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absurdthirst · 2 years

Text

Not An Alpha {Omega!Dieter Bravo x F!Alpha!Reader}

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, sex toys, anal play, oral sex (male receiving), praise kinks, vaginal sex, talks of mating/bonding, emotional distress

Comments: It amazes you that anyone could ever believe that Dieter Bravo is an alpha, especially when the needy omega is curled up in his nest, begging you to claim him as your own.

This is part of @clydesducktape ‘s The Moon in May Writing Challenge Week 2 (May 8-14) : Claim

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It is funny how people seemed to project onto an actor. They understand him better than anyone else. Reading into his habits and postings on social media like he was talking directly to them. From the clothes that he wears to the people he interacted with, it was all interpreted and molded into whatever that person wanted to believe. Whether it was to feel that there was someone like them. Someone who they could relate to and feel like they weren’t alone in whatever they were going through - or that he was the person for them. The proverbial soulmate that everyone seemed to be looking for. It honestly baffled you.

“Alpha?” You snort when you scroll through the article on your phone, taking a sip of your coffee and rolling your eyes at the way that the journalist obviously projected their own desires into the article.

“Yes, alpha.” It’s not that he is acknowledging what you said, more like he is trying to agree with you. The needy whine starts to hum through his body and you look over at where he is clawing at the clothes on his body. The style that you labeled ‘hobo chic’ with his lounging pants and the t-shirts that were overly large and always pulled at the neck, to the ratty bathrobe he insisted he could never get rid of. The pheromones imprinted into the fabric and apparently comforted him.

“No, they are claiming you are an alpha.” You explain, making him stop and turn to you, his face one of bewilderment and disbelief.

“No, they’re not.” Dieter huffs, unable to believe that anyone would view him as an alpha. He’s never thought he’s ever given the impression that he was dominant at all. Because he wasn’t. He’s needy and immature and craving someone to take care of him. The immaturity wasn’t because of being an omega, it was just part of being him.

You turn your phone around and show him the headline, chuckling to yourself when he leans in and squints, still refusing to wear contacts and it was too vain for glasses just yet. Just because he was the submissive of the two of you didn’t mean he wasn’t stubborn. Besides, he doesn’t have an alpha. He’s unmated, unbonded.

“How?”

“Apparently they believe your acting.” You snort, smirking at him when he gives you a plaintive look and quickly goes back to stripping. His nest is made, soft blankets and pillows positioned just so. While he can be chaotic and whimsical, he was also an artist. Precise in the way that he had wanted his nest. You didn’t argue with him, knowing that it is his right to have it the way that he wants it.

Dieter Bravo played alphas, he played tough, rough, take-charge men. Men who could strike fear into the viewer's heart or make a thrill race down their spine when he raised his voice and shouted in anger. He could look angry and imposing like an alpha would. It didn’t hurt that most of the roles that he was cast in, he was supposed to be an alpha, but he wasn’t.

There’s a small sigh of relief when he pushes down the lounge pants, kicking off those god forsaken crocs that he insisted were better than Toms and looking over at you expectantly. “Put down the phone.” He begs, his cock already stiff and curved up, leaking at the inflamed tip and you can see that his balls are heavy, hanging below his cock and full.

You don’t answer him, don’t move, just stare at him to see what he does. It doesn’t take long. If there is one thing that you can count on, it’s that Dieter is impatient. He wants instant gratification. Always. Whether its drugs or sex, or whatever, he wants it right then.

“Alpha…..” He shuffles and wants to reach out for you, you can see the way his arms shift, swinging next to his sides while he resists the urge to touch you. Aware of your last commands when he was like this. He will wait for you to give him what he needs or he will wait longer. The waft of desperation comes over you, mixed with lust and need. “Strip down.” His voice softens slightly, whining again. “Please.”

Smirking, you stand up, setting down your phone and walking over to him to cup his cheek. A small, keening sound comes out of his chest, the man in front of you closing his eyes and nuzzling into the light touch. Desperate for more. “Good boy.” You coo softly.

