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I'm making a story (link above if you'd like to read), and in the story, the main couple is finally pursuing therapy. However, I know nothing about couples therapy, and the couple I want to put in therapy is very strange. ( arranged marriage, raised in an assassin's cult, ex-child assassins turned heroes, abusive past, shitty families).
How do I approach therapy with them? Like, what do they talk about in their sessions? I know what I want them to say, what topics I want them to touch on, but how do I get to those topics in a professional way? What kind of therapist do I get them? Obviously, it can't be some plain old couples therapist.
And how does the therapist respond to the obvious massive bombs they reveal ( major crimes, abuses, and killings) (she can't snitch on them because they did them in the past). What kind of exercise do they do?
A slow burn romance, with (Y/N) as Daniel's twin sister. She, like Daniel, has a rare ability to understand Jay Hong, even though he doesn't speak. This leans more into emotional connection, subtle moments, and growing trust.
I might delete this,so tell me if it's ok or should I change the whole thing.
---
Worth Seeing — Chapter One: The Transfer
In The Morning — J High School Gates
Two figures stand side by side, casting long shadows on the pavement—Daniel Park and his twin sister, (Y/N) Park. Their features are similar, but where Daniel is tense and self-conscious, Y/N stands calm, unreadable.
Daniel (muttering): “Let’s try not to get bullied this time.”
Y/N (quietly): “Let’s just observe. That’s how you learn who matters.”
They step through the school gates together, already drawing attention. Two new students, and twins at that—an instant topic of gossip.
---
The Classroom
The teacher introduces them. Daniel gives an awkward bow. Y/N nods politely, her gaze sweeping the room. Then she sees him.
A boy with silver-blond hair, headphones resting around his neck, eyes on his sketchpad. Jay Hong.
Y/N’s POV: He doesn’t look up, but… he’s listening.
Jay lifts his eyes only briefly—long enough to meet Y/N’s. Something flickers. Recognition? Curiosity? But he looks away.
---
At Lunch — School Roof
Daniel and Y/N find a quiet spot on the rooftop. Y/N notices someone already there.
Jay sits in the corner, feeding a stray cat. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look up.
But when Y/N sits a respectful distance away and says softly, “It’s okay. We won’t bother you,” he gives a slow nod.
A shared silence forms between them. Not awkward—understood.
Daniel (softly): “You feel it too?”
Y/N (smiling faintly): “Yeah. He doesn’t need words.”
---
After School — Courtyard
Y/N walks alone. A group of girls blocks her path, their words like needles.
Girl 1: “Just because she’s Daniel’s twin, she thinks she’s something?”
Girl 2: “Why does Jay even look at her?”
Before Y/N can answer, Jay steps between them. He says nothing. Just stares.
His silence is louder than any threat.
The girls scatter, uncomfortable under his unreadable gaze.
Y/N, calm as ever, steps beside him.
Y/N: “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Jay looks at her, eyes intense. He shrugs.
Y/N: “But thank you.”
He nods once—and walks away.
---
That Night — Daniel’s Room
Daniel: “He spoke to you?”
Y/N: “Not really. But he didn’t have to.”
Daniel: “It’s weird, isn’t it? You just kind of… get him?”
Y/N (softly): “Yeah. I think he’s the first person I’ve met who’s quiet for a reason. Not because he’s afraid. Just… choosing who deserves to hear him.”
Daniel looks at her—knowing that’s exactly how she is, too.
People say it doesn’t. That it’s what’s inside that counts. That if you’re kind, smart, or hardworking, you’ll be respected.
But you knew the truth.
You and Daniel lived it every day.
Same face. Same school. Same mom who worked night shifts just to keep the lights on. You were twins, but it felt like the world saw neither of you.
You were too quiet. Too plain. Too soft. A nobody.
Daniel got it worse. They beat him, humiliated him, made him their entertainment. You tried to protect him, but what could you do when you were just as powerless?
You stopped dreaming of better days. Stopped looking in mirrors. Stopped expecting kindness.
And then, one night…
You both wished for the same thing.
“I just want to be seen.”
When you opened your eyes the next morning… everything had changed.
A new face. A new body. Taller. Stronger. Beautiful. Like someone out of a drama. Like the kind of person people actually noticed.
But as you stared into your own unfamiliar reflection, one question gnawed at you:
If people only care now... then did they ever care at all?
This was your chance. Your brother’s chance. A new school. A new city. A new life.
And standing at the edge of it all was a silent boy with silver hair and sharp eyes—one who never said a word but always seemed to see more than anyone else.
Jay Hong.
You didn’t know it yet, but he would be the first person to look past the surface—and the one who’d remind you who you really were beneath it all.
