A Big Newfoundland Sort Of Dog - Tumblr Posts

DIY (Independent S/O Idea)

I see so many posts about Bakugo who takes care of his s/o and it’s cute and nice, but what if he was dating or married to someone who liked being alone and was used to taking care of themselves?

Warnings : Some language, unedited, also this is way longer than I thought it was gonna be, reader has a big-ass dog, ummmmmm... think that's it

☾ This is a little self-indulgent so bare with me ☽

So, before meeting Bakugo you lived alone. Maybe you had a dog or maybe you had a cat or a lizard, I dunno. Point is, you lived alone. And you liked it that way. You had grown up in a pretty full house without a moment of peace—which was fun and enjoyable sometimes—so, growing up, you knew you never wanted to live with another person EVER again. That also meant you wanted zero romantic relationships because no.

A romantic relationship involves two people who were willing to give to each other. Be it time, energy, or just a listening ear, they would give of themselves to their loved one all because they, well, loved them. You could give. You were very good at giving. Ever since you were a young, blubbering toddler, you gave things to others because it made you feel good to know they were happy. When you are older, you gave other tings—time, energy, money—you were very good at giving.

It was the taking part of the equation—the asking for help and support and love part—that you knew you'd struggle with. People said you could learn but you didn't want to. As a kid, you had spent your whole life giving, but people rarely gave things to you—toys, little gifts, sure. You got those things often enough, but the deeper things in life? The things that were a little harder to give? A listening ear? Empathy? Patience? Support? You didn't have a lot of that. So, you gave that to yourself the best you could because you were good at giving.

You were more independent than most and you were happy like that. You didn't want to learn how to take because you were more than content being by yourself, thinking by yourself, living for yourself... That sort of thing wouldn't be fair for your s/o and it wasn't like you wanted an intimate relationship so you remained single—a virgin in every physical sense of the word.

Then, he showed up. (Hehehehehehehehhehehehehe)

It was a normal evening for you. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on, you didn't feel weird, and your giant fluffy dog (self-indulgent, I know 😔) was lounging about at your feet while you worked. Normal. Your online business was going very well—yes, I'm talking entrepreneur kind of independent—and the ac was blowing the perfect temperature so things were normal—they were especially good, actually.

Then, he showed up.

Out of the blue, something crashed into your house—through your bedroom balcony, it sounded like. Your dog (Imma name him Biji (Short for Bijronson)—self-indulgent—but you can name him—or her—whatever, I guess...) Anyway, your dog shot up from his spot because of course he did, you did too. He trotted to the bedroom door—not a happy trot, but a cautious, purposeful one—and stood at it, watching whatever was going on.

You arrived next, eyes widening at the whole-ass man who fell into your apartment—into your life but you didn't know that yet. You knew who he was. Of course you knew who he was. The number two hero was a very noticeable man. He was large, a foot taller than you at least. His shoulder width was ridiculous and only enhanced by his small waste. Such a snatched thing. Truly a Doritos shape worthy of nacho cheese dreams. (Nacho cheese Doritos are mvp, don't fight me)

Then there was his stupidly handsome face. A scar ran down the right of it—from the edge of his hairline down to his upper neck. His light blond eyebrow was missing in the middle and his crimson eye was a little milky. He wasn't completely blind in it, but rumor said he would be soon. Most people said it wasn't a pretty sight but you always disagreed. Not only did it look badass, but it proved he went to hell and was strong enough to come back. Which was cool as fuck.

He was awesome—maybe a little bit of a jerk but you didn't need to like him as a person because you didn't know him a just a person. You knew him as Dynamight. As a hero, and he was a damn good hero. More often than not you would joke with your closest friends saying “If he's not Dynamight, I don't want it.“

“Dynamight is the bar.“

“He has to at least be six-foot Dynamight stature before I'll even think about it.“

Silly shit like that—all of which was just that. Silly. A joke. Never in a million years would you want to date Dynamight or any of the other pros you joked about. Your friends knew that. Everyone would share similar jokes before consoling their poor husbands or wives or boos or whatever because it was just a silly thing. You wouldn't even call what you had a celebrity crush. Dynamight and his companions were hot, attractive people. Simple as that. You appreciated the pictures, kay. And what they did for Japan, of fucking course.

