#leroy sane one shot

[sportsgr8]

Champions League: Mbappe s Brilliant Brace Propels PSG Into Quarterfinals

Paris Saint Germain: Kylian Mbappe struck twice as Paris Saint Germain beat Real Sociedad 2-1 to wrap up a comfortable aggregate (4-1) victory over Real Sociedad and book their place in the UEFA Champions League quarterfinals. The capital club's attack tallied six total shots in the first half, with Mbappe opening the scoring for PSG in the 15th minute for a 1-0 lead to give the team breathing room on Tuesday night. Despite having the home crowd behind them, Real Sociedad had a challenging first 45 minutes, as they only registered two total shots. In the second half, the game got tougher for the Spanish team when PSG scored their second goal of the match. Mbappe again haunted the Real Sociedad defense as the PSG star registered his brace after scoring in the 56th minute to make it 2-0. Real Sociedad's offensive performance picked up notably in the final 45 minutes, managing to take a total of 12 shots and securing a late goal courtesy of Mikel Merino. Gianluigi Donnarumma put on an impressive show during the 90 minutes, pulling off six saves even if the Italian goalkeeper let one slip past in the 89th minute, preventing him from keeping a clean sheet. "We're really happy. That was the objective, we wanted to qualify, but we also wanted to win. We had a gameplan that was clear, and we managed to score early. We didn't come under too much pressure, just a little at the end," said Mbappe after the win. Luis Enrique, PSG coach said: "Us managers will always try and find a solution, but it's the players that played well. They all played at a very high level. (They were) solid in defence and very efficient going forward. We produced a promising two-legged performance." Meanwhile, FC Bayern beat Lazio 3-0 on Tuesday night to book a berth in the Champions League quarterfinals. Harry Kane and Thomas Müller overturned the 1-0 first-leg deficit in the first half before the England striker rounded off his brace in the second half for a 3-1 aggregate victory. Bayern began the second leg under pressure after a meek showing in their 1-0 defeat in Rome, but an early chance for the recalled Leroy Sane set the tone for a dominant first-half display by the hosts. Ciro Immobile ended a prolonged spell of Bayern pressure by heading wide when well-placed to double the visitors' aggregate advantage, and Lazio rued that miss as Kane pounced to nod his 50th European goal and draw his side level with his fifth of his club's European campaign. Lazio then suffered a hammer blow when Muller connected with Matthijs de Ligt's exquisite strike to head in from close range and give the six-time champions the lead in the tie for the first time. Kane capitalised further when Ivan Provedel could only push Sane's whipped cross into his path, producing a typically composed finish on a night when his goalkeeper, Manuel Neuer, had precious little to do. Read the full article

[globalhint]

Bayern 8-0 Darmstadt: Kane scores Hat-trick

Bayern 8-0 Darmstadt: Kane scores a hat-trick. On an exciting afternoon at the Allianz Arena, 10-man Bayern Munich defeated nine-man Darmstadt 8-0 after a goalless first 45 minutes thanks to a hat-trick from Harry Kane, including one from within his own half. After just four minutes, Joshua Kimmich was sent off, but the hosts had the man advantage at halftime thanks to red cards for Klaus Gjasula and Matej Maglica. This was the first time three men had ever been sent off in the first half of a German top-flight match. Six minutes into the second half, Kane broke the tie, but his second goal—a stunning effort from within his own half—was the game's high point. He also earned help Jamal Musiala get his first of two goals before scoring his 12th goal in nine games so far this season in the Bundesliga. The biggest loss in the history of the visitors was also aided by two goals from Leroy Sane, who also set up Kane's third. After just four minutes, Kimmich took down Marvin Mehlem at the edge of the area and was given a straight red card, which was deemed to have denied the visitors a clear chance to score. After Gjasula was deemed to have tripped Konrad Laimer, Bayern was initially given a penalty. However, referee Martin Petersen reversed his decision after reviewing the play, ruling that Gjasula was the last man and the incident happened outside the penalty area. As a result, the Albanian was dismissed in the 21st minute and the home team was awarded a free kick. In the 10-v-10, Darmstadt was keeping up with the Bundesliga champions, even having the upper hand in shots for the opening 37 minutes. However, they were the ones who brought about their own downfall when Maglica caught up with Kane almost exactly where the red-card incident had occurred. The result remained the same, but despite threats from Kane and Sane—who had a goal disallowed for offside—the visitors, reduced to nine men, managed to hold the score 0-0 until halftime. Five minutes after Sane's six-yard tap-in of Laimer's cross, Kane's diving header broke the scoreless draw to start the second half. After that, it was a completely different story. Then it was Musiala's time, increasing the lead to 3-0 with a Kane assist and opening the floodgates as Sane scored his brace four minutes later with an 18-yard strike past Schuhen. Subsequently, Kane unleashed his masterpiece, a brilliant strike from a little over the halfway line that had Marcel Schuhen scrambling in vain as he saw the ball land in the back of his net. Before Musiala put Bayern's seventh past Schuhen, Muller made it six with his first goal of the year. The Darmstadt goalie, who was anxious to prevent his team from losing by double digits, made a few excellent saves, but he was unable to stop Kane. Wanting more, the England captain seized the ideal pass from Sane to seal his hat-trick and lead Bayern to a decisive victory in the second half. source credit ALSO READ: Man Utd against Man City: EPL rivals go to fight at Old Trafford Read the full article

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

Blue Moon

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only please. Tumblr makes everything look like a tire fire.

Request:  Leroy Sane smut where you’ve been dating for a couple months but finally decide to take it to the next level but you’re kind of shy

___________________________________________

You’re on the edge of your seat, feeling like you’re going to throw up from excitement and nervousness. They’re so close. They’re so close! Ten minutes are all that stands between City and victory. Leroy hasn’t scored yet but he’s come close, and your heart rises and falls in your throat every time he touches the ball. Nine minutes... they can hold them off for nine more minutes....

An entire lifetime of watching football and you somehow still forget about extra time. You’re not sure you’ll survive another three minutes.  You rock back and forth, chewing your lip raw, chanting under your breath. Come on boys, come on boys, come on come on come on. Your knuckles are white around the lip of the seat until that knob of a referee finally whistles for full time and you can breathe again, hugging everyone around you as the stadium swells with deafening noise. They’ve done it! Another ninety minutes stand between them and the title, but winning their last home game of the season feels pretty damn good.

You wave to Leroy from your seat, and he blows kisses to you. Some of the kids are running onto the field for a lap around the pitch, tradition for the last home game, but you gather your things to leave. It’s your own tradition to meet Leroy back at his flat after the game, away from photographers and gossips, and it’s not like you’ve got children to bring down to the pitch anyway. Besides, you have a surprise for him.

Your last relationship ended so badly you’d sworn off men forever. That had, of course, lasted until the night you met Leroy. But you’ve taken things slowly - very slowly. More than once your friends have warned you that he’ll get tired of waiting and either leave you or cheat. But you’ve never worried about that. Leroy is a good man, a patient man, and he’s never pushed you for anything. Tonight, though. Tonight you’re ready.

The pale blue lingerie is pretty, but you’re not sure if it’s sexy. You’re spinning in front of his bedroom mirror, wondering if you’ve made the right choice, when Leroy bangs in the front door, singing “Blue Moon” at the top of his lungs.

“YOU SAW ME STANDING ALOOOONE, WITHOUT A DREAM IN MY HEEEART, WITHOUT A LOVE OF MY OOOWN! BABE!” You grin at your own reflection. You look cute as hell, and your man is flying high on a win. “BAAABE! Babygirl where are you?!?”

“In here!” 

You kneel quickly on his bed, and when he comes through the door and sees you all he says is “Woah.” He’s stopped just over the threshold, staring open-mouthed. “Woah,” he repeats himself.

“You like it?”

You see his Adam’s apple bob. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes drop to look you over. “Is that for me?”

“If you want it.” You try to sound flirty. You’re not totally confident but he’s looking at you like you’re an entire meal.

“If I want it? Babygirl.” He starts stripping off his jacket and shirt as he crosses to you. “You look... you look incredible. Damn.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Can I?” He fingers a bit of satin between his fingers.

“You don’t have to ask permission to touch me, Leroy.” You giggle nervously. It’s not like you’ve never been with a man, but this feels different. “Look.” You pull on a ribbon and part of the sheer garment comes loose. “Think you can manage the rest?”

His fingers are slow but sure of themselves as he delicately unties the lacy thing. His eyes are flickering between your face and your body, hums of appreciation in his throat as more of you is exposed. You run your hands over his arms as he goes and when all that’s left is your panties, so skimpy they can barely be called clothing, he stops to press his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. His hands spread over your body as he pulls you against him, his kiss needy. “You’re sure,” he murmurs, fidgeting with the ribbon tie of your panties.

“Yes,” you say, smoothing your hands over his chest and around his neck. “Now get these off, please.” You tug on the waistband of his jeans and smile as he eagerly pushes his remaining clothing down his legs, stumbling a bit when he kicks off his shoes but recovering to take you by the waist to bring you to him for another kiss.

“How do you feel?” He’s quiet, his fingers dancing over your skin.

You trail your lips over his collarbone and up the soft skin of his neck. Your pulse is racing, your panties dampening as he caresses you. “Ready.”

“Oh?” His hand travels to the inside of your thigh and he slips a single finger under the hem of the lace. Your fingers sink into his shoulders, your breathing quickening as he parts your lips to brush against the arousal dripping from you. “Babygirl,” he groans, and when he pushes his finger into you, you tighten against him with a whimper. He eases his finger gently out to rub leisurely circles over your clit.

“Leroy,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him to press your face into his neck. You’ve always associated his scent with a kind of comfort, but now, as you breathe him in while his fingers deftly work you to your peak, the way he smells sparks a whole new feeling of lust inside you. You can’t believe you waited this long to let him touch you like this. You can’t believe how quickly he’s got you coming apart.

His arm circles around your waist, his free hand spread over your butt. Your stomach is tightening and your arms are clenched around his neck, your breath coming in shallow pants. “Leroy, baby.” Your voice is nearly inaudible but he holds you tighter, his fingers moving quickly over your clit until the tension building within you cracks and you’re crying out against his neck, powerful waves coursing through you as your climax takes over. 

Leroy lovingly kisses your neck, his arms around your waist as his lips trail over your skin while you slowly regain your senses. You haven’t had an orgasm like that since... well, you can’t even remember. You let out a small laugh.

“What?” Leroy’s lips are still on your skin, moving over your shoulder.

“My legs are shaking,” you giggle. “You’ve left me weak in the knees, baby.”

He laughs with you, raising his head level with yours for a tender kiss. His full lips are soft, but with his body pressed to yours you can feel he is painfully hard. You lower your hand to tentatively stroke him. You’re slightly unsure of yourself, but his hips push forward into your touch and his hold on you tightens as he deepens the kiss, his tongue rolling against yours and a low moan rumbling in his chest. 

“Are you ready,” he asks in a hushed tone, and you nod, pulling away from him to move yourself up the bed. He follows, his lips on yours as he crawls over your body. While he digs in his nightstand for a condom, you untie the ribbons of your panties to toss them aside. You watch him roll the condom on and try to focus on the way he’s looking at you, his gaze loving and his hands gentle on your body as he lowers himself over you. 

