strawberry never sat well with her stomach—as Pol read the newspaper.

Much like written in the Bible, Cora did not work on Sunday's. However, it wasn't because it was God's day of rest, rather it was because Sunday held great meaning to Cora. When she was younger, and her father had yet to leave her and her mother, Cora's family would leave for a picnic the moment the last church bell rang. Her father would drive her and her mother up the dirt roads to a grassland that only few knew Small Heath held. Her father and her would lay on the old, brown blanket and stare up at the sky, pointing out shapes as her mother fixed the food.

Cora's mother continued the tradition after her father left, claiming that she didn't need that bastard to drive her up the hill and that she could do it herself. For a while, Cora couldn't seem to find the same amount of joy she used to when they went on their picnics. Her family had fallen apart, her father gone, her mother working extra hours, and her watching their lives unfold. Florence, Cora's mother, wasn't unaware of her daughter's mood and so, on Sunday's, she created a new tradition. One that was just for the two of them.

Waking Cora up at the crack of dawn, Florence would lead the small child downstairs and two the kitchen. The first few times, Cora whined and complained at the time and how tired she was, but Florence ignored her daughter and kept up with the tradition. Together, Florence taught Cora how to bake bread, make cookies, and ice the cakes. The treats they created would be taken up with them to their picnic and the two would feast on the goodies that they had prepared, ignoring the oncoming stomachaches.

On Sunday, Cora spent time with her family.

"Good of you to join us," Cora heard Pol greet as she took a bit of her bread, her eyes flickering up to see Ada lazily walk into the kitchen, "Where have you been all day?"

"In bed," Ada hummed, making her way towards the kitchen, "Couldn't sleep. Then I couldn't wake up. Then I was cold and then I had to go for a wee. Then I was with this bear on a boat but that was a dream. Then I was hungry. Why are you reading the paper?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Pol's question like static in the background to Cora, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked at Ada. If there was one main similarity between Ada and Tommy, it was that neither of them liked sweets. Both her and Tommy had a habit of eating their toast with butter and drinking their tea with either one or no sugar.

So, when Cora saw that Ada was placing two heaping spoonsful of strawberry jam on her toast, she couldn't help but raise her eyebrow.

"I've never seen you read the paper." Ada stated as she took a large bit of her bread, shooting Cora a glare, noticing her questioning stare, "I've only ever seen you light fires with them."

Pol sighed, closing her paper, and Cora leaned back in her chair. Bringing the floral teacup to her lips to hide her smirk, Cora watched as Pol gave Ada an odd look. If Ada was what Cora suspected, then she had to learn to do a better job at being careful… especially if her brothers were around.

"The BSA are on strike. The miners are on strike. IRA are killing out boys, ten a day." Cora could almost see the warning lights flashing in Pol's mind as Ada took a massive bite out of the bread, the jam giving it an extra two inches in height.

Pol's eyes trailed down the young woman's body, her lips pursed and her eyes sharp as they landed on her breasts. Cora placed her cup down and glanced between the two women. Pol had an uncanny knack for figuring things out, she always had. When Cora and Tommy started seeing each other, they kept it hush and undercover. They acted as they normally did and never gave a single hint that something was happening between the two; and yet, Pol was the first to figure it out. Cora and Tommy had only been together near a month when Pol causally asked them how long.

Any secret that was hidden in this house was never hidden from one person.

"Stand up," Pol commanded, her cold eyes never leaving Ada's confused face.

"Why?" Ada hummed as she took another bite of the bread and looked at her Aunt. Cora's presence was quickly forgotten as Pol focused on Ada and Ada focused on Pol.

It wasn't unusual for Cora's presence to be forgotten. Her personality made it easy for her slip into the background. When the boys were at war, Pol and Ada would use this to her ability. On dark nights, she would slip into bars, flirt with men, and eavesdrop on their conversations as soon as important topics came out. Cora was never told to leave the room, the men either forgetting that she was there or not caring enough.

"Just stand up." Pol's face twisted into one of concern and she placed her teacup down as Ada stood up, brush her hands off and grumbling as she did so. Cora's eyes followed Pol's movements, "Side on."

It was quick, neither Cora nor Ada had seen it coming, but Pol grasped Ada's left breast and gave it a sharp push. Ada's reaction was fast, her mouth dropping in shock as her body lurched back. By then, Cora had seen enough. As Ada's body pulled back, her dress twisted around her sides and Ada's once petite frame wasn't as petite as it used to be. Especially around her midsection.

"Oi! What are you doing?" Ada squealed, pushing Pol off her.

"Ada," Pol's voice was gentle and stern, and Cora could hear the concern in her voice, "How late are you?"

