I’m Kinda Thinking About The Last One A LoT… I’m Guessing This Is About 700-1k Words ? Cw: Last

hiiii just uploaded a new bkg headcanon fic on a whim :)

'we'll be alright'; bakugou x OCD/hypochondriac reader

i've been in an on and off ocd spiral for a while now, and have some weird things happening with my health, that kinda just contribute to each other. wanted to make a fic about it for anyone who may relate <3

despite all my saddened rage i am still just a girl in her room watching her silly little films, reading her silly little books, listening to her silly little playlists

'we'll be alright'; bakugou x OCD/hypochondriac reader

A/N: this is quite self-insert because ocd has been kicking my ass the last 4 months 😭 especially when what i'd usually be irrational/obsessive over is actually happening, but i don’t have specifics. but yeah, hope you enjoy :p <33 might make a part 2 of this somehow, or other characters

content tidbits: hypochondriac and OCD reader, GN!reader, talk of obsessions and compulsions, fear of illness (cancer mentioned bc that's one of my fears brought on by my own OCD, as well as random body happenings that could be health related), swearing, anxiety/panic attacks, UA bakugou and reader (what year is up to u), therapy/doctors appointments, platonic relationship, intrusive thoughts, reader isn't initially medicated or getting treatment but does through the fic, essentially hurt/comfort and fluff :) also maybe OOC katsuki. also brief mention of possible OCD katsuki

word count: 1.5k

Briefly proofread

Linked this song because it reminds me of how OCD feels :p

it was known to the people you felt close to that you suffered with anxiety- but to what extent?

yourself and bakugou were at a point of closeness and security within your friendship, to where telling him felt alright.

when bakugou found out you had OCD initially, his first thought was just 'oh, they don’t like mess and are a clean freak', because yknow, stereotypes.

but then you told him what it entailed, he took it in. you talked about your persistent health anxieties and scares, the way they plagued you and tormented you.

"That's fucking dumb, though. Like- you'd know if you were actually sick." He'd say.

"But that's the thing, I don't." You explained. "I don't, regardless of symptoms or not, and that freaks me out. And when I can feel something, the only way I can deal with it is to prod or feel at it."

You explained to him some moments this type of thing happened; in one case, you had odd, painless bumps in random places, and the trigger of its unknown cause sent you spiraling. Petrified it was cancer, you went on an internet deep dive, kept seeking external reassurance, feeling at it 24/7- and rather than this helping, all you felt was fear.

The next was a random pain near your rib. Was it a punctured lung? But then a pain on your head- a tumour?? Then your knees felt different sizes- are your bones shrinking???

He listened, trying to recall times you may have been out of it or panicked for what to him, seemed like for no reason. And it started to click. Realising it extended even further than the health anxieties too. Past traumas, or fears, or habits. It made sense. And it made him feel an ache of sadness for you in his chest. But also pride, for the fact you go through this daily.

In saying that, after you left, he went into full research mode on the types of OCD you had talked about, on how they worked, triggers, compulsions, and how to support you.

He wouldn’t admit it directly, but after hearing how it gets to you, then seeing it in real time, made him feel helpless. Until you got support professionally, he was slightly frantic.

He made a promise to be there for you, any time, if you were having a mini episode, or major. Which he didn’t expect to be..... a lot. But he kept the promise.

1:34am the clock on your phone read. You were tired, sore, stressed. Your hand went to the odd shaping on your back yet again, a nervous shiver going through you. You tried to rationalise. 'It's probably just some muscle. Or some kinda benign growth. Or just my body being weird again.

Or maybe it's a tumour-'

The intrusive thoughts kept scratching inside your brain, urging you to keep poking, shifting, looking for an answer you knew wouldn’t come.

You remembered his words: "If you need me when it happens, fucking come to me. I don’t care when, do it. You shouldn’t be alone with this. And don’t you dare feel bad."

Slipping out of bed, you quietly made your way from your dorm to his, careful to not be disturbing to your classmates.

You go to his dorm, and knocked loud enough.

"Fuck off." You heard from behind the door, the angry voice of Katsuki.

"Katsuki? It’s just me. You don’t have to, but I'm having a hard time with my OCD, and wanted to kno-"

Before you could finish the sentence, the door opened. "Get in." He said softly, looking at you half asleep, yet with concern.

Once in, he closed the door, opened the balcony door to let in a soft breeze, and sat on the bed with you. After a moment, he spoke.

"What's it doing now?"

"My brain won’t stop." You respond, voice tight and exhausted. "I keep finding new bumps, or growths, or whatever the fuck, and even though they don’t hurt or do damage, my brain is still saying cancer. Which is dumb, because I'd know if it was by now-"

"It's not dumb." He interupts. "Ok, yeah, worrying about a worst possibility that you don’t even know whether it's true or not is kinda stupid. But don’t beat yourself up over it. It is scary. Not knowing fucking sucks. But none of this is your fault. Yeah, you'd probably know by now. But you're allowed to just observe it, without making it some kind of evil situation. Give yourself some grace, dimwit. You have every right to be scared. Especially since this matters to you so much. But don’t- don’t let it consume you. You know you're fucking strong. So... know regardless, you can beat whatever is going on. Serious or not."