“Are you sure,” he asks again. He cups a hand to your cheek to look you in the eyes. “We don’t have to.”

You respond by gripping his shaft in your hand and pulling him to you with your legs, guiding him into you as you meet his lips in a heated kiss. He sinks into you and you let out a small yelp against his mouth. Shit, it’s been a long time. He stills, his weight on one arm while the other hand splays over your chest. “We can stop,” he murmurs. “It’s OK.” He’s rutting against you, moving just enough to make you crave more.

“Leroy,” you retort. “Shutup.” You push up into him and that’s all it takes for him to take control. He plunges into you, every snap of his hips earning him a high-pitched whine from you. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel full like this, to have this itch scratched, and when he presses his thumb to your clit again the sensations that spread over your body send stars across your vision. If you could, you would laugh at how quickly he can make you come.

“Leroy,” you manage to gasp. “Le-” Your voice catches in your throat as his thrusts get heavier. You’re so close to coming undone again, your body wound tight beneath his as he slams into you. “Fu... Leroy...”

“I’m here, baby.” His voice is in your ear, his scent surrounding you. “Come for me, baby.” He covers your mouth with his in a warm, wet kiss and you cry out against his lips as a second orgasm overtakes you. Your body goes taut and releases, your hips rolling desperately against him as relief floods through you and your breath coming in quiet sobs. 

“Shit, babygirl, you’re so beautiful, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Leroy hooks one arm under your knee and pushes deeper into you, your walls still pulsing around him as the remnants of your release fade away. You can do nothing but cling to him as he pounds into you until with a final thrust he’s growling loudly with his own climax. “Babygirl,” he breathes against your neck. “Holy shit.”

Your arms are around his shoulders. The two of you are almost breathing in sync, your chests rising and falling dramatically as you suck in wind. When he finds the strength to rise up to get rid of the condom, the sudden lack of warmth and weight over you is jarring. “Get back here,” you laugh.

“Oh now you’ve let me in your pants you get to order me around?” He slides back into bed and you playfully swat at him, but he catches your arm and pulls you snugly to him, your head resting on his chest.

“I shouldn’t have made you wait that long.” You scratch your nails lightly over his chest. “I was missing out.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You didn’t ‘make’ me do anything. And you were worth the wait.”

You nuzzle into him. “I’m proud of you, by the way. For today. Well done.”

“Thanks, baby.” He yawns, loudly, stroking a hand absentmindedly over your back. “So I don’t have to pretend to not have morning wood anymore, right?” You look up at him. His eyes are closed, but he’s smiling. The twerp.

“Guess you’ll find out in the morning.”

His smile widens, and his arm tightens around you. “Oh yeah. You were so worth the wait.”

[the1beautifulgame]

Face The Strange.

This is something I’ve never done before: I wrote a sequel! This is part to of Baby Dream featuring Leroy Sané. I hope y’all enjoy!

-

The door to the Manchester City locker room burst open and I whirled around, expecting my husband. To my relief, it was just Raheem, who came to indicate that practice was over. “You good?”, he asked and quickly helped me put away the trash I'd left on the floor. “Yes.” I happily looked at my work. I'd brought about thirty balloons in all possible colours to the locker room, and distributed them all over the room. Along with them, I also hung up some ribbons, and on the floor, I spelled out SURPRISE in wooden letters I'd found at a craft store. In front of the letters, I'd placed a little box with the actual surprise in it.

It had been one and a half years, since Leroy and I had agreed on waiting a few years before we had children. He'd been ready, but me not so much, and my darling husband had put my wishes before his own. I'd thought I'd need a lot more time, but after about a year, I found myself dreaming about having a child. I gave myself time, thinking back and forth, but I eventually came to the conclusion: I wanted a baby. Looking at Leroy, who got melancholy every time he held Kevin's son, he wanted it too. So I stopped taking birth control, without telling him. I wanted to surprise him.

Soon enough, my period was late. I waited a week, but when no blood came, I took a test and had it pink on white: I was pregnant. Immediately, I was overcome by a silent joy. Inside me was a part of Leroy, something we would share for the rest of our lives. At first, I wanted to tell him right away, but then I changed my mind. Instead I called Raheem, and we'd come up with the idea of surprising Leroy with the news after a practice. Now, Kevin was holding Leroy up, so his teammates had time to come to the locker room and watch the surprise unfold.

Raheem now set up the speaker and turned his phone on Changes by David Bowie. “Okay”, he said, as the first of his teammates came in the locker room and waved at me. They all knew about the surprise, so they behaved extraordinarily calm. “Don't forget the camera”, I reminded Raheem, and gave him my phone. He took it and I went to stand in the corner where Leroy wouldn't see me, when he walked in. Not even a minute passed, then it got quiet very suddenly, and I knew he was here.

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes / Turn and face the strange”, sang David Bowie, as we all waited for Leroy's reaction. But he seemed simply confused, as it remained quiet, apart from the music. “There's a surprise for you, man”, Kevin eventually remarked helpfully. “For me?”, I now heard Leroy. When he moved over to get the little box, I finally caught a glimpse of him. He had his back turned towards me, so he couldn't see me. Raheem was right in front of him, and the camera captured the moment when I walked up behind him and he took the news in.

Inside the the little box Leroy now opened, I'd placed a single blueberry, along with a note that said our baby is seven weeks. He looked up at Raheem with the camera, and I wished I could see his face. “Is this…”, he trailed off and looked at his teammates. Raheem moved his chin and motioned towards me. Leroy turned around and finally saw me. His eyes were wide, and a smile spread on his face. “Does that mean you're pregnant?”

Unable to speak, I just smiled widely and nodded. Disbelief was written all over his face. He looked down at the blueberry again and then back at me. His eyes were now moist. And then he placed the box on the floor and pulled me into his arms. “God I love you”, he said. “I love you so much.” His voice broke halfway through the second I love you, which caused my eyes to fill up with tears. His teammates clapped and cheered loudly, and Leroy leaned down to kiss me passionately.

It was a short, hot kiss, then he simply held my face in his hands and looked at me through tears. “You just made me the happiest man alive”, he confessed. One of his hands dropped down to my stomach and he rubbed it softly. I snuggled my face into his chest while tears of joy started running down my face. Very suddenly, he let go of me and dropped to his knees and moved my shirt up, so he could kiss the skin under which our tiny child was, barely the size of a blueberry. My hands flew up to my face as I laughed and cried at the sheer happiness that was overwhelming me.

“Oh stop sobbing, will you!”, Raheem ruined the moment insensitively. Immediately, Leroy was there to take me back into his arms. “Shut up!”, he scolded, but I could hear the smile when he spoke. “My girl is pregnant!” He made a sound, half laughing, half crying. “Guys, my wife is having my baby!” “I would be crying too if I had your baby!”, was Raheem's comment to this, but the rest of the guys, even Kevin, laughed at Leroy, who was still completely in awe.

“So are we supposed to keep it a secret?”, Kun asked over the general noise. I nodded and looked up at Leroy, knowing he'd want the same. “Yes please. I want to tell our parents first”, I said and felt him squeeze my shoulder. “We'll tell you as soon as it's open news”, he assured. Kevin snickered. “Then the whole world finally has proof that you had sex with her.”

“Okay, you can turn the camera off now!”, I said to Raheem and snatched my phone out of his hands, while the jokes and remarks took a dirty note. Only Vincent pitied me. He came over to hug me, and in my ear he whispered: “Congratulation my dear. You will be a wonderful mother.” I smiled and hugged him back. “Thank you. And sorry you have to put up with the bunch of them.” This sent him into loud laughter and he looked at his protégés. “Ah, they're something else.”

“Yes we are!”, Raheem sang and led Leroy back to me. “Here. Take care of your wife.” “Oh you bet I will”, he said and scooped me up into his arms. He leaned in and kissed me again, but I drew back after a few seconds. “I'm holding everyone up”, I said. He sighed but let me go. “Alright. Wait outside for me, okay? I'll hurry up.” I got on tiptoes and kissed him quickly. “Okay, see you in a bit.” When I was already half outside, I turned back around. “Oh and Raheem, thanks for offering to clean everything up, I really appreciate it”, I said, then I quickly slipped out of the locker room before he could protest.

While I was waiting for Leroy, I texted my mother and my mother in law to invite them and their husbands to stay with us sometime soon. I couldn't wait tell them about the baby. My hand dropped down to my stomach and I was once again filled with the joy that this little child already now brought to me. It wouldn't be just my husband and me anymore. We would be a family.

Leroy must've really hurried up, because he was back in five minutes, his curls still wet from the shower. In his hand, he held the little box with the note and the blueberry. “I love you”, he said immediately and kissed me, his lips warm and soft on mine. “I love you too”, I murmured and wrapped my arms around him. The world stood still for a moment as we held each other, the three of us. Eventually he pulled back a little and paused, his forehead pressed against mine. “And about the song you chose, I'm so ready to face the strange. As long as you're with me.” I giggled and hugged him tightly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

[allaboutfutbol]

It was a long and tiring day for you. The lockdown was over and the lives of the people were slowly going back to normal. The shops were opening, restaurants were opening -slowly but steadily. You wish you were a child because schools weren't going to open anytime soon but universities ? Nope, they don't care if you live or die, you have to attend classes four days a week and submit assignments on time. Oh not to mention the midterm that was approaching at the end of the month.

Today was your first day back to university and boy, you hated it . You were panicking whenever someone came too close to you, whenever someone even sneezed nearby you, you were happy to see your friends but you didn't get to hug them, neither did they you. Wearing a mask all day was suffocating but you weren't going to take any risks about your health. Especially when there was someone living with you.

You didn't know how you'd made it back home after attending a two hour long class. You didn't remember getting back and throwing your jacket and shoes off and making a beeline straight for the bathroom. You were currently soaking in the bath after washing up yourself. Your skin was raw from all the scrubbing but you did what you had to. Lo-fi music was playing through the wireless speaker set up by the bathtub and it was all you needed to unwind and relax. You were humming along washing your body softly and touching yourself fleetingly.

You didn't even hear the front door open and close, neither did you see the shadow at the doorway till he poked his head in. You were too tired to react to his presence. He hadn't been to training because training together in groups was still forbidden. Where did had he been to ?

" I knew you'd be too tired after your first day back to uni, so I just grabbed us dinner", he smiled answering the question on your mind. He was holding up a packet of food from the place down the lane. Restaurants had opened last week and you were surprised he had waited that long before heading out and getting you two food.

Who would've thought that a professional footballer like him would even frequent a nearby food joint but there he was holding the food and smiling at you. It reminded you of how simple things used to be. Another time, it would be the two of you together in the bathtub, huddled together and enjoying each others presence. You two would discuss everything, ranging from how both of your days were to how he nutmegged his teammate during practice session or how you met a golden retriever in the park and played with it.

"You do look cozy there... " he said pointing at you in the tub. You hadn't even realized that your lips had morphed into a smile as you were thinking about the good old times.

"Well if you wanna get cozy before eating, then take a shower and only then can you join me in here . "you replied, holding back a smile. You didn't wanna fuel his ego but you didn't have to say it, that you missed him today. He knew, like he always did.

He knew how much you liked it when he massaged your neck while you two talked about your lives in the bathtub. He knew you needed it but wouldn't ask for it.

"Okay then, I'll take a quick shower and join you."