He likes that. Cock twitching and jerking under your soft praise. The omega inside him preening at your acknowledgement of his obedience. “Go lay down in your nest.” You order, making his eyes pop open and he bobs his head eagerly before he scrambles to obey you.

You strip slowly, methodically as he wiggles in his nest, eyes blown wide as his need completely takes over. The heat is fully taken over and he reaches down to wrap his hand around his cock, groaning in pleasure as he gives himself a firm squeeze, watching you bare your body to him.

It was convenient, this arrangement. You are an unmated alpha, one that didn’t have to be in charge, even though that’s what ended up happening when you became Dieter’s assistant. You don’t assist him, you run his life. You make sure he is where he is supposed to be at the proper time and isn't getting too high. Although, for Dieter that is right before he manages to OD.

He’s disheveled, writhing around and his hair sticks up while he tries to present himself to you. Make himself seem more appealing, although you’ve never had any issues finding yourself desiring him. As an alpha, you had resisted offering to help him through his heats, not willing to take advantage of your attraction to Dieter under the guise of ‘helping him’. It wasn’t until he had begged, pleaded with you to help him that you had given in.

When you are as bare as he is, you walk over to the nightstand, picking up the toys that have set out in anticipation. Plugs and dildos to fulfill that ache that he has to be filled. Choosing the plug, the one that vibrates has Dieter whimpering, watching you while he continues to flex his hand around the base of his turgid cock.

Lubing it up generously, you bring it and the clear bottle of lube over to the nest and look down at him. “Omega.” You use his designation, making him listen as your own tone changes to one of your alpha. “Can I enter your nest?” You ask.

“Fuck, come in.” Dieter pants out. “Come in now, please, fuck.” You chuckle quietly, kneeling on the bed and carefully climbing into the bedding so that you don’t mess it up. It will get messed up while you are in it, but he won’t care about that after he’s blissed out and the urgent need clawing underneath his skin has been sated.

Dieter is always addicted to something. Drugs, attention, adoration. Right now, during his heat, he’s become addicted to you. You’ve been working him through them for about a year now, each time making him that much more desperate for the way you take care of him when he is unable to think of anything else other than sex. Instead of asking random people to have sex with him, like he had been doing before your arrangement.

“You want me to push this plug into your ass?” You ask, setting down the lube and caressing his thigh where his legs have fallen open to let you crawl between them. “You want it buried deep inside of you, buzzing away against your prostate?”

He keens, the sharp sound loud and turning into a moan as he shifts his hips down, wanting you to push it inside him now. “Fuck yes, please alpha, do it.” He begs shamelessly, not even caring how desperate he sounds. He knows he is, knows that you will take care of him.

You don’t wait any longer, spreading him even wider when you shift your own knees apart, smiling when he tilts his hips up and shows you the small puckered hole that is already pulsing in anticipation. “Such a pretty boy, laid out for me. Good omega.” You hum, sliding the toy up and down his crack before you slowly start to push the toy into his body.

Dieter moans loudly, pushing his hips down until you put his hand on one, giving him a stern look. He has a tendency to try to take too much, too quickly. You had learned that when he complained about being sore after his heat had passed, finding out that he had actually torn slightly in eagerness to have a thick object inside him. He whimpers but relaxes, letting you continue to slowly work the plug deeper as you rock it in and out of him.

He’s panting by the time the flared base is nestled between his cheeks, the pool of pre-cum dripping on his belly and sliding into his navel. “Fuck alpha, please.”

Hips jerking up into thin air when you turn on the toy, your omega cries out in pleasure. Feeling the vibrations of the toy deep inside him, and making his entire body jerk in reaction to it. Letting go of his cock so he can grab onto the sheet under him, the one from your bed in your hotel room. He had just walked in and stolen it, mumbling about how it smells like you and he needed it.

You hum in pleasure, taking the opportunity to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock and lean over to spit on it. Dieter is nasty, loving when you spit on his cock, his ass or even in his mouth. Sliding it over the velvet covered hardness, you look up at him with a grin, starting to stroke him with the firm grip that you know he loves.

