#in PUE i feel like i did a good job of that despite the fact that optronix had a heavy therapy focus on him

[lord-squiggletits]

The hard thing about writing therapy sessions into fics is that like. The story is predicated on drama, and even in therapy characters are still people that may or may not be able to communicate, and then there's the fact that even when you're successful in therapy you still have to deal with relationships and life outside of that where your coping is actually put to the test

Like it's weird because "characters dialoguing in therapy speak" is a current day hated trope, but in this case the characters going to therapy (sometimes even with each other) is LITERALLY part of the plot. But then you don't want the therapy to just instantly solve every interpersonal conflict so the characters still need to beef over something. Which, fine, lots of people go to therapy and don't cooperate during the session, are unwilling to apply the advice IRL, other things happen due to the flawed nature of existence, etc.

What I'm trying to say is that at least in stories/worlds with no therapy, ppl being severely malfunctional and getting in deep shit makes sense bc there's no education or support or help for them to make the optimal choices. But in stories with therapy, you want the therapy to be an in-universe part of the world that characters react to as real people react in therapy. But you don't want the therapy to turn into a meta device that you as an author use to magic away a character's emotional/interpersonal problems effortlessly with disregard to how long/difficult therapy is.

I feel like this might be a genre issue, idk? There's just so few stories that involve therapy (many of which are biographical in nature and not fiction/narrative focused), maybe due to how mental health is only a recently destigmatized/educated topic. So this feels like a writing problem exclusive to some sort of contemporary, "just like the real world" genre of writing that I'm unfamiliar with and maybe the answer is just "yeah you have to write it as a fictional story but also like it's real life." Idk.

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!reader) | Chapter 7: Ser Desnudaba

(GIF by @ithinkwehitametaphor)

Author’s note: Brace yourselves :) This one has a lotttttt of Spanish and a lot of other things that you may like 😏 As always, translations are at the bottom. Enjoy!

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

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Warning(s): mention of sex, smoking, swearing, mention/wondering of death

You woke to your alarm clock beeping incessantly on your nightstand. Looking to the side to find that your partner in the previous night’s activities had left, you sighed and laid back on the pillows. Your inner thighs were sore, and you were already missing the feeling of warm hands on your body.

After you’d drifted off, Javi plagued your dreams. The visions were hazy, but you knew the hands that held yours and the plush lips peppering kisses along your neck. In your dreams, you heard his voice whispering sweet nothings in your ears as you cooked dinner, his arms wrapped around you. Holding hands on the way to his car. Blowing kisses from across the office. All things you could only dream of having.

Eyes burning, you forced yourself to roll out of the bed and start your day.

“Did you kids have fun last night?” Steve teased, smirking at you and Javi from his desk.

“What do you mean?” you asked absentmindedly. The report that Centra Spike gave you didn’t make any sense; you felt like you were reading pinyin without the tonal numbers. While you were getting ready for work, you’d offhandedly remembered that you’d shamelessly called out Javi’s name the night before. As if the walls weren’t thin enough that he may have heard you on the floor below.

Your blonde partner looked between you and Javi with raised brows. “Wait, so you two weren’t...?”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed the report back onto your desk before snapping, “No, Murphy. We didn’t fuck. Not everything you hear from your apartment is from us, alright? Everyone has needs, even me.”

Ignoring Javi’s wide-eyed stare, you picked up the report again and reread the same paragraph you’d been scanning for the past hour. Just because yesterday was supposed to be your night with Javi didn’t mean that you and he were together. For fuck’s sake, Javi didn’t even show up in the evening after you’d blown up on him. You couldn’t blame him.

Steve cleared his throat. “So you…?”

The paper slapped the desk as you shot him an annoyed look. You felt Javi’s gaze burning against your cheek, but you refused to spare him a glance. “Peña didn't come over last night. He probably found some woman to fuck around with, so I found someone who actually wanted to keep me company. Is that so hard to believe?”

Your dark-haired partner sighed and muttered something under his breath, jabbing the keys of the typewriter a little harder than necessary.

Turning your attention to him, you quipped, “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

His eyes pierced yours. “I said, why should I show up if you don’t want to see me?”

You scoffed, turning the rest of your body towards him. “You thought I didn’t want to see you? You do realize we’ve been doing this every week since I got here, right?”

“But I’m not the one who stormed out of here yesterday over a couple scratches-” he shot back, his voice rising.

“It was more than just a couple scratches, you could’ve died-”

“Why does it matter to you?” he barked, breathing heavily. There was a hint of sadness glinting in his eyes.

You clenched your jaw shut and looked away.

Steve watched both of you with wide eyes and exhaled loudly. Tapping his desk, he said, “I’m gonna...get some more coffee.”

That left you and Javi stranded at your conjoined desks.

Javi spoke up first, his voice back to a soft baritone. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said. You were right; I should be more careful. It’s just-”

“I know. I’m sorry, too. We both want the same thing...and that’s to catch Escobar,” you interjected, your voice soft. You picked at the corner of the report, sliding your finger along its edge. “You did what you thought was best in the moment, just as I did.”

“Right.” He nodded slowly, fiddling with a pen. Sheepishly, he asked, “Does that mean we’re back on for this weekend?”

The hopeful look he gave you, reminiscent of a puppy, made your heart clench in your chest. With everything, you’d forgotten about your plans for the weekend. You and Javi were planning on spending an evening together going out and having fun. But nevertheless, you couldn’t back out. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep a smile off your face. “Yes, Javi. But you’re driving us.”

His smile shouldn’t have made warmth rush to your cheeks or make your heart flutter at the concept of getting to spend time with him. You shouldn’t have wanted to see him smile at you like that every day. Only at you.

“Of course, hermosa,” he replied. You’d missed hearing him say that. “Oh, and if you want, I can drive us to work tomorrow; I think we can both agree that this morning was a little too quiet for the both of us.”

He was giving you that look again, the corners of his lips turned up in a small smile and his deep brown eyes gazing at you. Before you could respond, the phone started ringing.

You snatched it up and held it against your ear. “This is agent L/N.”

Steve returned while you spoke with whoever was on the other end of the line, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He smirked as he sat down, noting how Javi’s eyes had glossed over, though they were still on you.

Once you hung up, you quickly stood from your desk and gathered some folders. “That was Carrillo. He wants me in his office to talk about some potential leads. I’ll be right back.” You patted Javi on the shoulder as you walked past. “Get some work done, cariño.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t call in all three of us,” you said as you entered Carrillo’s office. Spreading out the folders on his desk, you continued, “No es tu estilo.”

“Lo consideré, pero me gusta más a tu voz y tienes más inteligencia que los dos juntos,” the colonel replied, shrugging. He braced his arms against the desk and leaned forward to examine the photos and reports. “A ver....”

You spent a while bent over his desk, sorting photos and scribbling down notes. He’d managed to wring a few clues from the captured sicario. Now it was a matter of connecting the dots.

Escobar had been laying low for a while, but every now and then he popped up. Normally, any sightings were too late to be much use, but the sicario had given you a useful piece of information: a neighborhood. It seemed like he often drove through, making some stops along the way. Perhaps he had some friends or associates there.

Carrillo watched intently as you used a ridiculous amount of tape and paper to connect the pieces of evidence in a web-like design. “Tú y Peña están bien?”

“Por qué me preguntas?”

Shrugging, he answered, “Pues, estuvieron enojados ayer.”

“No estuve enojada,” you objected. “Estuve preocupada.”

“Y por qué estuviste preocupada, nena?” he goaded. “Peña tiene mucha experiencia en este tipo de trabajo. Ya lo sabes bien.”

“Él es el corazón de este misión,” you replied flatly. It seemed like you couldn’t avoid Javi anywhere. He always managed to be mentioned.

“Es el corazón del misión, o es tu corazón?” he said, smirking. “I see the look on your face, Y/N. Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a good time or place to form a relationship,” you pointed out. “And besides, he and I are colleagues. The last thing we need is emotions getting in the way of our jobs.”

“But if you don’t tell him, you might never get the chance to,” he said. “Si no te quiere, lo más peor es que te rechazará, no?”

“No es necesario,” you responded, replacing the cap on the marker and tossing it onto the desk.

“Por qué?”

You crossed your arms, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Because I’m going back out there whether you like it or not. Y haré todo que necesito para protegerlo y capturar Escobar.”

“Yo entiendo,” he said. “Pero hay que pensar de las consecuencias de este trabajo. Me dedico a Colombia, pero tengo que recordar que tengo una esposa esperando en casa. Estoy luchando para el país y también por del futuro de mi familia.”

Why was he telling you this? Despite your family’s attempt to mend a bridge they’d burned, you weren’t exactly staying alive for them. In fact, you weren’t staying alive for anyone. Not even yourself.