"You better get in before it gets cold then", you laid back against the side and relaxed.

Things have changed but that doesn't bother you much because you know that you have him by your side. You were grateful for all of the things you had; a roof over your head, food on the plate , friends and family who were safe and most importantly him. As long as you had these, you knew you were safe and sound. You were in your safe place. ♥

Hey, anyone who's reading this.

I created this side blog to write about my favorite players and teams, like a year ago. I haven't written in a while but I felt like I needed to pen this down and get back to writing in general.

I didn't write for someone in particular so feel free to imagine your favourite and yourself :)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! ✨

I literally wrote after a year :D

[footballerimaginess]

You’re Hiding Something From Me Part 2

You’re Hiding Something From Me Part 1 This is part 2 of this because I really loved writing the first one.  Word Count: 771 Taglist: @meteora-fc​ @thestarofthesea​ @lawsandother​ (Let me know if you want to be added to the list!) “What do you mean wow?” you asked Leroy once you showed him the positive pregnancy test. “what do you want me to say babe? I would have rather you told me than instead you kept it to yourself and I would have loved to be here as you took the test on your own.“ Leroy said. “Sorry Le. I really didn’t mean too babe. I am so scared, I needed to take the rest to reassure myself. I honestly don’t what you to get upset with me. This is something so big for me. Please I don’t want us to argue” You pleaded him. “I’m sorry babe, it’s just a huge shock. I really didn’t expect you to say you were pregnant. But that’s the situation we are currently in right now” he said as he grabbed you for a cuddle. You laid with him for a cuddle. “I know it is going to be okay I am so excited for baby Sane. I am sorry that you have been feeling rubbish. I am sure the sickness and that will go soon. I am going to be the best daddy, I will be able to help you the whole way through this" you laughed at him. “Thanks. Now let me just rest and forget about what had happened this evening. I want to have a bath and I will start in the morning going to the doctors” Leroy nodded as you pulled way from his grip as you went upstairs. You come up and filled the bath up steaming hot. Filling it up with lots of bubbles. This was really going to help you as you were really stressed with the whole announcement to Leroy. This was really very much needed. Once you have come out of the bath, you saw Leroy sitting on the bed. “Nice bath baby” you nodded as you wrapped yourself up in a dressing gown. “You look cute, now lets get snuggled up in bed. I fancy making you some hot chocolate” he smiled. “No I am not that interested in hot chocolate. I have a fear that it will make me extremely sick. So I think I will just have some water or something” you smiled as he nodded heading downstairs to get some drinks. “Here we go babe” he passed you the bottle of water. “Thank you. If I can get an appointment for the midwife/doctors tomorrow. Will it be possible if you came with me or are you not able to? Obviously depending on the timing of the appointment” you asked him as you got comfy in bed. You were really hoping that you had a good night sleep as you hadn’t had too much sleep considering how rubbish you had been feeling before finding out you were pregnant. The night had passed. “Morning baby” Leroy smiled as you sipped your water. “Morning” you grinned at him, before heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth. “How are you feeling?” Leroy asked. “I’m okay, feeling a little sicky. But nothing to bad. I’ll ring the doctors now, see if I can get an appointment" you told him as he went for a shower. You finally booked a midwife appointment. It was due when Leroy was going to get some physio, so he was unable to come with you. You got yourself ready and made yourself look a lot better. Looking much more presentable, trying not to look too unwell which you were currently feeling. You headed to the doctors, realising how many people where in here, kind of made you freak out. Hoping you didn’t recognise anybody “Hello Y/N” the doctor says as you walked in and sat down. “What can I help you with today?” He asked you. “I have just found out I am pregnant.” You say. “Congratulations, know how many weeks?” You shook your head. “Okay want to lay on the bed and I can get the scanner and ultrasound you” he nodded, before leaving the room. He come back in the room with the ultrasound scanner. “Lift your shirt up for me please” he said as you lifted it up. “This will be very cold” he said as he looked at the screen and saw what looks like a baby. “See that, small dot in the middle?” You nodded. “That is your baby growing, you are currently 4 weeks pregnant. Shall I print this scan out for you” you nodded. "Thank you so much" you smiled. As you got to your car, you looked at the scan. Couldn't take your eyes off of it. This was really happening now.

[starlightseb]

Masterlist ✨

Trent Alexander Arnold  cuddles and cake

Hector Bellerin be my valentine?

Paulo Dybala pregnancy cravings

Dele parenthood practice  life in the fast lane

Eric Dier black heels

Eden Hazard daddy’s little girl

Jesse Lingard dear diary

Ruben Loftus-Cheek I Couldn’t Be More In Love

Kylian Mbappe breathe me  sunflowers

Marcus Rashford rivalries aside jealousy

Leroy Sane crying in the club

((last updated: 25/07/19)))

[upstartpoodle]

Moving Forward (Chapter 2)

Rating: T

Relationships: Dwight & George, George & Ross, George & Cary, past George/Elizabeth.

Summary: The next chapter of my post s5 AU. Cary argues with Valentine over George's disappearance and pays a visit to Nampara, whilst the Poldarks and Enyses speculate over what happened.

@harry-leroy, @forcebros, @ticketybooser. It’s a day late but I got there in the end ha. I hope you enjoy it! :D

AO3

***

“Uncle Cary, where is Papa?”

“Hellfire and damnation” Cary Warleggan muttered from where he was stood, arms folded, staring down at the fire crackling in the grate of the parlour. When they had spotted the dubious activities of Ross Poldark from the clifftops that day, he had thought that they had finally, finally, found their way to victory against the cursed man. In the cold light of that winter’s morning, however, he found that—far from the triumph he had envisioned—not only had George, after running off to Nampara in the middle of the night, vanished off the face of the earth, but also that that unfortunate event had once again put him in the unenviable position of having to deal with the nigh endless pestering of his nephew’s little brat of a son. Turning around, he saw Valentine standing in the middle of the room, fixing him with a determined stare to which he had become all too accustomed in the wake of George’s illness. He sighed sharply through his nose.

“Where is Papa?,” the boy repeated when he received no answer to his first question. “I wanted to speak to him, but he hasn't come down to breakfast.”

Cary let out a growl of frustration, not bothering to disguise it from the child. Had he known the answer to that, he himself would have been sitting down to eat his fill at the breakfast table, unconcerned, rather than treading the parlour rug into disrepair, hoping, each time he turned back to the window, that he would see the slim form of his nephew riding, unharmed, up the driveway. He was of half a mind to tell the boy exactly that, but he had enough good sense—and knowledge of Valentine’s temperament—to realise that it would have done little to get him to go away.

“You can't speak with him now, boy,” he said instead. “He is away from home.”

'Away from home', his own thoughts sneered back at him. How polite a phrase for 'possibly dead in a ditch somewhere', or 'thrown down a mine', or 'tossed over the cliffs for the ocean to swallow him whole—'”

“But why?,” Valentine spoke up again, stubborn. “Where is he?”

“Somewhere where he is not being burdened by the endless questions of nosy little brats,” Cary snapped, trying his best to push the lurid imaginings out of his mind. “Go and bother Bessie if you must. I am busy.”

After all, he thought, George had left very late last night, and it might well have been the case that, all having gone to plan, he had been obliged to stay at Nampara until morning, and had yet to return. Somehow, as the images of the ugly look on Hanson's countenance as he had left the evening before—and that of the fierce determination on George's—flickered in his mind's eye, he rather doubted it was. But if it were, he resolved to give the damned little fool a scuff about the ear at the very least when he returned.

If he returned.

God damn.

“You aren't doing anything expect pacing about the parlour,” Valentine argued, and with another surge of frustration that would have had him tearing his hair out in the days when he still had any, Cary noted that he had not, despite his instructions, moved an inch from his spot in the middle of the room, what little that could be seen of his brow beneath his unruly mop of curls marred by a frown that was part worried, part mutinous. “And I don't think you know where he is.”

Cary snarled. Why the sheer, blunt nerve of the child—

“Don't be absurd, you cheeky little—!” he barked, ready to give the boy a piece of his mind, but he was cut resolutely off.

“I heard you arguing last night,” Valentine said, glaring at him. “Papa said he was going to Nampara. Why hasn't he come back yet?”

And was that not the very question that had been plaguing him ever since he had woken that morning to find George still missing. Where was he? Why had he not returned? No matter how he tried to reassure himself, a thousand possible answers were whirling through his head, each one so horrible that, caught up in the thought of them as he was, he barely even registered that Valentine had just admitted to eavesdropping on them the previous night. Perhaps Hanson, furious at his betrayal, had attacked him. Or Poldark himself, having seen his long-standing enemy enter the fray and thinking him ill-intentioned. Or maybe Poldark had already been dead and dealt with by the time George arrived, and the General had overpowered and shot him, or slit his throat, or whatever it was that such men did to those who interfered with their plans. He felt faintly sick. God curse it, why had he ever let him go? He should have had him dragged up to his chamber and locked in for the night, sane or no, his own guilt and discomfort be damned. George would have been furious with him, no doubt, but at least he would have been safe.

“That,” he said through clenched teeth—damn and blast it, why would the little nuisance not leave him alone?, “is none of your concern—”

“Why?” the child retorted angrily, before he could even finish chastising him. Cary wanted to yell. George would never have questioned him in such a manner as a child—indeed, even the slightest hint of anger on his part had often been enough to have him scampering away to hide—so why, good God, why, would his blasted little brat not do the same?

“If you ask that one more time,” he growled, marching up to the boy and brandishing a threatening finger in front of his nose, “I will be forced to tell you what happens to little boys who say 'why' too much. Now go and eat your breakfast.”

Valentine, however, did not appear much impressed by the threat. His dark brown eyes narrowed, fixed on the finger in front of him with a disturbingly familiar look of disdain that seemed out of place on his round, childish face. It was, Cary realised, an exact replica of the expression his father reserved for the likes of Ross Poldark.

“I don't want to eat my breakfast,” he said, stamping his foot in hard on the floor in a manner which, had said father been present, he would likely have been chided for as being ungentlemanly. “I want to know where Papa is!”

His voice was growing rapidly louder in his anger, and Cary foresaw that, should he not take action now, the argument would devolve into a shouting match for which his already frayed nerves would not thank him. And so it was that, fed up and fast losing patience, he simply grabbed Valentine by the shoulders and corralled him back into the hall and to the dining table, where his half-eaten bowl of porridge sat, fast cooling and abandoned.

“Sit” he said.

“No!”

“Sit!” he repeated.

There seemed to be something sufficiently dangerous in his tone that Valentine actually complied, but only with extreme reluctance. Something in the way he sat there, arms folded, glaring mutinously up at him, told him that, though he may be sitting now, he—Cary—would not enjoy the consequences of it. It suddenly occurred to him that he had just put a cross Valentine in range of a number of potential missiles, which he knew from experience the child was unlikely to balk in employing. Porridge, for example. Grey, pasty, lukewarm porridge which might at any moment be catapulted his way.

“Don't you even think about it” he growled low in warning.

Valentine stared back at him, unmoving. They stared and stared, until Cary broke his gaze with a scowl, looking about for the nursemaid, who was stood to one side, doing her utmost to impersonate a stretch of the wall.

“Bessie,” he barked. “Make sure that he eats all his food. And see to it that he does not disturb me again.”