We're getting off topic though. What was the topic again? Oh, right.

Dynamight was in your bedroom. On your bed. Your broken bed, might I add. All while you stood wide-eyed in your doorway, frozen as if you were the one who barged in on him. Then he slowly sat up, running a gloved hand through his sooty ash-blond spikes to rid it of glass. It pulled you out of your shocked state. It was then you realized Biji was barking and had been for awhile.

You moved to grab his collar just as the man stood up from his spot. You had been trying to sush your dog but those attempts came to a halt when you saw the condition the hero was in. Thankfully, it didn't seem life-threatening but, then again, you weren't a doctor and that shit looked like it hurted.

“Uh,“ you began, unsure of how to proceed.

The man looked around your room with what looked like disgust and you almost wanted to mouth off at him for the audacity before you realized he wasn't disgusted the dorky pictures of you and loved ones pasted on your dark walls. He looked confused. He turned around in your room a few times, eyeing the place and muttering confused curses. It was then you began to wonder how hard he had hit his pretty head.

You moved to straddle your strong dog who hadn't stopped barking completely but had calmed just a little. He was still on guard but you weren't scared—he sensed that.

“Hey, Mr—“ —were you supposed to say mr— “Dynamight?“

He looked at you. It was a sharp, unimpressed look and you wondered why until you saw his eyes dropped to your ramen pajama pants. The ones that said, “send noods.“ Not that they were embarrassing at all, you told yourself.

The man gave you and your barking companion a once over, gaze lingering on the large black and white dog you were effectively holding back. He looked tired, you noticed. Dynamight clicked his tongue before turning around and walking towards the sizable hole in your glass doors. “Wrong apartment,“ he mumbled and you gaped.

Ruining your beautiful and lovely bed because he was defending citizens from villains was one thing. You could let it pass cause he had a lot more shit to deal with than your glass-ridden floors and broken wall. His agency would cover the damages anyways.

Ruining your shit because he blasted his hot ass into the wrong apartment, however, was a whole other thing. Would he finance the repairs you needed to make? You hoped so but you didn't know, it wasn't during a fight, after all. No, he wasn't leaving until he promised his agency would take care of it. And until he recovered a little because he looked very unsteady on his feet.

“You're leaving?“ was your stupid, shocked question.

He scoffed. You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. Yes, you were enjoying the view and you would've enjoyed it a hell of a lot more if his torn shirt didn't show off his numerous gashes and cuts. Suddenly, you didn't feel like bitching to him about your apartment—you would make him pay for it, but later.

The crunching of glass caught your attention and you realized he really was leaving like that. “Hey, you're hurt,“ you said dumbly because you weren't really sure how to convince him to stay long enough for you to help.

“No shit,“ was his rude—but fair—response.

You huffed in annoyance. At least Biji's barking had stopped and he seemed calmer, albeit tense. Dynamight crashed into the wrong apartment, right? So he was aiming for an apartment in the complex, right? “You're apartment's in this building? Right?“

He said nothing but he didn't need to because you could see the gears in his head turning—could see the realization in his crimson eye. He knew what you were about to suggest but you said it anyway. “Just leave out the door—the actual door, not the one you DIYd,“ you said obviously, nodding to the broken glass.

He looked at said DIY door and grumbled something under his breath. Then he turned to face you. You rose a brow at his glare. It was his turn to nudge his head and he gestured it to your dog. “That flea-bag gonna let me through?“

“His name is Biji—“ “I don't give a fuck—“ “—and he might let you through, so long as you say please.“

The word please must've kickstarted an allergic reaction of some kind because Dynamight's face scrunched up like he swallowed piss. It was oddly adorable and you mentally nodded in satisfaction. If only he made such a face where cameras could catch and immortalize it.

“The hell is wrong with you? You think just cause I'm in your apartment you can order me around?!“

He was starting to raise his voice. Your hold tightened on Biji's collar as the dog began barking again. You took a deep breath in an effort to prevent your own anger from spilling out. “Yes,“ you damn near hissed, tugging Biji back because he was pulling.