It felt as though the kitchen had gone deathly silent at Pol's words. Cora's body tensed and she sat up straight, her eyes locked on Ada's face, observing every reaction that was quick to flicker across before becoming passive. Ada's closed her eyes before leaning her body against the wall and letting out a sigh.

"One week." Ada breathed, her voice wavering as her eyes locked with Pol's, "Five weeks. Seven if you count weekends. I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets."

"But they didn't work," Pol finished for her, sitting back down at the table, Ada following her lead.

"No."

Cora wrinkled her nose in thought, her eyes drifting to the window and she watched as the breeze that traveled through ruffled the clothes that were hanging to dry. There was no doubt in her mind that Ada was pregnant. Her years at the bakery had shown her every stage in which a woman was expecting: the cravings, sore breasts, swollen feet, long nights.

"We're going to have to visit Mrs. Simeon," Cora said, the two other women looking at her, one with fear and the other in agreement. "She's trustworthy and, Ada," Cora's looked at the young woman, "You'll find out one way or another. I think it's better we find out before you give birth."

Pol sighed, "She's right. We'll go later tonight. Nobody can see us or know, especially your brothers, Ada. Lord knows what will happen when they find out."

Ada only nodded in response and it didn't take a genius to know that she was frightened. Cora understood. There had been an… incident a week after Tommy had been drafted. She was late, had cravings, and her breasts were sore. In the end, she wasn't expecting, but Cora never forgot the panic that gripped her heart at the possibility. There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted children with Tommy, but when he had gone with the possibility of him never coming back, Cora feared for them.

"Why don't you come help me with the shop, Ada." Cora gently coaxed the girl, trying to help distract her from whatever the results may be.

"But you're always closed on Sunday." Ada's brows furrowed in confusion causing Cora to smile at her.

"Who said I'd be selling the sweets?" Cora said, and she watched as a soft smile formed on Ada's face.

"Alright," Ada agreed, before getting up and heading up the stairs to get ready.

While Ada was getting ready, Cora placed her dishes in the sink and slid on her coat. There were no words spoken between Pol and Cora, she didn't know what to say and Pol was deep in thought. Ada was already hurrying into the kitchen seconds after she had left and Cora knew that she didn't want to be in the house for much longer.

It made sense, neither knew when one of her brothers would be coming back. The two bide Pol a goodbye before heading out the door and walking down the street, passing The Garrison quickly, and arriving at Cora's bakery. Cora unlocked the door and slid into the bakery, Ada following.

"What are you in the mood for?" Cora asked, hanging up her coat and pulling on her apron, her eyes flickering to Ada as she waited for an answer.

Ada shuffled on her feet, her eyes flickering around the empty bakery before she paced towards one of the tables near the front and placed her purse and coat on it. Cora didn't bother to scold her, not when Ada was in such a vulnerable position. Aside from John, Ada would be the second Shelby sibling to have a child. She knew the struggles John had with keeping his children in line—the whole family did—and how Tommy was always on his back to take better care of the kids.

There was no doubt in Cora's mind that Tommy would be the same on Ada, if not worse. As the only Shelby daughter, there was no doubt in either of their minds that Tommy's reaction would be the worst. Arthur would laugh his eyes slowly turning to ice as he realized that it would not be a joke, John would scoff before threatening to beat the lad up, and Tommy… Tommy would pretend that everything was okay while he made passive aggressive comments to Ada.

"Shortbread," Ada responded after a moment of thought. Cora nodded her head, making her way towards the pantry to get the dry ingredients while Ada placed on the spare apron Cora kept under the counter and grabbed the milk and eggs from the fridge.

The two worked together in a comfortable silence. Words were only spoken when they thought it necessary, but otherwise, a stillness remained. Neither girls minded, though. While Ada mixed together one batch of shortbread, Cora was kneading another. Teamwork had always been a strong suit between the pair. They had grown up together and, even though Cora was two years younger than Tommy and three years older than John, the two depended on each other.

"Can you pass the flour?" Cora asked, already reaching for the bag that rested on the other side of Ada. Ada nodded wordlessly and handed the blonde the bag, her attention focusing back on the stiff batter together.

Opening her mouth, Cora froze, her lips closing and her eyes drifting back towards the circular dough in front of her. As much as she wanted to—craved to—Cora knew it was better not to talk about the events that transpired that evening. There was barely an hour left before their appointment—the sunset quicker in the fall than—and Ada was still mixing with the same amount of aggression she had when she entered the bakery four hours ago.

"Ada," Cora glanced at the clock, "We should go."

"Why?" Ada huffed as she blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at Cora, "We still have thirty minutes."