Part of you wondered if you were supposed to have died the day you fell off the roof. You could’ve easily snapped your spine on the balcony railing, or missed the balcony altogether. But of course you didn’t. You were “lucky” to have survived, but what was so lucky about being stuck on desk duty for weeks and chasing drug lords?

But there was Javi. Your grumpy, intelligent partner who’d stayed with you throughout the hospital experience and let you live in his apartment until you could walk up the stairs to yours. He hadn’t complained once while you were there, no matter how many times you forgot to take your meds and drink water. And while you insisted on helping around his apartment, he’d always coax you back onto the couch or his bed. That was another thing that struck you as odd: he let you sleep in his bed. Alone. With exactly zero suggestions of sharing it, much to your disappointment.

If he felt the same way as you did, wouldn’t he have made it more obvious? It was no secret that he could charm the pants off of most ladies at the bar, so it was telling that he never showed the same kind of interest in you. After all, friends could have sleepovers and lunch dates without being romantic, right?

Back in the office, Javi and Steve worked silently, plumes of smoke drifting from their cigarettes. After you’d left to meet Carrillo, they’d fallen back into their usual rhythm of work. The only difference was, neither of them could shake off the tension between you and Javi.

“So,” Steve began, drawing out the vowel. Once his partner looked up at him from over the typewriter, he inquired, “When are you gonna tell Y/N that you love her?”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “You know I can’t tell her that.”

“Why not?” Steve questioned, tilting his head. “Are you afraid?”

Javi shook his head. “Have you seen her? She nearly bit my head off yesterday. This is the worst time to say anything.”

“She was worried about you,” Steve reasoned, smiling a little as he remembered your concerned expression. “And not just as a friend or coworker. She was worried. It’s the same when I go home to Connie. And look, I’m no genius when it comes to emotions, but I think she loves you. And I think you love her too.”

The creases between Javi’s brows relaxed slightly as he ran through the possible ramifications of telling you his feelings. The best case was that you’d feel the same way, and then you could move forward in your relationship. You could finally go on dates and hold hands and do whatever it was that couples did these days. Or, you could reject him and end your friendship right then and there. And not only would your friendship be compromised, but so would your work relationship. He wasn’t sure if he could last another month or year or decade without you by his side. Without meaning to, he’d let you weave yourself into his life so intricately that it would rip him to shreds if he lost you.

At the same time, he knew that you wouldn’t wait around forever. You were smart, hardworking, beautiful, and so many things that he couldn’t put into words. You were unapologetic about your heritage and confidence, something that he rarely saw in law enforcement. You stood up for what you believed in and refused to let yourself be pushed around; you always had one hand on the wheel. He knew that, eventually, you’d find someone who loved you enough to pursue a relationship; and the next thing he’d know was that you were getting married and having kids. And that person could be him, or someone else.

Sighing, he conceded. “We’ll see.”

Translations:

“Lo consideré, pero me gusta más a tu voz y tienes más inteligencia que los dos juntos. A ver….” I considered it, but I like your voice and you’re smarter than those two combined. Let’s see….

“Tú y Peña están bien?” Are you and Peña alright?

“Por qué me preguntas?” Why are you asking?

“Pues, estuvieron enojados ayer.” Well, you guys were angry yesterday.

“No estuve enojada. Estuve preocupada.” I wasn’t angry. I was worried.

“Y por qué estuviste preocupada, nena? Peña tiene mucha experiencia en este tipo de trabajo. Ya lo sabes bien.” And why were you worried, girl? Peña’s very experienced in this type of work. You know that already.

“Él es el corazón de este misión.” He’s the heart of the mission.

“Es el corazón del misión, o es tu corazón?” Is he the heart of the mission, or is he your heart?

“Si no te quiere, lo más peor es que te rechazará, no?” If he doesn’t love you, the worst thing is that he could reject you, right?

“No es necesario.” That’s not necessary.

“Por qué?” Why?

“Y haré todo que necesito para protegerlo y capturar Escobar.” And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him (Javi) and catch Escobar.

“Yo entiendo. Pero hay que pensar de las consecuencias de este trabajo. Me dedico a Colombia, pero tengo que recordar que tengo una esposa esperando en casa. Estoy luchando para el país y también por el futuro de mi familia.” I understand. But you need to think about the consequences of this work. I’m dedicated to Colombia, but I remember that I have a wife waiting for me at home. I’m fighting for the country as well as a future for my family.

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