waliminium

[waliminium]

Tailored Encounters

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: implied age gap, fluff, light romantic tension, no major triggers Word count: 659 Summary: As the daughter of Frank the tailor, you’ve always been surrounded by impeccable suits and high-end clients. But none quite as captivating as Harvey Specter. When he starts making regular visits for minor suit "adjustments," you begin to notice a pattern: it’s not just the clothes he’s interested in.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You’d recognize that confident stride anywhere.

 “Harvey,” you greeted, glancing up from the workbench where you were adjusting a hem. “Back so soon?” 

“Frank in?” he asked, his tone casual.

 You gestured toward the back room. “He’s on a delivery run. You’re early, though. The suit isn’t ready until Thursday.”

 “Actually…” Harvey adjusted his already-perfect tie, his gaze sweeping the shop. “I think the cuffs on my last suit might be a little tight. Thought I’d stop by and have them checked.”

 You raised an eyebrow. “Tight cuffs?” You’d measured that suit down to the millimeter, and you knew it was flawless. 

“Yeah,” he replied, with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Snug.” 

“Uh-huh.” You fought back a grin, setting your tools down. “I’ll get the measuring tape.” 

He didn’t seem particularly concerned about the supposed cuff issue. Instead, he wandered around the shop, casually running a finger along the fabric bolts stacked neatly on the shelves. He lingered by the counter, watching as you prepared. 

“You’re good at this,” he said suddenly. 

You blinked, startled. “At tailoring?” 

“At everything,” he clarified, with a glint of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

 The next day, the bell jingled again, and there he was—Harvey Specter, sharp as ever, holding an accessory box in his hand. 

“Forgot to pick up a tie pin yesterday,” he announced, setting the box on the counter. 

You gave him a look. “You don’t usually forget things.” 

He shrugged. “Even I’m not perfect.”

 You opened the box to inspect the pin. “This is the one you ordered last week. What’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing.” He leaned against the counter, his smirk firmly in place. “But maybe you can suggest something better.”

 You rolled your eyes but humored him, pulling out a few alternatives. As you showed them, he asked, “So, are you always here, or do you take time off?” 

You tilted your head at the sudden change in topic. “Depends. Why?”

 “Just curious.” 

Later that evening, as you were locking up, Harvey strolled in again, no excuses this time. “You’re late,” you teased, holding the door open for him. 

“Had a meeting,” he replied smoothly. “I was hoping to catch you.” 

You let him in, flicking the lights back on. “Don’t tell me—another cuff issue?”

 “No,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” 

You paused, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” 

“Because you’re always busy in here,” he said, gesturing to the shop. “Do you ever take time for yourself?” 

You shrugged, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve. “It’s a family business. There’s always something to do.” 

“Maybe you should let someone else handle it for a night.” 

“And do what instead?” 

He smiled, but this time it wasn’t his usual smug grin. It was softer, warmer. “Let me take you out to dinner.” 

The next day, he returned—because of course he did. This time, there were no pretenses, no accessories to inspect. 

“I meant what I said last night,” he began, leaning on the counter. “Dinner. Just you and me.”

You crossed your arms, feigning skepticism. “Is this another one of your deals? Butter up the tailor’s daughter for a discount?” 

He chuckled. “No deals. Just an honest invitation.” 

You hesitated, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “I don’t know, Harvey. You seem like the kind of guy who always has an angle.”

 “Not this time,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll even let you pick the place. No strings attached.” You studied him for a moment, searching for the catch, but all you saw was sincerity. Finally, you relented.

 “Fine,” you said. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his grin widening.

a/n: Just wanted to say thank you for the support on my first story. I was really nervous about starting to post my writing but I'm glad you guys enjoyed it! :)

[waliminium]

Lines in the Sand

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: mild jealousy/possessiveness, fluff, light romantic tension, established relationship Word count: 365 Summary: At a medical convention, you—an accomplished doctor—find yourself the focus of an overly confident colleague’s attention. Harvey makes his presence known with a subtle yet possessive gesture, reminding the doctor where the boundaries lie.

The hotel ballroom buzzed with chatter, a sea of professionals mingling over champagne. You’d been invited to the medical convention as a guest speaker, your keynote on cutting-edge surgical techniques earning you more than a few admiring glances throughout the evening.

Harvey had tagged along—well, insisted on coming—under the pretense of "support," though you suspected it had more to do with his reluctance to let you out of his sight for too long.

You were mid-conversation with a fellow doctor, a tall, overly charming man whose laughter lingered just a bit too long after every comment you made. He leaned in, his hand brushing your arm as he spoke.

“And here I thought doctors were all work and no play. You’re proving me wrong,” the man said, his smile a touch too smug.

Before you could respond, a warm hand settled on your waist, firm and unyielding. The unmistakable scent of Harvey’s cologne filled the space beside you as he stepped into the conversation.

“Funny,” Harvey said smoothly, his tone cordial but edged with steel, “I thought surgeons were supposed to have steady hands, not clumsy ones.” His gaze flicked pointedly to where the man’s fingers had just been.

The doctor chuckled awkwardly, stepping back slightly. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Harvey Specter,” he said, his arm tightening ever so slightly around your waist. “I’m with her.”

The statement hung in the air, subtle but unmistakable. The man’s confidence wavered, and he muttered something about needing a refill before disappearing into the crowd.

You turned your head, raising an eyebrow at Harvey. “Was that necessary?”

He smirked, the picture of nonchalance. “Just making sure he knew where the boundaries were.”

“Jealous, are we?” you teased, though the glint in your eye suggested you weren’t entirely displeased.

“Not jealous,” he replied, his voice dropping low as he leaned closer. “Just territorial.”

Your cheeks warmed as he guided you toward the bar, his hand never leaving your waist. The rest of the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the electric hum of his presence beside you. “Next time,” Harvey murmured, his lips brushing close to your ear, “remind them you’re taken. Or I’ll have to do it for you.”