"Pol wants us to get there early, remember? Before the workday ends and people crowd the street." Cora said, wiping off her hands and hanging her apron up on the rack before pulling her coat on. Ada grumbled at Cora's words but followed in suit, pulling off the apron and putting on her coat.

Under the cover of the falling sun, the two women made their way down the street before making a sharp left. It was the long way to Mrs. Simeon's home, but it was the safest. Going straight there would've raised eyebrows and murmurs would be floating around Small Heath before the moon could kiss the sky. Cora felt that the streets were unusually quiet at this time of day and she couldn't stop herself from glancing behind her as she walked down the cobblestone road, the paranoia building up in her at such a rapid rate her breath was coming out in short puffs.

Pol was waiting in the back alleyway behind the house when they arrived. Her head was slanted downward as she took slow, deliberate drags from her cigarette. At the sound of their footsteps, Pol's head lifted—slightly—and threw her cigarette on the ground, her foot stomping out the embers when she walked towards them.

"We have to be quick," Pol directed, and Cora gave a stiff nod while Ada refused to meet her Aunt's gaze and focused on the brown puddle in front of her, "Cora goes in first—alone—and then we follow."

The rest of Pol's words muddle into nothing as Cora calmly walked to the front of the house. As dangerous it was for Cora to be Thomas Shelby's wife, there was always a level of protection that she had that the rest of the family hadn't. Tommy knew her whereabouts at all times, and Cora wasn't blind to the men in with peaky hats that would make daily trips past her day—some making it extremely obvious that they were checking on her.

While some dared to test Thomas Shelby's limits, others worshipped the ground he walked on—or didn't but still appreciated all he did. And Cora, Cora knew that she was well liked in Small Heath, her warm personality attracting smiles from even the bitterest of men. Cora was protected in the town, Ada was not. She may be a direct Shelby, but ever since she was younger, people loved to see how far they could push Ada.

"Good evening, Mrs. Simeon's." Cora greeted, a smile on her face, as she entered the dark, musty room.

Mrs. Simeon's was a kind woman and one whom Cora enjoyed talking with. Her warm brown eyes seemed to always sparkle no matter how bad her day had been and a gentle smile never seemed to leave her face. Her face held no wrinkles or age-spots and it was only when one looked at her hair that they saw the mass of grey curls.

"Cora, it's so nice to see you," Mrs. Simeon's smiled, "Is Ada here?"

"I'm right here, Mrs. Simeon's." Ada's gentle voice greeted as she stepped into the small house, Pol only seconds behind her.

"Alright then," Mrs. Simeon's said, clasping her hands in front of her, "You can follow me back this way."

Taking a seat, an uneasy silence fell between the two while as they waited for Ada's to finish. Cora debating on starting a conversation with Pol, but the glare she was shooting her way was enough for Cora to keep her mouth shut. Fiddling with her handbag and twisting the ring around her necklace, Cora tried to entertain herself as they waited and tried not to let her nerves get the best of her.

Either way, everything was going to be okay.

It always was.

The stars had yet to join the moon when Ada rushed out of the room and hurried to put on her coat. Cora studied Mrs. Simeon's face for anything, a hint to what the answer was and what Cora would expect to follow. Mrs. Simeon's only nodded, a movement that caused Cora to close her eyes a take a sharp breath.

"Keep bloody walk, Ada," Pol commanded as the three of them left the house. The cover of the night sky was enough to block them from some prying eyes, but not all, "Cora can only take suspicion for so long, and there'll be questions of why we're with her."

Cora nodded mutely and the trio had only taken a few steps before Ada yanked her hand out of Pol's grasp, the cigarette in her hand shaking from the news they had just received.

"I'm not getting rid of it, Aunt Pol," Ada said, her voice wavering at the claim and Cora couldn't help but admire the young woman. When Cora thought she was pregnant, she didn't know what she wanted to do… not when there was a possibility that Tommy wasn't coming home.

"Just come home and we'll talk about it," Pol reached forward to grasp Ada's arm, her voice calm and soothing but with an undertone of urgency.

Ada swatted her hand away, "You get off me or I'll scream. I swear."

The sudden motion had Cora stepping in front of Ada. If anyone came from the side or the back, they would think that it was Pol and Cora who were having the conversation, not Pol and Ada. It was safer for Cora to suspected. Pol glanced around, annoyance written across her face, and she crossed her arms.

"All right, you want to do this on the streets, let's do it. Whose is it?"

Ada hesitated, and Cora saw fear flicker in her eyes, "If I tell you, you'll tell them and they'll cut him to pieces."

"Not if he marries you, they won't." Pol promised and Ada looked away, shuffling uneasily on her feet as she took a long drag of the cigarette, "Will he marry you?"

"I don't know," Ada muttered, her eyes focusing on the ground, "I don't know where he is."