Bessie gave a little bob and a soft “yessir”. With a sharp nod, Cary made to depart to the parlour once more—if nothing else but to remove himself from the line of fire—though not without a sour glance towards the dearly departed Elizabeth, where her portrait hung beside  the door leading from the hall. The whelp's wilfulness surely must have come from her. It was true that George could often be stubborn and wilful himself (something which had greatly irked Penrose when he had explained the need to use more robust—which he would absolutely not think of right now), but he had never been so openly defiant as a child, and certainly not towards his guardians. Personally, he thought the boy had been overly-indulged—Francis' lad had been overly attached to his mother and he had grown up to be a brat of rather impressive proportions, after all. Having said that, though, he could hardly claim that George was much stricter a disciplinarian than his late wife when it came to his children.

“Uncle Cary?”

Cary bit back a groan. He had barely even managed to reach the doorway and still the little brat would not let him be.

“What?,” he scowled, whirling back around to face him. “What is it?”

He fixed the boy with a stern gaze, but there was something he saw in Valentine’s face that had him frowning in what a charitable—and as far as Cary would have been concerned had he been present to hear such an opinion, deeply mistaken—person might have described as a worried manner. He was still angry and recalcitrant, yes, but there was something else in his expression—something frightened and uncertain that he hadn't quite yet learnt to hide.

“Uncle Cary,” he said again, and Cary thought he detected a slight wobble to his voice that had him inwardly cringing even more than his defiance had. “Have the bad men done something to Papa?”

Cary fought back a flinch with all his might. A horrible image of his nephew lying in some unknown dark hole, covered with red, congealing blood, eyes blank and glassy, flashed through his mind, but he forced it down. Carefully schooling his features so that his own fears would not seep through into his expression, he looked Valentine right in the eye and forced himself to speak.

“What bad men?” he said, as if he didn't know exactly to whom it was that the child was referring, as if that very possibility hadn't been what had had had him pacing about the parlour in a frenzy ever since he had woken. Valentine, however, did not seem convinced, for the look he sent him in return was both deeply cross and far too withering to sit naturally on the features of a child so young.

“The bad men that were here last night,” he replied. “You and Papa were arguing about them. I already told you that I heard you.”

Cary glared. Even when he was verging on upset, the boy still could not suppress the urge to show disrespect. He should have just walked out of the room and be done with it. But then, he would probably just have followed him again. What he would do to give the brat the hiding he deserved, but George, he knew, would have been furious with him, and so he swallowed down his anger as best he could.

“Eat” he snapped.

He nodded his head sharply towards the still untouched porridge. It would be unpleasantly cold by now, but really, it was the child's own fault for letting it cool. Valentine, though, didn't even cast the merest glance at it. He simply stared right back at him, and shook his head violently from side to side, so that his already messy curls flew even further out of place. For a moment, Cary was inexplicably reminded of the way in which his old hound, Ambrose, had used to shake the water from his shaggy coat after a foray into the sea, before he noticed that, though Valentine’s jaw was clenched tight, there was a distinct tremble to his lip which sent a spark of panic rising suddenly into his chest. Damn and blast, please say that he would not cry. He could not abide wailing children. George, he had always been able to scold out of it, and he had soon learnt not to do it, but somehow, Cary suspected, the same would not work for his son. And in that case, what could he do to stop him?

“Do you think I would let anybody into the house if I thought there was a risk that they might hurt somebody here?” he said with a sigh, attempting more to appeal to reason than to comfort, but unfortunately, it seemed to do little to appease Valentine.

“You let that man in when Papa was ill,” he argued, and his voice was most definitely shaking now. “You let him hurt Papa.”

Cary scowled, turning sharply away. First George, and now his wretched son. Were both of them determined have the shadow of Penrose hang over his head like a cloud for the rest of his life?

“Dr Penrose was not a bad man,” he retorted, with a conviction that, even as he forced away the memory of watching his nephew, limp and pained and vulnerable, being shackled tight to his own bed, he wasn't entirely sure he believed. “He—”

“He hurt Papa,” Valentine interrupted, with a fierce simplicity that only a child could achieve. “He was a bad man.”

Cary turned back to look at him and, feeling his heart sink to somewhere in the region of his stomach, realised that he was on the verge of crying, tears shining in his dark eyes, though he had not yet let them fall.

“The bad man who was here...,” he spoke again, and this time, his voice was surprisingly small. “He wanted to hurt Uncle Ross. What if he hurt Papa too?”

It was Cary's instinct to snap at him not to be so foolish, but his own whirling thoughts stopped him. After all, he could hardly claim it to be so foolish a thought, else he would not have been entertaining the notion himself. He was fully aware that Hanson and Merceron were dangerous men. They had had Despard hanged because he defied them. They had had Poldark thrown down a mine and then plotted to have him murdered by the French because he had supported the man. They had even had that little dog of the Enys woman's poisoned because she had helped to besmirch their reputations. What they would do to an ally who had betrayed them, he did not know, but he doubted that it would be anything good. Suddenly, he was horribly aware of how little he knew, and he could no longer bear it. Could no longer bear the thought of going back to stand at that blasted window waiting for something to happen, whilst he was pestered with endless questions that he could not answer. He had to know for certain what had happened, no matter how terrible the news that awaited him was.

“Fine, fine,” he growled, half to himself as much to Valentine. “I am going to Nampara! Now will you eat?”

“No,” Valentine said, his voice suddenly firmer, though the tears had not quite dissipated. “I'm going to come with you.”

He had already slipped halfway out of his chair, but Cary strode forward and, taking him roughly by the shoulders, pushed him down again.

“No, you are not,” he said. “You, young man, are going to sit here and eat your breakfast or so help me I will—!”

Valentine cut him off with another of his defiant looks, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Shouting at the boy would achieve nothing, no matter how satisfying he might have found it.

“Just stay here and wait,” he sighed. “Patiently. I will return soon enough. Bessie, make sure that he does not go running off.”

Another bob and a “yessir”, and he was already striding out into the hall, not daring to look back lest the boy be encouraged to scamper after him. He grabbed his coat, hat and gloves and donned them without care, then wrenched open the door and stepped out into the weak morning sun, marching off in search of his horse. He did not yet know what it was he would find at Nampara, but whatever sight he might have to steel himself for, there would be Hell to pay. The only question was: who was it that would be doing the paying?

***

The fire was crackling low in the grate when Ross was jolted out of the light doze he had been slipping into by the sound of a crow cawing in the tree outside. He groaned—his neck and back were aching from the unnatural position he had been contorted into by the rickety old chair—and rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes, trying to keep himself awake. He couldn't fall asleep now, not when it had been stressed to him how important it was that George's condition be carefully watched over.

As much as he might have wished it, George had not so far proved illuminating in the matter of his unlikely intervention and the cause behind it, but Ross was not so much of a fool as to have thought that he would be. The man had not even so much as shifted in his sleep in however long he had been sitting there—how much time had past since he had left the parlour to watch over him, he really had no idea. Exhausted and weakened by pain and blood-loss though he was, however, George made a surprisingly good companion, as he tried to make sense of his rioting, tumultuous thoughts. His silent presence was somehow comforting to him—no pressure to talk, to plan, to take action. And perhaps it was a little more than that as well.  Even white and wan and as close to death as he looked, being able to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, assured of the fact that, despite all, he still lived, he felt he could cling a little tighter to the hope that he would pull through and survive. Elsewhere, in other company, he thought, it would have been like trying to hold onto smoke with his bare hands.

Smoke. Smoke from a fire. There was a slight chill in the room, the flames, he remembered, nearly dying in the hearth. That would not do. Dwight had wanted George kept warm, and there was a definite bite to the draught that was beginning to creep in through the window—there was gooseflesh on the bare skin of his forearms, he noticed, the hairs standing right on end. With an enormous effort, he forced himself up from the chair and, taking ahold of the poker, mindful not to make too much noise, stoked the fire back into life. The flames danced higher, and he couldn't help but stare at them, transfixed, as they flickered back and forth before his eyes.

He was too dazed and tired to take note of the footsteps padding along the corridor outside , and so when he heard the door creak slowly open behind him, he gave a violent start, whirling about to see who had entered. It was Dwight. Though still pale and rather grey, he seemed a little better, as if he had caught a little sleep, but the look in his pale eyes was still grim and sober.

“How is he?” he asked softly.

Ross shook his head.

“No change,” he said. “Neither for better, nor for worse, as far as I can tell.”

Dwight nodded thoughtfully, heading over to the bed where his patient lay, motionless, like a corpse awaiting burial.

“That is encouraging,” he replied, though Ross did not think from his tone that he sounded particularly encouraged. “As long as he does not take a turn for the worse, we might hope that he will recover fully.”

He was still nodding to himself, as if he were trying to convince himself of his own words. Carefully, he reached out and took one of George's limp hands in a gentle grasp, pulling back the cuff of his sleeve so that he could check his pulse. Out of the corner of his eye, Ross saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed convulsively.

“You should get some rest, Ross,” he said with a frown, his focus still fixed firmly on George. “Last night was as much of a strain on you as it was on the rest of us.”

Ross stared at him tiredly, barely registering what he was saying. He had let go of George's wrist, and was now gently thumbing back each of his eyelids in turn, his lips pursed in concentration. The sleeves of his shirt, he noticed, were clean and white, whereas the night before, they had been soaked red with blood. Ross frowned. The only men's clothes he had at Nampara other than his own were some old things of his father's, but the shirt Dwight was wearing was not near loose enough on his slim frame to have been borrowed from him. Where then, had he got it?

“Caroline is here,” Dwight said, as if reading his mind—though Ross knew his expression was probably open enough in his exhaustion that his friend would only need working eyes, as opposed to the power of telepathy, to determine what he was thinking. He had turned to look over his shoulder when he didn't reply, and was frowning at him in concern. “I had a note sent to Nampara to inform her of what happened, and she was kind enough to bring some clean clothes for me.”

There was a pause.

“Jeremy and Clowance are here too.”

Ross gave a strange jolt, the sound of his two children's names pulling him sharply out of his stupor as if he had been struck by lightning.

“Jeremy and Clowance?,” he asked, his voice suddenly very rough. “Are they—?”

But he didn't quite know what it was he wanted to ask. Whether they were alright, safe and unharmed? Whether they were hurt, upset or scared by what had happened? Or maybe—he swallowed—whether they were angry as their mother surely was, after how he had seemed to behave? Luckily, Dwight came to his rescue as he floundered, and spoke up in his stead.

“Caroline brought them back home,” he said. “They were really very worried. Geoffrey Charles has taken them down to the beach for the time being. That should at least cheer them up a little. Besides, we wanted them kept away from Hanson whilst we dealt with him.”

Ross had no idea what to feel at that. Guilt that they had been worried? Disappointment that they were not here for him to see? Perhaps dread at having to face them and their unknown reactions later. If there were one thing he did feel in bounds, however, it was relief. Relief that they were safe and cared for, and that the others had the sense to keep them away from the loathsome Hanson. It occurred to him that he could no longer hear the man grousing, though he faintly recalled there having been some commotion in the corridor outside earlier on.

“Dealt with?” he asked, wondering exactly what that meant. He suspected, though, that the reality would probably disappoint the wilder fancies of his imagination.

“Sent back to his lodgings in Truro,” Dwight amended, somewhat confirming Ross' suspicions. “He complained the whole time, of course, but at least he has gone.”

“Yes,” Ross replied with a scowl. “Gone right back to his brother so they can plot our demise, no doubt. We would have been better served had we smothered him with a pillow.”

It was not an entirely serious suggestion, but Dwight didn't seem to find much humour in it. He turned about to face him fully, the frown on his face morphing from concerned to a little cross.

“You agreed earlier that it would be best for him to sent back to Truro to recover” he reminded him, sternly.

Ross scoffed.

“I agreed that I didn't want him in my house,” he said darkly. “As far as I'm concerned, the only favour he's earned from me is to be tossed on the midden and see if that heals him.”

The crow in the tree outside cawed again, as if in agreement. Dwight, on the other hand, crossed his arms in front of his chest and clenched his jaw, eyes darting briefly to the wall and back with an expression of deep frustration with which Ross had become increasingly acquainted ever since Ned Despard had barrelled his way back into their lives.

“What other course of action was there, Ross?,” he said, and there was a hint of annoyance in his voice that he was too tired and overwrought to suppress. “It behoves you to ensure your actions are beyond reproach in this matter, if only to prevent us from being painted as the villains of the piece.”

Ross frowned. He opened his mouth—to say what, he did not entirely know—but one look at his friend's face had him reconsidering his words. Already, Dwight seemed to be flagging, his eyes dull and tired, with dark bags beneath them like bruises.

“How much sleep did you get?” he asked suspiciously. If Dwight had been awake to deal with Hanson, then he couldn't have rested for more than perhaps a couple of hours, surely.

Dwight shook his head.

“More than you.” He settled down into the chair beside George's bed, wincing slightly as it creaked. “Go, Ross. I shall be here to watch over him. You shan't do him or yourself any good by driving yourself past the point of exhaustion.”

Ross rather thought he would have been better served to follow his own advice, but he had just enough sense left in his sluggish brain not to say it aloud. Dwight was not to be persuaded—that much was clear—but then, neither was he. He conceded enough to leave the room as instructed, but despite his exhaustion weighing on him so heavily now that it seemed as if his limbs had turned to lead, he still balked at going to his bedchamber to sleep. Who knew, after all, how the events of the night would resurface in his dreams? And so, instead of heading down the corridor to rest as advised, he made for the stairs, intending, vaguely, to make his way through the decanter of brandy in the parlour as he waited for something—anything—to happen.

The sight that met him when he stepped through the parlour door, however, instantly made him regret his decision. Demelza, Caroline and Prudie were all huddled together around the table, and had been deep in whispered conversation right up until they heard the creak of the door opening behind them. As he entered, they cut themselves off abruptly, swivelling about in their chairs to stare at him, each with a worried, questioning look upon their face. Fighting not to squirm under the combined force of their gaze, Ross was suddenly reminded of why he had so wanted to be alone before.

“How is he?” Demelza asked. Her blue eyes were alight with concern, though for whom exactly, he did not quite know.

Ross shook his head. It was the second time he had been asked that this morning, but this time, for some reason, he couldn't quite unstick his throat to give her an answer. He staggered over to the table, brandy decanter quite forgotten, and, sinking into a chair beside them, put his head in his hands.

“Is-is it so bad?” That was Caroline, uncharacteristically tentative for a woman usually so bold. It was that, perhaps, that allowed him to mine some deep part of him for the elusive answer that seemed caught on the tip of his tongue. He raised his head from his hands to look at her.

“He isn't worse than he was,” he said shortly. “Dwight says that that is encouraging.”

Unfortunately, however, he had not been any more successful in sounding encouraging than Dwight had been for him. Caroline, it was clear, had seen something of his own fears in his face, for he saw something very strange flicker in her eyes, a dark shadow passing across her wan features. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought it to be something akin to guilt, but he dismissed it as a flight of imagination, brought on, no doubt, by the lethargy that had settled over him like a tonne of bricks. After all, what would Caroline have to feel guilty about?

“Did—?” She faltered. “Did he give any indication of why...?”

She trailed off. There it was again—that why, why, why that each one of them couldn't help but ask, but to which none knew the answer. Ross clenched his jaw, tight.

“He didn't exactly have much of a chance to explain himself whilst we were rooting about his innards, no” he said, more tersely than the question had warranted. The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them.

“Ross!” Demelza hissed, her eyes flashing.

Caroline had gone very white, and it suddenly occurred to him that, quite apart from not wanting to hear gruesome details, she—was? had been?—an almost friend of George's, in an odd sort of way. The realisation made him feel all the more wretched, and a strained silence began to stretch uncomfortably out between them.

“'Tis awful strange though,” Demelza spoke up again, after several excruciating minutes of avoiding each other's gazes, mouths clamped tightly shut. “What could 'ave possessed 'im t' do 't? An' t' put hisself in such danger... 'Tis hardly...well...”

She lapsed into silence, but nonetheless, each and every one of them heard what she had left unsaid.

“It is hardly,” Ross finished for her, his eyes fixed broodingly on a burn on the wood of the table before him, “what we have come to expect of George.”

But even as he said it, a memory flashed before his eyes—of George, afraid, clearly, but steadfast, pistol in hand as they stared each other down, ready to defend his wife and unborn child from the raging mob surrounding them. Perhaps, he thought, a deep frown drawing his brows together, we do not expect such things from George because we haven't been looking in the right places.

Silence fell between them once more, but this time, it had barely had a chance to settle before it was interrupted by a loud and angry pounding on the door outside. The four of them started, alarmed by the sudden clamour.

“Judas, who could that be?!” breathed Demelza, her eyes wide.

“Th' hordes o' Hell come t' tek us all, by th' sounds of 't” Prudie grumbled in reply.

She stood, reluctantly, and headed out to the door, muttering to herself all the way. Ross heard it creak on its hinges as she opened it, followed by an unpleasantly familiar snarling voice that had him leaping up from his chair so violently that he almost overturned it. The hordes of Hell?, he thought to himself wryly as he heard swift footsteps in the hallway and Cary Warleggan burst in through the door like a charging bull, a horrified Prudie scurrying along behind, his hat and gloves in hand. More like the Devil himself. Well, you wanted something to happen, and now it has. I suppose I must be more careful what I wish for.

“Where is he?!,” the man snarled, pale eyes flashing dangerously as he stepped into the room, fixing Ross with a fierce glare. “Where is my nephew?!”

Ross gritted his teeth, bracing himself for confrontation. He had no love for either Warleggan, but though it was George with whom he often clashed, he found Cary, objectively speaking, to be far more objectionable—in temperament if nothing else. The man was rough, rude and acerbic, and blatantly loathed him, and he was not sure whether, in his current state, he could endure the man's anger without lashing out in return.

“Sir George is resting at the moment,” he replied, attempting to remain calm. “I can assure you, however, that he is in good hands. Dr Enys is tending to him.”

Cary scowled.

“And why, pray, does he need tending to?” he said.

There was a movement behind him, and next thing he knew, Demelza was standing at his side. They exchanged an uneasy glance. With everything that had happened, neither of them had thought to inform the elder Warleggan of his nephew’s injury. How he would react to finding out that George had been shot, Ross had no idea, but he was hardly likely to jump for joy at the news. Well, at least the old man’s ire might be directed away from them and towards Merceron and his loathsome brother, he considered—so long as he should be inclined to listen in full to what had happened, that was.

“Forgive us, sir, but have ‘ee not heard?,” Demelza asked, regarding their unexpected and very much unwanted guest with an uneasy frown. “Your nephew were shot. By Ralph Hanson,” she added as Cary’s face turned thunderous, no doubt suspecting Ross himself to be the most likely culprit for George’s injury.

Ross had expected something akin to surprise from the man, shock or disbelief, or even—and this was the scenario he had been bracing himself for—outright denial. But Cary looked neither shocked, nor disbelieving, and he had certainly made no move to deny anything. Indeed, if he seemed to be anything, it was purely and simply angry.

“And how am I supposed to have heard?!,” he sneered. “Perhaps you expected the birds to have twittered the news in my ear with the dawn chorus!”

There were no questions posed of why Hanson might have wished to shoot George, or even why he might have been at Nampara to be shot in the first place. Slow and sluggish though his thoughts were, Ross could only come to the conclusion that he must have known something of what his nephew had intended to do, if not why. This realisation, however, was buried down to the back of his mind as a spark of temper, faded to embers with exhaustion and confusion, started to burn hot in the pit of his chest. The man's displeasure was understandable, yes, but he would not have him speak to his wife in such a manner.

“We hadn't had the chance to inform you,” he said, firmly. “It was of utmost importance that George be operated on immediately—”

“Yes, and no doubt in the chaos, it slipped your mind,” Cary interrupted, his voice rising by degrees. “I suppose he is actually alive, or did he pass away in the night and that just happened to slip your mind too?!”

The memory of gunshots, of pained cries and the smell of blood, and of George lying deathly still on the bed, white and wan, began to seep, unwelcome, back into Ross' mind, and all of a sudden, that spark of temper in his chest erupted into an inferno.

“Forgive me, Mr Warleggan,” he growled through tightly clenched teeth, trying, with all his might, not to shout, “if I was not entirely abreast of the situation after holding down your screaming nephew for God knows how long so that we might remove a bullet from his gut!”

Despite his best efforts, his voice was beginning to rise too, but he felt a hand on his arm, distracting him momentarily from his anger. Demelza. Before he could turn towards her, however, Cary snarled in fury, and, in three large strides, they were suddenly nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball. Though his instinct was to recoil, Ross refused to back away.

“And of course how terrible that must have been for you,” he hissed sardonically. “Or perhaps you wished for time to revel in the moment. Did it satisfy you to see him brought so low? You've enough hate for him, after all. I imagine you'd drink to providence had he died.”

Ross opened his mouth to tell him that, if he were to find satisfaction in anything at all in that moment, it would be in punching him on the damned nose—as he richly deserved for making such insinuations. Perhaps if he managed to break it, he thought, it would make it as crooked as the rest of him. Before he could speak, however, he felt Demelza's grip tighten on his arm. He turned to look at her. Her gaze was imploring, and her brow was crumpled in a worried little frown. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and, taking a deep breath, he nodded back at her, trying to calm himself down.

“You may imagine all you wish,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “But you are mistook, sir, if you believe me to be so twisted as to delight in George's injury. Perhaps it amuses you to think of your enemies in such agony, but it is not my custom to wish harm upon others.”

Unless they really deserve it, a traitorous little voice whispered in his head. Such as the likes of Hanson. But he barely had time to think on it before Cary scoffed loudly at his words, his lip curled in a sneer.

“Is that so?,” he growled, like an angry bear that had been successfully poked out of hibernation and was longing to take a swipe at the source of its temper. “In that case, what precisely did you wish upon that customs officer you once beat half to death? Or upon my nephew when you tried to shove his head into a roaring grate? But perhaps you simply intended to give him a nice, rosy complexion. And the customs officer, no doubt, would only have benefited from having his limbs... rearranged.”

“I—” Ross tried to protest, but Cary cut across him him sharply.

