WARNING: In this oneshot, the reader (You) will be insecure. So, you'll be depressed, you won't like yourself. AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THEN DON'T READ, PLEASE. I just want to see how I can write this.
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Fat. Ugly. Waste of space. Disgrace. Dumb.
Those were only a few of the names others had called you. And you started to believe it. You didn't like yourself, not your body, not your face, not even your hair. After being bullied throughout high school, you finally agreed with them. You always felt as if you weren't good enough. Not pretty enough, not smart enough. You forgot how to accept yourself, as did others. Gotham was filled with cruel people, no one cared for others unless they were family or lovers.
"Miss, can you move?" A male voice said, interrupting your thoughts.
"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned and looked at the man.
It was Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, playboy. He was many things, you were not. You found him attractive, but you doubted you had a chance.
Sighing, you moved out of his way.
"Is something wrong?" He stopped.
"Does it matter?" You mumbled.
"Sorry?" He hadn't heard you, clearly.
"Nothing, sorry, I'll go," you frowned again.
'Why won't he just leave?' You asked yourself. 'Why does he care?'
Before you could walk away, he bumped into you. Almost purposely. The drink you held in your hands had spilled, getting on your shirt.
"Oh, sorry! Let me buy you another drink," he apologized.
"No, it's fine, I'll just go home," you started to walk out of the coffee shop.
"Please, I insist," he grabbed your arm, stopping you. Knowing there was no way out of this, you stopped and nodded to him.
He bought you a coffee, the exact same as the one he spilled — purposely. The janitors had to clean it up, thanks to Bruce.
Right now, you both were sitting across each other, saying nothing, doing nothing.
"Tell me, why are you so upset?" Bruce suddenly asked.
"Why? Because I feel like everyone hates me, even I hate me. Tell me, why is everyone so ignorant? So... So hating? What did I ever do to people for them to call me names, bully me? Why do you even care?" Your voice cracked, as you were on the verge of tears. Bruce stared, worry in his eyes. You didn't know why, you didn't even know why he even talked to you.
"First, I haven't learned your name, what it is? Second, not everyone in Gotham is ignorant a-holes. People care, people try to talk, console, and care for you but you never let them in. You hold people off. At least, that's what I'm guessing," he sipped his coffee.
"My name.. It's (Y/N). And why do you care? I never asked about what you thought about me. You're acting like my therapist," you confessed.
"(Y/N), you're a very, very, beautiful woman. I can tell you don't get that a lot. But, you are. I'd like to get to know you," he smiled.
Jerking your head back, a small blush covered your cheeks.
"I-- No. If I start a thing with you, it'll probably last a week. I'm not-- "
"Is that what you think of me? That I can't hold relationships? I may look like Gotham's fellow ignorant a-hole, but I'm not," his smirk made you smile.
For once, you actually smiled.
"That's it. A smile, it's beautiful," he complimented again.
You stared at him, a small smile on your face. You focused on his features. Deep blue eyes, dark hair, and a strong jaw. He was fit and, for once, he actually dressed casual. Well, he had on a dress shirt and jeans. Casual enough.
"(Y/N), would you like to go on a date with me this weekend?" He bit his lower lip, his cheeks a light pink.
'Is he blushing?' You asked yourself.
Realizing you haven't answered, you looked at his worried face and answered. "Yeah."
"Okay, I'll come pick you up this weekend," he smiled.
Your cheeks stayed pink. "Okay, I live in the east side of town. A small house, blue sidings. It's easy to find, so don't worry," you explained.
The rest of the day was filled with get-to-know-you questions. Bruce had lifted your mood, from sad and gloomy to happy and smiling.
It felt good to smile and feel happy. You liked it. And then, you realized you weren't as awful as you thought. Throughout the next months of knowing Bruce, it had gotten serious, and you started to accept yourself. You went out more often, and were more happy. You liked your new life.
Even in Gotham, lifes can change and the broken can be fixed.
YOU ARE READING
Batman Oneshots/Imagines
FanfictionI'm such trash that I decided to make a book for DC Comics characters.