"Ada!"

"Jesus Christ, Ada!" Cora and Pol exclaimed, Pol rolling her eyes while Cora only shook her head, disappointment evident in her eyes. She would think that after what her father did with her mother, Ada would have a better understanding of what type of man to marry and—while Tommy wasn't the best man—he was one who would never run off with another woman.

"Look, he's gone away, but he said he'll come back," Ada tried to explain, her voice rising in frustration and, with what Cora thought, fear.

"Yeah, but they all say they'll come back." Pol snapped.

"He's not like that. He's a good man. He promised," Ada said, her voice lowering to a mere whisper as she tried to reassure herself, her eyes welling with tears as the events of today came crashing down around her, "He will come back, Aunt Pol, I know he will!"

"Ada, we'll believe you more if you tell us who he is," Cora soothed, placing a hand on Ada's back as Pol pulled her into a hug.

There were many men in Small Heath, Birmingham and, as long as Ada didn't have this child with someone who dared to push Tommy, she would be fine. But, deep in the back of Cora's mind, she knew that Tommy and Ada were similar and they always loved to taunt one another. Tommy was, in a sense, Ada's fatherly parent and daughter's never wanted to follow the rules that their father's laid out.

Cora knew that she didn't.

_______________________________________________________________________

Ada had come to the bakery early the next morning and asked Cora to accompany her to a new film that had come out. Cora didn't have the heart to say no to her after last night and followed her out the door and down the street, passing The Garrison. She had no idea what film Ada had picked, but she didn't care. Cora had never been a big fan of going to the pictures.

The red velvet seats were strangely comfortable and the popcorn didn't taste stale. Reaching her hand into Ada's popcorn bag, her eyes trained on the fil that was being played, she brought the treat to her mouth, savoring the buttery taste. The sound from the film echoed in the room around them and even though there were some people with them, she felt as if they were the only two there.

It was only when a loud bang resonated around the room that Cora snapped out of the hypnotic daze she had been in. Whipping around, Cora's eyes widened at the tall man stalking towards them. Ada gripped her hand tightly as she watched her brother approach them and take a seat next to her.

"Tell me the man's name, Ada," Tommy demanded, ignoring the cold glare Cora shot him.

"Rudolph Valentino." Ada dryly replied, her eyes never leaving the screen as her grip on Cora's hand became harsher. Closing her eyes, Cora let out a sigh as Tommy stormed out of the theater.

He wasn't trying to hide his frustration and anger about the current situation and, while Cora agreed that he had the right to be angry, he wasn't handling the situation properly in her opinion. The click of the film being shut off only emphasized her point.

"Get out!" Tommy ordered as he walked back into the room, pointing at the people and then to the door, "All of you! Get on! Now!"

The theater cleared in mere seconds and it wasn't long before Tommy stood in front of the two women, his eyes looking almost black in the dim lighting.

"I said, tell me his fucking name." Tommy hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared down at his sister—his only sister.

"Freddy fucking Thorne," Ada stated, tears filling her eyes as she stared up at her older brother, "Yeah, your best mate since school. The man who saved your life in France! So, go on. Cut him!"

Cora tensely watched as Tommy stared blankly at Ada before heading out the exit, his silence creating an unease between the two girls.

"Cut him up and chuck him in the Cut!" Ada shouted after him, and Cora's eyes widened.

Wasting no time, she slid past Ada and rushed to catch up to Tommy, her heels clicking noisily against the carpet. There was no doubt in her mind that Tommy was going to do something to Freddy. Whether it was to throw him in the Cut, kill him, cut off his hand, she wasn't sure.

"Thomas!" Cora shouted, her voice covering the sound of Ada's quiet sobs as Tommy pushed open the door, the glass vibrating from the force, "Thomas, do not hurt him!"

Her hand had latched onto his wrist before she could think, stopping him in his tracks. His chest was heaving but still, he refused to move out of the dainty hand that controlled him. Cora's face was flushed from the sudden exertion of energy.

"Tommy, leave him alone. She hasn't seen him, so don't you fucking go and fuck him up." Cora demanded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and refusing to shy away from his cold glare.

Cora felt the blood rush through her ears when Tommy didn't respond. Instead, he stared blankly at his wife and blinked. She wasn't a fool; she knew that he heard every word she said. Tommy was stubborn, they both were. Pol compared them to oil and water, but even though they were stubborn, they understood each other's goals and actions.

"Please," Cora whispered, her soft blue eyes staring into his cold ones.

He didn't respond.

Turning on his heels, he continued on his way and left Cora in the middle of the street. Her heart hurt and her mind ached as she wondered what changed… what had happened between the two.

"Thomas, I swear to God."

Sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoyed!