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kkginfo · 2 years

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IND Vs WI: 35 balls.. 3 fours, half century with 5 sixes.. India got new all rounder. | KKG INFO

Axar Patel: Axar Patel’s innings gave India an unassailable lead in the series against the West Indies. Axar Patel: In the second ODI against the West Indies, India reached a tough target of 312 runs to win. Axar Patel became the hero of India’s win with an unbeaten 64 off 35 balls. Axar Patel said after the match that his innings was the best for him. Axar Patel was awarded the man of the match…

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rangpurcity · 1 year

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Ajinkya Rahane said- Not only mine but Kohli-Pujara's performance also came down in 3 years, raised questions on the pitch

Ajinkya Rahane said- Not only mine but Kohli-Pujara’s performance also came down in 3 years, raised questions on the pitch

new Delhi. Ajinkya Rahane has returned with a double century in Ranji Trophy. He has been running out of Team India for a long time. But he still hasn’t given up hope of a comeback. Rahane scored a double century against Hyderabad in a Ranji Trophy match playing for Mumbai. Rahane scored 204 runs. He said that if we look at the record of the last 3 years, not only mine, Virat Kohli and Cheteshwar…

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krazyshoppy · 2 years

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Mohammad Siraj: मोहम्मद सिराज का काउंटी चैंपियनशिप में शानदार डेब्यू, पहले मैच में झटके 5 विकेट

Mohammad Siraj: मोहम्मद सिराज का काउंटी चैंपियनशिप में शानदार डेब्यू, पहले मैच में झटके 5 व��केट

Mohammad Siraj In County Championship: ऑस्ट्रेलिया में खेले जाने वाले आगामी टी20 वर्ल्ड कप के लिए भारतीय टीम का ऐलान कर दिया गया है. तेज गेंदबाज जसप्रीत बुमराह और हर्षल पटेल की भारतीय टीम में वापसी हुई है. जबकि एशिया कप 2022 में शानदार प्रदर्शन करने वाले अर्शदीप सिंह को भी जगह मिली है. टी20 वर्ल्ड कप 2022 में रोहित शर्मा भारतीय टीम के कप्तान होंगे, जबकि केएल राहुल को उप-कप्तान बनाया गया है. इस…

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#County Championship #Cricket News #cricket news in hindi #latest cricket news #Mohammad Siraj #Somerset #Warwickshire #काउंटी चैंपियनशिप #क्रिकेट न्यूज़#मोहम्मद सिराज #लेटेस्ट क्रिकेट न्यूज #वारविकशायर #समरसेट #हिंदी क्रिकेट न्यूज

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rudrjobdesk · 2 years

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ENG vs IND : एजबेस्टन में भारतीय फैंस के साथ नस्लीय दुर्व्यवहार, देखिए VIDEO

Image Source : TWITTER/@ANILSEHMI Indian fans then posted pictures on social media Highlights भारत और इंग्लैंड के बीच एजबेस्टन में खेला जा रहा है सीरीज का आखिरी मैच अब तक चार दिन का खेल हुआ, चौथे दिन आखिरी सेशन में हुई ये घटना ईसीबी ने कहा, घटना चिंतित करने वाली, की जाएगी पूरे मामले की जांच ENG vs IND : भारत और इंग्लैंड के बीच चल रही टेस्ट सीरीज का पांचवां और आखिरी मैच खेला जा रहा है। अब तक…

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globalcourant · 2 years

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County Championship 2022 - Jacob Duffy signs short-term Kent contract to ease club's injury crisis

County Championship 2022 – Jacob Duffy signs short-term Kent contract to ease club’s injury crisis

Jacob Duffy, the New Zealand seamer, has signed for Kent on a short-term deal that will see him play two County Championship matches. Duffy, 27, was part of New Zealand’s enlarged squad for their ongoing Test series against England but was trimmed from the initial 20-man group ahead of the first Test at Lord’s, having played in both warm-up games. Kent have struggled with injuries to seamers…

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#bulletin #Championship #clubs #Contract #County #cricket #crisis #Daily #Duffy #ease #headlines #injury #Jacob #Kent #News #package #shortterm #signs

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globalnewses · 2 years

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हनुमा विहारी पर अजहरूद्दीन का बड़ा बयान, कहा- 50-60 रन से नहीं चलेगा काम, बनाना होगा बड़ा स्कोर

Mohammad Azharuddin On Hanuma Vihari: जून में भारतीय क्रिकेट टीम (Indian Cricket Team) इंग्लैड के खिलाफ टेस्ट मैच खेलेगी. यह मैच एजबेस्टन (Edgbaston) में खेला जाएगा. दरअसल, पिछले साल भारतीय क्रिकेट टीम 5 टेस्ट मैच खेलने के लिए इंग्लैंड के दौरे पर गई थी. लेकिन 4 टेस्ट मैचों के बाद कोरोना (Corona) के बढ़ते मामले के कारण 5वां टेस्ट नहीं खेला गया. भारतीय टीम इस दौरे पर बाकी बचे 1 टेस्ट मैच खेलेगी. यह…

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#Cheteshwar Pujara #County Cricket #cricket news #Hanuma Vihari #Indian Cricket Team #INDvsENG Series #Mohammad Azharuddin #sports news #क्रिकेट न्यूज #चेतेश्वर पुजारा #भारतीय क्रिकेट टीम #मोहम्मद अजहरूद्दीन #हनुमा विहारी

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thelegend9798 · 2 years

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Recent Match Report - Durham vs Middlesex 23rd Match 2022

Recent Match Report – Durham vs Middlesex 23rd Match 2022

middlesex 422 (Robson 84, Holden 71, Andersson 62, Stokes 4-72, Rushworth 3-60) and 119 for 4 (Handscomb 39*) beat Durham 350 (Trevaskis 80*, Eckersley 58, Roland-Jones 4-72) and 188 (Borthwick 60, Roland-Jones 6-35) by six wickets John Simpson equaled the record for wicketkeeping dismissals in a match at Lord’s with nine catches as Middlesex beat Durham by six wickets on the final day of their…

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#County Championship Division Two #DURH vs. MIDDX #Durham vs Middlesex 23rd Match cricket news #Items #reports

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months

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Fancy a trip? Then welcome to door no. 19, where you can set sail on the SS Great Britain

SS Great Britain

Her history here:

When Brunel’s ocean liner, was built in the nineteenth century the SS GREAT BRITAIN was a bold attempt by a British company to break the American monopoly of the trans-Atlantic passenger trade. Launched by Prince Albert on 19 July 1843, she was the largest and most technically innovative ship of her day, because she was the first iron hulled, screw propelled ship. Her first voyage to America began on 26 July 1845, and she covered 3,100 miles in 14 days and 21 hours.