“No!,” he barked, teeth bared. “George may have become yet another in a long line of people ready to throw themselves in danger to save your sorry hide, but I assure you that I have no intention of fawning at your feet or comforting you with platitudes when I have spent this whole morning and the better part of the night not knowing where in God's name my nephew was or what had happened to him or if I would find him days later dredged up as flotsam on a beach somewhere—”

He cut himself off, turning sharply away, his jaw clenched. Ross stared, seeing something dark flash in his eyes, something almost...almost... In a moment, he felt his anger deflate as if it had never been, leaving him feeling oddly hollow.

“I will take you up to see him” he said.

Cary sneered.

“I will take myself up if I have to,” he replied. “I've no care to be accompanied. But I warn you, Poldark, if I so much as suspect that you caused him the slightest harm, I will make your life so wretched that you'll no longer wish to live it.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and marched away before any of them could even tell him where his nephew was, like a bloodhound on the scent of a fox. Letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, Ross rushed off after him—though not before he heard Prudie, who had throughout the exchange been glancing between the hat Cary had thrust at her to hang up and the fire in the grate with an expression of utmost disgust, say to the room at large:—

“D'ye suppose Cap'ain Ross would be awful angry if I burnt 't?”

[thebluesideofmyworld]

As Long As It’s Not You - Leroy Sane one-shot

For an anonymous request who gives me this prompt. Thank you for the prompt, I really like it :)

Summary: When he ‘s watching TV, Leroy hears his girlfriend is crying

Word count: 772 words

It’s a quiet Sunday evening. The kind of evening that Leroy always enjoys.

When he changes the channel into the one showing an F1 race, his girlfriend peeks at him from the top of the book that she’s reading.

“Are you going to watch that?” she says, glancing at the TV screen.

“Uh huh,” Leroy says. “Why?”

“Okay, I’ll continue reading this in the bedroom then,” she says, standing up from where she’s sitting next to Leroy on the couch.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Leroy pouts a little.

She laughs lightly. “No. But the sounds coming from that race won’t be a good background noise while I am reading one of the greatest love story ever written.”

Leroy chuckles. “You always say that for every romance novel that you’re reading,” he says.

“Your girlfriend is a hopeless romantic, Leroy. Deal with that,” she says, and leans down to kiss him on the cheek. “Enjoy the race,” she says, and walks to the bedroom.

Leroy shrugs his shoulders, and stretches his legs to the coffee table.

Twenty minutes later, Leroy’s brows furrow down. He lowers down the TV volume and straightens up on the couch, listening more carefully. He thought he just heard someone is crying. But now the sound is gone. Leroy shakes his head, and leans back to the couch. Maybe he’s just imagining things.

But a couple of minutes later, he hears another sound. Lowering the TV volume down again, Leroy’s forehead creases as he tries to listen better to the sound.

Once he recognizes that the sound is her girlfriend’s half-screaming, muffled by the wall, he stands up and in just a split second, he runs to the bedroom.

The thought of a spider crosses his mind. A few days ago, she saw a spider in the kitchen and it scared the hell out of her.

Leroy pushes the door open, and bursts into the room. He finds her sitting on the bed. Her arms around her folded knees, she buries her face on her thighs, sobbing.

“Babe?” Leroy asks, half-confused. He slowly walks closer. “What happened?”

Without lifting her head up, she only points to the floor. She says something that Leroy can’t catch, as she’s still sobbing when she said it.

Leroy looked at the direction that she pointed at. He can only see the book that she was reading there.

It must be a spider, Leroy thinks to himself. She must have seen a spider, and throws that book to kill it. And now she cries because she regrets killing an innocent animal.

It sounds ridiculous. But Leroy knows that she has such a soft heart, He’s not really surprised if that’s what really happened.

He walks to the bed, and sits next to her. He gently touches her shoulder.

“Babe, it’s okay…” he says, gently rubbing the side of her shoulder to soothe her.

Still sobbing a little, she lifts her head. But she’s still not looking at Leroy when she starts talking.

“What do you mean it’s okay? It’s not okay! He’s dead!” Leroy blinks.

“He? You mean… the spider?” he asks, suddenly doubting his previous suspicion.

Her head quickly jolts at him. “Spider? What are you talking about?”

Ooops.

Okay. So it’s not a spider.

“Uhm. Who’s dead once again?” Leroy asks warily.

Her eyes starts glassy with tears again.

“He’s dead, Leroy!” She points to the book laying helplessly on the floor. “On Chapter 15 they found a cure for him. Or they thought they did. But it’s not working! So he’s dead, right before she told him that it’s him that she loves all this time, and not his brother…”

Leroy raises his eyebrows. But before he has a chance to say anything else, she already buries her face on his chest, and starts sobbing again.

“It’s just not fair, Leroy… It’s just not fair…” she says, between her sobs.

“So, nobody’s really dying?”

She pulls back and stares at Leroy with wide eyes, like she can’t believe Leroy just said that.

“I’ve told you! He’s dead!”

“Okay, okay…” Leroy quickly says, and pulls her again into him. He lets her buries her face on his sweater.

“Okay. He’s dead. But as long as it’s not you that’s dying, it’s okay,” Leroy says, gently rubs her back up and down.

She mumbles something against his sweater that Leroy can’t understand. But he nods anyway, whispering some comforting words at her, and kisses the top of her head.

She’s right. The girl that he loves is a hopeless romantic. But really, since it’s her, Leroy doesn’t mind to deal with that.

[husheduphistory]

“Tiger Woman” and her Trunks: The Horrible Case and Cargo of Winnie Ruth Judd

It is difficult to imagine what was going through Ruth’s mind when she arrived at the train station on October 19th 1931. She was only twenty-six years old but she had lived in numerous states, moved to Mexico, had her marriage fall apart, reestablished herself in Arizona, and was beginning a new life. But now, she was unexpectedly in California to meet her brother with a bandaged hand and a lot of luggage to pick up. When she arrived at the Los Angeles train station the baggage agent refused to let her pick up her trunks until they could inspect the contents. She informed them she did not have a key and that she would come back for them later. She never went back. Within a matter of days she was given many new names, became the subject of a manhunt, and surrendered herself to police inside a funeral home. The story was shocking, but it was far from done.

Winnie Ruth Judd.

Born on January 29th 1905 in Oxford, Indiana, Winnie Ruth McKinnell (who went by Ruth) was only seventeen when she married Dr. William C. Judd, a World War I veteran who was twenty-two years her senior. Dr. Judd was a morphine addict and his pursuit of a steady job brought the pair to Mexico where he worked as a medic for an American mining company. By 1930 the two were living apart and Ruth returned to the States by herself looking for a place to call home. What she found was Phoenix, Arizona and a job working for a wealthy governess. It seemed that Ruth had finally left the troubled times behind and was on her way to forging a new life. Then she met Happy Jack.

John J. “Happy Jack” Halloran was very well known in Phoenix. At forty-four years old he made a name for himself running an extremely lucrative lumber business and with his success came friends in high places. Both he and Ruth were married, but that did not stop the two from igniting a relationship and Ruth soon found two new friends during their alcohol-infused parties with Halloran’s associates. Agnes “Ann” Leroi was thirty-two years old, twice divorced, and was working as an x-ray technician. Her partner, Hedvig ‘Sammy” Samuelson, was twenty-four and the pair had moved to Phoenix from Alaska after Sammy’s battle with tuberculosis. Ann and Sammy lived together in a small three-room bungalow and it wasn’t long before Ruth moved in, cementing the house as thee location for Halloran and his drinking buddies’ parties and card games. After several months Ruth moved out and got her own apartment, but the three women remained best friends. On the night of October 16th 1931 Ruth went to visit the two friends for dinner and drinks. Ann and Sammy were never seen alive again.

“Happy Jack” Halloran. Image via the Arizona Memory Project https://azmemory.azlibrary.gov/

Three days later in Los Angeles the train station baggage handler was waiting for Ruth to come back and open her luggage for inspection, but he couldn’t wait anymore. The luggage was leaking, it smelled horrific, and there were flies gathering around them. He was convinced she was smuggling deer meat and he called the Los Angeles Police Department. When the police arrived and opened the luggage out tumbled the body of Ann Leroi and three sections of what was once Sammy Samuelson. When Ruth was picked up by her brother he had no idea what his sister was hiding, he dropped her off somewhere in the city and she vanished.

The luggage that contained the remains of Ann Leroi and Sammy Samuelson.

The headlines exploded with the horror story, screaming “TWO WOMEN’S BODIES SHIPPED HERE IN TRUNKS BY FIENDISH KILLER!” and dubbing Ruth with names like “The Blonde Butcher”, “The Tiger Woman”, and “The Trunk Murderess.” Back in Phoenix the owner of the bungalow didn’t waste a moment and immediately placed ads in the local paper offering tours of the crime scene for ten cents. The frenzy raged on for four days before Ruth finally turned herself in to the police on October 23rd.

The question on everyone’s mind was what could have caused anyone to kill their two best friends and shove their bodies into luggage, but it was a question that was difficult to answer. By the time the police were able to investigate the crime scene the house had already had thousands of people walking through it and one mattress was inexplicably missing. Ruth released a statement through her attorney explaining her version of the story. According to her account, she visited the two women for a nice evening but ended up getting into an explosive argument with Sammy. Her account goes on to claim that Sammy:

“got hold of a gun and shot me in the left hand, Mrs. LeRoi grabbed an ironing board and started to strike me over the head with it. In the struggle, I got hold of the gun, and Sammy got shot. Mrs. LeRoi was still coming at me with the ironing board, and I had to shoot her. Then I ran from the place.”

Then came another shockwave, Ruth said she fled to her apartment where Jack Halloran was waiting. She claimed he returned to the house with her and it was he who cut up Sammy and shoved the bodies in the luggage while she cleaned up the bloody scene.

The story was a sensation, but it did not overly make sense. The police and medical examiners at the scene determined that the women were shot in the head at close range while laying in their separate beds. The location of the injuries did not match with gunshots fired during a fight, especially a fight involving three people, one of which was holding an ironing board. Another question swirled in the minds of Phoenix, why was Halloran waiting at Judd’s apartment and why did he help her dispose of the bodies of their friends?

Newspaper reporting the discovery of the bodies in the trunks.

The trial of Ruth Judd began on January 19th 1932 and from the beginning Judd claimed she only shot Ann and Sammy in self defense. Amazingly, she was only tried for the murder of Ann, and the court did not buy her story. In the eyes of the court the tension between the women was evident for weeks, beginning with Judd moving out of the house they shared. The theory was that the source of the bitterness was venomous jealousy over Halloran’s affection for the other women and that Judd went to their house that night with the intent to kill. On February 8th 1932 Judd was found guilty of first degree murder and sentenced to death by hanging.

Judd at her trial in 1932.

Judd was not the only person defending herself in court over the gruesome crime. When Halloran’s name was brought into the story he too was eyed for his involvement in the bloody scene. On December 30th 1932 he was indicted by a grand jury as an accomplice to murder, and Judd was the star witness against him. In Judd’s testimony she told the story of how she got into a fight with Sammy over her introducing Halloran to another woman. She then shot them in self defense, met Halloran at her apartment, and it was he who dismembered Sammy, dragged in the luggage, packed the bodies into a single large trunk, and made her promise to tell no one. Even though Judd admitted to the shooting and later unpacking and repacking the bodies in different pieces of luggage so they were easier for her to manage, she insisted that Halloran was just as guilty as she was. She stated in court “I am going to be hanged for something Jack Halloran is responsible for ... I was convicted of murder, but I shot in self-defense. Jack Halloran removed every bit of evidence. He is responsible for me going through all this. He is guilty of anything I am guilty of.”

