#and that i am completely petrified by the idea of someone seeing something before i've polished it. my drafts are ROUGH

[cuips-not-cute]

i hope that everyone realizes that the typos in my fics are not from lack of effort but rather the result of me being dumb as hell

[fluffychubbyrose]

Tony Stark x Chubby Self Conscious reader.

One Shot.

Requested.

Warnings- Slight Language, Slight NSFW so slight if you blink you'll miss it, Tony Stark might be more OC than some may like, insecurities, and light bullying.

(Also I don't own any of these pictures I just made the collages.)

Tony decided today instead of staying in the tower and relaxing, maybe having a movie marathon or something that we should go shopping to get me some more clothes since I keep telling him that I only have a few outfits to wear that are comfortable when he asks why I'm wearing the same outfits again and again.

The outfits are mostly my old sweats and sweatshirts along with a couple of baggy dress shirts and dress pants that I feel comfortable lounging around the tower or going out in, because they cover me completely and hide my plushness from the prying and judging eyes of other people.

I've been wearing the same outfits on rotation for the past month or two instead of wearing the new dresses or skirts I said I loved and fit good when he bought them for me, even when they were a bit snugger and showed more skin than I'd like them to. But at the time they seemed like a great idea to get because while they were a bit snug, they were beautiful, soft, and lovely material that highlighted my figure and bust. But lately I haven't been as confident as I was when I first got those outfits and wore them around and out and about.

But now looking at myself in these dresses, skirts, and tight shirts they just show to much of me and dont look right on my body anymore, they show too many of my rolls and plushness. "You need more than a measly few outfits to wear love and you know it. If those clothes we bought didn't fit comfortably you should have just said something and we could have gotten a different style or size for you that would have been more comfortable."

He says with a sigh not budging about going shopping and seemingly pouting that I didn't tell him about the clothes not fitting comfortably until now especially since some of the ones I'm refusing to wear are his personal favorites. "I don't think they have any bigger sizes." I muttered. "Hmm what was that?" "Nothing give me a minute to get ready and we can go." I said heading to our shared bedroom to put some light makeup on, tame my hair, and change out of my sweats.

Once I'm finished I walk out and over hear Tony talking to someone so I stay behind the corner to eavesdrop. "Yeah Y/n and I are planning on going on a quick shopping spree but I'll see if she wants to go to afterwards and meet up with everyone and maybe I can talk her into getting a new bikini while we're out to wear to the beach."

"Okay we'll see you there but don't try to trick her into wearing anything she isn't comfortable with Tony." I think that was Steve he was talking to and said "we'll" see you there so is the whole team going to be there? If it's just us that could be fun but last time the "private" beach we went to was anything but. Luckily I had my one piece on and could cover up with my towel. Tony takes any opportunity and turns it into a party. "Me!?! Trick her! Never!" He said sounding appalled making me giggle and reveal my hiding spot.

Knowing very well that he's always up to something and trying to get me to do all kinds of crazy things from experiments in the lab, to getting me drunk from the expensive alcohols that he loves but I can't really stand the taste of. Knowing I was busted I walked around the corner and kissed Tony on the cheek from behind. "Oh there you are Y/n! Are you ready to go sweetheart?" He asks smirking at me with playful look for catching my eavesdropping. "Yeah I'm ready."

(Small timeskip to the shopping center.)

"Oooh I like this one!" Tony says swinging around showing me a nearly see threw black button up shirt with a plunging neckline. "Tony that's basically see threw I can't wear that!" I said embarrassed cheeks heating up at the thought of anybody seeing me in something like that. "Yes you can, if you only wear it for me!" He says with a cheeky grin. I sigh and continue look it through the rack of clothes in front of me.

Most if not all of these clothes are way to small for me. I sigh and continue down the isle looking for cute but comfy clothes that won't hug my body. Which is proving to be more and more difficult with nothing being in my size, and with Tony only picking out provocative clothing. I'm feeling more discouraged and upset by the minute deciding to give up on finding anything today I turn to tell Tony let's just go to the bathing suit store to pick out a new bathing suit for the "not a party at the beach" he managed to convince me into going to.