Dynamight did not appreciate the answer but you didn't give him a second to bitch about it. “Might I remind you of how you barged in here out of nowhere. I'm not entirely calm and neither is he so, if you want him to be civil, say. Fucking. Please.“

“Be friendly,“ was really what you were telling him. He didn't look like he liked the idea, so you helped him out. “You ruined my door, broke my bed—which people don't get to do until after they take me out for dinner, by the way—“ —he scrunched his face again and you wanted to laugh— “and now I get to clean all that shit up. So, the least you could do is get your dirty ass over here to show Biji that you aren't as much of a threat as first impressions implied.“

A teenager getting his phone taken away—no, a kindergartner getting told to stand in the corner was what the giant hulking man ahead of you reminded you of. With more annoyance than you thought possible, Dynamight begrudgingly drug himself closer to you. He stopped a few feet away—stopping as soon as Biji became a little more frantic.

You gently caressed the dog's side, whispering and muttering calming words to him, promising him the giant man was a friend. Dynamight was allergic to that word too, but he sucked it up—as he should—and slowly removed one of his gloved before holding out the back of his hand to your dog.

Biji wanted to jump out of your hold but you held firm, slowly walking towards Dynamight who rose a brow. If it was in amusement, then you'd shove him out of the conveniently placed hole in your wall. Biji sniffed his hand eagerly. After a few moments, you felt his tail beat against your legs. A small smile spread on your face. “See?“ you cooed. “He's not so bad, is he?“

Biji was too busy sniffing the hero to respond—and he so would've responded otherwise. “Give the side of his neck a nice pat,“ you said softly. “It'll reaffirm you're friendly,“ was added when he glance at you in annoyance.

“Still think you can order me around,“ he scoffed, but much more softly then before.

“I do,“ you responded immediately, “so pet him.“

He hated it, you knew he did because why would a man like Dynamight like being bossed around by someone half his size? But the man gave Biji's long hair a gently pat anyway—not before wiping his hands on his pants, you noticed.

Both of you left the room after and you closed the door behind. “Unless you're scared of dogs, I'm gonna let him go.“

The man said nothing in objection—or anything at all—so you released the beast who ran up to Dynamight immediately. “He might jump so—“ and he was already up, paws on Dynamight's large chest and tail wagging eagerly.

“Biji, down,“ you ordered, gently tugging his collar when he went to jump again.

“Uh,“ you pointed down the hall, “door's that way.“

And off you both walked. No one said a word which gave you a moment to remember the hero's injuries. “I have first aid stuff, if you want it,“ you ended up mumbling because of course he would have his own medical supplies.

“Sure,“ he mumbled back, a rough but oddly civil sound that threw you off guard.

Maybe he was almost out? He probably had to patch himself up a lot. “I, uh, I'll go get it.“

And you did, entrusting Dynamight to Biji's care. You went to your bathroom and grabbed the first-aid kit in record time before returning to the entryway, just in time to see the Great Explosion God Dynamight petting your adorable Biji boy. You really wished you and phone right now because no one would believe you.

“Got it,“ you said softly, grinning when he pulled away with a scowl.

“Here you go, apartment buddy. Need anything else? Bottle of water? Painkillers? Anything?“

He didn't say yes or no. He just clicked his tongue before turning around to open your door. You rolled your eyes, following behind to make sure Biji didn't follow him out but also to make sure he got to the elevator fine. You knew he would—he probably dealt with much worse—but, just in case.

“Nice meeting you, love your work but don't make remodeling my apartment a habit.“

He didn't laugh which was his loss cause you were funny as hell. Dynamight gave you one last glance—a very judgy-looking glance before walking off. “See you around,“ you offer lazily before doing a double take.

He was already at his apartment. He was digging out his keys to his apartment because his apartment was—you counted the numbers.

814.

816.

817.

817, and yours was—“Dang, guess we're apartment neighbors, huh,“ you mumbled.

Not quiet enough because he tossed a glare over his shoulder. You chuckled nervously. “See ya 'round,“ you said and you meant it this time.

You retreated into your apartment after. Apartment 818.

It's funny cause I was gonna make like a headconnon bullet point list thing about Bakugo x Independent s/o but it turned into this which is a drabble. A fun drabble that would make a pretty interesting story...