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Damian stood on the edge of the wheat fields, the Gotham in him out of place beneath the soft golden skies of Metropolis countryside.
The farmhouse in the distance was quiet, warm. A thin trail of smoke curled from the chimney. The scent of fresh bread drifted through the breeze.
He’d heard the rumors.
(Y/N) had started over out here. A bakery built with her own hands. A garden behind the house. A quiet life.
A safe one.
He’d heard about Superboy, too. Conner Kent, always hanging around. Helping with deliveries. Fixing the broken gate. Smiling the way Damian never quite learned how.
He hadn’t come sooner because he thought time would give him clarity.
But time just showed him what he’d lost by waiting.
---
A familiar figure landed beside him in a gust of green feathers.
“Long trip, huh?” Beast Boy smirked, hands in his jacket pockets.
Damian raised a brow. “You knew I’d come.”
“She’s a hard one to forget,” Garfield said. Then, after a pause: “She’s doing good. Better than I expected.”
Damian nodded once. “And Raven?”
Gar smiled softer this time. “She’s happy. We’re happy. You gave her the space to heal. And she gave me the chance to love her.”
A beat.
“I’m not here to ruin that,” Damian said.
Gar shrugged. “Didn’t think you were. But someone out there,” he gestured toward the farmhouse, “still dreams about rain.”
Then he left, shifting into a bird mid-stride and vanishing into the sky.
---
Damian approached the porch slowly.
Inside the bakery, soft music played. He saw her—hair pulled up, apron dusted with flour, laughing with a customer as she boxed up pastries.
He hesitated.
Was he too late?
(Y/N) turned—and saw him.
For a long moment, she just stared. Then she stepped out, closing the door behind her, arms folded against the breeze.
“You’re a long way from Gotham,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
“I wasn’t sure I did either,” she admitted. “Until just now.”
He stepped closer. “I thought I’d lost my chance. With you. With everything.”
“You did,” she said, voice calm. “But maybe... just the first one.”
He blinked. “Superboy?”
She smiled, small and knowing. “He’s kind. Gentle. But he’s not the one who broke my heart. And he’s not the one who left pieces of himself in every poem I half-remember.”
Damian swallowed hard. “I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“You don’t,” she said, honest and unwavering. “But you’re here anyway.”
He looked up at her, then beyond her—to the sky without storm clouds, to the fields where the rain didn’t fall.
“Is there still a place for me?” he asked, voice quiet.
(Y/N) paused… then stepped aside and held the door open.
“Only one way to find out.”
And for the first time in a long time, Damian stepped forward into something softer than shadow—into something that might finally be home.
The medbay at Titans Tower buzzed softly with machinery and whispered voices.
(Y/N) lay on one bed, bruised but stable. Across the room, Raven sat upright, her wounds already healing through slow meditation. The air between them was thick—heavy with things unsaid.
Damian stood between them. Still in uniform, but drained. Like the fight hadn’t ended when the battle did.
Raven broke the silence first.
“You should talk to her,” she said without looking at him.
He turned to her, jaw tight. “I’m here for both of you.”
“I know,” she replied. “But she needs your words more than I do.”
Damian nodded slowly and crossed the room. (Y/N)’s eyes opened as he approached. She looked tired—emotionally more than physically.
“You okay?” he asked.
She gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Define ‘okay.’”
He sat beside her, eyes searching hers. “You almost died.”
“So did she,” (Y/N) said. “I heard what she said. I saw you go to her first.”
Damian stiffened. “It wasn’t about choosing her over you. It was about what she was willing to give up. What you were both willing to give up.”
“I didn’t want you to make a choice,” (Y/N) whispered. “I didn’t want to be that person.”
“You’re not,” he said firmly. “Faust put us in an impossible situation. This isn’t your fault.”
She looked away. “But I changed everything just by coming back. You had peace. You had her.”
Damian reached out, brushing her hand gently.
“No. I had a safe life. A good one. But peace?” He shook his head. “I never had that. Not until I looked at you on that rooftop.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Damian…”
“I don’t have answers yet,” he said, honest and unflinching. “But I know this: I need time. To figure out where my heart belongs. Who it belongs to.”
Behind them, Raven stood. Quiet. Strong. Still watching.
“I’m not angry,” she said, stepping toward them. “But I can’t wait in the shadows while you decide.”
Damian stood. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Raven nodded once, slowly. “Then let me go, Damian. At least for now.”
She walked past them—graceful, wounded, dignified. The door closed behind her without a sound.
(Y/N) sat in the silence.
“You’re going to lose one of us,” she said softly. “No matter what.”
Damian didn’t answer.
He just sat beside her, the rain beginning to fall once more outside the window—just like it always did in Gotham.