“Alpha!” It’s the first of many times he will use that tone, nearly overwhelmed but not ready to cum yet. The sensitive cock twitching every time you twist your wrist. You know what he wants, what your pretty omega needs.

Your teeth find his hip, nipping another tattoo that he hides. Most of his ink is documented, but only you and the various other lovers he has had knows about this one. Scrapping your teeth over the skin while he bucks his hips and pushing his cock into your grip. He loves when you bite his tattoos all so very close to his glands. Just a few inches over and you would be marking him. Claiming him. Part of you wonders if that’s why he chose those locations for his tattoos over the years, letting his partners bite at his skin but still not bond him to them.

You love the broken, choked little sounds he makes but you know he wants to cum. Moving over, you press your tongue to his scent gland right at the juncture of his pelvis and he wails your name with a violent shudder. Moving over more so that you can take the leaking tip of his cock into your mouth, you feel his entire body tense up, a curse ripping out of his lips.

Bitter and tangy, his pre-cum’s taste bursts on your tongue as he spurts another dribble. Making you moan and your alpha is clamoring to make this omega feel good, to soothe the burning ball of instinct to fuck that is curling in his gut. Heats for omegas are difficult, even more so for a male omega, most others believing that they should be alphas, that they shouldn’t be so desperate to cum.

You moan, the sound vibrating around his cock and making him hiss. He was close to cumming, the way that he throbbed on your tongue and the desperate rucks of his hips shows how close he is. Still he tries to hold back, dark eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to tell him that it’s okay. You bob your head, taking him deeper and reaching up to gently roll his balls in your hand, making him practically soar off the bed.

The cry that you pull from his makes your alpha growl, keeping his cock in your mouth and huffing when you feel the first ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat and coat your tongue in a thick, viscous glaze over the inside of your mouth. You stop sucking, just holding him there on your tongue, letting him rock his hips as he does exactly what you wanted him to do. The scent of his pleasure heavy in his nest and mixed with the relief that is pouring off of him after his first orgasm.

Coming down for Dieter is soft, slow. Almost drugged in the way that his entire body relaxes and he warms up. The dimpled smile is hazy when he watches you pull off his cock with a wet pop and start stroking his scent gland. “Thank you.” He murmurs thickly, words heavy in his mouth.

You hum, coming up his body and curling around him protectively. Feeling the content little sound in his chest as he snuggles into your body. He will need more, he always does, but for now, his heat is satisfied and he can take a breath that isn’t so cloying.

****

“Claim me.” He begs, tilting his neck back and barring that scent gland, desperation pouring off of him while his fingers dig into your flesh, trying to keep you from pulling away. “Fuck, alpha, please. Make me yours. I want it. I need it.”

It’s almost worrying how quickly he needed another round. He had fallen asleep, making you assume that he would sleep for a few hours, but less than thirty minutes later he was grinding his hard cock against your belly and begging you to fuck him.

Rolling your hips, you give a stern grunt, one that makes a choked sob come out of Dieter’s throat. Sitting on his cock, you pull back and with one last attempt to keep you against him, he lets go.

“Dieter…” You reach up, shocked to see the tears in his eyes. He had never cried when he had begged you for anything before. Needled and whined, pouted or sulked, but never cried. And even though you had been working him through his heats for a long time, you had never heard him ask you to mark him. Never asked for you to claim him for the world to see.

“Please. I - I can’t think of any-anything else.” He gasps out, bucking his hips up and twitching deep inside you. The toy is still vibrating deep inside him and you know after this, he will need a break from it, even if he doesn’t want one. It’s your responsibility to take care of him when he is in this state and you take that job very seriously.

Your fingers tangle into his head, twisting around the strands and you pull his neck even tighter, making him whimper and there is a small ‘yes’ that escapes his lips like a fervent prayer. “Look at me omega.” You demand harshly.

It takes a moment, but his eyes open again from where he had closed them, enjoying the muted pain of you pulling on his hair. Dark eyes clouded with lust and need, mixed with anxiety and something else. Something that almost makes you do what he wants.