On the return journey, because of the loss of propeller blades, she used sail only, but still completed the voyage to Liverpool in 20 days. In 1846, however, on her fifth voyage, she ran aground in Dundrum Bay, County Down. It was not until August of the following year that she was refloated and towed back to Liverpool, and, in 1850, was sold to Gibbs, Bright & Co. for service to Australia. She was significantly altered at this time.

In 1854, she was refitted as a troopship for the Crimean War and again in 1857 she carried reinforcements to Bombay to deal with the Indian Mutiny. Returning to the Australian run, she carried the first touring English cricket side. In 1876, she was put up for sale at Birkenhead, but not bought until 1882. Her new owners, Anthony Gibbs, Sons & Co. converted her entirely to a sailing vessel for transporting coal to San Francisco and returning with wheat. After two such voyages, in 1886, she was dismasted by a hurricane off Cape Horn and she put into the Falkland Islands. As repairs were considered too expensive, she became a hulk for storing coal and wool. On April 14 1937, she was towed a few miles out of Port Stanley to shallow water in Sparrow Cove; holes were punched in her bottom and she settled on the seabed. The organisation required to co-ordinate the task of recovery came into being in 1968, led by Dr Ewan Corlett. In April 1970, she was refloated, returning to her original dock Bristol in July that year where she underwent a major conservation programme.

In 2006, an appeal was launched to help restore the masts of the SS GREAT BRITAIN. Two of the masts and part of a third needed to be urgently replaced as they had become badly degraded. The vessel was successful in winning the prestigious Gulbenkian Prize as UK Museum of the Year 2006, which brought with it £100,000 in prize money. This was put towards the costs of the masts. The ship also won two awards at the Museums and Heritage Awards for Excellence 2006 conference in the restoration and conservation category as well as permanent exhibition. The project was also awarded the Civic Trust Award 2006 for accessibility. These Awards follow the relaunch of GREAT BRITAIN after work costing £11.3 million to transform her into a major visitor attraction and museum, as well as to preserve the vessel for future generations. The ship saw more than 160,000 visitors between July 2005 and September 2006.

#naval history #naval artifacts #ss great britain #ocean liner #brunel #1843 #age of sail #advent calendar #day 19

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asgoodeasgold · 7 months

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Matthew Goode at Dunhill Links 2023 - Part 3 - Day 1

📷 All footage and pics/edits are mine unless stated otherwise

Watching Matthew tee off from the 1st hole of the Old Course at St Andrews (see video !) was surreal and the beginning of a first wonderful two days.

The second part of the footage shows Matthew tee off further down the course. That wonderful smile at the start and his happy grin at the end, so cute.

This is Matthew practicing what I call his 'air golf'. He does it ALL the time, it's rather hilarious. Part of me thinks it's to dispel pent up energy. The guy does not stand still. Ever.

📷 Stephen Pond/Getty

Some pics of his golf swing. I don't know much about golf but I think it's very elegant and he packed in some powerful drives. Generally he moved (sorry I meant swaggered) beautifully around the course (gigantic stride). Especially for someone who recently had a meniscus repair op (as per Welt interview).

I also thought he looked really dapper, great outfits. I was particularly taken by his bauble hats. Turquoise on practice day (see Part 2 post), white on Day 1 and navy blue on Day 2. We will never know what colour he had chosen for Day 3 (which became the final due to earlier game abandonment because of flooded courses - Matthew didn't make the cut sadly).

If you were wondering what was hiding under the cute bauble hat. Well, hello Professor Clairmont from Series 3! Matthew's hair was wonderful. Beautiful cut (the quiff is back, hurray) and silver peppering throughout, hello silver fox 🦊. See close ups in Part 1 blog (link below).

📷 davidcannongolfphoto on IG

I missed this but Matthew caught his ball mid air while he was trying to get it out of a bunker. I think his fine cricketer's past (he played at junior county level) came in handy (excuse the lame pun).

📷 www.courrier.co.uk

This is Matthew and his pro golf partner, Jamie Davidson. They seemed to get on very well, but then again who doesn't get on with Goodey? His pro played well.

📷 rylanphotography_ on IG

This is Matthew and his lovely caddie Gaz. More about Gaz in forthcoming blog.

Finally some random pictures from the day. Matthew, looking very pensive, putting on the practice green before the start, and crossing the famous bridge on the 18th hole with his golf partners (this looks like an album cover).

Part 1 Blog ⬇️

Part 2 Blog ⬇️

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #dunhill links #dunhill links 2023 #golf

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

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Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 24: A Walk Through Hell

Word Count: 4k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, domestic abuse, smoking, kidnapping, pregnancy, tension, big sad, revenge porn, men having feeeeelings i love it, return of claudia

Chapter Summary: Javi gets new leads in the search for our hero.

Notes: Chapter title from "A Walk Through Hell" by Say Anything. Posting now instead of 10/10 because I was a good girl and finished my homework before leaving for the weekend. Yeeehaw! Thank you for reading, as always, I appreciate you greatly.

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

Peña Ranch, Laredo, TX July 30, 1998

Javi’s headlights cut through the inky black nighttime sky, revealing Greg’s pickup truck parked in the driveway. His heart skips a beat. He parks next to it, then grabs the heavy plastic bag from the passenger’s seat as he exits the vehicle, taking long strides up to his childhood home.

While reaching to open the front door, he notices his hands are shaking. Maybe due to the prospect of new leads. Or maybe just because he hasn’t been able to eat a thing all day.

When he emerged from the conference room behind Detective Anderson earlier today, his aunt was waiting next to Ricardo with enough food to feed an army. Javi promised her that he would eat, but hasn’t been able to touch it.

“Greg,” Javi nods his head in greeting to the corn-fed country boy realtor standing in his kitchen, the sets the plastic bag on the counter in front of his dad, “Courtesy of tía Ana.”

Chucho starts unpacking the mismatched storage containers and eyes Javi, “Have you eaten anything today?”

Javi ignores the question and leans onto the kitchen counter facing Greg, “You find anything?”

Greg flashes Javi a brilliant white smile and hands him a thick packet of paper.

“Quite a few, huh?” Javi mumbles as he thumbs through the pages.

“I was able to get ahold of all the realtors in the tri-county area. They faxed me their empty properties, too,” Greg beams, then shifts his weight to one foot, grimacing now, “I feel awfully bad for what’s happening. Never thought Dan would do something like this. You think you know a guy, huh?”

Javi grunts and nods slowly in response, not taking his eyes off the pages he’s flipping through, “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“Shoot, let me think here,” Greg clears his throat, then scrunches his face up as he tucks his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants, framing his shiny gold longhorn belt buckle, “Reckon I called him on Sunday to see if he wanted to shoot some pool, but he was busy.”

“You doing anything tonight or do you wanna check some of these out?” Javi looks up to meet his old friend’s sympathetic brown eyes.