One moment, Raven was meditating on the roof of Titans Tower. The next, her surroundings blurred into blackness laced with static and fire.
(Y/N) never saw it coming either—just a flash of red light from the alley near Gotham’s lower east side. A whisper of fear. Then nothing.
---
They awoke in a cathedral of shadows—an abandoned Arkham wing, twisted and overrun with creeping vines of power that hummed with dark magic. Shackles infused with anti-magic runes bound Raven, while (Y/N) was restrained by steel that cut deeper than just skin.
A figure stepped forward from the gloom.
Felix Faust.
"Such lovely pawns," he said, voice like cracked parchment. "One, a conduit of otherworldly power. The other, a heart too precious to be forgotten."
Raven glared, energy writhing uselessly against the spells binding her. “You’ll regret this.”
Faust smiled, ancient and cruel. “I’ve crafted a little tragedy for our dear Damian Wayne.”
---
The call came at midnight.
“Coordinates. No backup. Come alone or they both die.”
But Damian never followed orders—especially not from villains who thought they understood the depth of his fury.
The Bat-family arrived in full: Nightwing, Tim, Jason, even Cass. A silent storm ready to raze the world.
They hit Arkham like a thunderclap.
Blades, smoke bombs, magic barriers crashing. Faust held his ground, summoning entities from the beyond, but even he knew—this wasn’t about victory.
This was about pain.
---
Damian cut through the final barrier and saw them—Raven and (Y/N), opposite sides of the room, suspended above pits of arcane fire.
Faust floated between them, triumphant. “You’ve fought hard, boy. But it all comes down to one decision. Choose.”
The world went silent.
Damian froze.
Raven met his eyes, calm even now. “You have to save her,” she said softly.
(Y/N)’s eyes brimmed with panic. “No. Don’t do that. Save Raven. She matters—she’s a Titan, she—”
“Stop!” Damian roared, stepping forward, swords drawn but shaking. “You don’t get to choose for me.”
Faust smiled. “Tick-tock, little prince. One lives. One burns.”
Damian’s breath hitched.
He looked at Raven. Strong, wise, always sacrificing.
Then (Y/N). Fragile, broken, and still trying to save someone else.
His voice was a whisper.
“I’m not losing either of you.”
Then—movement.
Cass struck from above, shattering the spell circle. Tim flanked left, Jason opened fire with blessed rounds. Faust screamed, staggering.
Damian launched himself forward.
He cut Raven loose first. “You told me to save her. That’s how I knew I had to save you.”
Then (Y/N), just seconds before the pit beneath her surged with flame.
She collapsed into his arms.
It was over. The villain fled—wounded, but not dead.
The damage, however, had already been done.
---
Outside, as dawn broke over a ruined Arkham, Damian stood between them—one hand resting briefly on Raven’s shoulder. The other still wrapped in (Y/N)'s.
“I won’t let the world take either of you from me again,” he said.
But even as he stood there, whole in body, his heart remained divided.
The Tower was dim, cloaked in a gentle indigo glow from the setting sun beyond the bay windows. Raven sat cross-legged in the meditation chamber, a silent storm swirling just beneath her surface.
She didn’t turn when Damian entered.
“You’ve been quiet since she came back,” she said evenly.
He hesitated. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”
“That’s not true,” she said calmly, opening her eyes. “You just didn’t want to say it out loud.”
Damian took a few steps closer, hands clenched. “I care about you. I still do.”
“But?” Her voice was soft. Not angry. Just… waiting.
“She was a part of me,” he said. “Before everything. I didn’t realize how much until I saw her again.”
Raven nodded slowly. Her expression didn’t break, but her aura flickered—just a second of black feathered energy coiling around her fingertips before fading.
“I always knew there was someone,” she said. “Someone who came before me. The way you never talked about the past… it wasn’t silence. It was grief.”
“I tried to let go,” Damian admitted. “But when she showed up again, it was like time never moved. And I hated that. Because I love you. But I…”
“But you’re still in love with her,” Raven finished for him.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
She stood, cloaking herself in calm. “You don’t have to choose, Damian. You already have.”
“Raven—”
She stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his chest. “You’re not cruel. Just torn. But I won’t hold onto someone whose heart is already walking away.”
His voice cracked. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said softly, her eyes glowing just faintly. “But sometimes, love means letting go before it becomes resentment.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She turned, her cloak sweeping behind her as she disappeared in a whisper of shadow and silence.
Damian stood alone, surrounded by the pieces he couldn’t protect.
Wayne Manor wasn’t where (Y/N) meant to be that night.
She came for closure, maybe. Answers. Or just to remember the halls she once called home.
The door to the study was cracked open. Familiar voices floated through.
