#therapy sessions

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Therapist: Do you think 14-year-old you would be proud of you?

Ghost: Listen, I’m not here to impress a mentally ill child.

[daughter0fthewitch]

your heart. . .‧˚꒰🫀꒱༘‧

me, the artist; you, the muse pairing: hannibal lecter x gn!reader genre: comfort • tensions notes: winner of my recent poll!, reader found out they were cheated on by their s/o, accidentally forgetting all about their appointment with dr. lecter, something he usually does not appreciate, so... he decides to come to their flat to investigate the reason they didn't show up! reader is also an artist! MINORS DNI!! masterlist ─── ꒰ 🎨 ꒱ ─── read part 1 boredom is for lesser minds

“You loved him.” It was a statement, not a question.

You let out a sharp breath, fingers fidgeting together in your lap as if they didn’t quite know where to rest. For a moment, you stared at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Sometimes…” you began softly, “I forget why I loved him in the first place.”

You swallowed, then continued,“He’d been sleeping with his secretary for months.” A bitter huff escaped you as you leaned your head back slightly, eyes closing while you drew in a slow breath. “And I still hoped.”

“Stupidly hopeful.” you scoffed quietly at yourself.

Hannibal leaned back into the couch beside you, mirroring your posture. His head tilted, gaze lifted toward the ceiling.

“Foolish hope is a powerful force.” he said at last, voice low and contemplative, “It makes us endure far longer than logic would ever allow. It kept you with him even when your heart already understood the truth.”

His eyes shifted toward you, studying the way the low light traced your profile.

“You feel betrayed. Deceived.”

You let out a breath that was almost a quite humorless laugh. “To feel deceived, I would’ve had to believe in it...” Your gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, on the blank white stretch above you. “Maybe I just believed in… the idea of us. In who I thought… he was.”

“I knew it wouldn’t work... Somewhere, I … always knew. But I kept… telling myself it would change… that I wouldn’t have to… beg him to love me the way I loved him.”

Hannibal nodded faintly, absorbing every word. It was almost fascinating how you went through resignation, grief, but all with that self-awareness beneath it all.

“But you did beg.” he stated calmly. “In subtle ways. Every day.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just… precise. “You made yourself smaller. Quieter. Less demanding. All in the hope that he would finally see your worth.”

“…Yeah.” you admitted after a moment. You swallowed, the memory sharp. “I asked him to… love me more. He said it was a ‘communication issue’.. that he loved me just as much as I loved him.” Your lips pressed together, you felt almost pathetic admitting this now. “I think that turned out to be a lie.”

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, gaze unwavering. “I see… the language of empty reassurance. Actions speak the truth, Y/N. And his love for you was never equal.”

He leaned closer, voice lowering just a bit.

“He never deserved you.”

Your lips trembled as you stared upward, tears pooling despite your efforts to blink them away. You dragged your sleeve across your nose, breathing through the tightness in your chest.

“I suppose he meant it…” you whispered, “... when he said the love I gave required more than he was willing to offer.”

Hannibal exhaled slowly before speaking: 

“Then he acknowledged his own inadequacy, and chose to name your love the problem.”

His gaze stayed entirely fixed on you, “To love deeply is not a flaw. To feel completely, passionately, inconveniently… is human. He feared your capacity for love because it exposed his own emptiness.”

Another shaky laugh slipped from you as you finally looked at him. “Maybe he should be your patient instead of me,” you joked weakly, before your gaze drifted back upward. “Maybe it’s for the best that we’re not together anymore.”

The sigh that followed was softer, almost relief.

A small, knowing smile touched Hannibal’s lips. “Indeed,” he said. “Though I suspect he would not survive my methods.”

The humor was dark, fleeting, passing your radar completely as you were unaware of what Hannibal did in his ‘spare-time’. His voice softened again as his eyes moved to the large red canvas across the room.

“This is not an ending to mourn.” he continued, his gaze falling back onto you.

“You do not need permission to take up space, Y/N. Not with me. Not with anyone.”

You let out a small warm chuckle, “I quite enjoy your methods, Dr. Lecter,” you said lightly.

“Taking up space is hard sometimes…” you admitted, glancing briefly at the massive canvas dominating the room. “Sometimes I just… want to close my eyes and take up nothing at all.”

You did just that, eyes falling shut as if you could disappear in that very moment.