“Now?”

Javi shrugs.

Greg shrugs, too, and shakes his keys out of his pocket, “Head ‘em up, move ‘em out.”

—

Javi snuffs out a cigarette in the truck’s ashtray, checks to make sure his gun is loaded, then shoves the pistol in his waistband of his jeans.

Greg releases an exasperated sigh, staring through the windshield at the empty house only illuminated by moonlight, “I’ll let you in but I’m not lurkin’ around in the dark with a gun.”

Javi hums in acknowledgment and hops out of the cab, clicking on a flashlight. Greg does the same. The beams bounce around as they approach the ominous white stucco house. On the drive here, Greg advised that he’s having a hell of a time selling this property. The house is old and run-down, right off of a desolate county road.

The night is silent aside from the crunching of gravel beneath their boots and the chorus of crickets hiding in the grass. Once they reach the house’s walkway, the footfalls become more solid, then stop as they reach the front door. Greg’s calloused hand holds the lockbox steady as he punches in the code and retrieves the key.

“Have at it, hoss,” Greg mutters as he opens the door, letting Javi pass while he hangs back outside. Javi holds his flashlight in one hand, pistol locked and loaded in the other. He goes room-by-room and, much to his disappointment, finds nothing.

“Clear,” he tells Greg when he emerges from the house, “Any outbuildings?”

Greg nods and points his flashlight at a shed, then starts towards it. Javi walks beside him. A rustling echoes from inside the structutre, stopping them both dead in their tracks. Greg shakes his head and steps back, “That’s all you.”

Javi sighs and approaches the corroded aluminum shed. It’s probably not you, but if he didn’t check, he’d spend every moment from now until he finds you wondering. Something inside topples over, clanging against a wall before it settles in silence. He creeps closer, bass drum heartbeat in his chest thumping in his ears, then stops when he reaches the door.

It’s so fucking creepy out here.

Javi takes a deep breath in, out, then before he can think twice, he wedges the toe of his boot into a crack at the seam of the door, then forces it open. The wheels are off track and groan in protest, spurring something to skitter into a corner. He focuses the flashlight on two small, cloudy, red circles: eyes reflecting the flashlight. It hisses and tries to crawl up the wall frantically, claws scraping against the aluminum in a grating high-pitch.

His shoulders relax and he exhales in relief, or disappointment, he’s not quite sure, “Possum.”

En route to the next property on the list, Javier is completely submerged in what-ifs and worst case scenarios, chain smoking as if the carcinogens are sweepstakes submissions to reveal your location.

He finds himself thinking of all the little moments he had with you. How you feel in his arms, face buried in your hair. Lavender. When you’re wrapped up in each other, lost in time and space, and your fingertips dance on his skin. The cute way you clap your hands when you’re excited. Your nose scrunching as you concentrate on sketching something.

How you’re a bundle of contradictions wrapped up into one beautiful bouquet of a person. Bubbly and guarded. Optimistic and morose. Sweet and fierce. Fragile and resilient. You captivate him. Make him want to be a better man.

Greg breaks the quiet and frees Javi from the thoughts anchoring his guts to the floor of the moving vehicle, “Hey, man, I just… wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Javi arches a brow and presses the pads of his fingers to his lips.

“I didn’t know about the things he did. And… I should have known, you know, things ain’t right between them. I could see it. Way he talked to her and treated her, she always looked so damn sad,” Greg scratches the stubble on his throat and looks over to Javi, “But I ignored it because he’s my friend. Hell, I’m- or, uh, was gonna be- the best man in their wedding. Had a speech written ‘bout how perfect they were together ‘n’ how I hope to find a love like theirs. But it was bullshit.”

Javi turns his gaze out the window. An awkward silence settles.

Greg clears his throat, “So you two are pretty good friends, I take it?”

Javi grunts but doesn’t say anything, annoyed that Greg is pussyfooting around what he wants to ask.

“Last few times I saw her… she wasn’t, you know… she seemed better. Happy, mostly. Since the two of you started hangin’ around together,” Greg glances over at Javi, who keeps his fingers pressed to his lips, listening and watching the dark Texas landscape whiz past them.

Greg continues, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, Javi. Haven’t always been the closest, but I’ve known you through all kinds of seasons,” he pauses for a beat, then continues, “After Columbia, it kinda seemed like… all the light left you.”

“What’s your point?” Javi scoffs as he pulls a cigarette out of the red and white pack on the dashboard, then lights it.

Greg shakes his head and chuckles to himself, “Point is, I’m not blind. I know there’s something going on with you two. But… I- I think it’s good. Dumbernhell, but you’re both happier than I ever seen you,” he clears his throat and glances over again, “And, uhh… We’re- we’re gonna find her. I know it.”

The words reverberate down to Javier's aching gut. He swallows the lump in his throat and glances at Greg, “Thank you.”

They clear seven properties. Each empty home, shed, and/or barn makes the pit in his stomach double in size. Chucho is getting up for the day when Javi’s head hits the pillow. He’s not sure if he falls asleep as much as he passes out, losing consciousness for just 4 hours before the sound of his own hoarse wailing wakes him up in a cold sweat.

Javier sits up in bed, chest heaving, running his hands through his hair. There’s a beehive buzzing in his lungs. In his bones. He jumps up onto the floor and starts pacing. Can’t breathe. The clothes he fell asleep in (the clothes he’s been wearing for two days) feel too tight on his skin, and he starts to tear them off his body until he’s naked.

You were there in his dreams. In the dark. Bound, gagged, swollen, bloodied. Red hot friction burns twisted around your skin. You cried as the rope cut into barely-formed scabs. The heat was stifling in the tiny room. Dark blue morning light seeped in under the crack of the door. The door. A creak outside the door. Walls. All of them close, right next to you.

It’s a closet.

Javi could hear you in his head. You couldn’t have possibly been talking with the dingy rag stuffed in your mouth, but he could hear you and you said, “he’s here please wake up he’s here.”

He cried out, “I hear you, cariño.”

A creak. Wriggling and fighting against the rope that bound you to no avail. Panic-stricken eyes. Unblinking as they watched the door. Your face swollen and your hair stuck to the rust brown blood caked on your cheek.

Another creak. A shadow in the light under the closet door. You clamped your eyes shut. Screaming. He could hear your bloodcurdling screams as you form the words in your head, “don’t want to see don’t want to see don’t want-“

Javier takes two wide strides to the notebook open on his desk and turns the page, grabbing the pen beside it to start writing. Just needs to get the thoughts out of his head, get them on a paper so they will stop spinning, making him dizzy. He freezes before the pen hits paper.

You must have drawn it when you were here just a few days ago. It feels like a lifetime ago. It’s a cartoon of the you and him, holding hands, smiling, framed by at least two dozen little scribbled hearts. The illustration hits him like a brick to the head. His vision fogs. The dull ache he'd become familiar with in the last 24-hours is suddenly so poignant he can't ignore it any longer. He doubles over.