“Alpha.” His word is nearly whispered, submissive and meek when he smells the pheromones you are sending out. Ones that will have him obeying you, and yielding to your hold over him.

“When you are not in heat, we can talk about it.” You promise, continuing to rock your hips and keep your walls working around his cock. Steadily fucking him while you grapple with what he is asking you. Once claimed, Dieter’s emotional state centers around you. Your alpha. You had thought it best to leave him as he was because of how free of a spirit he is. Because if you claimed him as yours, a lot of his behaviors would have to stop.

The soft whine of protest is accompanied by the nodding of his head when you let go of his hair. Bending down, you press your breasts against his chest and run your tongue over the gland he had been presenting to you, making his dick jump inside you. Your omega wants you to claim him, mark him and make him yours. You had thought of him as yours during his heats but you need to make sure it’s not just a moment for him. That it’s truly what he wants.

Pressing it lightly, you move up and bite the earlobe that has his earring in it. Making him whimper your name and you chuckle into his ear. “If I claim you, omega-” you breathe into his ear. “You will listen to me more outside of your nest.” You promise him.

“I will.” He promises, groaning again as he starts to come closer to his next orgasm. “I p-promise, I-I-I will.”

You hum in satisfaction at his answer. “Good boy.” Dieter whines again, nearly desperate for that to happen from the way his skin tastes. No, it's funny to you that anyone could ever think of Dieter Bravo as an alpha. He’s not an alpha at all.

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#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #alpha/omega #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega verse #Omega!Dieter Bravo #alpha!reader #omega!dieter bravo x alpha!reader

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lady-of-endless · 3 months

Note

Hello! May I please request a one piece matchup? If you're too busy please feel free to delete! <3

BASICS

Name: Mochi

Gender: Female (she/her)

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual (any gender match is ok!)

SIGNS AND TYPES

Zodiac: Libra sun, Libra moon, Leo rising

MBTI: INFP

Enngram: 4; the individualist

Alignment: Chaotic good

House: Slytherin

Love Language (Giving): Physical touch, quality time

Love Language (Receiving): Quality time, gift giving

PERSONALITY

Likes: Video games, reading, drawing, writing, crochet, cross stitch, Sanrio, frogs, mushrooms, cows, coffee, sweets, summertime

Dislikes: Chores (executive dysfunction), cold weather, bitter foods, crowded places, overload of sounds (sensory issue)

Personality: I'm a very quiet person, but I'm also very friendly and bubbly. I love making friends even though I have social anxiety around new people. I'm not the most talkative, though I can hold a conversation: I'm a great listener, at least! I love spending time with my loved ones, especially my special person. I try really hard to make people feel welcome and relaxed when they're around me. Despite being quiet, I'm generally quiet communicative. When it comes to negative feelings it does have to be dragged out of me a bit, but otherwise I'm an open book!

I'm very chill most of the time, and can be very laid back. More a follower personality. I can be a bit cavalier as I deal with everything through (often quite dark) humor, but if I ever make someone genuinely uncomfortable I'm good to stop. I do need to be told peoples feelings directly though as I'm not a good judge of others unless I already know them well. Because of this I don't sus out peoples intentions well and see the best even when maybe it's not there. I'm pretty naive and gullible tbh. If you dig my humor, though, I'm really funny.

I'm very mental health aware. I suffer from anxiety and bipolar II, so I can be a lot. That being said, I'm very observant with those I love and very good at dealing with ups and downs in myself and others. I'm very introspective and always in my head for better and worse. I'm always striving to better myself, but tend to doubt myself and give into negative self talk.

I value my found family above all else. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them and I've been told I'm too loyal. I also value accountability, a growth mindset, and ambition.

Im very indoorsy and a bit of a homebody. That being said, I don't mind being spontaneous from time to time or going out if there's something interesting to do.

I have my moments of insecurity for sure but I'm pretty confident most of the time. Like I said, I'm an open book - I'm not shy to talk about anything with someone who asks and is seemingly well-intentioned! I honestly just have a huge interest in how people think and love picking their brains lol. I also love silly theorheticals for this very reason.