Hannibal watched you closely, the flutter of your lashes, the tension in your breathing, and something unfamiliar tightened in his chest.

“Open your eyes.” he demanded softly. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, knowing the tears waiting behind your lids. But slowly, you opened them, your gaze lifting to him. A few tears slipped free, and you brushed them away quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, attempting a smile. “I must bore you terribly with my hopeless romantic tendencies.”

“Bore me?” Hannibal repeated, genuine surprise audible in his voice.

He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a pristine white handkerchief, his initials stitched neatly into the corner, offering it to you

“You mistake vulnerability for weakness,” he said quietly.

“Boredom is for lesser minds,” he continued. “I find you utterly compelling.”

[xan-izme]

Double Life 12 (ATSV x Reader x Batfam)

A/n: Just a chapter full of fluff for now(Or is it 🤡)

Part 11, Part 13

You stared at the therapist with a blank expression. Irritation was clear in your eyes. Your defining silence and small glare did not affect the therapist.

"I was told by your father, that this isn't your first session with a therapist." The therapist, Mrs. Dean spoke with a firm yet soft tone. She very beautiful. Maybe in her early to mid 30's. Her hair up in a neat bun, but some curls managed to poke out in a graceful way.

". . . yeah." You gave a short response.

"Well, you already know the drill. So, I'll dive right in. You originally lived in New York. How are you adjusting to Gotham." Mrs. Dean crossed one leg over the other while waiting for your response.

"It's okay." Your eyes seemed to be more interested in looking around the office.

Mrs. Dean nods and intertwined her fingers while letting her hands lay on her lap. "And school? I've heard your practically a genius."

"I guess." You spot a hand drawn picture on Mrs. Deans desk along with a little teddy bear. There was a small corner that looked like it was for kids. It had dolls. Other types of toys. A small table for kids.

Mrs. Dean noticed you looking at her little kid corner. "I work with a lot of kids that your age and younger. It helps the younger kids feel more comfortable."

You nod and let out a small thoughtful hum and focused your eyes back on Mrs. Dean.

Mrs. Dean gives you a small smile. "Back to you."

Bruce had put you into therapy. Which you were not happy about of course. You didn't need therapy. It made you feel weak, and it's not like you can tell your therapist everything. Most of your trauma was due to your life as Spiderwoman.

You got back from your session. Walking into the manor your hit with the smell of fresh baked sweets. You get curious and walked into the kitchen where you see Alfred baking and Damian doing his homework on the counter.

"Hmm. Smells good." You spoke as you walked into the kitchen.

"Sister!" Damian spoke up. His tone with slight excitement. You walked over and ruffled Damians head. "Hey cupcake." You mumbled with a small soft smile. Damian turned his head up to you as you wrapped your arm around the youngers shoulder.

"Ah, Ms. Y/n. How was your therapy session?" Alfred spoke as he pulled out the first batch of cookies from the oven.

"Oh, it was great. Had a wonderful time." Your tone was clear with sarcasm.

"Seriously?" Damian piped up, seemingly not taking your sarcasm into note. You chuckled as you smiled down at Damian. "Your funny cupcake." You ruffled his head once more and smuggled him with a hug and kisses.

"Ugh- stop!" Damian struggled to push you away. You were surprisingly strong. (He wasn't actually even trying)

Alfred watched the sweet scene in front of him with s fond smile upon his face.

Jason walked in. Looking like he just woke up with messy hair while wearing boxers.

"Where's my kisses?" Jason spoke up while staring at you and Damian. You and Damian frown at the sight of Jason.

"I can punch you." You gave the older man a "sweet" smile as you held Damian close to you.

Jason flipped you off while Alfred had his backed turned. Which you and Damian returned by flipping him off together.

You and Damian were watching a drama show while eating popcorn. It was fairly silent. Damian had his head on your shoulder while you had your head on his.

". . .Sister." Damian spoke up in a quite tone while you two kept your eyes on the tv. You let out a small hum of acknowledgement.

"Do you hate it here?"

Damians question made you pause. You lean your head away from his to look at him. Your brows furrowed. "Why would you think that cupcake?''

Damian stared up at you, his expression a little sad but mainly conflicted. Wondering if he should tell you what was on his mind. Worried if he does say what was on his mind, whatever you respond with might confirm with what he asked. "Well. . . I overheard the argument you and father had."

