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deadinside-butstill-horny · 4 years

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The Night We Met

Part One - The Night We Met

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know.

...

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy... He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve...

“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“...Is Steve okay?”

“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

Part Two

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #pedro pascal x reader #I LOVE THE BLACK FUCKING SHIRT #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #murphy!reader

241 notes · View notes

busycryin · 3 years

Text

REPOST - THE NIGHT WE MET

THE NIGHT WE MET

PART ONE - THE NIGHT WE MET

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: You decide to travel to Colombia on a whim, there you meet a gorgeous stranger that just so happens to be your brothers partner.

Anon was worried about losing my work when I switched blogs, so fear not. I’m reposting on here but I have no intention of deleting my other blog, it’s where I got my first 200 notes and I’m honestly blown away by it. I’m happy to announce I’m working on a fourth part. I’m not sure when I’ll post it as I’m still in the idea stage but it’s definitely a start, ay!

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you’d like to see anything in particular. If it’s in my wheelhouse, you’ll definitely see it.

Pedro in the black shirt is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin’ airline ticket. You had attempted to grab your crappy life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentary bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into one of your full scale panic attacks if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn’t have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother’s address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands, you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

“Uh… no hablo… español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi…Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda… does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it’s a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man… Good to know.

…

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now… You’ve got a guest…. No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother’s partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner’s sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it’s a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman’s tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman’s words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son… I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

Get a grip Y/N.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia… Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it’s probably ‘cause he’s busy… He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

Javier’s hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother’s partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve…

“… This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throat your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man’s hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

“…Is Steve okay?”

“…No… He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve’s voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “…what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it’s not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #repost #narcos fanfiction

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curly-headed-one · 4 years

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The lovely @sunflowrhaz tagged me in this! ⭐️ It was so cool to learn these things about you. I also have a new book rec so thank you for that. It took a bit of time to answer, I apologize, but I feel very flattered, thank you! 💗

I’d love to tag: Whoever feels up to this! It was great fun and I’d love to anybody who is that confident to share and say I tagged them. But also: @harrysblackboa @sryluvidrc @kopfcarossell because I would love to hear from you! ❤️

———————-

picrew!

I never did one before but I loved this! I feel pretty happy with my first try!

screenshots

Lockscreen: Iconic; Last song you listened to: I tried to prove a point about another song that had a similar Verse. & Last photo you saved: I think I reblogged this but I loved it so much I needed it in my pictures.

four songs i’ve heard today

Lay Your Love On Me - Mamma Mia Cast

Animals - Martin Garrix (idk either man)

Monster - Kanye West, Jay-Z, Nicki Minaj, Rick Ross

She - Harry Styles

seven comfort films

I’ll jump in and agree: Every Harry Potter film

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Spiderman 1 (The Original with Tobey Maguire)

Disney’s Hercules

Angus, Thongs and Perfect Kissing

Step Up 4 - Miami Heat

Little Shop of Horrors

get to know me

Name/nickname: I don’t have one!! Unacceptable please nickname me!

Star sign: Aquarius

Favourite bands/groups: Listen, what a loaded question; Let’s do five: One Direction, One Republic (you see a theme here?) The 1975, Queen, Arctic Monkeys... Oh god I regret this already.

Favourite solo artists: No okay for real this is too much.

Song stuck in my head: Honestly? Niall’s With or Without You Cover.

Last movie: Little Shop of Horrors

Last show: Grey’s Anatomy (Judge me all you want it let’s me forget/avoid all my problems)

When did I create this blog: December 2011 (I THINK)

What do I post about: One Direction (I am stuck and I only regret it a little bit), everything I like? And sometimes politics (so sorry).

Last thing I googled: The lyrics of “Make You Mine” (As I said I was trying to prove a point!)

Other blogs: I am trying to set up a writing blog but so far it’s useless @yoursilenceisaluxury

Do I get asks: Rarely but I cherish them dearly.

Why did I choose this url: Because I thought the way Liam said it at the Brits 2014 was hilarious. (Insert frantic Harry Styles returning from a wee to accept their award).

Following: 274

Followers: I refuse to put this because it is irrelevant. (It’s small though I am not ashamed! :))

Average hours of sleep: 6-8 right now (So proud of myself)

Lucky number: 36!!

Instruments: Used to play the piano but lost that now. :/

What I am wearing: Mom Jeans and a t-shirt! (So proud of this too).

Dream job: I really don’t have one. Just one that makes me happy.

Dream trip: Norway (again), New York (I know don’t judge me), Argentina.

Favourite food: Probably pasta? But there is barely something I do not eat to be quite frank.

Nationality: Don’t know which one to put ahhh. Guess it’ll stay a secret.

Favourite song: There is no right answer to this. (Also Under Pressure - Queen/David Bowie)

Last book I read: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (it makes me cry in a cool way).

Three fictional universes you'd like to live in: Pirates of the Caribbean, A Marvel Universe (not sure which one right now; most of them are depressing as hell) probably the original Doctor Strange Universe (Am I a nerd? Nope.), anddd I’d love to try the “perfect” world in Matrix.

Wowee that was a wild ride. ☀️

#tag game #thank you so so much #about j

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johnnusz · 4 years

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‘I’m going to say my piece’ on pandemic spring break

Udonis Haslem

❮❯

Miami Heat forward and Liberty City native Udonis Haslem discusses the coronavirus pandemic, what it was like growing up hungry in South Florida, and why spring breakers needed to stay home to avoid COVID-19.

BY UDONIS HASLEM

This article by Miami Heat veteran Udonis Haslem was originally published by The Players’ Tribune and contains explicit language.

You see that video going around of these silly ass college kids down in South Florida on spring break? Talking about, “If I get corona, I get corona, bro,” and all that nonsense?

Man, I’ll tell you one thing for sure.

Those kids have never been hungry a day in their life.

They never had to worry about nothing more serious than a pop quiz. But they’re still coming down here — coming to our state — in the middle of a pandemic, acting like nothing’s going on??

I’m not usually the kind of guy who does this sort of thing … . I don’t write a lot of articles. But if you f--- with my city, I’m going to speak on it.

So I’m going to take a second here and say my piece.

It’s funny — these kids fly down to places like South Beach for a couple days to party, and they think that’s Miami. But they’ve never seen the real Miami. They’ve never been to Liberty City. They’ve never seen the side of this city that’s living check to check. The side of this city that’s surviving meal to meal.

And let me just tell you something, man — there’s a Liberty City in every city. It’s regular people, with regular struggles. And I don’t know how I can get everyone to listen, but I say this from the bottom of my heart: The people growing up in the real Miami? They’re as vulnerable during this crisis as anybody.

And I’ll tell you one more thing — this idea about those people, that because of this coronavirus they’re going to go hungry? They were already hungry. Way before all this. They were already worrying about where their next meal was gonna come from, or where they’re gonna sleep tonight, or how they’re going to get their next dollar.

And that’s what I need to get off my chest right here. Because it’s been eating me up — to see all this coverage of our city, from all these people who don’t even know what they’re talking about, that’s just focused on a bunch of kids acting stupid.

This ain’t your f---ing beach, bruh.

This is not your spring break.

This shit is real life — and come to think of it, it’s more than even that.

This shit is life and death.

But how do I know, right? I hear y’all already, with your comments. I’m just some rich basketball player. How can I relate to that? What do I know?

Man, I grew up in Liberty City.

I had never even been to South Beach until my rookie year in the NBA.

We were living a whole different life across the bridge.

We saw things no kids should see. Drug addiction was all around us. Homelessness was all around us. My mother, God bless her soul, struggled with addiction and was homeless for years until she turned her life around.

I was that kid getting those free school lunches you read about on your Twitter timeline. Matter of fact, most of us in my elementary school had lunch cards. We went to school to eat, you know what I’m saying?? Those fish sticks were everything. That little carton of chocolate milk was everything. If you skipped school to f--- around in the streets, you might go hungry that day.

I didn’t know anything different. To me, that was just the norm. Like if you had three dollars to buy some chips and a sandwich for lunch? Man, I was looking at you like you were the weird one, you know what I’m saying?

And so while I might not be a doctor or a congressman or anything like that, I do know one thing — just as someone who grew up where I grew up: If our schools have to close down for a long time because this corona thing gets out of control, millions of kids are going home to empty refrigerators.

The worse this pandemic gets, the worse it’s going to be for those kids.

Really think about that.

And also ask yourself this question: Have you ever been hungry before?

I mean really hungry? Not just, like, “Damn, bro, I gotta get on Grubhub right now” hungry.

No, I’m talking hungry.

Because here’s something that only those who’ve really struggled will ever know: Everything changes when you’re hungry. Everything, man. Your whole entire perspective changes.

I’ll tell you a true story. Any time I see a bowl of raisins? Mannnnnnnn. Listen. To this very day, if I see raisins, it’s like I get triggered. I mean it — if I saw a bowl of them on the table right now, I might go apeshit. I might damn near flip the table over. Can’t see ’em, bro. Can’t smell ’em. Makes me sick.

It’s because when I was growing up, we had too many nights where the only thing we had for dinner were those little red boxes of raisins. Nothing else, no lie. That was the main motherf---ing course. Man … you know that smell I’m talking about? The smell of that California Raisin-ass cardboard? You’d be sitting there thinking, “Alright, it’s only about 15 hours till I get to school tomorrow so I can get some fish sticks.”

And that was the reality for lots of kids before all this coronavirus stuff and all this economic pain, you know what I’m saying? That’s just life. Kids going hungry, that’s our normal, right?

If this crisis doesn’t wake us up and make us change as a country, I don’t know what will.

When the average person in Middle America thinks about this virus, and this “social distancing” talk and all that, maybe they picture a bunch of schools shutting down and then these kids going home to a bunch of nice houses and chilling for a couple months. Eating snacks, playing video games. Mom’s working from home, doing conference calls. And I’m glad that’s a reality for so many kids.

But for a lot of kids, for the other half of America, it’s not reality.

For them, home might not be the safest place.

Maybe there’s a reason these kids don’t go home until it’s time to sleep, you know what I’m saying? Maybe there’s a reason they stay out at the basketball court or at the Y until they lock the gates at night.

Might be violent in that household, you feel me?

If this situation gets out of control, and we have to keep everybody off the streets? That house they’re holed up in might start to feel more like a prison.

For a lot of kids, the truth is that school is the only structure they got. It’s the only food they can count on. It’s the only safety that’s guaranteed.

You take that all away? You better be prepared to protect them.

And that’s really the thing about this crisis that we’re living through right now. This moment we’re in … it’s not about you. It’s not about your spring break, or the way you wanna live your life. It’s like, yeah, trust me, bro — I wanna chill, too. I wanna work out at the gym, too. I wanna be on the court again, grooming these young bucks.

So hell yeah, I want my old life back, too.

But this ain’t about me. It ain’t about you.

This thing is about us.

This virus is going to affect everybody, especially the most vulnerable.

So if you got a nice, stable environment? Keep your ass home.

If you got a roof over your head? Keep your ass home.

If you got a crib with Netflix and a refrigerator full of food? Keep your ass home.

I can’t tell you what’s going to happen with the coronavirus. I’m not a public health expert. But I am a certified O.G., and I’m definitely qualified to tell you about what’s going to happen in these streets with so much of the economy shut down. If people don’t take this situation seriously and pull together as a nation, millions of kids are going to suffer.

They didn’t ask for this life. They got dealt this hand when they came out the womb. It’s our responsibility as a nation to protect these kids. You don’t have to be rich to do your part. You don’t have to be a saint, neither.

You know, I tell people all the time, I was raised on the wings of the O.G.’s.

If it wasn’t for other people reaching out their hand to me, I never would’ve made it out of my situation. I never would’ve lived my dreams. And listen, you didn’t have to be Mother Teresa to help a kid out, you know what I’m saying? You didn’t have to be working for the Red Cross to catch me on the corner where I wasn’t supposed to be, and hand me five dollars, like, “Take your ass to the store and get some food. You’re not supposed to be here.”

My O.G.’s did that for me. They looked out for me, even though I wasn’t their blood. True story — I never had a real NBA jersey growing up. My O.G. Buckwheat gave me one straight off his back. Literally took it off, handed it to me. For nothing.

You know whose jersey it was?

Alonzo Mourning.

Ain’t that crazy? Imagine telling Zo, “Couple years from now, this broke-ass kid from Liberty City is coming for your rebounding record, bro!!!!!!!”

And you know, Buckwheat … let’s just say he didn’t have a regular job. But he always made sure I was good. All around me, I had people like that. In the middle of the struggle, we had each other’s back. Sometimes people look at the inner city like it’s all crabs in a bucket, like it’s every man for himself, but that’s not the full picture.

We survived because there was always somebody willing to come pick you up at four o’clock in the morning, no questions asked. There was always somebody willing to give you the shirt off their back, or the basketball shoes off their feet, or the last five dollars in their pocket.

Can we really say we got that same feeling of solidarity right now, as a country?

I look around on social media, in the middle of this disaster, and I see a lot of people talking about “me,” you know what I’m saying?

My way of life. My vacation.

If we don’t start talking about us, then a lot of people are going to suffer.

You know how many kids would hit me up in my DMs every day, before all this went down, talking about, “Hey UD, you got a job for me? I know you own some Subways. I’m just trying to get some money for my family.”

Every day.

I’m no doctor, or no politician, or no public health expert. But I know one thing, man. We all got a responsibility to those kids.

So where my O.G.’s at? Who gonna step up for them? I got two ideas for you.

If you can afford to donate some money to support meals for the kids who really need it, help out the people at Feeding South Florida.

Every $1 provides about six meals for people who really need our help right now.

If you can’t? (And believe me, I understand if you can’t.) If you can’t, you can do something real simple. If you got a roof over your head and some food in your fridge and you don’t have to go to work to feed your family, just do the easiest thing in the world, man.

F--- your spring break.

Just keep your ass at home.

#UD #Miami Heat #Spring break #Miami #Liberty City #meals #Udonis Haslem #school meals #kids #awesome

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walterstammy · 3 years

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Manchester United - schedule 20/21 | Transfermarkt

Epl matches today manchester united - Manchester United News, Scores & Results | English Premier League Teams | FOX SPORTS

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bbcbreakingnews · 4 years

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NBA players, coaches, and owners form social justice coalition in effort to advance equal rights

The NBA and its players association on Friday introduced the National Basketball Social Justice Coalition, a group of executives, coaches and players that will lead efforts to advance equality and social justice.

The organization said its mission is to enact change in several areas, including criminal justice reform and access to voting.

The NBA’s coalition will be led by a board of 15 members. Commissioner Adam Silver, deputy commissioner Mark Tatum, and Michele Roberts, executive director of the National Basketball Players Association, will be joined by five team governors, five players and two coaches.

Donovan Mitchell is pictured wearing a ‘Black Lives Matter’ shirt ahead of a game in August

Sixers coach Doc Rivers (pictured) is joined by Atlanta coach Lloyd Pierce on the coalition

Social justice was a major theme for the NBA following its coronavirus hiatus in 2019-20. In response to George Floyd’s killing at the hands of Minneapolis police on May 25, the NBA allowed players to wear social justices messages on the backs of their jerseys

The NBA governors on the inaugural coalition are: Micky Arison, Miami Heat; Steve Ballmer, Los Angeles Clippers; Clay Bennett, Oklahoma City Thunder; Marc Lasry, Milwaukee Bucks; and Vivek Ranadive, Sacramento Kings.

The players are: Carmelo Anthony, Portland Trail Blazers; Avery Bradley, Los Angeles Lakers; Sterling Brown, Bucks; Donovan Mitchell, Utah Jazz; and Karl-Anthony Towns, Minnesota Timberwolves.

Representing the coaches are Lloyd Pierce of the Atlanta Hawks and Doc Rivers of the Philadelphia 76ers.

The Bucks’ Sterling Brown is among the players on the NBA’s social justice coalition

The vast majority of NBA players in the league’s Disney World bubble protested racism by kneeling during the national anthem over the last few months of the season.

The season was paused again in August when the Milwaukee Bucks boycotted a game after the police shooting of Jacob Blake in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

‘The past four months have shed a light on the ongoing racial injustices facing our African-American communities,’ read a team statement. ‘Citizens around the country have used their voices and platforms to speak out against these wrongdoings.

‘Over the last few days in our home state of Wisconsin, we’ve seen the horrendous video of Jacob Blake being shot in the back seven times by a police officer in Kenosha, and the additional shooting of protestors. Despite the overwhelming plea for change, there has been no action, so our focus today cannot be on basketball.

One of the world’s richest men, former Microsoft executive Steve Ballmer is also on the social justice coalition. The Clippers owner is joined by the Kings’ Vivek Ranadive, Miami’s Micky Arison, the Thunder’s Clay Bennett, and the Bucks’ Marc Lasry

source https://bbcbreakingnews.com/2020/11/20/nba-players-coaches-and-owners-form-social-justice-coalition-in-effort-to-advance-equal-rights/

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usashirtstoday · 4 years

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Albert Einstein Playing Basketball Art T Shirt

Doing what you did because it was going on it was not going anywhere in a Albert Einstein Playing Basketball Art T Shirt stock touringand that we would just a time to make a nobleand ongoing studio is the same for this be looking each other playing the same lakes in the silly haircuts you know silly had nowand that we elevated friends we known each other since the 15thand onand we got overall the actual fighting the real nitty gritty daddy stuff which had nothing to do or how popular the same popularity meeting Paul was always more pop in the rest of us was going down in the dance hallsand reported income of any big surprise you having the kids so in the gathered up right away so we knew what the score was that but it was that a group it was the music was interesting was important not who was as long as we were going forwardand going somewhere it didn’t matter but all of a sudden there just wasn’t any further progress it was the same O same overand over again I just got like themand eyes that doesn’t work now there are some groups that are quite open in their. Com open release on December 20 January 18 the first ever hostile for hospitals this is a huge life of a cat mayand and Kathy Academyand is well comes that is every 20 seconds getting getting that award consideration Christian Bale rose a month like then foster West studios so great last of the Mohegan to the mass there we to see him back on screen I think this movie will expand the was a very emotional journey for all of the characters coming at this particular tail from very different angles house at all to play I like this trailer gave us Kennedy starting lineup of how everybody’s feeling about the situation the Christian Bale’s character has been tossed into but we don’t know how is to play out I hope that we don’t see any productive promotional material is to give away what the twistand turns his Plaza think there is can be a lot of reconciliationand is gonna be a lot of meeting of the mindsand and journeys of very personal nature here so this is one of the ones it can be on my list as far as Academy award consideration although they don’t let me go to yeah darkness this is a dark grim trailer it took me a minute to even get into watching it because I love slow brooding Westerns the mean if you are alive back then you would be like that site note in the you would be me if we switch to chains like I get to see the parallels with her running with the storyline so is it all star cast can’t buy this an opportunityand I love I love Christian you watch the trailer how did your family feel about you watching the trailer to the last together that’s one of the things people need to realize is that I work for these trailers mean that as a market was was just good news is I like 4 PM I got you with grocery shoppingand everything elseand I’m alive but this morning took my phone to if I miss watching my daughter dropped me about 50 times but I did finish itand I love it right away but by right away thought of 310 to Yuma because of the Christian Baleand foster relationship but then I did absolutely think about last weekand the second so mysterious about underrated performance by him is in heat my comments he laid on the Albertina’s partner in crime so I I love West dutyand I love that he’s gonna be in this film is movie does look darkand does the directory look at his past work you knowand ends another collaboration here’s Christian Bale they know each other well they work together well it some it’s stepping up like slowburn you can tell that for sure but signed me up on the to go going you potentially how they are going to the grocery storeand sit in the car for two minutesand two of the trailer there when you just by yourself I would rather do a carpal video on my dashboard then to actually work store to see Ashley second light I style hostile hostile summary stay with 30 minute I was in there now I feel I was eating hostile hostile sonic boy my own the boy white paper looks really yeah like I feel awful that the board sign Rosenman Pike talking about deathand how she wishes it would come to the Internet were already you is over I was a running time on this to me this could be one of those you know whatever the shooting of the guy by the Coward Robert Ford the way however the assassination of the great were so amazing really work so long I don’t care what you 44 hoursand me good movie I don’t care but slowburn exiting this huge difference might my problem with the murder on your express is that it started I could start up moneyand sort of a really move meand then it got slowand I’m assuming a slowburn aware like investing a boring boringand a slowburn slowburn is like where were leading up to something were getting involved with the help give it takes to three hours to get there that’s fine as long as I’m invested that this was I invested 30 minutes I don’t I don’t mind slowburn to build a just the trailer load builds that dark moodand then as you see the characters are intertwiningand burping at the same time the movie is like a every reflux both my grandparents for her on the 3R movies again spent two minutes but the trailer in the bathroom window in the basketball story that you will finally going to take out years guarantor nimbly elaborate from the movie everything I’ve not been determined currently serving steps for traffic world finding they’re currently right here sign many personae by mean it’s a seam same take before by the love Kung Skyland but I did love Kings of summer which he directed at himand so I think he’s a really great directorand I still think that is more than he canand I want to see it in overtime at that the screenwriter but I was comes the screenwriter I always have to give it really looks for this fileand director by directors awareness can be working with that particular scriptand he’s going to bring a script on South Jordan believes that this script is the one he wants this day wants to write the script themand by that I do believe in him as a directorand I think that can’t Skyland had a lot of problemsand I know that we normally do the judging of the last movie but I’m enough to give them all againand I’m essay that maybe this is the one that he he takes in the second one right Chevy look at his interestand out of you are aware think the dark the writer did go to Miami so that changes your viewpoint I haveand I think that you have called Skylandand I like that movie I really enjoyed watching it I met my issue with each snap was that you didn’t have a whole lot of back story with any of the characters with metal gear solid it is such a immense worldand people love this they love metal gear so the going to show up in full forceand they want a great movieand I can accept anything last Connolly also worked on Jurassic world safety not guaranteed he’s one of the guys who was rumored to be working or doing a treatment of episode nine I don’t think that still happening but I know that he was working addressing profound kingdom to so he’s got some big blockbuster experience writing these think if we can get a little more meat on the bone when it comes to meeting these know your solid characters as opposed as a giant active these I think that’s gonna attract new viewers as well as a hard core metal gear fence I think of case in point is that Jordan Voigt Roberts loves metal gear solid is a big fan you play the game so hearty so doing has relied on the taxesand or Sally had a lot of different game but the days working with the same writer I feel like I like can’t Skyland yes the humans got the short trip Capt. THAT REGARD NEXT IS A COMMENTARY ON WHAT THE COMMUNIST PARTY IS IN THE WAY OF ANOTHER ARTICLE 9 COMMENTARIES ON THE COMMUNIST PARTY SO WE THOUGHT BOTH THESE ARTICLES KINDA GO HAND IN HAND BUT IT REALLY HELPS YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT COMMUNIST PARTY IS ALL ABOUT ESPECIALLY TODAY IN THEIR PRESENT SITUATION NEXT TO ANOTHER VIDEO FROM THE EPOCH TIMES AND DECLASSIFIED AND THIS IS ON THE CHINESE PROPAGANDA OUTLET PAID MILLIONS TO THE WASHINGTON POST AND THE WALL STREET JOURNAL NOW ALL OF THESE PAPERS HAVE SUFFERED SEVERELY WITH THEM THEIR AUDIENCE AND AND BASICALLY VIEWERSHIP AND GOING WAY WAY DOWN AND SO THE ONLY WAY SOME OF THESE ORGANIZATIONS CAN EXIST IS THAT GUY HAVE SUPPORT FROM OUTSIDE MONEY SO ON DEFTLY THE CHINESE HAVE BEEN PART OF KIND OF

