Marvel Imagines

slim ➳ tony stark

hi. I have never, in my life, written for a plus!size reader. I'm sorry if I get things wrong, I'm sorry if I accidentally romanticise anything. I don't know what it's like at all, and I'm bound to get things wrong. So I apologise. That being said—no one should ever be bullied for being "fat", nor should you put yourselves down. I've said it before and I'll say it again because it's damn important: Ladies of all shapes and sizes, you are beautiful and you are stunning and more than worthy of love. I hope you girls always feel this way.

Silk wrapped around their slim waists, falling around their bare legs. Thin arms twirled around their partners, slender fingers caressing cheeks, circling necks, running through strands of hair. Neither thigh shook as they danced. And oh, how you would give anything just to be like them. To have their waists, their fingers, their confidence, the cute guy asking for a dance. But your breath instead was caught in your throat, the sharp bodice of your dress digging into your rib. Your hair in frizzy curls behind your ears, no thanks to all those hours with the damned hair straightener. You wanted to be like them, yes. It was everything. But that wasn't what Tony saw.

He knew all the dresses you tried on at the store, all your tears as nothing fit quite right, all the comforts he whispered to you. He knew all the infamous fad diets you tried in vain, your suffering as nothing ever flattened your stomach and nothing ever slimmed your thighs. He knew the mornings you stared into the mirror and bullied yourself into tears, the days all you needed was a hot chocolate to be granted and 13 Going On 30. You found it embarrassing, shameful, yourself vulnerable. But it was never a burden to him.

You watch the girls and you watch their ease and you wonder why you weren't designed in their image. But he's watching you, and he's watching your internal trash talk. 'Why can't I look like that?' 'Why isn't my stomach as flat as theirs?' 'Why can't I wear that dress?' 'No, I really shouldn't pick up another appetiser—Tony doesn't want a fat girl.'

It hurts, and you tug on a lock of your hair to make it real. But Tony's arm curls around your waist, pulling you into his side to murmur, "You look beautiful."

And all you can give is a soft smile.