Halloran’s lawyers argued that since Judd said the women were killed in self defense there was no crime to charge their client with. And besides, she was obviously insane. The charges against Halloran were dismissed on January 25th 1933. He may have been found innocent in court but he never regained his beloved image in Phoenix, losing his business and most of his associates.

Judd’s execution was scheduled for February 17th 1933 but only days before she was supposed to die Arizona authorities changed her sentence. Following a huge outpouring of people who believed that Judd was mentally unsound and should not be put to death she was instead committed to the Arizona State Mental Hospital, beginning her stay there on April 24th 1933.

Everyone assumed that Judd would live the rest of her days behind the walls of the hospital, but they were wrong. On October 24th 1939 she constructed a dummy out of boxes and towels, arranged it under her blankets, and escaped from the hospital. She was at large for six days before she was caught and brought back but Judd was able to escape six more times. Her last escape took place on October 8th 1963 when she simply walked out the door, a friend inside the hospital had given her a key. Most of her previous escapes only lasted a few days but this time was different. Judd somehow ended up in the San Francisco Bay Area and formed an entirely new identity. Living as “Marian Lane” she worked as a live-in housekeeper in a mansion owned by an elderly woman for seven years before her true identity was discovered and she was again arrested. Considering she was able to escape multiple times and resume a “normal” life outside, she was then judged sane by medical examiners and relocated to the state penitentiary where she remained until she was released in late 1971. When released Judd made her way back to California where she again took up the name “Marian Lane” and she went on to live a quiet life until her death in 1998 at the age of ninety-three.

A nurse holds up a rope used by Judd in her 1952 escape. Image via azcentral.com.

Although Judd was found guilty of first degree murder in 1932 the reason for the killings was never crystal clear. In 2014 a letter was discovered in the Arizona State Archive. It was dated April 6th 1933, it was handwritten by Judd, and it states that it is her “first and only confession.” In the text of the letter Judd details the murders of Ann and Sammy, claiming she was pushed to kill by the incessant “taunts” of Ann Leroi who tormented her by flirting with Halloran. She states: “Those taunts kept me awake, I could not sleep. I cried. I even prayed.  I was losing my mind…No human was ever going through so much turmoil of mind.”

According to Judd, on the evening of October 16th with her “brain whirling” with “insane thoughts” she “got up and went over to Ann’s house,” carrying her .25-calibre handgun. Both women were asleep and she snuck in through the front door, deciding to sit down on the couch where she eventually fell asleep. She was woken up by Sammy walking into the bathroom and she then remembered what she “had come to do.” She moved toward the bedroom but turned away because she was “shaking inside.” Returning to the couch she fell back to sleep. She was woken up by the sound of the milkman outside and when she realized Sammy was again in the bathroom she got up, went into the bedroom, and shot Ann in the head. Hearing the gunshot Sammy rushed into the bedroom and tried to wrestle the gun from Judd, accidentally shooting her in the hand. Judd then claims they both fell on the floor, “and I finally got the gun and in my wild state I shot her in the head.”

After both her friends lay dead Judd went into the garage, pulled a large trunk into the house, and stuffed Ann’s body inside. Then, Judd went to work and carried out a normal day. According to her letter, she had nothing planned out other than killing Ann, “I really had nothing definite in my mind. No plans made. In fact except for an irresistible impulse to get Ann I had no other plans.” After a brief trip to her apartment after work she returned to the scene of the crime and got inside through a bathroom window. She attempted to fit Sammy in the trunk but “that was utterly impossible, I couldn’t possibly lift her, she was too heavy and her body was stiff.  I then got two cheap knives from the kitchen and severed her body into portions I could lift.” She then shoved the pieces of Sammy into a smaller trunk and a suitcase.

Ann Leroi and Sammy Samuelson. Image via azcentral.com. 

Those who only knew “Marian Lane” in California probably had a very difficult time reconciling the person they knew with the Winnie Ruth Judd from Phoenix. She was a little old lady who always had a friendly smile and her hair done, a hugely far cry from the “Trunk Murderess” that filled the headlines decades before. She never fully denied her past though, once commenting “how she was sorry she wasn't going to live long enough to see the day when people would finally stop remembering Winnie Ruth Judd.”

Today, the bungalow where the murders of Ann Leroi and Sammy Samuelson took place still stands in Phoenix at the corner of Second Street and Catalina Drive. It was recently purchased by someone who hopes to restore it to show what it looked like the night of the infamous Trunk Murders.

You can read the full confession of Winnie Ruth Judd here.

A 2010 photograph of the Trunk Murders bungalow. Image via Wikipedia.

*********************************************************************************

Sources: 

The Arizona Memory Project https://azmemory.azlibrary.gov

The Yale Review yalereview.yale.edu/trunk-murders-1931

AZCentral.com

Read More: 

The Trunk Murderess: Winnie Ruth Judd by Jane Bommersbach

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

Rival Watch - Manchester United vs Manchester City via /r/LiverpoolFC

Rival Watch - Manchester United vs Manchester City

Man City XI: Ederson, Walker, Kompany (C), Laporte, Zinchenko, Fernandinho, Gundogan, Silva, Bernardo, Sterling, Aguero

Man United XI: De Gea, Darmian, Smalling, Lindelof, Shaw, Young (C), Fred, Perreira, Pogba, Lingard, Rashford

After Old Toilet was spotted having a flushing malfunction, United and Liverpool fans alike will be hoping that's the only leak United have in their stadium tonight. Plumber De Gea is on the scene.

Live Commentary

Live Score 0-2 Manchester City

1' Pep Guardiola looking like Humpty Dumpty on the wall, as he leans on the brick wall in front of his seat

6’ David Silva takes a free kick that doesn’t amount to anything

8’ Great atmosphere from the United fans as they cheer Liverpool to the title one minute at a time

WHAT THE!! Chris Smalling is trying his best to ruin Liverpool’s night as he almost strikes a goal past De Gea!

ALMOST LINGARD!! Lube football from United as they pull down City’s pants and almost go in raw!!

18’ DE GEA AMAZING SAVE FROM BERNADO SILVA, THEN UNITED COUNTER AND ALMOST SCORE

22’ RASHFORD ALMOST SCORES A BANGER BUT ITS TOO HIGH

26’ Yellow cards being shown left and right, first for Perreira and now Zinchenko.

32’ Reports coming in from across the country that Arsenal are indeed being dominated by Wolves, which will only give United more motivation in this game!

35’ Sterling gets into a dangerous position and is passed the ball overhead, but his scaley body can’t keep control of it

43’ WHAT THE FUCK! CITY TRY TO WALK IT IN, STERLING SHOOTS CLOSE RANGE BUT DE GEA SAVES

44’ Aguero tries to score from wide but it drags past the goal

45’ Gundogan goes down in pain after a challenge, referee allows the play to continue for a while and Pep is furious! Then the play is eventually called off to attend to the injury.

HALF TIME 0-0! “So far so good for United... and for Liverpool!” says the commentator

Second half has begun.

47’ United showing some impetus, Pogba gets the ball in front of goal but goes down without shooting.

49' Wow! Despite reports of friction between Sane and his coach, he's being brought on for Fernandinho, who has just got injured! This could be massive for this game and the title race!

50' Fernandinho is not happy for being brought off, apparently without his knowledge!

CITY KEEP TRYING TO WALK IT IN! THIS TIME AGUERO WAS WAITING FOR A TAP-IN BUT EXCELLENT DEFENDING FROM LINDELOF PREVENTS IT

GOAL Manchester City 1-0. After dominating possession, City finally score and it’s Bernado Silva who gets on the score sheet. Terrible news for Liverpool.

LINGARD FLUFFS IT WHEN THE GOAL IS WIDE OPEN. EMBARRASSING

LINGARD FLUFFS AGAIN TWICE IN ONE MINUTE!

62’ It’s been a dead game for the past few minutes, but now United have a free kick in front of goal.

63’ Brick boots Pogba hits the bloody wall with his shot, and then after running around like headless chickens the play somehow ends in a City goal kick.

65’ GOAL Manchester City 2-0 Leroy bloody Sane beats De Gea at his near post. Alisson would have saved that without a sweat. De Gea officially the worst keeper in the world.

End of commentary

Submitted April 24, 2019 at 07:33PM by chrimbo via reddit http://bit.ly/2IQjKUK

[yupp7]

Bayern Munich 4-0 Wolfsburg: Initial reactions and observations

Initial reactions and observations Bayern Munich finish their last two games of 2021 in style, albeit against relegation candidates. This was a good showing by Nagelsmann’s men, now hopefully the winter break allows the coach to rediscover some of Flick’s juju. Wolfsburg are so bad, it’s hard to believe they were playing in Europe this year. They play like a 2.Bundesliga team (and not one of the good ones). Thomas Muller got yet another assist. Wonder where that puts him in the all-time calendar assists ranking. Jamal Musiala remains a gem. He’s proven he can be a CM now as well. What’s next? Right-back? No more back-threes, please. Full time: Bayern Munich win 4-0. 87’ — GOAL! Lewandowski finally gets his goal! 4-0 now. 59’ — GOAL! Leroy Sane curls it in, that was a perfect Robben goal. 56’ — GOAL! Upamecano makes it 2-0! Assist by Muller. 45’ — The second half is underway! Can Bayern score any more goals? Halftime observations and analysis The back-four was back! Aaaaand then it was gone. Bayern Munich started the game with the same four-man backline setup that downed Stuttgart, but for some reason Nagelsmann switched back to the back-three after going 1-0 up. Bayern’s been struggling to generate chances ever since. Dayot Upamecano has been doing his best Niklas Sule impression. His interceptions are arguably better than the big German, but he is an inferior passer. Robert Lewandowski still looks unhappy. Hope this isn’t going to become a thing going forward. Halftime: Bayern Munich lead 1-0. 7’ — GOAL! Thomas Muller taps in a rebound from a Gnabry shot. Dominant star t by Bayern. Kickoff: We’re underway in Munich! One hour until kickoff: We have lineups! As expected, Nagelsmann has chosen his best lineup, with Upamecano coming in for Niklas Sule. We don’t know if Sule’s hurt, but he did miss the final training session. Looks like a good lineup for Bayern.

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

*Please read any warnings and/or author’s notes at the top of fics/chapters. NSFW is marked.*

Series

New - Lifelong friends Sergio Ramos and Emilia are just that - friends. Right? [Completed]

Number 20 - Meeting Marco Asensio one night at the Santiago Bernabéu changed your whole life. [ON HIATUS]

Locked Down - part 1, part 2, part 3

The Break Up (Leon Goretzka) - Before You Go, Relapse, Echoes, Invisible String

Victory - post-match victory drabbles/imagines, multiple players. NSFW marked appropriately.