You let out a sigh while turning your head away, clenching your jaw. "Right. That."

Damian frowns and held his head down. You turn your head back to stare down at Damian with small frown. ". . . Hey. Look at me."

Damian slowly looks up at you. Expecting some sort of deep frown or a sad look on your face. But he's greeted with your usual soft smile.

"What I said to Bruce was. . . wrong. I didn't mean it. But most importantly. I don't want you thinking I hate being here. I got you here with me, what's to hate?" You pinched his nose and hugged him. Damian hugs back while letting out a small sigh of relief.

While hugging Damian, you glanced down and see a bruise underneath back of his shirt. You frown and lean away from the hug to tug on the shirt and get a better look at the bruise.

"What is this?" Your tone turned protective. Damian was quick to pull away.

"Nothing! . . . I bumped into a bookshelf pretty hard in the library yesterday."

"Oh. . . Okay." You still had a small doubtful look on your face. A still a little worried.

A week goes by and your back in Ms. Deans office.

"So, do you have any friends?" Mrs. Deans asked with a small smile.

You were seated across from Mrs. Dean. "Yeah."

Mrs. Dean nods. "You don't talk much about them."

"They don't live here in Gotham. But we keep in contact." You were referring to your friends in the Society. It was a lie about keeping in contact part. Of course, you knew you were the problem for that.

"I see. Have you tried to make friends here in Gotham? In school or outside of school?"

You shook your head with a small bitter smile. "A lot of people already know I'm Bruce's daughter. Hard to make friends who, actually want to be friends. You know?"

Mrs. Dean nods in understanding before asking another question. "I'm sure there are a lot of pros to being Bruce Wayne's daughter."

You let out a chuckle. "Yeah. I got a little brother. A dad. Money. I was broke as hell."

Mrs. Dean chuckled at the last part.

"Anything I want I could ask for. I can get it. . . But sometimes I want go to the past."

Mrs. Dean's brow raised at your words. "Now why is that."

You paused for a moment. You had a faraway look on your face as you spoke. "Everything before. . ." You sighed as your mind wondered back to her.

"Never mind." You mumbled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Mrs. Dean seems to already know what you were about to say. But she doesn't press you about it. Not yet at least.

"You mentioned your brother?" Mrs. Dean thankfully changed the subject. She watches your uneasy expression turn into a fond smile. "Damian. Yeah. He's a tough one. He acts so tough and mature, but in truth he's just a little baby. We weren't close at first. . . he actually hated me."

You chuckled to yourself as you thought back to your first encounter with Damian.

"What changed?" Mrs. Dean tilted her head.

You seem to think deeply about her question. ". . . I guess I kind of saw myself in him."

Mrs. Dean became more interested by your words.

"I used to do that too when I was younger. I acted like an adult. Thought if I did that people on the streets would take me more seriously. No one would mess with me if I acted tough." You had that faraway look on your face again. Thinking back to the past.

"I never really got to act like a kid. Felt like that was the only way to be taken seriously by others. To be trusted to do things on your own. I saw that In Damian. But that's not how a kid should act or worry about." You held your head high and gave Mrs. Dean a confident look.

"I don't want him to worry about stuff a 12 your old shouldn't even worry about. I know I probably can't give him what he already has. But I got my love. And that should be enough. . . right?"

Mrs. Dean smiled. "Yes. I'm sure your love is enough."

"Ugh, why the hell is this level so hard." You grumbled as you set down the controller. Getting frustrated over a game and a certain level you couldn't pass.

Tim chucked as he watched you stress over it. Jason right behind him reading a book. "How long have you been stuck on this level?"

"A week." You mumbled as you turn to look at Tim. Catching Jason make an amused face at your frustration.

"Shut up Jason." You glared at the older.

"Wha- I didn't even say anything!" Jason looked offended.

"Your stupid face did." You huffed in annoyance. Tim laughed and hopped over the couch and sat next to you. "Can I help?"

Your eyes lit up with hope. "Oh my gosh really?" Tim gave you a smile and nods. "Yes! please help."

Since Tim already played this game and finished it. He showed you multiple ways to beat this level. You had fun with Tim. You and Jason would argue here and there. But overall, it was fun.

As it got dark. Tim and Jason suddenly got an Alert on their phones. "Sorry Y/n. Me and Jason have to go. But I'll play with you next week."

You were a little sad. And confused at the sudden rush, but you understood. "Oh, okay. Bye."

Jason ruffled your head as he followed behind Tim. "Hey!"

Jason quickly ran out the room as you threw a pillow towards him.

"Do you ever feel left out?" Mrs. Dean asked as she watched you play with a small ball you picked out from the kids corner.

"Left out? No not really." You tossed the ball up in the air and caught it.

"How about I sum out the question. Do you feel left out in your family? With the Waynes I mean."

You hum as you thought about it. "Sometimes, I guess. Everyone treats me good. But I kind of feel like, an outsider sometimes."

"Do you think it's because of the way you were raised that you assume that. Suddenly living one life then now to this." Mrs. Dean watched as you let her words sink in.

"Yeah. I guess so. They knew each other longer and stuff. So that's probably why I feel that way. . . but. It kind of feels like something more."

Mrs. Dean's Brow raised "Why do you think that?"

You shrugged as you fumbled with the small ball in your hands. "It's like they all have this, thing. Like a bond with each other that I probably won't understand. . ." You seemed to think about it before shrugging "Maybe because they are all guys? I heard fathers have deeper connections with their sons."

Mrs. Dean hums and leans back into her chair. "Well, that can be some cases. Do you think Mr. Wayne doesn't pay much attention to you than your brothers?"

You shook your head. "No, he gives me attention. He's. . . a good man. He wouldn't neglect any of his kids. He's also a busy guy. So, if he's not around much I don't hold it against him."

Mrs. Dean nods. "You seem to be a very open-minded person."

It was late in the night when you had awoken from a nightmare. You tried to go back to sleep. But your mind betrayed you. Keeping you up and refusing you sleep for what felt like hours.

So, you wondered downstairs. In hopes of getting something that could make you fall asleep. You slowly enter the kitchen that was engulfed in darkness. Before you could reach for the light switch. The light was turned on by another.

"Ms. Y/n."

It was Alfred.

"Hey Alfred. Sorry I just came for something to drink." You mumbled as you approached the fridge.

"A nightmare?" Alfreds question caused you to pause. "How did you-"

"I know the look of a child who has come out from a bad dream Ms. Y/n." Alfred shooed you to sit at the counter as he made you a warm drink.

You just sat in silence as Alfred spoke.

"Do you usually get nightmares?" Alfred still has his back turned to you as he made your drink. ". . . Sometimes. Nothing too bad. Just need to lay off the horror films I guess." You let out a small chuckle.

"I see. Your father had a lot of nightmares as well when he was around master Dameon's age." Alfred slides the cup to you. You take the warm cup into your cold hands. The warmth sending a sort of satiation through you.

"Bruce?" You took a sip from the warm drink as you eyed the Butler. Alfred nods as he turns to clean up. "Especially after Master Bruce's parents passed."

Your expression dropped slightly. Both parents at such a young age.

"Must have been hard." You mumbled as you thought to yourself.

Alfred glanced to your slight glum expression.

"Yes. Same for Master Dick, and Master Tim. Along with Master Jason. All boys lost their parents at young ages. Master Damians mother left him with Bruce after the death of his grandfather. It took him awhile to move on after that."

You stayed silent as Alfred spoke.

". . . Why are you telling me this." You were lean back against your chair as you stared up at Alfred with slight confusion.

Alfred turned back around and handed you a treat.

"Everyone here has lost someone. Your brothers and Master Bruce will understand your pain. You don't need to hide it."

And with that the butler walked off back to where he had come from. Leaving you to let his words sink in.

"You have trust issues."

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle at Mrs. Dean's words. "Whoa, I just got here. And I'm very trusting. I'm here talking to you. I tell you my feelings and thoughts."

"Yes. But you don't tell me the full truth. Which I don't expect you to. But having trust issues doesn't mean you don't trust someone when it comes to talking about your feelings and thoughts. Trusting someone with yourself is different with trusting yourself with another. You, Y/n don't trust yourself."

"What are you going on about." You lean back into the chair as you gave Mrs. Dean a look of confusion.

"You don't trust that you would do the right thing. You don't trust yourself when it comes to situations that involve you being needed. You make yourself look bad, but not too bad to the point where others don't trust you." Mrs. Dean flips a page from her clip bored.