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24seconds48minutes · 4 years

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The NBA Strike: A Long Time Coming

I originally posted this yesterday (8-27-2020) on my new blog site: https://24seconds48minutes.wordpress.com/2020/08/27/the-nba-strike-a-long-time-coming/.

In Kenosha, Wisconsin on August 23, 2020, Jacob Blake, a 29-year-old Black man, was shot at seven times at point-blank range by Kenosha police officers. Four of the seven bullets hit Blake, and he is currently paralyzed from the waist down. Yesterday, August 26, the Milwaukee Bucks refused to play Game 5 of their series against the Orlando Magic. Other teams scheduled to play yesterday (Rockets, OKC, Lakers, and Blazers) all followed suit and decided to not play their respective games. The decision to strike soon spread across different sporting leagues as the WNBA, MLS, and MLB cancelled their games. Striking, defined as protesting by withholding labor, is a drastic measure, unseen before in the world of sports, and extreme enough to make headlines at The New York Times, Washington Post, and Vox.

The Bucks’ refusal to play could be painted as a last- minute decision; Adrian Wojnarowski of ESPN reported that some players wanted to hear Milwaukee’s explanation for making “an abrupt decision independent of [the] rest of [the] teams to boycott [a] game.” But other players have previously discussed the idea of striking. Earlier this week, Raptors’ guard Fred VanVleet brought up the idea of the Raptors intentionally forfeiting Game 1 in their upcoming series against Boston, saying that NBA players should “actually put something up to lose, rather than just money or visibility.” Even before the NBA Bubble started, Kyrie Irving of the Nets wondered if it was even morally right to resume the NBA season with the Black Lives Matter movement gaining momentum and approval across the nation. Irving reportedly said “Once we start playing basketball again, the news will turn from systemic racism to who did what in the game last night. It’s a crucial time for us to be able to play and blend that and impact what’s happening in our community.”