Until I see Tony with an armful of clothes that upon further investigation are a bunch of outfits I wanted to get but were way to small for me to wear there must be 20 something outfits in his arms while he's talking to the sales associate. "Hi, yes I need all of these 3-4 sizes bigger." He says dumping the clothes into her arms. Looking closer it looks like he got the biggest ones of each outfit which would only need to be 2-3 sizes bigger to fit me well. "I'm sorry sir but these are as big as we carry and besides these would just be a waste on someone like her if that's who their meant for. I mean no offense but they wouldn't even fit like they were made to on someone of her size." She spat sounding irritated and disgusted not apologetic by any means.

"The way they fit, or look, are up to her to decide. Not you or anyone else and say something like that again and I'll have your job by the end of the hour. So again I would like all of these 3-4 sizes bigger so they are comfortable for my girl over there." He motions to me with his head looking as pissed off as he sounds, and the way he said 'my girl' was very possessive. My eyes widen and my face heats up from embarrassment from what she said and the confrontation in general but I'm touched and happy with how he's defending me.

"And if you don't have any bigger sizes then custom tailor it to fit. If you need her measurements I'll send them to you. Here's my card and I expect to be contacted by the end of the day with all of these resized and ready for pickup." The women looks deathly pale after taking and reading the card realising she just offended Tony Stark. Knowing that his threat to her job moments ago was in fact real and emanate if she didn't comply. Seeing her so petrified makes a part of me smug knowing next time she'll think before she speaks at least.

"Yes! Right away, I'm so sorry sir they will be ready by the end of the day! You can pay for them then. I'll be right back." She squeaks out and runs off with the clothes with her head down and tail tucked between her legs hopefully feeling as embarassed and upset as am from her comments. I wrap my arms around my self with head down now that she's gone I feel tears pricking the edges of my eyes hearing her say that just proved what I've been thinking about myself is true that I'm so big that it's repulsive to be this size, hell I can't even fit into a single thing in this entire store without it being tailored to fit, that should say something.

"Hey don't listen to her sweetheart she's just jealous I'm with you and not her. Everything she said was just a spiteful lie trying to get under your skin." He says lifting my head up and wiping under my eyes where a few silent tears slipped past without me knowing. He kisses me softly and hugs me tucking me under his chin while his hands rub up and down my back. I snuggle closer with my eyes closed holding him tight. "C'mon Y/n let's go pick out that swim suit!" He says sounding excited and let's go of me grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the store and down to the next trying to get my mind off of the rude sales associate.

(Another small time skip where we just arrived at the beach.)

"Hey you guys made it!" Steve runs up in just his swim trunks, hair wet, and sand sticking to him like someone pushed him down onto the sandy shore of the beach just moments before. "Yeah we're just gonna go set up our stuff then we'll join you guys in the water." Tony replies with his arm wrapped around me. Steve smiles and nods then runs off down the beach. I'm not sure about getting into the water looking around there's a lot of strangers here all swarming the infamous Avengers wanting to get pictures with them or of them.

The beach isn't packed but it defiantly isn't as dead as it should be if just the team was here, and I don't want a rerun of what happened earlier especially now that Tony talked me into a bikini after all. Though I picked it out and hid it from his view until I changed into it. When I put it on and it actually fit really well supporting me and being snug but not tight when I wasn't expecting it to fit at all with just how small it looked, I couldn't just put it back and pick out a different one. (It's the bikini in the pic above.)

But thinking about it now I should have picked a much less revealing bikini, but I knew Tony would appreciate the colors if you know what I mean. So I put it on in the changing room and put my clothes back on over it, only taking the price tags up to the cashier so I could pay for it and said I wouldn't let him see it until we got here because I was worried I would loose my nerve and pick out another one piece bathing suit after all. Plus I knew that if I let him see me in it that we would never make it to the beach and would more than likely be banned from the store. So he's been rushing to get here and to get me out of my dress shirt and knee high shorts since I checked out at the store. "Hurry Y/n I can't wait to get into the water!" Tony yells twenty or so feet away and winks at me suggestively, dropping our things onto the sand not bothering to actually set anything up.

