Therapy Sessions•{Dabi x Reader}

Session 2

"Psychology? Hunny, that's a lot of school."

"I know."

"But you hate school!"

"I know."

"Then why?"

"I don't know."
••••••••

You were brought into the room again, and you sat in the seat until they brought out Dabi. They say him down in front of you and turned to leave, but you stopped them.

"Ah." You said quickly, just to get their attention. "I want those cuffs off."

"Ma'am—"

"I will not ask again. It interferes with my work. Now please."

They reluctantly agreed, taking the cuffs off and leaving the room, only leaving you, Dabi, and the chairs you were sitting in. And of course, the guards outside the door.

"So, would you like to get started?" You asked Dabi when it was only the two of you."

"I'd rather not do this at all."

"Unfortunately, it is required." You sighed. "I understand, it probably feels like a chore for you."

"Let me see your wrist."

"What?"

"You heard me." He said firmly, crossing his arms. You were confused, but then it clicked. You held up your right arm, push the sleeve of your suit jacket up to reveal the specially made bracelet.

"Is that what you wanted to see?"

He stayed silent.

You sighed, and pulled your jacket back down. "I'll start ever session like that from now on."

"Like what?"

"I'll show you that I'm wearing the bracelet. That would make you more comfortable, no?"

Silence.

"You can tell me." You said, placing your hands in your lap. "I want you to be comfortable."

"Why? Because it benefits you?"

"Because everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their environment."

"Hello? Are you new here or something? This is a prison, dumbass. Comfort isn't a thing here."

"As long as your in a room with me, it will be."

"Whatever." He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Just do what you need to do so we can get this over with."

"Alright, let's get started then... what do you want to address first?"

"I don't know, you're the fucking therapist here."

You were getting frustrated. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Let's revisit our conversation about trauma."

"No, I don't want to."

"Okay, we don't have to." You nodded, and wrote in your notes. 'Not ready—trauma.'

"You're not gonna force me?"

"I'm not here to force you to do things you don't want to do, Dabi. You'll come to talk about things you want to on your own time."

"Hm."

"You seem surprised?"

"No, confused."

"Why confused?"

"Because every other therapist fucking tried to force me to talk." He raised his voice. You nodded, waiting for him to continue. The room started to get warm, which you assumed was from his quirk.