Is this heartbreak?

A sob rips from his throat, fully demolishing the carefully constructed dam that has held tears back during this whole hellish ordeal. Tears overflow from his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. He allows them to flow freely as he flips the page again, and he writes you a letter he hopes he can actually give you some day.

There’s a gentle knock on his bedroom door. He croaks out, “Hang on,” then wipes his eyes and rummages around for some clean clothes to dress himself. When he swings the door open, still tugging a gray polo shirt over his head, Chucho is standing there, waiting patiently. Javier tries to mask the pain as he thrums his fingers against the wooden doorframe and says, “Yeah?”

“You ok?” Chucho asks, searching Javi’s face, met with the same vacant, puffy eyes he hasn’t seen on his son in months.

Javi clenches his jaw and breaks eye contact, looking down to the ground as he tries to figure out how to answer. He takes a deep breath and sighs, then shakes his head, “We didn’t find anything last night. Anderson gave me an address book they found in her car, asked me to contact her friends and family to notify them. I was hoping…”

His voice breaks. It seems so foolish.

I was hoping we would find her before it became necessary to contact friends and family. Once I contact them, this becomes real. My fucking nightmare.

Chucho nods, understanding what Javi can’t bring himself to say out loud, then ushers him in for a hug. Javier accepts the physical contact, reluctantly at first. But once his dad’s arms are squeezing him tight, he realizes he needed it. He returns the hug and takes a deep, shaky breath. Chucho pulls back and tells him, “Coffee’s on. And let me make you some breakfast before you start calling. You need to eat.”

“Sure,” Javi mutters, then follows his dad out to the kitchen.

Three cups of black coffee and two plates of eggs and bacon later, he’s leaning on the kitchen counter, thumbing through your little black address book. You must have had this thing for at least a decade. The pages are tattered and stained, entries edited and re-edited and re-re-edited. Some entries blacked out, stricken from your life for reasons unknown to him. He finds himself wondering where you were when you made each pen stroke, how you were feeling, what your relationship is to all of these people now.

Most of them he hasn’t heard you mention, some with the same last name as you. He chuckles when he flips past Michelle. A smile spreads across his face when he finds his name, scrawled in his chicken scratch handwriting. You drew a little heart next to it. His chest aches and he runs his thumb against the engraving.

Javier has never considered himself to be much of a jealous person. He supposes that he never really let himself be attached enough to be jealous. Because now, as he’s nosing his way through your little address book, there’s a green flash in the edges of his vision when he encounters other names with little hearts drawn next to them. Some crossed out, some not. He finds himself muttering at these indicators in a surly tone, “Who the fuck is this, now?”

He has to shake himself out of this trance and get back to the task at hand, flipping pages with intent now instead of curiosity.

Claudia Hecksel Klitzke

There she is. He steps over to the wall and grabs the phone when a DING-DONG interrupts him. Swinging the front door open, he finds Greg, looking flustered, on the front porch.

Javi welcomes him in and leads him to the the kitchen, pointing to the coffee pot, “Coffee’s on, help yourself. I have to make some calls, but-“

“Javi, I just got an email…” Greg starts, cautiously making his way closer. He looks over at the boxy computer on a desk in the corner and swallows hard, “I was at the office, I got an email from him- from Dan. You were on the email list, too. Along with 100 other people. And, uh. Well. You should- uhh- you should see it.”

Javi’s hair stands on end and his guts twist like a washcloth being wrung-out. He strides over to the computer and boots it up, tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently as he waits for the machine to connect to dial-up internet, then pinches the bridge of his nose, “Is it security cam footage?”

No response. Javi assumes that means yes. He clears his throat as he folds his arms across his thudding chest as he looks at Greg, “Did you send it to the police yet?”

Greg shakes his head. Javi sighs glances back at the computer once the high-pitched modem noises stop piercing his ears. Logs into his email. Sure as shit, new message from [email protected] with 118 recipients. He’s not sure how Dan got his email address, but judging by the addresses listed, he sent it to fucking everyone in Laredo.

When he clicks on the email, aptly titled CAUGHT, the images start to download. The text in the body of the email names you and Javi, and the date. He doesn’t need to wait for all of them to load to know what they contain. Really, he didn’t need to open the email at all to know, but he can't move forward until he sees exactly what the other 117 recipients have seen.

Grainy black and white stills of CCTV footage from Dan’s cameras. Javier purses his lips and stares at the images as they download at a glacial pace. The invasion of privacy ignites a rage inside him. He slams his fist against the desk and shouts, “FUCK!”

It’s all he can say. He clears his throat, runs his hands through his hair, then rises to his feet to go find a cigarette and Detective Anderson’s card. Greg pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a seat, dark brown eyes following his friend carefully as he strides around the house, slamming things and huffing in anger.

Javier comes back to common area, lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he dials the detective on his cell phone. While the line rings, his eyes are glued to the computer screen. Loading one row of pixels at a time, like a strip tease that makes him sick to his stomach.

There you both are, in Dan Baker’s kitchen, naked as the day you were born. Kissing, fucking, promising the world to each other, completely unaware the vignette of your intimacy would be broadcasted to everyone with an email address in the tri-county area.

When Detective Anderson doesn’t answer, Javi leaves a voicemail, “This is Javier Peña, I’m emailing you something the whole fucking town got from Dan Baker this morning. Pictures from his security cams. He wouldn’t have had access these pictures if the footage had been seized by your guys right away like you said it would be. I’d also like to know how the fuck he’s able to email pictures of us fucking, but you still can’t fucking find him. Call me when you get this.”

After dealing with this ripe new clusterfuck, Javi resumes his attempt to call Claudia. He powers down the computer, then grabs the receiver of the corded landline phone and holds it to his ear as he punches in number. It rings three times before she picks up, out of breath, “Hello?”

“Claudia? It’s Javi,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then leans his back against the counter.

She’s silent. In the background, the lilted voice of Elmo blares from a TV, melding with the squealing babble of a toddler. The noise gets further away, then it sounds like a door shuts, immediately followed by her shaky voice, “What happened?”

His shoulders slump. How the fuck does he even say this? He turns around and leans over the counter on his elbows, looking blankly out the sliding back door as he sighs and shakes his head, trying to hold it together, “You’re the first person I’m calling-“

“Wh- what? Calling for what? Is she ok?”

“I-“ his washcloth guts twist as he croaks, “I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s ok. We- we don’t know where she is. Dan took her yesterday.”

Silence.

“He had cameras. He saw us. I thought he would come here, to me, but he had a GPS tracker on her car and he found her. Kidnapped her from a hotel in San Antonio.”

A staticky sobbing stings his ear canal, then the sounds of shattered breaths. He tries to swallow the melancholy bubbling from his throat as Claudia doesn’t cease, then he chokes out, “I’m so sorry. We’re… we’re looking. I’ve been out looking for her. SAPD has detectives on the case. Local police are looking. They wanted me to start calling friends and family to notify them.”

The crying starts to wane. Claudia regains her composure slowly. Javi sits on the other line and waits for the wave to pass, successfully holding back his own sorrows. Eventually she takes a deep breath and announces with authority, “I’m coming there. I have to call Roger. I’ll have my mom come watch Michael, then I’m leaving for the airport.”

“You can come out here when you get in. I- as soon as I’m done calling people, I’m going out with Greg again-“

“Greg? That motherfucker’s best man?”

“I know. But I’ve known him since we were kids. I trust him,” his eyes flick to Greg’s, who looks up, mid-sip of coffee, with a frown as if to say what the fuck is that about?

She huffs, then she’s silent, but he hears ruckus and zippers muffled in the background.

Javi clears his throat, “Give me a call on my cell when you have a flight booked and we’ll figure out details.”

“Who else do you have to call?”

“Parents, maybe grandma?”

She grunts, “I’ll call them. You go do your thing.”

By that afternoon, Claudia is in the cab of Greg’s truck, sandwiched between him and Javier, on their way to visit the 36th property on Greg’s list. They found that searching properties is much less terrifying, and therefore less time consuming, in the daylight.

“So do the cops know you guys are doing this? They have this list, too right?” Claudia asks as she frowns and crosses her arms and stares out the windshield.

“They have the list. Turns out, though, it takes a while to clear 500 houses. Which is why we’re helping,” Greg answers, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, then back out the windshield. The truck rocks and groans as he turns down a dirt road.

Javier crushes the cherry of a cigarette in the truck’s ashtray and looks to Claudia, “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want. The Bakers are handing out missing persons fliers with some other people.”

“I want to be here. Feels like I’m actually fucking doing something at least. No offense,” Claudia looks from Greg to Javier, “I’m surprised the Bakers are sikking the village on their golden child. Especially after that email.”

“Dale isn’t participating,” Greg comments, “Not surprised, though. He and Dan are two peas in a pod if I ever seen ‘em. Probably doesn’t even think Dan did anything wrong.”

“Wait, you know about the email?” Javi turns to her with a furrowed brow.

She winces and nods, “He sent it to everybody in his email contacts. Her parents, too.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Well, I guess,” he groans and looks out the window as he decides whether or not to continue, but goes ahead, “I should tell you about the other thing.”

They turn to him in tandem with eyebrows raised expectantly. Here it goes. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, “She’s pregnant.”

Greg blows a raspberry and all the air expels from his lungs. Claudia gasps and her hands fly to her mouth, then she asks, “Since when?”

Javi lights another cigarette and rolls the window down a crack, shaking his head, “Not sure. Anderson told me yesterday about positive pregnancy tests in the bathroom garbage. We’re assuming they’re her’s.”

It’s silent for a few more moments until Greg asks hesitantly, “Do you know if it’s yours? I mean, sorry man, might be too soon, I don’t know if her and Dan were-“

“They weren’t. She told me yesterday that they haven’t had sex since we started seeing each other. I believe her,” Javi looks over and tries not to sound too fucking terrified when he says, “So, yeah, I know that I’m the father.”

The father. I’m the father. I’m going to be a fucking father. I have find her.

As if saving him from his own thoughts, Javi’s cell phone trills in his pocket. Unknown number. He flips the phone open and answers, “Peña.”

“This is Detective Anderson. We found the car outside Laredo. We’re gathering a search party. How soon can you be here?”

[ Next Chapter ]

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angeloddity · 2 years

Text

Anything that Touches

steve harrington x fem!reader

A heatwave in Hawkins leaves everyone scrambling to stay cool, desperate for any relief from the high temperatures and humidity. You take the opportunity to get some ice cream at the mall. The fact that your crush works at Scoops Ahoy is just an added benefit.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 4,200

a/n: It’s been so hot everywhere and I think we would all enjoy the heat more if we were getting through it with Steve Harrington.

Melt verb.

To make or become liquified by heat.

To make or become more tender or loving.

You were unaware of the heat outside when you woke up in the morning. Your bedroom was shaded by the tall trees in the yard, only the barest hints of dappled light allowed to pass through the window. A box fan placed on a chair circulated air across your shoulders like a gentle breeze, its steady hum constantly called you back to the brink of sleep—pure bliss. It took a while for you to finally move.

When you eventually did convince yourself to get out of bed, you glanced briefly out your window to the world beyond, trying to discern how the day might go. Everything was still, only the barest hint of movement flitted through the leaves. The sun was shining, seeming almost brighter than usual, and sparse, fluffy white clouds drifted at a lazy pace through a sea of the brightest blue. From the comfort of your home, it looked like a beautiful day—the kind of day that cradles you in its soft heat, holds you close, lets you know that everything will be okay. The perfect day for a summer treat, something cool and sweet.

Maybe if you had bothered to check the weather, to even glance at the local news just once before you decided to leave your home, you would have chosen to remain in the safe confines of your cool house. Maybe the nonexistent rumble of lawnmowers in your neighbors' yards should have been warning enough. The view outside your window of cotton candy clouds and mellow sunlight is not enough to know if a day in the Midwest will truly be beautiful, after all these years you should know better.

The blast of heat that struck you as soon as you opened the door was enough to make you question if you had somehow been transported to some new world. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

Somehow during the night Hell had bubbled up between the cracks in the pavement, seeping into the air of Hawkins, thick enough to choke. It warped the asphalt in the street, mirages of puddles at the edge of your sightline, spreading upwards in waves around you, distorting your vision of the cars parked along the curb. The humidity hung in the air like a second layer of clothes, thick enough to buoy you like one of El’s sensory deprivation tanks.

It wouldn’t surprise you if the soles of your shoes half melted somewhere between the walk to your car or the walk across the asphalt of the crowded mall parking lot. It should have been easy to guess that the mall would be more busy than usual.

Now, standing in the concourse of the mall, surrounded by crowds traveling in from all over Roane County, you’re starting to wonder if the better choice might have been to just buy ice cream from the grocery store. You doubt the store would have been very busy, nothing like the mall. It would have been closer to home, a short trip with the same reward. Well, not quite the same reward.

Steve Harrington doesn’t work at the grocery store.

You’ve known of Steve for as long as you can remember. You’ve known the sound of his laugh, the pull of his smile, the stupid jokes he would make instead of paying attention to what the teacher was saying. Steve has always been there, on the periphery of your existence, but you doubt he ever even knew your name, not before Will vanished.

Too shy, too weird, not pretty enough. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever notice someone like that? Someone who prefers listening to the song of cicadas and crickets from an open window than Madonna blasting at a house party. No, King Steve never would have noticed you when he was at Hawkins High.