"Don't lie Stark you only want to see her in her new bikini! You don't really care about getting in the water!" Natasha yells back at him from a ways down the beach playing volleyball with Wanda and few other people I don't recognize against the boys. Both of them wearing their own bikinis. 'That's probably how Steve got covered in sand.' "How did you know about that?" He yelled back pouting harder than he would willingly admit, because she's seen me in my new bikini but he hasn't been aloud to. Natasha stopped playing and said something to a couple of the people I didn't recognize that were on her team and walked up with Wanda right behind her.

"Oh don't get your panties in a twist Stark she sent me and Wanda a few photos wanting some feed back before deciding which swim suit to get." She grumped at him. "But trust me you'll like what she picked out." Wanda said with a knowing smirk. My face heats up when his gaze locks with mine. "Oh I never doubted that I wouldn't like it. Now come on let's get into the water that's the whole point of going to the beach." He said pulling on my hand. "Fine but I have to take these clothes off and I'm not comfortable just stripping on the beach and you have get changed to."

I say holding my towel close to me nervous about showing so much of myself in front of everyone, especially in front of strangers. Tony not needing me to tell him twice took off to the changing rooms with his swim trunks yelling for me join him. "No way or I won't get to swim today! I'll change and be out in a few." I say while walking towards an empty room. I strip out of my clothes and look at myself in the full length mirror they had in the changing room. Feeling insecure and like this was a very bad idea all of a sudden.

Seeing all of my rolls and stretch marks in plain sight is making me feel ugly and disgusted with my self. I'm about to say hell with it all and put my clothes back on and say I'm feeling sick and that I want to go home even though Tony will know its a lie and will be worried about me, I can't handle this, I'm not ready, this is to much. That's when Tony's voice comes through the door. "Almost done in their my beautiful girl? You aren't going to keep me waiting all day are you? I could just come in there and get you if you'd prefer?" He purrs out but sounds worried.

I hurriedly wrap my towel around myself and unlock the door but I don't make a move to come out. "I'm not sure I can do this Tony. This is a bad idea I wanna go home." I'm hugging myself again degrading and upsetting thoughts are rushing through my head making me so overwhelmed that I don't notice Tony's in the changing room with me until he wraps his arms around me from behind making me jump. "Where's all of this coming from? Is it because of what that lady said earlier because she's wrong, so so wrong baby girl your beautiful in everyway!" I cringe trying not to cry knowing what he's saying is true but I can't help but let what she said and what I've been thinking lately get to me anyways.

I whimper and turn around in his arms letting him hold me again. "I'm sorry I don't know what's going on I've been more and more insecure lately for no real reason. That's why I don't wear those clothes you bought me anymore, they fit but they show to much of everything I hate and I wanted to cover up by wearing my old baggy clothes." I pull back looking up at him. Tony's silent for a moment looking at me with a thoughtful expression. "Well we'll just have to fix that now won't we?" He smiles softly grabbing my hand and leaning towards the door.

"Tony no I really don't want to go out there not like this at least." I say pulling back and looking down. "Like what? Your all covered up by your towel. I cant even see that little swim suit you bought earlier that I've been dying to see since we left the store. I love every single part of your body but if you don't want to go out there we don't have to. We can go home or stay right here in this changing room. Hell I bet if I text Capsicle he'll bring us something eat and drink then we can stay in here all day." I giggled at that imagining a confused and flustered Steve coming to the changing room bringing food and water.

"There's my girl." Tony coo's running his hands up my sides trying to tickle me. "Hey hey, No, Tony, Dont you dare!" I squeaked out jumping back hitting the wall of the changing room realizing I'm trapped my eyes widen and I'm about to yell at him again when he launches at me tickling me and I don't feel my towel falling while trying to squirm away laughing until I feel Tony's bare hands on my hips and he stops tickling me. I look up worried about the sudden stop in his "attack" and his silence until I see the desire in his eyes.

"As much as I absolutely love this." He leans close to my ear his grip tightening on my hips. "I'd love even more to see it off and on the floor." He kissed my neck once he finished. Making me gasp as heat floods my cheeks. He mumbles into my neck. "How about I show you just how beautiful you really are." Pressing his body up against mine nipping the sweet spot on my neck.

Let's just say I never got to go swimming in my new swim suit and Steve got more than just an eyeful when he came to check on us because we forgot to lock the door.

@lilacprincessofrecovery

[unholyhelbig]

Always incredible writing! Can't get enough of your storytelling and I'm sure many others can agree. Keep up the amazing stories. Prompt idea for ya since I've just been Netflixing tons of movies after work lol: Movie Tulip Fever, oldtimeAU Beca is a lowly painter who has been hired to paint a portrait of a wealthy man and his new much younger wife. She has married him to support her family. They fall in love. Btw the movie was pretty shitty lol, but I thought it would be a fun/diff idea for ya!

[A/N: Thank you so much! This movie would have been so much better if it was gay… Anyway, this is a big prompt so I could only fit so much into it. This is longer than I usually do. So if you guys want to see a part two, send me an ask about it!]  

The candle gave a soft light to the crowded room. It was an arc of brilliant yellows that was cut with a horrid orange. However, the two colors worked together in an almost therapeutic way- one tiny combination of wax and wick giving a new life to the smallest room in the house.

That was no feat; the mansion was massive- coated in royal reds and cobalt blues. Nothing was spared when it came to Garret Beale. His family being ahead of all the trade on their small island- often taking a page out of the colonist’s books and resorting to working with the men of the sea. Men who pillaged and brought back three times what this home was worth, only keeping a small portion of it to get the great law of the king off their flame-heated trails.

He was a handsome man, one with charming stature and the best-assembled clothes. Garret carried himself as such- royalty that didn’t have a true bloodline, but enough to get everything he desired. Including the woman who stood with a hard stare in front of him. His deep Irish eyes were scanning over her figure, taking in the small stature that she carried. In fact, she reminded him of one of his men; not a nationally regarded painter.

She wasn’t traditional, a pair of grey slacks and a black shirt hugged her figure, her eyes almost as dark as the midnight sky. Different colors of paint popped against the fabric; it made her look more like a street beggar than anything. But he had seen her work- seen the way she made use of the canvas and vibrant colors given to her. She was an artist, one like no other.

“I’ve seen your work,” Garret said, quite dramatically as he leaned backward in his seat. It creaked and groaned in irony. A man with that much wealth should have a better place to sit. Maybe there was some semantic value, but the woman didn’t question him. Instead, she lifted her chin, keeping her jaw tensed. “it’s good.”

“Just good?” She finally spoke, lifting her eyebrows. She leaned heavily on his hand-crafted desk, annoyance sparking within her stomach. He had more money than he knew what to do with; Beca running her fingers over the carved edge. It was done well. Better than his chair. “I mean no offense, Mr. Beale, but I have spent years studying under masters of artistic ability. You’ve pulled me from sea two weeks ago, for what? To design your walls?”

“Garret, please.” He seemed unphased by her annoyance. The man knew that she wasn’t happy, practically being pulled onto his family’s property. She agreed, having to travel weeks to even get to the home. He offered up a project, one that peaked her interest. “If I wanted to have my walls recolored, I would not send word for you, Miss Mitchell, have a seat.”

She drew in a soft breath, that skeptic look still in her deep stare. However, she eventually lowered herself into the chair pushing at the back of her legs. It was cold against her spine, making her swallow back a shiver uncomfortably. She waited patiently, despite questioning the man’s privilege.

“My wife,” he drew in a long breath, “She is quite exquisite.”

Beca pressed her lips together in a frim line, instantly finding discomfort in the man’s words. The whimsical look in his eyes solidifying just how much he cared for this unnamed woman. A small smile played at the corners of his expression. “I have yet to find someone who is talented enough to capture her beauty, which is why I called you.”

“To paint her?” She eased out, “I paint what I feel, Mr. Bea- Garret.” She corrected herself last minute. “There is no rhyme or rhythm to my work. It’s near impossible for me to construct something when I feel nothing.”

“Ah,” he leaned forward, pressing his elbows against the desk. “I assure you, Miss Mitchell when you see my wife it will be highly unlikely that you won’t feel a thing.”

She gave him a jarring look. This man was quite clearly in love with this woman. So much so that he would invite a near stranger into his home to paint a fine picture of her. He had apparently done so before, many times, but was never happy with the outcome. Men, she was sure, men who drooled and didn’t focus on the task at hand. Maybe that’s why he hand-selected her. It couldn’t’ just be based on her work. He was a picky man.

“Are you insisting that I should fall for this woman?”