"You always talked about others in a good honest light. I ask a question about you, and you would either answer in short answers or divert the conversation about another."

"Come on now. It's not like that." You chuckled a little with a lazy smile. Mrs. Dean narrows at how nonchalant you're acting. You're acting. You're a good actor. And she sees it.

And you know she knows.

You are acting smug about it. But why. Why are you playing around like this-

Mrs. Dean catches you glancing to the teddy bear on her desk with a knowing look.

You smirked as you see realization creep upon Mrs. Dean.

There was a nanny-cam in that toy bear. You spotted it on day one. Yet you didn't say anything. You spoke about your thoughts and feelings to her. Most of it was true as well. You were yourself in the sessions you had with her.

You did all that while knowing of the nanny-cam.

"How did you. . ." Mrs. Dean spoke in a low tone. Almost like a whisper as she stared at you with wide eyes.

You simply smiled. "Like you said. I'm practically a genius."

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

@huening-ly, @mariadvorak @superherosdystopiafreak @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @josiepapen @natashanice165 @amber-content @mahbeanz @azurewisteria @seraph101 @skepvids @lara20aral @iwasveronica @jackrabbitem @nickey-diano @idonthaveanameforthisacc @sekidekiboombeki @masters-blog

[20lerde30]

Overview of my therapy sessions🌿

Glad to say that I'm the therapist now💎

{çınar}

[saucyjothoughts]

hey saucy <3 this is quite a self-indulgent ask, although maybe something similar has been submitted here before (sorry if that's the case 😭) but I just had this thought come into my head whilst trying to sleep.

so, I've always been very self-conscious about my weight and my body, but especially recently I've been feeling it a lot. I have stretch marks all across my hips and over my lower stomach and down the tops of my thighs which suddenly got a lot worse for like no apparent reason? and obviously I kinda hate them a lot 😅 and it made me realise that although I haven't been intimate with someone for quite a while, if I were to right now I think I would actually be too self-conscious to want my body to be fully seen, which makes me sad.

I was wondering if you could write a little something about how each of the boys would react to their partner telling them they're incredibly self-conscious about showing their body during sex, and also what kinds of things they'd be willing to do to make someone feel more comfortable. if they'd suggest wearing a blindfold or doing stuff over clothes or under the bedsheets or with the lights off, maybe? just so I can have some shameless fantasies to really resonate with and make me smile :)

thank you so much! 🫶

Sorry you've been feeling this way, Anonyboo! Please enjoy some thoughts below.

You might also enjoy this.

Bojan: when you said you haven't been intimate with anyone in a long time, Bojan took that as a personal challenge. He started doing everything he could to make you feel comfortable around him, sharing his own insecurities and showering you with compliments.

Jan: wears a blindfold for you the first time. He lets you place his hands wherever you allow, lets you undress yourself and feel his touch on you when he can't see anything. It's great for him, the sensory deprivation making every touch so much more intense, every piece of skin you want to place under his hands or on his lips... Has he ever told you how good you smell?

Jure: doesn't understand how you can think your body is anything other than wonderful. Let him draw all over your stretch marks... No, actually, command him to draw all over your stretch marks. Let him practice his shibari on you and enjoy how the ropes dig into your flesh. Sit on his face and let him drown. You can't be self-conscious when he's begging you like this.

Kris: loves the way the light falls over your curves. He discovered early on that you feel more comfortable in low light. It started with a bedside lamp, then candlelight, now he has a range of ambient colours which play over your edges beautifully. His photography is amateur, but he keeps trying anyway - showing off the best shots of you and trying to convince you to let him commission them into paintings to have on the wall.

Nace: loves your stretch marks. He has his own, all across his belly. Bojan calls them his tiger stripes but he's always hated them. It wasn't until he started seeing the same insecurities in you and realising that you weren't attractive despite your body but because of it that he started seeing the beauty in himself as well. Maybe he's not ready to film himself making love to you yet. But he's getting there.

[rickollie]

Had the dreaded follow-up with Oncology today hoping to get a grasp and plan of attack on those raising PSA numbers. If you or you know someone with cancer this may help. #PSA #cancer #PETScan #BoneScan #therapy #radiationtherapy #love #MRI #pizza #healing #fears #dream #writerslife #cancerfight

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[heartbeatssforlove]

the show couples therapy is so crazy bc why would I let you film my session? and I want to preserve this relationship?