Kink Bingo

One Shots/Imagines - alphabetically by last name

Sergio Aguero

Isco Alarcon

Rafinha Alcantara

Trent Alexander-Arnold

Ethan Ampadu

Marco Asensio

Gareth Bale

Federido Bernardeschi

Roman Burki

Julian Brandt

Dani Carvajal

Dominic Calvert-Lewin

Casemiro

Ben Chilwell

Rúben Dias

Eric Dier

Paulo Gazzaniga

Leon Goretzka

Jack Grealish

Antoine Griezmann

Eden Hazard

Mats Hummels

Daniel James

Sami Khedira

Simon Kjaer

Aleksandar Kolarov

Toni Kroos

Alex Lacazette

Jesse Lingard

Marcos Llorente

Kylian Mbappe

Luka Modric

Mason Mount

Oscar Mingueza

Keylor Navas

Jan Oblak

Sergio Ramos

Sergio Reguilon

James Rodriguez

Marco Rose

Leroy Sane

Luke Shaw

Andre Silva

Santiago Solari

John Stones

Corentin Tolisso

Virgil Van Dijk

Raphael Varane

Kyle Walker

[the1beautifulgame]

Baby Dream.

This took me a while to write bc I’m not really familiar with Manchester City. But thanks to @leroysane I avoided making grave mistakes, so thank you for your help! This was a request by a super nice Anon who I hope will enjoy this.

-

“To my beautiful wife!”, Leroy said loudly and lifted his glass that the waiter had just refilled. Most of the Manchester City players at the table laughed and lifted their glasses as well, but Raheem, sensitive as always, booed loudly from the other end of the table. “Shut up, will you? This is not about you and your girl! To my skills in training today!” This however was greeted with more booing and each player started toasting on random things of their choice. “To Manchester!”, Kompany shouted eventually, silencing the table. That they all agreed on.

Except for Leroy of course. He leaned over, his lips close to my ear, and said: “To you, my love.” I blushed, thankful for the dimmed light in the restaurant. After almost five years of relationship and two months of marriage, it still felt new with him. I touched his glass with mine and turned to kiss him. His lips embraced mine sweetly, but after a few seconds, we were interrupted by Kevin. “You had your honeymoon for that, now you’re in public!”, he reminded us.

Leroy had taken me to the Maldives after our wedding, where we’d been on a water bungalow, away from any other people. It had been the most magical vacation of my life. Swimming, diving, relaxing, and of course having Leroy to me twenty-four hours a day. It was something that I’d definitely gotten used to. Not that I was clingy now, but I was certainly more affectionate than before. Leroy did not mind this at all, he liked my want to show people that he was mine, labeling it as something that made him proud.

My husband now rolled his eyes at Kevin. “Oh shut up”, he said and put his glass down. “You’re just jealous!” Kevin snorted. “I got a girl right next to me.” He raised Michèle’s hand like a trophy, making her laugh. “And a son!”, she added. “Right”, I said quickly, wanting to change the topic. “How’s Mason doing?” Both their eyes lit up with joy, and Kevin pulled up the most recent picture of the little boy on his phone. “He’s getting tall and strong, just like his father”, he commented proudly.

Kolarow, who’d listened to the conversation with interest, howled with laughter. “Tall and strong. Said the scrawny ginger.” “At least Mason doesn’t wear those ugly Jordan’s that Leroy’s baby will wear for sure”, Kevin fired a shot at my husband. I laughed out loud, knowing that Leroy was wearing Jordan’s in this very moment. And I fully agreed with Kevin. They were ugly.

Before Leroy could give him a smartass answer, Raheem meddled in from his seat further down. “When are you two going to bless the world with a mini-Sané anyways?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I gave a slight cough, a little uncomfortable with the personal question. “Not for a few years, so don’t’ get your hopes up”, I said and smiled at Raheem, who promptly rolled his eyes. “Boo-oh-ring”, he commented, but thankfully changed the topic.

I happily engaged in the conversation. I liked the guys and their girlfriends and wives, despite only knowing them for so long. And Leroy was happy in Manchester. At least usually he was. Tonight however, he seemed lost in thoughts. I noticed how he’d gotten quiet after his little bicker with Raheem; instead of talking, he was just holding my hand.

He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, he barely spoke to me on the car ride home. I knew him well enough to not bother him about it, he didn’t seem too upset anyways. More pensive. I never minded being quiet with him. He was a good person to enjoy silence with. Just like I thought, Leroy initiated conversation when he was ready for it, which was when we were both getting ready for bed.

“Y/N?”, he asked. I paused with the dirty make-up removal wipe in my hand and looked at him in the big mirror. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. “Yes?” He looked down at his hands when he asked the question, as though he was afraid of the look on my face when I heard it. “You do want to have children one day, do you?” Oh.

Of course we’d talked about having children together. But that had been before the wedding, and that baby had always been in a distant future. Like most women, I had baby dreams, but they were still hypothetical. I didn’t feel like I was mature enough for a child yet. A wedding, yes. But a baby? “Of course I do”, I said softly, my eyes in the mirror still fixed on him. He looked up now, his gaze found mine. He didn’t say it, but the “when” hung on his lips. I hesitated, then I sat down next to him.

“Listen. I really want to have children with you, but…” I trailed off, looking at my hands instead of him. “I’m… we’re still so young. I want to wait. Enjoy the time alone.” Now I searched for his eyes, they were dark and full of hope. “Does this make sense?”, I added.

Leroy simply looked at me for a moment. Then he smiled a small, painful smile and I saw the sacrifice he made in that moment. He was putting his dreams up for the future, so I could live mine. If possible, I fell in love with him even more. And I was met with a sudden rush of emotions, I saw a flash of a small child with his dark curls in my arms.

When he took my hand, I squeezed it gently. “Let’s not wait too long, though”, I smiled. “Just maybe some two years.” “Oh!”, he exclaimed, and now his smile was bright and real. “I thought you meant five years and up!” He kissed me fiercely before I could react, and ever so quick, the kiss was over. “Which of course I would’ve patiently waited out”, he with sparkling eyes, and laughed.

I laughed with him, relieved of the tension. “I love you”, I assured him. “I’m just not quite ready to be a parent yet.” “I love you too”, Leroy said. “And I’ll wait for you to get there.” He kissed me again, his smiling lips were hard against mine, and his hands firm against my body.

He lifted me off the bathtub and carried me over into our bedroom to lay me down on the bed. His body was on mine in the same second, but he held most of his weight on his arms, so I only felt a comfortably slight pressure. Leroy moved his lips up my neck, where they met my ear. And – in homage to his toast of earlier that night – he whispered: “To us.”

[footballerimaginess]

Bikini Shoot

hi bb can u pls make a leroy sane imagine where he gets jealous? thank you sm!!! Word Count: 608 You and Leroy had been together for 5 years, currently living in Manchester with him. You were just going back to your modelling job after having your daughter. It had been a while since you were in front of the camera. But you finally felt comfortable and were back. Your mum was looking after your daughter, Leroy was still away with Manchester City. It was time to head to London for your photo shoot. It was something that you knew you needed to go back to. It was the one thing you absolutely loved modelling. Once you got to London for the shoot, you were starting to feel nervous. You wee back to your weight before you were pregnant. You felt so comfortable with yourself. The shoot was going really well, there was a few photos being posted on your instagram stories, it was just you showing off. You felt really good about your body in a bikini. You hadn't worn a bikini for a while, Leroy had barely seen you in your underwear after having Ava. There was a message on your phone once you reposted an instagram story. It was Leroy. Oh so you can  show them your body but not me. You shook your head and just ignored the message and carried on getting pictures taken of you. You knew he was joking, so you just shrugged it off. "That's a wrap Y/N, such a good shoot. I will send over the photos soon so you can post them over on instagram" you smiled at him. "Thank you so much, thank you everyone" you smiled as you waved to everyone as you left the room and made your way to the train station. Once you finally got home Leroy had picked Ava up from your mums and was looking after her. "Hello princess" you said as you picked your daughter up placing her on your hip. "Hello mama" she smiles as you squeeze her tightly. Leroy didn't take his eyes off of his phone, Leroy had given her dinner already. She had it all round her face. She was very sleepy, you put her down in her be and she cuddled up to her rabbit blanket. You walked back in to the living room, to see Leroy's miserable face was still there. "What is wrong with you grumpy pants?" you said as you grabbed his chin. Get off me" he pushed your arm away from him. "What is wrong with you today? I haven't seen you all day and you act like a moody boy" he shook his head. "No babe, you had the cheek to repost your shoot on instagram stories. You looked so hot. i don't even get to see that" he pouted. "what is this seriously what this is about?" you are jealous?" you asked him. "Of course I'm jealous. You show off your body but never let me see it" he look down to the ground. "Oh you really think that. I am just so sorry babe" you said as you climbed closer to him. "Honestly babe I haven't felt comfortable. But being in my bikini today, just honestly made me feel so good. I am sure you will again see my body in its full glory" you smirked at him. "I am sorry I didn't realise that you felt that. Sorry Y/N" You smiled as Leroy kissed you on the head, "But I do wait for that surprise as I see you in your underwear But lets be real, you looked so fit in those photos" he laughed. "thanks babe"  you grinned an kissed him on the lips.

[singaporecmd368]

Relentless Bayern crush Benfica 4-0 with four goals in 15 minutes in Champions League

Bayern Munich struck four times in a frantic 15-minute spell late in the second half to cruise past Benfica Lisbon 4-0 on Wednesday (Oct 20) and make it three wins out of three Champions League Group E matches.

Leroy Sane whipped in a fierce free kick in the 70th minute and drilled in his second in the 85th after Benfica substitute Everton headed in an own goal in the 80th and Robert Lewandowski bagged their third goal two minutes later.

The Bavarians, with coach Julian Nagelsmann missing with a flu and being replaced by his assistants, had earlier hit the woodwork and also had two efforts disallowed.

But Benfica had their share of golden opportunities in an entertaining game before eventually running out of gas after the 70th minute.

Bayern, who have now scored 12 goals in their three games and have conceded none, are top of Group E on nine points, with Benfica in second place on four.

They are also unbeaten in a record-extending 20 consecutive Champions League away games.

"We played a very good game, even in the first half but we could have been a bit better in our finish," double scorer Sane said.

"We knew Befica would be aggressive and go to one-on-ones so we just had to be patient and play our game. I have been training these free kicks quite a bit and am happy this one went in.

"We are always hungry and that is our strength."

Some 14 months after winning the Champions League title there, Bayern, with assistant Dino Topmoeller in charge, returned to Lisbon's Da Luz stadium and went in search of an early goal with chances missed by Sane and Lewandowski.

Benfica gradually balanced things out and forced Bayern keeper Manuel Neuer, making his 100th appearance in the competition, to a fine save before Lewandowski put the ball in the net just before the break only to have his effort cancelled for hand ball.

Benfica keeper Odysseas Vlachodimos then denied them two minutes after the restart, deflecting Benjamin Pavard's powerful shot onto the post.

Minutes later Bayern thought they had finally scored when Thomas Mueller tapped in on the rebound after a solo effort down the wing from man-of-the-match Kingsley Coman. But a VAR review ruled out the strike as Coman was deemed to be offside.

It was by no means one-way traffic with Neuer again making a superb stop in the 55th, palming a curled Diogo Goncalves shot wide with his left glove. Roman Yaremchuk also came agonisingly close, with his shot a little later sailing just wide of the far post.

But it was Sane who broke the deadlock, whipping his 70th minute free kick in before they scored three more times in a rampant finale to remain on course of a spot in the knockout stages.

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