Superhero Therapist Novels & Stories

Preston reassures. It’s sweet of him, but he doesn’t know the blood I have on my hands. Then again, most therapists I’ve ever met are a little insane themselves. Look at Sidhe. Jaxson is a therapist when he isn’t dancing or on another job, and the man has psychotic tendencies. He can shift moods quicker than anyone else. I’ve seen him cycle through stoic, angry, gleeful, and calm in under three minutes. “That gives me something to think about. Are you good now?”

My name is Sophia Bennett, and I work as a rehabilitation therapist at a physiotherapy hospital, mainly helping patients with limb issues regain strength and mobility. The city I live in has seen rapid economic growth, and families who can afford high-end rehab centers are usually wealthy, which makes my salary quite substantial. It was Sunday afternoon. The sun hung high in the sky, and the heat was stifling. I planned to spend a romantic—and wildly passionate—weekend with my husband, so I requested the day off.

Maybe before that, when I'd first looked into his eyes and seen the same desperate loneliness I felt in myself. "I want to do better," he continued. I want to be the man who deserves you, not the man who controls you. But I don't know how to do that without help. He pulled something from his jacket pocket–a business card. "I called her this afternoon. Dr. Morrison. She specializes in trauma and control issues. I have an appointment on Thursday." I stared at the card, then at him. You're seeing a therapist?

"Fine. You'll see her. Okay? Just relax.” My chest eased and I sat up, giving him my full attention. "How?" "Darnell," Maurice said, his tone calm. "You need therapy. I got you a therapist." The pieces in my head refused to click into place. "What do you mean you got me a therapist?" "His name is Elias Brooks. He's the best there is," Maurice said, my confusion deepening with every word. "He specializes in Complex PTSD and opioid addiction." "What are you saying?"

“They can help you cope with the trauma and guide you through the recovery process.” ‎I look back at him uncertainly. ‎“A therapist?” ‎“Yes,” he says with a reassuring smile. “You are not insane, miss. You went through something terrible, and a therapist can help you process it in a healthy way.” ‎I slowly nod, though my mind still feels clouded with confusion. ‎“Okay, doctor. Thank you.” ‎After a brief pause, I add quietly, ‎“Please keep this from my family. I’ll tell them myself.”

“No. I need to do this alone. Work through my own stuff without. Without using you as a crutch.” “I’m your wife. Not a crutch.” “You know what I mean. I’ve been leaning on you to tell me I’m good. I’m changed. I’m worthy. But I need to believe it myself. Or it doesn’t mean anything.” She understood. Didn’t like it. But understood. She found him a therapist. Dr. Sarah Chen. Specialized in trauma. In reform. In helping people rebuild identity after crisis. Perfect. Penking started sessions the following week.

She spit out her gummy bear on her lap. "Like that crazy talented sex therapist?" I nodded and she gasped. "Holy crap, you lucky son of a bitch. Reid Romano was voted number one sex therapist in the world. He's like also the richest, Oh and don't forget super fucking attractive." she went on and on telling me Reid’s biography. "Susan, he's also the sex therapist that Dan hired" I said and there goes another gummy bear. "Ehhhh, Is he trying to lose his wife?" she said laughing and we continued to get drunk.

My fourth client was a parent whose enhanced son was struggling with aggression issues abilities manifesting as enhanced strength without corresponding emotional control. We discussed management strategies, therapeutic approaches, and the importance of treating supernatural children as children first, enhanced individuals second. By the time both sessions ended, I felt professionally fulfilled in ways my supernatural missions never had provided. This was helping people through understanding rather than power. Through expertise born from experience rather than abilities granted cosmically. Jennifer poked her head in as I was reviewing notes. "Two more appointments scheduled for next week. And

I furrow my brow as he takes my hands in his. “Kas, I think it would be a good idea if you talked to a therapist about all the stuff you've been through... cause, honestly, it's a lot. I want the best for you and I think having someone to talk to that can help you work through all those traumatic things would help you. Lots of my warriors see therapists for a lot less, there's no shame in it." I look him in the eye as I try to absorb his words.

They didn’t want anyone knowing their Alpha was receiving therapy. I looked up from my tablet, clearly demanding an answer. He glanced over his shoulder like there might be someone else I was talking to. “Oh, Dr. Lena, what they say about you is true,” he said with a smile. I raised a brow, unimpressed. “Well, I’m Dr. Austin. I’m your partner!” he added. My eyes widened. Dr. Austin? The director? The expert in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy—known for handling extreme cases in the most unique ways?