I'm a big softie who unsuccessfully pretends to be a tough guy. I've got a major weakness for cute things and wouldn't hurt a fly in reality. Soft candy with a gooey centre fr.

APPEARANCE

Hair: I have shoulder-length very dark brown wavy hair with a side part and grown out fringe. My hair is plain but it's soft!

Eyes: I have beautiful, big chocolate brown eyes with long lashes. They're one of my favourite parts of myself!

Body: I have olive skin, a pear figure, and am overweight. I have about 7 smallish tattoos, and piercings in my lips, ears, and nose.

Style: usually I'm very hobo-chic with all sweats but my preferred style is either full alt or cute pink dresses and bows.

Tysm for your time! Don't hesitate to message me if you have any questions!

Author's Note: Thank you so much for this request and how detailed and well structured it is! It made my work really enjoyable. As a side note, you seem such a nice person. Hope you'll enjoy it! 🌹

I ship you with...Trafalgar D Water Law!

(lovely gif is not mine, please show appreciation to the OP)

- Your chill and laid-back way of being is what naturally draws him to you. Afterwards, your bubbly side is what keeps him close, all whipped and annoyed.

- He hates to admit that you are exactly what he needed.

- You both seem loyal, mature and ambitious. Once he discovers those traits in you, he decides that he wants you close. An ally, maybe. That's what he sees in you initially.

- A softer demeanor is what Law needs to heal from his past. You being a softie is what will keep him getting better. Is also a side of you that he wants to keep as a secret, not wanting others to try to use it as manipulation.

- Being introspective is a mutual trait so at times, it will be a little complicated for you to figure out and communicate what's happening between you two.

- He's the first to notice that you're feeling anxious. Maybe because he's a doctor or maybe because he worries for you, who knows? (Hint: It's both.)

- The innocent gullibility you mentioned is something that triggers Law to take care of you. And also to tease you, good luck.

- Soft hair? Lay next to him as he's studying and let him run his fingers through your hair while he's reading.

- A cute scenario? You two would have late night convos about tattoos and piercings. Both being half asleep, talking about what other tattoos or piercings you want/consider cool.

- About your style, I think you two would make a great power couple when you go for the alternative aesthetic. If you go for the cute pink aesthetic, there's something about it that makes him whipped.

#one piece #law trafalgar #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law one piece #one piece matchups #one piece matchup #one piece x you #one piece x reader #law one piece #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece requests

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space-mermaid-writing · 1 year

Text

Stark Tailoring Inc. [IronStrange]

Summary: After his accident Stephen sold almost everything. But for his new job he needs a suit. So he goes to the place his friend recommended to him: Stark Tailoring.

Relationship: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: IronStrange, Tailor AU, fluff, insecure Stephen Strange, no powers, just the regular flirting of Tony Stark, different first meetings

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 1.8k | Next (soon)

Author’s note: This was inevitable. I knew I would write it one day. You know I’m something of a professional fabric wielder myself. So of course, I put a lot of myself into this Tony.

Chapter 1: I need a suit

The bell at the shop door chirped up with a new customer entering. Tony raised his head and noticed with a glance that it was not his typical client.

See, his typical clients were rich and beautiful. Although, it was possible that this unknown man hid a handsome face under his scruffy appearance. And that blue Balenciaga coat was certainly not cheap. The pants and shoes seemed old. Maybe he was rocking that hobo chic style that had been in fashion like eight years ago. (The man did seem to be too old for that)

And his vibes weren’t right for that either. He wrung his hands, uncertain, as if he felt out of place.

Maybe he was just lost.

The man let his gaze wander briefly around the store before it lingered on Tony, who was behind the counter sorting cufflinks. “Hello, I’m looking for Tony? Colonel Rhodes told me to ask for him.”

“Ciao. You found me. How can I help you?”

“I need a suit.”

Okay, not lost after all, then.

Tony just barely suppressed a, ‘Well, that’s obvious’, before the words left his mouth. “Sure. Any specifics?” he asked instead. “Occasion? Color? Two or three piece?”

“Two piece. Something simple will do. I have an event in two months.”