“No, of course not.” He waved his hand dismissively “I merely suggest that you form a bond with her before you even sit down to draw your first stroke. I’ll pay for it all.”

She lifted both brows, her head resting on her hand as she kept her fingers on her lips. She watched him carefully. “How so?”

“You can stay here, for as long as you need. I certainly have the room to spare.” He stated plainly. “I just require that you spend time with my wife enough to know exactly what I need to be portrayed in her portrait.”

“Her essence,” Beca said as more of a statement than a question. “Not just the way she appears to the human eye.”

It was interesting, something Beca had never done before. She was more into taking an edge of charcoal and sitting on the bow of a boat- sketching the way the waves ate at a flat-lined shore. But if this woman, whoever she was, took so much captivation from the world, then it would be a certain challenge.

“Do we have a deal, Rebeca?” He held out his pale hand, firm and strong.

“It’s Beca.” She took his grasp in hers, squeezing it with force. “And how could I say no?”

The warm spring day changed the atmosphere in the usually dark house. There seemed to be no such thing as vibrant yellow, and unforgivable violent the night before. Beca having an uneasy sleep in one of the cold master bedrooms. It was far from comfortable- but still too fancy for her taste.

She woke up to a long ray of sun pressing against her gaze, birds chirping incessantly on the balcony. The stone balcony that was warmed by the very star that stirred her from her snooze. Regardless, she pulled herself from the clutches of the duvet, flinching as her bare feet hit the cold floor.

Begrudgingly, the talented artist slid on a pair of black pants and a loose fitting white shirt- not ever bringing more than that with her. She was fairly simple, hating the wire corsets and edged dresses of the time. They were too heavy and nice for her to paint in.

After lacing up a pair of brown leather boots, Beca made her way to the kitchen of the house. It wasn’t too far, Garret had set the place up like a maze, although, she was at the edge of it. He gave her a half-hearted tour before fleeing from the property himself, claiming of some business he had to do. It was close to three in the morning, there was nothing he could busy himself with at that hour- but again, the woman didn’t question his generosity.

She was close to the service quarters, residing in the same sector as the staff; she was staff. Having been hired for a job. To paint a wealthy man’s wife in exchange for room and board. Part of her wanted to drag it out to its full extent, the other part hating the idea of spending one more minute in this place.

A sickly-sweet scent coated her lungs the moment she walked into the kitchen. It was large, set up and built like a room from the Spanish colonies; complete with deep yellow walls and terracotta tile with intricate suns and moons. Natural light seeped in from the grassy courtyard. It was good work, just like Garret had said, no expense spared for his family.

There was a woman leaning heavily over a mass of dough, she was tall, almost tall enough to bump her head on the chandelier, it hung low enough. Flour coated her fingers and clothing as a strand of dirty brown hair fell from the bun on her head, sweat forming on the woman’s brow.  She glanced up with deep charcoal eyes at the change in atmosphere.

“Oh!” She let her folders fall back, moving her eyes down her smock as a certain heir of heat pressed against her cheek. She reached for a dish towel. “I’m sorry Miss Mitchell, I didn’t see you there. The dining room is right through the left corridor.”

This woman, whoever she was, looked petrified. Like she had done something wrong against the curiosity of the young artist. Beca having noticed the same thing as she cocked her head to the side slightly- like a lost puppy.

“I’m not looking for the dining room.” She stated simply from the doorway, trying not to scare the taller woman off. She was young, a simple look of amusement finding a way to her face. “You know who I am?”

“Of course.” The stranger let out a soft breath, pushing the base of her palms into the moldable dough. “Mr. Beale often hires new artists to tackle capturing the enigma that is his wife. Many of them leave after the first few days. They’re not very social.”

Her slate eyes flicked up towards Beca, almost as if asking a question.

“I’m not either,” She relented, a small smile on her lips. “But I know proper manners. I take it none of them have ever been back here?”

The woman grimaces, shaking her head as she struggles to blow the strands of stray hair from her gaze. She was becoming more comfortable with the conversation, with the presence of Beca in general. This was her kitchen, the woman knew not to overstep her boundaries.

“Never, Miss Mitchell.” She held back a snort. “Wouldn’t give the staff a second glance. A bit like Mr. Garret himself, if I might add.”