You looked at him, tears of appreciation, but also overwhelm, pooling in your eyes. He scoffed softly, but not in anger, more so in understanding, and pulled you close, both under the covers, and your face to his chest.

"Just cry it out, idiot. You need to at this point."

So you did. Allowing yourself to feel everything, let everything crash out of you, with him anchoring you. He gently eased and shushed you if you started hyperventilating, the crying turning into a spiral of panic. He whispered soft, encouraging words into the top of your head.

"Its okay. You're gonna be okay, regardless of what happens. This isn’t something you'll do alone. We'll get you the help you need, and I'll be here when you need me to. Things will work out how they're meant to. Just because it's scary doesn’t mean it's impossible."

"I know. I know, i'm just so scared. I hate not knowing. I hate feeling like my mind is working against me, and my body is fucking acting on what I'm scared of-"

"Hey, hey, relax. You’re rambling." He says softly, shifting to wipe your tears. "I know. I hear you. As I said, it's no wonder you're scared. Being afraid of something with mixed signal signs of it sounds like hell. But again, one day at a time. You're asking for help- be proud of that. It's fucking hard to even acknowledge it sometimes. You already took the first step."

"That’s kinda rich from you, considering you bottle everything up." You respond, cracking a slight smile.

He laughed a bit, nodding. "Yeah, I know, I'm emotionally constipated, fuck off with what's obvious. But I mean it. Just because I have trouble doing it, and I ain't the best at comforting, doesn’t mean I won't try and help you. I care about you, fuckwad, even if I don’t say it. I really do."

Once settling down, he got you some water, and turned on his TV for some background noise, of something you both enjoy. You sat, talking, about your compulsions, triggers, fears, trauma, all of it. He listened, gave his input, and got what he needed from you in terms of what you wanted in support from him.

That night, with you against his warm frame, he slept well knowing you were there- regardless of what you had going on, he could be there.

And you slept well knowing he was there- knowing that despite any unknown health factors, legit or not, you'd have him.

From there, you decided to start looking into getting professional help. You went to Aizawa, with Katsuki nearby, to let him know of your situation. You came to an agreement that if you ever weren’t in a fit mental state for training or class, he would give you time to catch up, on the condition you would keep consistent with effort. He then informed the other staff of it, so it would be an all around agreement.

Once that was set, you found a place to go to get the help you needed, or at least a start. You started to gain coping strategies, ways to challenge compulsions or triggers, and more to generally work with until you would get advanced help. As for the physical side of things, appointments were booked, so hopefully that would be a steady process also. He vowed to be there throughout the process of getting any required diagnoses as well.

In the meantime, Katsuki was still there. Through any panic attacks, anxiety episodes, reminding you to do something else when he noticed your compulsions, and occasionally yelling at the rest of Class A if a trigger was mentioned when you were near. Which yes, is extreme, but he meant well.

He helped you identify other compulsions and obsessions outside of the hypochondria, and helped take notes on your physical and mental health for future appointments. He even went to your therapist briefly to ask how to support you, and how to work with you in times you couldn’t carry everything yourself.

No matter how hard it was for either of you to battle against the monsters in your mind, and unknown of your body, he kept his promise. You knew you'd be fine as long as you had him, and everyone else who cared for you, at your side.

If you ever feel alone or unsafe, reaching out to someone who will listen, is the first step. You are more powerful and stronger than you know 🩶

thinking about how james farrow chose a passage from pericles, a play where someone is thought to have dead at sea only to be reunited with the protagonist, as his letter to oliver makes me feral

There was a line in the My Hero One's Justice 2 game where Jirou liked Dabi's style and it was the funniest thing ever to me. Bonus:

why is shooting ur shot (friendship edition) so much harder than shooting ur shot (romantic edition). babygirl i wanna befriend u so bad

oh little guy please get some rest </3

lowkey fuck casual shifting???

like, no, i don’t want to skim the surface, i want to plunge.

i want history, but not in the "oh, i saw marie antoinette at versailles" way. i want to stand in the french court and know, with visceral certainty, that the air reeks of sweat and powdered wigs and impending doom.

i want love, but not the diet coke variety. i want it unfiltered, unpasteurised, the kind that ruins lives and gets greek tragedies written about it.

i don’t want to dabble in magic like it’s a weekend hobby, i want to be crowned in a kingdom that runs on blood oaths and prophecy. i want to ride a dragon. i want to be a disney princess. i want to be a hollywood star with 5 oscars. i want to be a cartoon character. i want to be spiderman. i want to see hogwarts. i want EVERYTHING.

casual shifting is like ordering a steak well done. it’s like going to rome and eating at mcdonald’s. it’s like watching succession and thinking logan roy just needed therapy. no, i want the whole thing. i want to be scorched by it.

| Eri-chan

came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat