Suits Meme

Two Lawyers. One Degree. Lots of sexiness.

Fist. Bump.
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round three prompt post - CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS


IMPORTANT: Prompts can be reposted in later rounds, but not in the round directly following the prompt's original round. Prompts from Round One should be reposted in Round Three; prompts from Round Two should be reposted in Round Four. I will delete any prompts that I recognize from Round Two.

IMPORTANT: Please don't forget to warn for any triggers (these can be found in the Rules post), better to warn when in doubt. If a prompt is not warned for triggers and contains them, it will be screened and you will be asked to re-write it with the appropriate warning. This is to ensure a safe environment for everyone. If you have any questions/concerns regarding your prompt, don't hesitate to use the mod post.

Round Three will be closed for 48 hours once it reaches ~2500 comments, and will be closed permanently once it reaches ~5000 comments. During the closed times, people are still allowed to post FILLS, but any PROMPTS posted will be deleted.

Refer to the Rules before posting a prompt. 
Direct any of your concerns to the Mod Post.
I'll be archiving prompts (both filled and unfilled) at our Delicious account.
You can also read comments in flat view, if that makes browsing easier.
Round One
Round Two

Please make sure to post links to your fills in the FILL POST. Thank you. :]

P.S. I know I said tomorrow but I'm on the East Coast right now and honestly can't guarantee anything for tomorrow.

FILL: Erosion 1/?

Okay, so this is a double-fill, as it actually meets the criteria for one of my own prompts as well as this one LOL. Sorry for the lame title, but I literally just cranked this part out in about an hour and wanted to get it posted before starting on my homework. I'm hoping to post some every day, but school does have to take priority. Hope you enjoy, OP!

The text on the Gunderson briefs is blurring in front of Mike’s eyes, sliding in and out of focus like the words are underwater. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing uselessly at his eyes. There is a now-familiar ache building between his temples, throbbing in time to his heartbeat, and he feels achy and fatigued.

He’s been awake for almost 30 hours, scrambling to finish the obscenely tall stack of briefs that both Harvey and Louis dumped on his desk day before yesterday. Both men had stressed the incredible, earth-shattering, continent-destroying importance of their assignments to him, and both men had blatantly ignored his feeble attempts to remind them that his is, in fact, a human being with physical and mental limits (despite his amazing brain and work ethic).

He sighs and swallows another four ibuprofen, washing them down on a flat, tepid mouthful of Rebull (his fourth for the day). His stomach roils sourly in response, gurgling and twisting uncomfortably. He knows he should eat something – he hasn’t put anything but ibuprofen and energy drinks in his body since yesterday – but the near-constant low grade nausea that’s been plaguing him all week has killed his appetite. He thinks maybe he’s coming down with something – he wouldn’t be surprised if the lack of sleep and proper nutrition has demolished his immune system, and Howard had that stomach thing a few weeks ago. Maybe he's finally succumbing to the office germ pool.

“Do you have those finance records reviewed?” Harvey says from behind him, his appearance sudden enough to make Mike startle in his seat.

“Jesus, Harvey, warn a guy, would you?” he snaps, heart fluttering alarmingly at the shock. He feels lightheaded and so fucking tired. A drop of sweat slides down his spine and he twitches his shoulders, trying to ease the damp itchiness it leaves in its wake.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey says (sounding not at all sorry). “I wasn’t aware that I needed to announce my presence before entering the room. Would it help if I had Rene sew little bells into the cuffs of my suits? Or maybe I should hire a trumpeter to announce my entrance in the style of medieval royalty.”

“Or you could just not sneak up behind people like a ninja,” Mike says bitterly, rubbing absently at his sternum as heartbeurn rears its ugly head. Again. His whole body feels like it’s falling apart. He needs sleep, food, and a week off. Preferably in that order.

Harvey moves smoothly around his desk, leaning one hip casually against the metal. He eyes the surface of Mike’s workspace with thinly-veiled disdain, nose wrinkling at the collection of empty Redbull cans and Tums wrappers. “Your desk is a sty,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been home in two days, and I’ve been buried under a mountain of apparently vital paperwork for both you and Louis. You’re lucky I’m still upright and functioning, so cut me some slack with the neatness, alright?”

Harvey raises an eyebrow at Mike’s slightly bitchy tone, but Mike is exhausted and nauseous and his eyes feel like they’re coated in sand, and he doesn’t really care. He's said worse to Harvey and lived to tell the tale. Plus, if Harvey kills and/or fires him, he can at least get some sleep. “Did you need something, or did you just stop by to criticize my housekeeping skills?”

“You really haven’t been home in two days?” Harvey asks with uncommon seriousness. He doesn’t look concerned, per se, but he’s got a certain considering expression that Mike has come to identify as his own repressed personal version of mild worry.

“No, I haven’t,” Mike sighs, thinking longingly of his untouched bed. Hell, at this point he’d take the floor under his desk, just so long is it’s a horizontal surface and he can sleep on it.

Re: FILL: Erosion 2/? (warning for illness and violence)

“Get your stuff together,” Harvey says, straightening. “We’re going down to First National to meet with Mr. Gunderson and review the bank documents for the merger, and then you’re going home and getting some sleep. You look like death warmed over.”

Mike is torn between confusion, joy, and offense. “But, it’s only two. I still have about 800 pages of the Wodsworth merger to review for Louis, and he’ll kill me if they’re not done by the end of the day.”

“Leave Louis to me,” Harvey says with a dismissive wave, already heading toward the elevators. “You’re no good to me if you keel over from exhaustion. I can’t have people thinking I’m neglecting my puppy, or they might call the ASPCA on me.”

Mike scrambles to shove all the necessary files for the Gunderson case into his messenger bag, tossing his ibuprofen and antacids in after them. The floor tilts unpleasantly under his feet for a moment when he stands, and he has to brace himself with a palm against his desk until the dizziness passes. He feels too light, off balance, like he might drift off the face of the planet if he stops concentrating on keeping his feet on the floor. Low blood sugar, he thinks, and resolves to eat something when he gets home, no matter how queasy he feels.

Harvey is waiting for him in the elevator, pressing the door open button with an impatient expression. Mike stumbles into the elevator, fumbling with his bag, and leans wearily against the rail as Harvey hits the ground floor button. His heart is thumping rapidly against his breastbone, and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t be this out of breath from simply jogging down the hall. Harvey is giving him a strange look.

“Are you alright to make it to this meeting?” Harvey asks. Mike is momentarily stunned by the question. Harvey Spector is apparently expressing concern for him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he insists, straightening and struggling to breathe more normally. He clutches the strap of his bag to hide the way his fingers are trembling. He doesn’t want to think about the disappointment that would no doubt fill Harvey's eyes were he to beg out of the meeting. Plus, Harvey is finally letting him come to the “big boy table” on a semi-regular basis now, and he’s not going to risk fucking that up for a stupid belly ache and shitty eating habits.

“Yes, well, if it turns out you need to collapse or keel over dead, at least try to fall away from the billionaire client, won’t you?”

Mike smirks at Harvey's familiar brand of backhanded personal concern and salutes him mockingly.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Harvey rolls his eyes and leads them out into the afternoon heat, where Ray is waiting with the car. Mike gulps down the acid burn of his indigestion and fishes his Tums out of his bag once they’re on their way, pretending not to see the way Harvey narrows his eyes and watches him chew the minty tablets.

It’s just a stomach bug. He’ll sleep it off, and everything will be fine tomorrow.

Forty five minutes into the meeting, Mike begins to reconsider his blasé opinion of this little bug.

His stomach is clenching and cramping painfully, and it takes everything in him not to curl over it and whimper like a little girl. His head throbs, his mouth is flooded with saliva, and nausea is swelling and receding in an increasingly rapid cycle.

Harvey and Mr. Gunderson are deeply focused on the paperwork the bank manager has drawn up, which means no one is paying much attention to Mike. This is good, because Mike’s not sure he could provide his own address right now, let alone any of the pertinent details of Mr. Gunderson’s multi-million dollar merger. He wipes surreptitiously at the sweat that’s gathering on his brow and upper lip, feeling dampness pooling under his arms and between his shoulder blades. There is a deep burning sensation under his breastbone, the worst his heartburn has been in weeks (and it’s been getting steadily more severe over the course of this month). He tugs uselessly at his tie, wishing his would pull it off and shed his jacket while he’s at it. His stomach feels bloated and tight, and his clothes feel like they’re constricting him.

Re: FILL: Erosion 3/? (warning for illness and violence)

“Mike,” Harvey says, and Mike’s head jerks up guiltily. He can tell by Harvey's tone that it’s not the first time he’s said Mike’s name. Harvey, the bank manager, and Mr. Gunderson are all looking at him – Mr. Gunderson with an expression of condescending amusement, the bank manager with boredom, and Harvey with an expression that looks torn between annoyance and worry.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mike says, alarmed at how breathless his voice sounds, “I was just going over the tax penalties in my, uh… head.”

“Mr. Gunderson, would you please excuse us for a moment?” Harvey says, all smooth contrition and easy smiles.

“Of course,” Mr. Gunderson says, folding his hands over his lap and leaning back casually in his chair. "Take your time."

“Mike,” Harvey says lowly, gesturing for Mike to get up and lead them away. Mike feels a pang of embarrassment and worry, wondering what he’s done wrong. He gulps down the rising feeling of nausea and stands carefully, breathing though his nose to try and tamp down the desire to puke all over the expensive looking carpet in the bank manager’s office. His pulse flutters in his ears and black dots swarm around the edges of his vision like ants. He blinks rapidly and manages to walk out of the office and into the quiet hallway without disgracing himself all over the floor.

Harvey follows, closing the door gently behind them while Mike slumps against the wall and hunches a little over his churning belly. Moving has only increased the burning ache in his core and he wants more than ever to just lie down, curl up, and die.

When Harvey turns to him, his face is tight with some indistinct emotion.

“Mike, you need to be honest with me – are you alright? You're sweating, you're pale, and you were completely checked out in there. Either something's wrong, or you've simply decided that a multi-million dollar merger is beneath your attention. So what is it?”

“I, uh- I think I’m coming down with something,” Mike admits, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly. His mouth keeps flooding with saliva, and every time he swallows his stomach gurgles unpleasantly and threatens to reverse the process.

Suddenly there is a dry, warm hand on his forehead, just brushing the tips of his sweat-damped hair. He leans into it unconsciously, biting his lower lip to keep in the moan that wants to escape. It’s bad enough that Harvey is seeing him like this, weak and sick – he doesn’t need to add pathetically needy to the list.

“You feel clammy,” Harvey says, turning his hand and pressing the backs of his fingers against Mike’s cheek. “What are your symptoms?”

Mike blinks his eyes open blearily and fists the fabric at the front of his suit in one damp hand, pressing his knuckles gently against his belly. “My stomach hurts,” he admits. “My head aches, I feel sort of… weak, and I’m getting really nauseous.”

Harvey pulls his phone out, steadying Mike with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m calling Ray and sending you home,” he says with finality, then pauses. “Unless you think you need a hospital.”

“No,” Mike insists, trying to straighten under Harvey's examining look. “I’m fine. I just need some sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He thinks maybe he’s trying to convince himself more than Harvey, and Harvey looks unconvinced. He’s about to insist that he really is fine (despite feeling quite the opposite) when there is a muffled bang from the lobby area and the sound of several people screaming in fear.

Mike jerks away from the wall in surprise and alarm. Harvey's gaze shoots to the end of the hall and the entryway to the bank lobby, hand tightening around his phone. Behind them, the door to the manager’s office swings open and an alarmed looking manager rushes into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” Harvey asks, reaching out to steady Mike as he stumbles a little. Mike’s heart is galloping in his chest even before the manager answers. He knows what that sound was.

Re: FILL: Erosion 4/? (warning for illness and violence)

“One of my tellers just tripped the silent alarm. Someone’s robbing the bank.” The manager’s eyes are round with fear, sweat beading on his bald forehead.

“Is there another way out of here?” Harvey asks, ridiculously calm given the circumstance. “A back entry, a fire escape? Anything?”

The manager is opening his mouth to respond when the door to the lobby slams open and a man in a gorilla mask steps into the hall. He’s wearing all black and holding a semi-automatic weapon in his hands, pointed directly at Harvey, Mike, the manager, and Mr. Gunderson.

“All of you, out in the lobby, now,” the man orders, gesturing with the gun. No one moves for a few shocked seconds. “I said NOW,” the man screams, cocking the gun and raising it to his shoulder, “Or I start picking you assholes off, one by one.”

Mr. Gunderson and the manager both scramble towards the door, hands raised in submission. Mike tries to move away from the wall and his knees wobble dangerously. Harvey gives him a tight, dark look and loops an arm around his waist, steadying him and urging him toward the door.

The floor is doing slow undulations under his feet, and Mike is sure with each breath that he is about to vomit all over himself. The sudden rush of adrenaline and fear is rocketing his pulse and sending waves of cramping pain through his belly, and he feels like he can’t catch his breath. He twists his fingers into Harvey's suit jacket, knowing he’s crumpling the fine fabric but unable to help himself. He feels half blinded by pain and panic, and Harvey is the only thing keeping him going (both literally and figuratively).

As they near the doorway the robber steps back to allow them through, gun still aimed unerringly at their chests. Mike’s never been this close to a loaded weapon before, and he can’t take his eyes off the deep black inside the barrel.