“Beca is fine.” The smaller girl said, shoving her hands in her pockets as the woman gave her a kind smile. She was different than the rest of them, actually making conversation and not attempting to rush the other way. She made eye contact and didn’t hold her shoulders along the straight edge of a metal plate. Instead, she looked calm and collected. Strong, even. “And you are?”

“The chef.” She answered on instinct.

“I figured that.” Beca elicited a small laugh. “I meant your name.”

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, a genuine smile finding it’s way to her flour specked face. “I’m Stacie Conrad.”

The Conrad’s were a fun group of people, a family name that Beca recognized almost immediately. She had met a man in the Pacific with the same surname, almost the same features as the chef that stood in front of her; a strong and seducing fella with a great sense of humor. If this woman was anything like her bloodline, Beca would get along great with her.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Stacie.” Beca reached out to shake the woman’s hand, reaching over the island, not hesitating a bit as the taller girl produced a powder covered one instead. She shrugged sheepishly- taking it regardless, Stacie’s mouth falling open. “What’s a little dirt?”

“Ah,” She nodded softly “Miss Chloe will love you.”

“Chloe huh?” The name rolled off of the artist’s lips. It was the first time that she had actually heard it. She was always proclaimed as Garrets wife, or even the woman no one could really paint. But she hadn’t met Beca yet. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“You two haven’t met yet?” Stacie raised a pointed eyebrow.

“I got in around three last evening,” Beca explained, following that ashy stare towards the courtyard. It was a feat in its own; large hedges shielding the home from the outside world, lush green grass coating the full area, even a tall tree that produced bright fruit like that of a flame. Yellow and sharp. “Mr. Beale took me right to my quarters. After a tour, of course.”

“A fine man that’s proud of his home.” Stacie grimaced, stepping away from her task as she rounded the large counter. She was just as tall as Beca though, both of them turning towards the large doors, leaning heavily against the island as they stared out into the yard, Stacie crossing her arms over her chest. “Every morning, you can find Miss Chloe out here.”

“Reading?” The tiny girl still couldn’t see much but the yard- assuming the woman of the hour was situated on the other side of the large tree, back against the bark as she perused some ancient form of literature.

Stacie scoffed. “You wish.”

Beca threw her an odd glance before turning her attention back towards the area. Struggling to focus her hearing. She had been so focused before- not paying much stock to the little patch of outdoors. She noticed the taller woman first, at least she thought it was two women. Both in form fitted white suits- mesh masks over their faces. Fencing.

This woman who everyone raved bout was battling it out loudly with another, stepping gracefully against the grass, unlike any high-class girl that Beca had seen before. Both grunting as the metal of their foil’s clanked with each fluid hit. The shorter of the two took a step out of bounds, her partner not sparring a second.

“Avertissement” Beca scoffed under her breath, shaking her head.

“Aubrey never plays fair” Stacie spoke without tearing her gaze away from the pair. “I’m sure she does it to keep Chloe on her feet. You fence?”

“I used to.”

The two burst into laughter, muffled by the door that separated their spectators. Each woman panting with a purpose as the taller of the two removed her mask first- face red from the labor as she struggled to catch her composure. Stacie cocked an eyebrow at the blonde, cheeks maintaining their rosy complexion. “That’s Miss Posen.” She informed the small girl. “I swear, Chloe and she are joined at the hip. Protective, that one is.”

Aubrey went to remove her chest guard, but Beca didn’t have the attention span to continue watching the blonde. Instead, she focused on who she deemed to be Chloe. The mask was removed, a bout of coppery locks fell against her shoulders; she shook her head trying to free them from the heat of the island day. Her own chest was heaving, cheeks a bit red as she tucked her weapon beneath her arm. An angelic smile pressed close to her lips, a thin layer of sweat coating her collarbone.

“You’re drooling, Beca.”

“What?” The brunette snapped her mouth shut, dragging the back of her hand across her cheek, checking to make sure she was in fact, not drooling. Stacie was right, she could catch flies the longer she stood there, each passing second, she stared at Chloe made a heat press near her core. “I was doing no such thing.”

“Hmm,” Stacie nudged her new friend. “There is a reason they call Chloe Beale unpaintable.”