Dragon Ball Z Oneshots!

Broly X (Human!) Reader [PT2]

Part two!😁This whole chapter is in Broly's perspective. Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, by the way. Also, this chapter is more so about Broly and his new job. You're not really in this one.

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^Six Months Later^

I cross my arms, my black hair being combed by (Y/n). She's finally getting me into a job, one that she thinks I might like. Though, she says it has absolutely nothing to do with fighting. Well, to quote her; It's not fighting. In fact, it's the opposite. I always thought she meant working at a hospital, senior center, or a day care. Though, she did also say that she will work along side me. I'm not complaining.

"So throw on a shirt you don't really care about, and sweatpants," She says to me, putting the comb down and smiling. "They'll be dirty when you come home." Her eyes twinkle and she drops a wink. I stand there, my hands at my sides, extremely confused. She turns on her heel, jogging down the hall and down the stairs. "And hurry!" She calls, followed by a small laugh. "They close in two hours."

About fifteen minutes later, I'm dressed in a dark Nike™ shirt, with tight Adidas™ pants that reach down to my mid calves, along with PUMA™ sneakers. I don't own any sweatpants, so. My hair is down, though a yellow hair band is slowly constricting my pale wrist. "So, you ought to tell me where we're going before we get there. Otherwise, I'm gonna get nervous in the car," I say to her, my voice quiet and calm.

My words come out smooth, however, but seem to startle (Y/n), and I only smile as she turns around. No surprise to me, her mouth sets agape for a moment, before she clears her throat and smiles at me. "We're going for a job, not a sparring match with Geetz," Her nickname for the Prince makes me cringe, though I only show it by making my smile vanish.

"Well, let's go." I smile, reaching a hand out to the beautiful girl in front of me. The smaller figure takes my hand with a small chuckle and begins to lead us out to the car. (Y/n) drives a (f/c) soccer-mom kind of van, and it seems to really fit her attitude and her style. She isn't too fancy, not at all really. She just seems to go with what happens.

Sooner or later, we're in the car and headed down to the outskirts of the city. Y'know, the place where the dog parks, small Cafe's and businesses all hold their ground. On the way, (Y/n) is flipping a notecard between her fingers, making her only use one hand to drive. On that small, blue and red lined card, holds a set of numbers and a street name. Probably a phone number and address. My hands begin to fidget with the strings of my pants, tying them, untying them, making bows and other knots. The gray strings finally make me surrender after I accidentally tie a tiny, impossible-to-get-out knot. "It's about time," I here (Y/n) exclaim. I look at the clock, noticing that we've been in the car for twenty-five minutes. She turns into a small, almost vacant parking lot, and I finally see the place we have arrived at. 

Pawper's Doggy Adoption and Groomer.

I feel my heart nearly fall into my stomach as I open the passanger door of the soccer-mom van. My PUMAs touch the pavement with a slight scratch, and I see (Y/n) look over at me. She seems to have noticed the major hesitation to my steps. "Broly, come on," (Y/n) waves at me, the notecard in her hand. I walk with her, trying to seem like I'm holding myself together.

The thing is, I absolutely adore dogs. Though, I have never seen, felt, nor pet one in person, I have always wanted one. The house that me and (Y/n) rent strictly has a no-dog policy. Well, no animals at all unless they can be kept in cages, tanks, or bowls. Anything that walked on all fours and could shit on the carpet wasn't allowed.