As a result, he doesn’t see the uneven patch of floor where the hallway carpet transitions to marble, and his dragging feet catch on the lip. He stumbles, Harvey's arm tightening around his waist even as he instinctively throws out an arm to steady himself against the door frame.

Unfortunately, the man holding them hostage does not take kindly to Mike’s sudden movement in his direction. He pulls the gun back and slams the butt of it into the back of Mike’s skull, then kicks at the small of his back as he falls under the force of the blow.

Pain explodes from the point of impact, whiting out his vision, and he feels Harvey's suit yanked from his weak grip as he’s kicked out of the older man’s hold. The collision of his hands and knees with the marble floor sends shockwaves through his body and he moans, trying to blink away the encroaching darkness. He can hear voices above him but the words roar in his ears like a strong wind, indistinguishable. He reaches up and feels sticky blood matting the hair at the base of his skull, and then Harvey's angry voice starts to filter through the fog in his stunned brain.

“-sick, you didn’t need to hit him, he isn’t a threat!”

“I’ll fucking hit whoever I want,” the robber says lowly, dangerously, “or did you not get the part where we have guns capable of blowing holes in your skulls? He’s lucky I didn’t just shoot him. If you don’t want me to pull the trigger anyway, you better get him up and moving now.”

Mike pants through his mouth, watching the marble floor waver in his vision like it’s underwater. Like the Gunderson briefs, he thinks distantly. Everything is underwater today. He thinks maybe that doesn’t make any sense, but then Harvey is there, pulling Mike’s arm over his shoulder and saying “Come on, Mike, you have to get up. Get up.”

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

He sounds really worried and really urgent, and Mike knows that means he needs to do what Harvey says now, but he’s having trouble making his limbs work.

“Harvey,” he moans as he’s tugged upright. The world does a lazy spin, and the nausea that Mike’s been fighting all day surges into his throat. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, kid” Harvey says, dragging him over the floor and toward a huddled cluster of frightened bank hostages. “Just hang on.”

Mike opens his mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a strangled moan and a choked, desperate gagging sound.

“Shit, kid, don’t-” Harvey says, but it’s too late, too much, and Mike can’t stop the undeniable wave of sickness that is washing over him.

He curls over his agonized stomach and vomits hot red blood all over the legs of his pants.

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

omomgomog miiiike *stabs f5 repeatedly*

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

At first I was really excited cause I love your fills and then I was sad cause you ended it there ;~;

I LOVE THIS SO FAR. I love me some whump!

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)



Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

This is sooo good!!! Can't wait for more! Poor Mikey!

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

Ahh this is exactly the kind of fic I like :D

(Deleted comment)

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

O_O :3

This meme loves whump!Mike. I'm having a real hard time even thinking about not reading all these prompts because (unless there is a specific warning) people almost always end up with concerned!Harvey helping him. (that reminds me that I need to see if the others have updates . . . )

And oh look it's another clifforic fic. *shakes head at self* I really should know better by now. But you write so well!

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

Hope you dont mind if @suitswip follows this

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)

D: Omg! I love your fills so much! Poor Mike D: Please please please update more soon? :3

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence)


Seriously, you are the reason my f5 key is getting worn out.

Re: FILL: Erosion 5/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2011-09-17 08:54 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 11/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2011-09-21 09:13 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 14/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2011-09-25 10:45 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 14/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2011-09-30 08:16 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 14/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2011-10-03 01:05 am (UTC)(Expand)
AUTHOR UPDATE - phreakycat, 2011-10-23 01:56 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - fangirlfantasy, 2011-10-23 02:08 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - (Anonymous), 2011-10-23 02:59 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - (Anonymous), 2011-10-23 08:08 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - cuppa_char, 2011-10-23 08:25 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - (Anonymous), 2011-10-24 01:07 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - (Anonymous), 2011-10-24 08:28 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - lost2mercy, 2011-10-27 08:42 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - emisolde, 2011-11-03 01:54 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - (Anonymous), 2011-11-24 07:26 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - therg, 2012-01-18 01:34 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - phreakycat, 2012-01-18 01:36 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - therg, 2012-01-18 01:47 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - phreakycat, 2012-01-18 03:14 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - therg, 2012-01-18 09:42 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: AUTHOR UPDATE - amalia21_6, 2012-01-18 02:33 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-01-18 04:41 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-05-23 08:46 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-07-10 05:15 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-10-10 03:57 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2014-01-12 01:54 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2014-04-21 06:45 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2014-07-15 08:09 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 19/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2014-12-01 04:53 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 15/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-01-18 06:18 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Erosion 15/? (warning for illness and violence) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-09 03:08 am (UTC)(Expand)

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