But now? Smile softening his features; stance relaxed; and stupid, silly, adorable sailor uniform adorning his body—now Steve knows you.

He calls out to you as soon as you enter Scoops Ahoy, eyes igniting with something warm enough to churn your stomach, to start the buzzing in your head and the tremors in your hands, fingers aching for him to grasp them with his own, to hold them like an anchor.

“Hi Steve,” you reply, waiting until you’re close enough to the counter to speak normally instead of shouting like he had. “Seems like a busy day at the mall.”

“Oh, definitely. Everyone is trying to escape the heat. I’m just glad I’m not working at the pool this summer.” Steve passes a scoop of ice cream to a child, drops of bright blue already melting from the scoop and down the cone onto the kid’s hand. Steve turns to you, giving you his full attention. “What can I get you today?”

It takes a moment for you to decide from the many flavors available. Long enough for someone to step in line behind you, the person seeming to grow agitated immediately upon realizing that you don’t know what you want. But Steve doesn’t rush you, just chatters idly, scooping your chosen flavor when you finally do make a decision. You get it on a cone, ice cream already starting to melt. Steve’s fingers brush yours during the handoff, a small thing, enough to send a dusting of rosy pink across his cheeks. You’re too preoccupied with the ice cream, anything to keep you from staring, to notice. You lick the runaway drips before they can reach your hand.

Steve trains his eyes on you, a steady brown gaze holding you in place—intense. The very heat you had been trying to escape floods your own cheeks, warms your chest, your ears, everything.

“Thanks Steve!” You smile at him, the sweetest thing he’s ever seen, and for just a moment he’s left stuttering.

“No problem.” He moves to run a hand through his hair, a habit of his that only gets worse when he’s nervous, only to be blocked by the hat atop his head. He bumps it, causing it to shift, the AHOY now reading at an odd angle.

You only Look back once as you leave Scoops Ahoy, just to see Steve one last time. You expect him to be focusing fully on work again, the line having built up a little behind you as the two of you chatted. He’s getting the order ready for the next person, but he’s looking at you too.

You wave, a small thing—barely a lift of your arm, a stretch of fingers. It’s an awkward motion. You’re surprised that Steve even sees it. You’re half embarrassed to be caught longing when you’d only just parted ways. But he smiles brightly back at you, nearly dropping his ice cream scooper as he does. He tries to play it off with a heavy exhale—a full body breath—and another smile. Your heart shouldn’t be fluttering as much as it is.

—♡—

“You are a dingus with a capital D.”

Steve startles, turning quickly and brandishing the ice cream scooper like it might actually do some damage if he were suddenly attacked. Robin's head pokes out from the “Captains Quarters,” the clouded pane of glass slid to the side just enough for her to watch Steve in the midst of yet another trainwreck. This time the disaster left a line of disgruntled customers in its wake—customers that Robin just might have helped with if she were a more sympathetic person, but she’s technically on break and not inclined to clean up yet another of Steve’s romantic messes.

Unlike most of Steve’s attempts to ask a girl out, where he strikes out big time no matter how much charm he claims to possess, this disaster was caused by his continued inaction.

“What was I supposed to do, Robin? Just put her on the spot? And somewhere so public? She would hate that,” Steve justifies. He brings a hand to his face, rubbing as if he could wipe away his frustrations.

Most of the time when Steve asks someone out he doesn’t expect anything to come of it. Maybe a few dates, a distraction, at the very least proof that he hasn’t become a total loser. But he knows you, knows your little quirks, the things that make you laugh, make you nervous, make you you.

The two of you have been friends since Nancy Wheeler opened Steve’s eyes to the reality of the world (or worlds) around him. And he’s been harboring a crush on you since you both went to the Wheeler’s New Year’s Eve party. At midnight you had kissed Steve on the cheek, just a short peck, and he’s been a goner ever since.

It’s a giddy, ridiculously tender crush that sets his face aflame each time he even thinks of you, one that leaves him daydreaming about a future with you that he’s not sure he’s allowed to have. He’s been desperate to either get over his feelings or work up the nerve to ask you out, but has ultimately been failing miserably at both.

“You two hang out, don’t you? Just bring it up the next time you’re together. Or don’t, but I’ll definitely judge you if you don’t.”

“Robin—“ Steve begins to protest, but another customer comes up to the counter, forcing the conversation to be put on pause. He deals with the customer as quickly and as cordially as he can, more interested in the woes of his failed dating life than the man ordering an ice cream sundae. The customer takes forever to decide on his toppings, and Steve rushes to get the dessert together. One handoff of cash and a cup later and the transaction is complete. As soon as the customer is gone, Steve turns back to his coworker. “Robin, it will happen when it happens. These things take precision, you can’t rush them.”

“You’ve liked her for what, half a year now? Or at least longer than we’ve been working together. It’s clear as day that the feelings are mutual. My advice: make a move before she moves on.”

Steve huffs out a sigh, exasperated. He goes to run his fingers through his hair, once again being stopped by the stupid hat. This time he tosses the offending article of clothing on the counter, too frustrated to care about company policy.

“You could at least come out here and help,” Steve argues, lips downturned, crease forming between his eyebrows as his irritation grows.

Robin simply shuts the window. She is, after all, still on break.

—♡—

Two days later the heat still hasn’t broken. The sun roasts everything it touches and brownouts occur sporadically across town. Everything outside is melting. Lawns are turning brown despite routine watering, people are grumpy, and the humidity seems to be increasing. Two days later, Steve is, for the first time ever, grateful to be working at Scoops Ahoy, if only for the constant blast of air conditioning filtering through the ice cream shop.

Apart from the continued heat wave, the day is uneventful. Steve serves ice cream, goofs off with Robin, and lets the group of children that he seems to have taken under his wing (despite their lack of appreciation for him) sneak into the movie theater through the back door. Just a regular, boring, but air conditioned day.

The mall is busy again, though not as crowded as it had been the last time you came. People seem to have given up on leaving their homes for any reason other than to go to work. They avoid spending any time outside even if going outside means reaching a cooler destination. You, however, decide the reward of ice cream is worth the journey to the mall.

The possibility of seeing Steve again definitely helps sweeten the deal.

He doesn’t expect you to come back so soon. He’s on break when you arrive, tucked away in the back room doing his best to drown out the sound of customers placing their orders. The sliding glass windows only do so much to provide a sense of privacy, the textured glass warped just enough that Steve can’t see who’s in the store.

It’s a short break, just long enough for him to decompress, to not think about ice cream flavors and annoyed customers for only a moment. It’s an opportunity for him to breathe.

There’s a knock at the window, Robin’s form blurred by the glass but close enough to distinguish who distrubed the brief peace. The blue of her uniform is the detail that stands out strongest through the window, even as she backs away from the pane once more, returning to the counter.