Tony set the cufflinks aside and picked up a tablet to take notes. “That’s plenty of time. I could probably make you two whole suits in that time.”

The man looked irritated. “I just need one.”

Tough crowd. Tony, however, wasn’t fazed by it. At least the man seemed to have basic knowledge of suits. Or at least of what he wanted. Tony could work with that. “You have a name, gorgeous?”

The first answer he got was a snort. And, yeah sure, his appearance didn’t make the prettiest impression. He was aware of that.

But Tony hadn't sounded sarcastic, so a second answer followed.

“It’s Doctor Stephen Strange.”

Well, apparently the man wasn’t a hobo but a doctor. Tony still had a lot of opinions about his style choices though. Especially about that fuzzy animal that apparently died on his face and was now called beard.

“Alright, Stephen. I’m gonna take your measurements and then we’ll talk about the details. Cut, collar style…”

Stephen didn’t even have to think about it. He knew he wanted something simple and he had bought enough suits in the past, to know his stuff. “Single-breasted suit, two buttons, common lapel.“

“We’ll see about that.” Tony didn't even bother to look up from his tablet, where he was adding the notes in the newly created file for his strange customer. Then he reached for his tape measure, which he hung around his neck. “Strip.”

“Pardon?” Strange blinked at him dumbfounded. There might be a slight blush creeping on his cheek but it could also be a trick of the light.

“I can’t take your measurements with that airbag around you.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, the doctor shed his coat. “Yes, of course.” Despite his words, he hesitated and played with the sleeve hem of the next layer. “The sweater too?”

“This will do. Step over here and relax. I’ll be gentle.” Tony always had customers who were a bit embarrassed. Sometimes it had to do with his person. Understandable, considering that every now and then he made an international hit in the fashion industry and branded all fashion magazine covers. Some also simply had difficulties with his personality. Tony flirted naturally and some men felt uncomfortable with that. Sometimes he notched it down a bit. Sometimes he simply blamed it on him being Italian.

He put on his reading glasses and with the tape measure in hand, he went to work. Strange posture was tense. Most people tried to stand as straight as possible when measuring – and never as they usually stood in their daily life. But the longer they had to stand there, waiting, the more they shifted back to their natural posture. And Tony could pass the time very well by talking.

“What color did you have in mind?” Tony asked off-handed.

Strange answered without missing a beat, “Black.”

Tony huffed. “Are you going to attend a black tie event?” He put the tape measure around Strange's chest. “Don’t raise your arms.”

Despite his flirting and outgoing nature, Tony was always professional in taking measurements. His touches didn’t linger longer than necessary, because he wasn’t a creep.

With practiced movements, he took the measurement, then stepped aside to record the number in his tablet and was back in his customer's personal space to take the next number.

“It’s not black tie,” Strange answered Tony's last question after a short pause. It sounded pressed, as if unwillingly.

Tony didn't let that faze him. “You want dark blue. It will make your eyes pop.” He glanced up briefly and winked at him, before turning back to his tablet. “Your date will thank me. Believe me.”

The doctor’s answer was quiet as if he didn’t want Tony to actually hear it. “I’ve got no date.”

“There’s still enough time to solve that problem. Angle your arm like this.” Tony put his one hand on Strange's elbow, the other on his wrist, to move the doctor’s arm as he needed to measure it. But as soon as he touched him, the doctor flinched and jerked his hand away.

The next moment Strange was blushing and forcing himself to stay in pose. "Sorry." He cleared his throat. “Like this?”

Tony nodded, but did not comment on his behavior, instead calmly measured the length of the sleeve from the shoulder to the back of his hand. As he did so, he noticed the trembling of the doctor’s hands and the scars that ran across his skin. No wonder that he had reacted strangely. He was probably pretty sensitive about that.

When Tony walked over to the table to write down the number, Strange immediately hid his hands from further view by pulling the sleeves of his sweater over them.

The rest of the measurements Tony needed for the jacket he got mostly from Strange’s back anyway. Then he moved on to the pants. The doctor was tall enough that he didn't even have to put him on a podium for that.