To accurately trace the NBA’s protest against racial injustice and police brutality, we need to look at a timeline before the NBA Bubble. In 2012, after George Zimmerman murdered Travon Martin, LeBron James, who was on the Miami Heat at the time, tweeted a photo of team’s players wearing hoodies, similar to the outfit Martin was wearing when he was killed, with the hashtag “#WeAreTrayvonMartin.” Then, in 2014, after Eric Garner was murdered by police officers, Derrick Rose, Kyrie Irving, Kevin Garnett, Deron Williams, and LeBron James wore “I Can’t Breathe” warm-up shirts, bringing awareness about Garner’s last words and the officers’ indifference to his pleas for help. After Trump’s election in 2016, a several players and coaches have spoken up about his administration’s controversial policies. Warriors’ coach Steve Kerr has called Trump’s immigration policies “harmful”; former MVP and NBA champion Stephen Curry has gone as far as flat-out saying that Trump is racist. In 2018, Spurs coach Gregg Popovich spoke on the importance of Black History Month, saying “we live in a racist country that hasn’t figured it out yet.” After George Floyd’s death at the hands of police in late May, many NBA players, including Malcom Brogdon, Jaylen Brown, and Klay Thompson, marched in their hometown’s protests for justice. NBA players and coaches have been protesting for years, starting subtle with social media posts and statement shirts, and growing bolder and bolder over time. Their protests have been a slow burn that finally caught fire yesterday as frustration over anti-black racism and police violence- both within the league and across the nation- reached a new peak. During the protests for Jacob Blake, Kyle Rittenhouse, a teenager armed with an AR-15 and white entitlement, killed two civilians. Police were willing to cooperate with Rittenhouse, showing him patience and empathy that Jacob Blake, Treyford Pellerin, and countless others were never given.

The players’ protest has been met with both praise and backlash. A common thread of the criticism is the idea that multi-millionaire athletes should not be complaining; a key example is Jared Kushner saying “NBA players are very fortunate that they have the financial position where they’re able to take a night off from work.” But NBA players and executives are no strangers to racial profiling. Last week, Masai Ujiri, president of the Toronto Raptors, released video footage of him getting assaulted and cussed at by security guard at last year’s NBA Finals. After the incident, the security guard claimed that Ujiri had instigated the physical contact and even went as far to sue the Raptors’ executive for physical and emotional trauma. In 2018, Bucks’ forward Sterling Brown was tackled, tased, and arrested for parking incorrectly. The most violent incident in recent memory is Thabo Sefolosha getting his legs broken by NYPD in 2015; Sefolosha had to miss an entire season because of the injuries sustained.

The most insidious example of the racism that NBA players and coaches have experienced is the incident involving former Clippers’ owner Donald Sterling. In 2014, Sterling came under fire for making racist comments in conversations to his then-girlfriend; one of his comments that made national news was “it bothers me a lot that you want to broadcast that you’re associating with black people.” Sterling’s anti-black remarks show that racism isn’t just in the police officer you encounter once or in the stranger that clutches their purse when you walk by; it’s in the people you know and work for. This sort of proximity puts the oppressed in a difficult position and burdens them with the responsibility to decide how to handle a conflict that they did not create. In this specific situation, the Clippers were in the middle of the playoffs at the time the story broke. Clippers’ players had to choose between their lifelong dream of winning a championship or their opportunity to call out racism and ask for accountability. The idea of intentionally sitting out and forfeiting a game was discussed. Ultimately, the Clippers chose to follow their playoff aspirations; the extent of their protest was wearing their warm-up shirts inside out during pre-game.

Yesterday, the NBA made a different choice than it did in 2014. The Bucks were willing to forfeit a playoff game, and other teams were quick to join them. As of time of writing, the NBA reports that the league is looking to resume games this weekend. The NBA players, owners, and coaches have been spent a lot of time in meetings today, and I am cautiously hopeful that the players are able to leverage their power effectively. Also, at the time of writing, Jacob Blake’s father has said that his son is handcuffed to his hospital bed, even though Blake is paralyzed due to the gunshot wounds. His life matters. His children- who had to witness the horrific violence- matter. Black Lives Matter.

#nba #nba boycott #nba strike #nba playoffs #black lives matter #black lives fucking matter #nba basketball

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