Steve contemplates the decision to just not acknowledge the knock. It would be a small form of payback for Robin’s choice not to help him a few days before, but it doesn’t take long for curiosity to get the better of him. Steve gets up, slides the window open with more force than he really should use on the rickety track.

“What now Robin?” he nearly snaps.

It only takes a second for his gaze to lock on you, with your shining eyes and kind smile. You’re wearing a shirt with sunflowers on it. The pattern is fitting for the season.

Pretty.

Steve quickly shuts the window again, hustling to leave the break room and talk to you, shoving Robin out of the way in the process. She hasn’t taken your order yet and Steve’s not about to let her.

“Hey Sweetheart, what can I get for you?” The pet name slips out before he can stop it. You don’t seem to mind.

You greet him with a smile and a quiet “hello,” sending his heart racing and cheeks warming beyond the point that air conditioning can mask. By the time Steve finally feels in control of himself again, he’s already scooped your ice cream and is passing it off to you. Secretly he hopes your fingers will brush again. It’s such a small thing to want so desperately. He’d feel foolish if anyone knew, but it doesn’t happen this time.

“It’s on the house,” Steve says. He keeps his voice low, not wanting anyone else around to hear. “Since you’re my favorite customer.”

It’s just a small gesture, technically he isn’t supposed to do it, but the risk is worth seeing the look on your face.

“Steve, you’re the best!” You lean across the counter, free hand placed firmly to keep you from toppling over, and press a kiss to Steve’s cheek, just like you had at that New Year’s Eve party. It’s brief, soft yet firm, enough to short circuit his brain.

“It’s no problem,” he somehow manages to say.

He wants to tell you that you’re his favorite, you're his best girl, that he’ll give you whatever you desire, but the words catch in his throat, sharp like a pill swallowed dry, unmoving. He wants to ask you to be more than friends, even more now that he thinks maybe you feel the same. Why else would you have kissed him? He hopes you feel the same. Instead he’s choking, nothing coming out, not even to breathe. It takes a moment for the thoughts to form into something tangible, something that just might make sense.

You’re gone before he can finally get the words off his tongue, lost in the crowd, out of sight.

He let you go again.

—♡—

For the first time in a long time, luck is on Steve’s side. Or maybe it’s not luck, maybe the universe just grew tired of him dragging his feet.

It’s as he’s driving home from work, only a few hours later, that he sees you again. You’re lying in the grass under a tree, the shade engulfing where you lay while the rest of the grass burns bright under the evening sun. He recognizes your shirt, the one with the sunflowers on it. There's a plastic bag lying next to you, one you hadn’t had when you visited Scoops Ahoy just a few hours prior. It boasts the familiar label of the local grocery store, the contents scarcely staying inside.

He stops the car, nearly forgetting to take the keys with him as he runs to your side, afraid that something terrible happened. He calls out as he rushes to you, hoping for a response. As he drops to your side he’s happy to see you’re conscious.

“Hi Steve,” you greet, a lazy smile tugging at your lips, a content look on your face, like everything is right in the world, like seeing him makes it right.

“What are you doing? Are you alright?” He panics, hands gently running along any skin he can find, searching for an injury that isn’t there.

“I was walking home from the store and I got too hot. Have you seen the dogs in town? They’re all hot too. They keep lying down in the grass instead of going for their walks, and they seem much happier when they do. I thought I would give it a try.”

“Is it working?” Steve asks, relief palpable in his voice. You aren’t injured, just taking a break.

“A little,” you reply. “The grass is cool and the breeze feels nice, but it’s still too hot.”

You huff a little, slightly annoyed that your plan didn’t work as well as you had hoped. You still need to walk the rest of the way home before you can cool off properly. You wish you had a damp washcloth, something to lay across your neck or your face. You think the cool water against your skin would bring just enough relief to make the heat bearable.

You just wanted to buy some fruit from the store. You had a little money to spare, thanks to Steve, and thought some fruit in the evening would be nice. Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen to walk in the middle of a heat wave.

“Let me give you a ride,” Steve says, though it comes out as more of a demand than a choice. It’s too hot to be exposed to the heat for so long.

“But Steve, my house is out of your way,” you claim.

“Doesn’t matter,” he states. “That just means I get to spend more time with you.”

You give him that smile again, that lazy pull of lips, like you can’t help yourself. It's a small thing, he loves it. He doesn’t love that you make no attempt to stand, or even sit up. You just keep smiling at him.

“We should get going.” His voice is a sigh, more air than sound, breathless.

It’s only then, once you’ve been prompted by Steve, that you finally sit up. You’re closer to him than he thought you were, his knees practically pressing into your hip, face a mere foot from his own.

Grass sticks to your arms and he reaches out to brush it off, the brief contact making his skin buzz.

He can’t help himself.

Steve brings his fingers to your cheek, only the barest pressure. You melt into him, somehow softening even more from the slight contact. His fingers trail up, around your ear, back down to your neck where he holds you with his whole hand—not enough pressure to keep you there. You lean into the weight of his palm, content with the contact despite the heat.

He leans in slowly, entranced, and still you remain with eyes half lidded. He presses his forehead to yours first, another chance for you to pull away, to push him off if you want. But you just tilt your head slightly, a better angle for when he finally does kiss you, and that’s exactly what he does.

It’s gentle, as lazy as your smile, a slow melding of lips—sweet as a sundae. The kiss doesn’t last long, it’s still too hot outside, but it’s perfect in its brevity.

Steve presses a few more kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your temple, all for good measure, and you melt further into him, pliant beneath his touch.

“Come on,” he sighs. “I’m serious this time, let’s get out of the heat.”

“You’re the one who got us sidetracked!” Your voice is laced with giggles, too giddy not to show it.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty,” Steve claims, grinning as he does.

The two of you hop into his car, sighing in relief as the air conditioning kicks in. You keep your bag of fruit by your feet as Steve drives, leaving your hands free, and Steve takes the opportunity to reach across the center console to take your hand in his.

—♡—

It’s cool in your home. The sun casts nothing more than a glow through the windows, a quiet light. The ceiling fan in the living room is enough to keep the heat outside at bay. If you keep the lights off you can trick yourself into thinking it’s even cooler than it really is.

The house is quiet, no one else is home.

Steve follows you in at your invitation, trailing behind you, wide eyed, moonstruck, content. He keeps your hand in his, fingers tangled together, as the two of you pass through the living room to the kitchen. Steve sets the grocery bag of fruit on the counter, having insisted on carrying it while you walked from his car.

“That way you can have a hand free to get the door,” he declared while you walked up to the house. He said it with a grin, boyish and proud. He said it like he’s getting exactly what he wants.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you ask, looking through your refrigerator to see what you can offer him. The task is made more difficult with only one hand to work with, but you don’t really mind. Steve seems indifferent about the drink, so you grab two glasses for iced tea, just in case he changes his mind.