"Alright, I got everything I need," Tony announced afterwards. "Let's talk about colors. I've got some nice dark blues over here." He walked over to a shelf on the wall where rolls of fabric in various colors were stored. Most of them weren't too exciting – most custom suits that were commissioned remained classics.

Stephen was persisting with his previous opinion. "Black."

Tony looked at himself over the rim of his reading glasses. "Bellino, if you insist, well, it’s your money. But if you wanna show your best side…” He slapped the rolls of fabrics that could fit so many shades of blue in them.

Tony was a tailor first and a salesman second; if he believed in his product. And, oh – Tony believed in every single piece in this shop.

“Apropos money: as long as you’re no regular yet, I’ll need you to pay fifty percent up front and the rest when you pick the suit up.”

Strange paused for a moment. "I can't pay until next month." His words were softly spoken, as if they caused him personal discomfort.

Tony raised his eyebrows. He wouldn’t start working for a new customer before he had seen some money. But if he only started next month, there wouldn't be enough time with making the patterns, the fittings and everything. If he had made something for the doctor before and had a pattern that he knew fit him, it wouldn't be a problem. But for a stranger...

Strange looked visibly uncomfortable. Understandably so, because the prices at Stark's weren't exactly cheap. Only those who could afford it came to him.

"How did you say you knew Rhodey?" Tony asked.

"From rehab."

The tailor tilted his head. “He’s working with Doctor Stanfill.” He knew that because his friend often talked about it and he had already picked him up from there. And Tony didn't know anything about changing doctors.

Strange shook his head.“I’m a patient myself. Because of my hands.”

Tony's eyes automatically slid down to Strange's fingers, which the man nervously hid at the side of his body. He looked away immediately. His mama taught him better than to stare.

“We met at the East Coast Center For Nursing And Rehabilitation,“ Strange continued his explanation, in a way as if he just wanted to say something to avoid silence. “When I told him about the event, he said I should go to Stark‘s for a suit.“

It was rare for Rhodey to recommend anyone, at least so to Tony personally. He trusted his platypus. Tony also knew that the ECC was a place for the more difficult cases.

“Alright, maybe I can make an exception,” he decided. Strange's head shot up. “You pay that first rate as soon as you can by next month. And not a day later, capisce?”

Relieved, Strange nodded.

“I also need you to leave your phone number with me. And don’t think I will hesitate to tell Rhodey if you bail.”

“I will pay you as soon as I can. Thank you.” The doctor remembered one more thing. “Will that be fine with the owner?”

Tony realized that the man was clueless who he was. He suppressed a smirk, but did not enlighten him. “I can handle the owner just fine”, he reassured him instead. “I will accept donuts as a form of bribery though. Oh, and you will happily decide for a blue fabric.” Satisfied that he had had his way, Tony pulled the blue fabric from the shelf.

“I really don’t have a choice on that now, do I?” Strange sounded rather amused.

“You can always buy off the peg at Hammer’s if you insist on black.”

Strange grimaced. “Blue it is.”

Tony beamed at him. “Excellent. Let’s talk about collars.”

Somehow he liked this weird stray who stumbled in his shop. As they talked about the details, he realized that beneath all the layers of scrubby and intermittent insecurity was hidden a sharp mind and that the man was quite capable of keeping up with his wit.

If Tony had to guess, he’d say that life hadn’t been kind to the doctor recently.

The rehab center Rhodey attended was for exceptionally serious accidents. His best friend had crashed a plane while on a military mission. And from what he had seen, the doctor’s hands were a mess and Strange was obviously insecure about them.

Tony took his notes while they talked. Strange had good taste and turned out to be willing to cooperate. It was as if the ice had been broken after Tony's agreement to a later payment.

Twenty minutes later, Strange left the shop in a better mood than when he entered. He was still looking like a hobo but with a small smile on his lips.

#ironstrange #Tony Stark / Stephen Strange #Tailor Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Doctor Strange #stephen strange #doctor strange #marvel #mcu #tony stark #space mermaid writing #Tony the tailor #Stark Tailoring Inc

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