She recognized Damian’s first—low, strained. Then Dick’s, softer, steadier.
“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Damian said, voice tight.
“You did anyway,” Dick replied. “But I think you knew this would happen the second you saw (Y/N) again.”
(Y/N)'s breath caught. Her name felt like a glass dropped on tile.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Damian said. “I didn’t ask for her to come back and look at me like I hung the stars. And I didn’t ask to feel like I was home again.”
Home.
She pressed her back to the wall just beside the doorway, heart thundering.
“You still love her?” Dick asked gently.
“I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Silence.
(Y/N)’s eyes welled, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“She’s not trying to break you and Raven,” Dick added. “But she is in the middle of it now.”
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Damian sat in the study, elbows on his knees, hands steepled in front of his face. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows against the walls, but it did nothing to warm the storm brewing in his chest.
“She’s back,” he said aloud, voice low.
Alfred, ever poised, paused in his tea-pouring ritual. “So I’ve heard.”
Damian didn’t look up. “She’s the same. she’s still… her.”
Alfred set the cup gently beside him. “Grief, Master Damian, often disguises itself as anger. And love, when buried, has a habit of clawing its way to the surface.”
He scoffed. “You make it sound poetic.”
“It often is.”
Footsteps creaked behind him—lighter, more familiar.
“Alfred’s beating me to the heart-to-heart again?” Dick’s voice was teasing, but his expression softened when he saw Damian’s face.
Damian didn’t rise. “If you came to lecture me—”
“I came because I know that look. You’re spiraling.”
Damian looked at his hands, rain still clinging to his gloves. “She remembers pieces. Enough to break me.”
Dick sat beside him. “And Raven?”
Silence.
“She’s good to me,” Damian said finally. “Patient. Strong. She deserves better than being someone’s second place.”
“But you’re not sure she is.”
Damian’s jaw tensed. “I don’t want to hurt her. Or (Y/N). But I already am. Both of them.”
Dick leaned back, thoughtful. “You loved (Y/N), didn’t you? Before?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t get the chance to find out. I was... afraid.”
“And now?”
“She came back. And all I want is to protect her. Be near her. But Raven—she’s been here. She didn’t give up on me.”
Alfred spoke from the doorway, his tone gentle but firm. “You must ask yourself not who deserves your loyalty, but who holds your truth.”
Damian closed his eyes. The weight in his chest was unbearable.
“She looked at me like I was home,” he whispered. “Even after everything.”
Dick clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Then maybe it’s time to stop hiding from your heart and start listening to it.”
The rain never stopped in Gotham. It painted the skyline in streaks of gray, drumming against windows like a heartbeat too loud to ignore. (Y/N) stood at the edge of the rooftop, wrapped in a borrowed jacket two sizes too big, watching the city she barely remembered.
Two years gone. Just like that.
She’d woken up in the hospital a month ago, memory fractured, like shattered glass with too many missing shards. Familiar faces came and went—Bruce, Alfred, even Tim—but the one who haunted her most was Damian.
Her best friend.
Her something more, maybe. Before everything broke.
She heard the familiar sound of a grapple gun before he even spoke.
"You shouldn't be out here in the rain," Damian said, stepping beside her. He was taller now, sharper around the edges. A man more than a boy. His voice, still low and rough, held a different kind of weight.
"I like the rain," (Y/N) murmured, not looking at him. "It’s honest."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
"I heard you have a girlfriend now," she added, almost casually—but not really.
He stiffened.
"I do."
She nodded. “She nice?”
“She is.”
The silence returned, but this time it pulsed. Tense. Bitter. Sad.
“I remember fragments,” she said. “Us. Laughing. Fighting. You calling me 'irritating' every five minutes.”
He looked at her finally, his jaw clenched. “You were irritating.”
She smiled faintly. “Still am.”
Thunder rolled above them, echoing the turmoil in her chest. She turned to him, eyes searching his. “Did I mean something to you? Before?”
Damian looked away, jaw tight. “You did.”
"Did," she repeated, quietly.
He sighed, brushing wet strands of hair from his face. “You disappeared. We searched everywhere. I was... I was wrecked.”
Her breath caught. She could see it—his pain, the guilt, the buried feelings clawing their way back to the surface.
“You moved on,” she said, almost to herself.
“I had to,” he snapped. “You were gone. I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“But I did.”
His gaze met hers, raw and conflicted. "And now you're here, and everything’s twisted."
"Maybe I shouldn’t have come back," she whispered.
"No." His hand reached out, almost instinctively, stopping just short of hers. “You’re not the problem. Time is.”
The rain kept falling, soaking them both. But neither moved.
There was no kiss. No dramatic confession. Just two souls caught between the past and the present, wondering if time could ever give them another chance.
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