He only lets go of you when you need both hands free to pour the drinks. You bring your glass up to your cheek, pressing it into the soft skin there, hoping to steal some of the chill. It leaves a wet spot behind on your skin that Steve brushes away absentmindedly.

You take the opportunity of having both hands free to set the fruit in a bowl on the counter to let it finish ripening, then you hop up on the counter yourself. Steve comes to stand before you, pressed between your thighs, dark eyes taking you in.

It’s your turn to explore.

You bring your hand up to his cheek, outlining the bone, his brow, the length of his nose. His eyes close for just a moment longer the next time he blinks—adoring. And you think, maybe he’s wanted this as long as you have.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. He brings your palm to his lips, presses a kiss there before continuing. “On a date. We can do something quiet, just the two of us, go on an adventure.”

“I’d like that,” you say, leaning in close.

The second kiss starts out just as slow as the first, having no need to rush. This time, however, there’s no concern or fear that the feelings are one sided. There’s no need to hold back. He’s soft against you, holding you ever closer. Steve bites your lip gently, pulling just a little, and you open for him. Your hand finds its way to his hair, tugging at the already messy strands and he sighs into the kiss.

You want to hear that sound again.

Your hands keep wandering as his find their way to your waist, the back of your neck, anywhere that allows him to pull you further into him. Maybe you’ve both wanted this for too long. You’re unable to pull away now that you know you can kiss him, could have done so at any time and he would have kissed you back like this—hungry and desperate.

He leaves a trail of kisses across your jaw, down your neck, and you can’t help but sigh, still breathless but not wanting him to stop. They’re open mouthed but gentle, a light press of teeth followed by kiss swollen lips, the pressure not enough to bruise but enough to drive you crazy. You almost wish he’d mark up the column of your throat, but the heatwave has shown no sign of stopping and you can’t cover marks in this weather.

Instead you guide Steve back to your lips and kiss him a few more times for good measure.

It’s a while before you pull back, take a breath, settle. A lazy smile pulls at your lips. Steve’s own smile matches yours, eyes half lidded, warm with affection. He’s never looked so beautiful.

The tender way he holds you leaves you dizzy, sticky with fondness. You don’t know how you’ll ever be able to let go of him, too desperate to keep him close. He shows no sign of wanting to pull away either, too content to move. How did you get so lucky?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things steve #season 3 steve makes me so soft I can't stop writing about him #he looks like a cartoon character i'm obsessed

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kkginfo · 2 years

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India's Nayawal, who has been on fire in England.. double century storm at Lord's.. a new record in 118 years.. | KKG INFO

India’s Nayawal, who has been on fire in England.. double century storm at Lord’s.. a new record in 118 years.. | KKG INFO

Cheteshwar Pujara: Cheteshwar Pujara scored 231 runs off 403 balls at Lord’s on Wednesday. Smashed the bowlers including Umesh Yadav. The England team is currently struggling with severe heat stress. Earlier this summer, Indian batsman Cheteshwar Pujara created history with the bat at the historic ground at Lord’s on Wednesday. He scored a double century for Sussex against Middlesex in the…

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rangpurcity · 1 year

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IND vs BAN: Bangladesh lost from England to Australia, will Rahul be able to save the team?

IND vs BAN Test Series: The 2-match Test series between India and Bangladesh is starting from 14 December. Before the series, the team suffered a big setback. Apart from captain Rohit Sharma, Mohammed Shami and Ravindra Jadeja are out due to injury. #IND #BAN #Bangladesh #lost #England #Australia #Rahul #save #team

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rudrjobdesk · 2 years

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Cheteshwar Pujara: पुजारा के नक्शे कदम पर चला पाकिस्तानी बल्लेबाज, काउंटी क्रिकेट में सीखा शतक लगाने का हुनर

Image Source : TWITTER Cheteshwar Pujara and Mohammad Rizwan Highlights मोहम्मद रिजवान ने काउंटी चैम्पियनशिप में लगाया पहला शतक रिजवान ने ससेक्स के लिए लगाया पहला शतक रिजवान को ससेक्स में टीममेट रहे पुजारा से बल्लेबाजी को तराशने में मिली मदद भारतीय टीम की दीवार चेतेश्वर पुजारा के साथ पाकिस्तान के टेस्ट उप-कप्तान मोहम्मद रिजवान लगातार अपने बल्लेबाजी कौशल को तराशने में जुटे हुए थे। इस बीच पुजारा…

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#cheteshwar pujara #County championship #County cricket #Cricket Hindi News #Mohamaad Rizwan #Rizwan first century #Sussex #काउंटी क्रिकेट #काउंटी चैंपियनशिप #चेतेश्वर पुजारा #मोहम्मद रिजवान #रिजवान पहला शतक #ससेक्स

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scotianostra · 5 months

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Mike Denness was born 1st December 1940, Bellshill, North Lanarkshire.

Most of you wont know the name but Denness, was and still is the only Scottish born captain of the English Cricket team.

After his family moved to Ayr, he was educated at Ayr Academy, where he played rugby with Ian Ure and Ian McLauchlan and played for Ayr Cricket Club. Scotland did not have a representative international team at the time of Denness' career, so he could only play for England at Test and One day International level. Scotland did have a team but it was not recognised the way it is nowadays and Dennes did play for them for 8 years, gaining his first cap against another of the minnows, Ireland, while he was still at school.

Dennes has been described as a stylish batsman with a fine array of strokes and an excellent cover fieldsman, in fiver years as captain of Kent he won 6 "first class" trophies, and was a Wisden Cricketer of the Year in 1975. He moved to Essex in 1977, helping the club to win the County Championship and Benson & Hedges Cup in 1979. He retired after the 1980 English cricket season.

Denness's international career began in 1969 against New Zealand, he was made captain in 1973, after Ray Illingworth's dismissal, he lacked the support of one of the players on whom he was most dependent. Geoff Boycott, who wanted the captaincy himself. Denness played in 28 test matches, and was captain on 19 occasions, winning six, losing five and drawing eight matches. He was deposed when Australia won the first Test of 1975 at Edgbaston, Denness was said to have taken his medicine with typical graciousness. He later became an ICC match referee.

He passed away in April 2013 after a battle with cancer during his final days as president of Kent Cricket Club. He was an inaugural member of the Scottish Sports Hall of Fame and was a member of the Scottish Cricket Hall of Fame.

I would like to point out the two famous cricketers who captained England are sometimes classified as Scots, Douglas Jardine and Tony Greig both had Scottish parents, but Jardine was born in Mumbai and Greig in South Africa.

#scotland #scottish #history #sporting history #cricket

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ffloorageorge · 6 months

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