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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.

Homicide Love 4/8

"What do you think of the guy who did that?" Mike asks, over lunch. Harvey, despite all his talk of weakness, took Mike to a quiet restaurant and is making him eat, as if to make up for that morning.

"You want a profile or something?" Harvey asks, amused.

"Why not?"

"Okay." Harvey wipes his mouth and settles back. "He picked a night his wife was out of town and put the dog outside, so he didn't choose Dominic at random -- he had some specific beef with him that he didn't have with the dog or the wife. But the level of anger you need to do something like that..." He shakes his head. "Whatever Dominic did to the guy, he wasn't just pissed at him. The killer was working something else out, too. But he kept control -- that's an organized, efficient murder, despite the..." Harvey waves a hand, indicating the pieces, the smears of blood.

"You think one of the people suing him did it?"

Harvey considers Mike. "Do you?"

"I don't know," Mike says, but he slips -- for just a second he lets the flat, numb part of himself show in his eyes, and he knows Harvey sees it.

Harvey just sips his water and takes another bite of salad.

Sometimes Mike keeps souvenirs and sometimes he doesn't -- Dad told him to never be predictable -- and in this case he kept Dominic's teeth, because they're less messy than the soft bits. He cleaned them meticulously, intending to do something entertaining with them, but in the end he sends them to Harvey. He knows this might be a mistake, like Nina was, but he looks on it more as...as a test.

The building x-rays all packages that come from the post office or shipping companies, and the lobby has security cameras, so Mike sneaks the teeth into the office packaged in cotton in a small box, wrapped in a ziplock, at the bottom of his messenger bag. At his desk he makes sure nobody is around and then pulls it out of the plastic bag, placing it on his keyboard. "Harvey Specter" is written on it in red ink -- he should have done it in blood, but blood is so hard to write with and you have to do it really fast.

He goes off to procure some breakfast from the vending machines in the Associates' kitchen, and 'by chance' meets Rachel there, who walks him back to his cube and thus witnesses his puzzled face when he finds a small box labeled "Harvey Specter" on his keyboard. He picks it up, shakes it, frowns at her.

"I better run this up to him," he says. This is kind of fun, all this cloak-and-dagger to explain his fingerprints on the box.

"Package for you," he calls, leaning in Harvey's doorway and tossing the box across the room. Harvey catches it, studies it. "It was on my desk this morning." Technically true.

Harvey sets it down and slits the tape with his thumbnail, opening it. He continues to study the contents of the box, his frown increasing, but he doesn't seem especially put off. Which is good. Mike spent a long time making sure those teeth were very clean.

"Gift from an admirer?" Mike asks. Harvey looks up at him. "Come on, what's in it?"

"None of your business," Harvey replies.

"I want to know too," Donna says, over the intercom.

"Donna, call Detective Boman with the NYPD," Harvey said. "I think we may have found Dominic Jackson's missing teeth."

Then he looks up at Mike, and Mike knows he should fake a reaction, but he can't; Harvey's cool gaze has pinned him, stripped him, and flayed the secret out of him in an instant. Consciously, perhaps Harvey doesn't want to know. Under the surface he already has, Mike suspects, for a long time.

Homicide Love 5/8

The day is exciting. They rope off Mike's cube with tape and go through every inch of it. Mike and Harvey are both questioned, in a discreetly out-of-the-way conference room on another floor. Rachel corroborates Mike's story of finding the box on his desk. One of the detectives goes down to the building security office to review the tapes which, of course, show nobody entering who shouldn't have. A coroner calls the detectives to report that they seem to match Dominic's teeth, but there's one missing (rear molar, gold crown). Mike is re-questioned about whether he opened the box, whether there was a note with it, whether he remembers seeing anyone on his way in to work.

Mike knows that questions are better than explanations. An elaborate explanation can get you tripped up and tangled in a lie. If you just say you don't know, there's nothing for the cops to really investigate.

Both he and Harvey decline police protection.

Once he gets his cube back he tries to get some work done, but Mike is gratifyingly the center of attention, asked to recount the story and re-describe the body. He enjoys it, but in spare moments he pictures Harvey's face when he opened the box, the cold appraisal, and the way Harvey said "There goes the day," when the police showed up.

Mike has, by now, been stringing both Jenny and Rachel along for several months. Dad told him always to respect women, but Jenny's no angel and Rachel knows he's dating Jenny and still keeps chasing him. He's also been exchanging hand-jobs in the bathroom with Seth, because he can't stop thinking about the Harvard Trivia night when Seth said "I bleed crimson" and Mike thought, I bet you do.

But he wants Harvey.

Rachel, of course, knows about what went down and has been checking in on him all day, touching him, leaning against his desk. He calls Jenny when he sees Rachel heading towards his cube and is pouring out his day to her as Rachel stops, hears, passes him by like she intended to go somewhere else. Jenny of course wants to snuggle and bring him hot soup, but he tells her he'd prefer to be alone, to decompress from the day, and they make a date to meet the following evening.

He's not sure how to play this with Harvey, but the game has started, so he has to follow through. He's considering going to Harvey's place, much as he hates to be off his own turf, when the decision is made for him: while he's cooking dinner there's a knock on his door, and when he opens it Harvey is outside.

"Wow," Mike says, because it's expected of him. "You're actually making a house call. What, did someone ship you his missing ass too?"

The ass is, according to the serial killer biographies Mike has read, the most delicately flavored, tenderest part of the human body. Most cannibals roast them, but Mike prefers other methods.

"You eat yet?" he asks, when Harvey just looks at him. "I got burgers in the pan."

"Not yet," Harvey says.


Harvey nods, so Mike tosses him a beer from the fridge. Harvey slams the cap off against the counter with quick, efficient brutality. He retreats to Mike's bookshelf and leans against it, watching him flip the burgers.

"There's an evolutionary theory," Harvey begins, after a long silence that Mike finds perfectly comfortable but probably should be awkward. "Psychologists think that our unease around certain people is a base fear reaction to subtle, abnormal cues that indicate dangerous individuals."

"Yeah, I read the DSM-IV once when I was bored," Mike answers. "Onions?"


Mike slices some onions into the fat in the pan, sauteeing them.

"It's generally characterized in people unaware of the presence of psychopaths as 'the creeps'," Harvey continues.

"It's technically called Antisocial Personality Disorder now, not psychopathy," Mike corrects, fetching some hamburger buns from a cupboard.

"The first time we met, I thought you were a little too cool about being on the run from the cops," Harvey continued. "I figured maybe I was just weirded out by your abilities."

"Most people do." Mike slips the burgers out of the pan and tucks them onto a plate, putting them in the oven to stay warm. He drops the buns into the fat, next to the onions, and they sizzle as they toast.

Homicide Love 6/8

"But that's not it, is it?" Harvey asks. Then, after another swallow of beer, "What are you, Mike?"

Mike glances up at him. Cocks his head and lets the mask fall, and watches Harvey's reaction (another long, slow sip of beer, a steady gaze).

"My father's son," he says finally, and flips the buns out of the pan, onto plates. The onions follow, and then two perfect, medium-rare patties. "Condiments are in the fridge."

Harvey sets his beer down on the little dining table and gets mayonnaise, ketchup, pickles out of the fridge. If he notices the blood-stained packets wrapped in butcher's paper, he doesn't say anything.

Mike dumps ketchup on the meat, layers it with pickles, and flips his burger together, helping himself to chips from the bag on the table. Harvey sits, looking down at his dinner, then back up at Mike, who has taken a huge bite, pink juice dripping down his chin. Mike smiles, closed-lips (talking with your mouth full is inconsiderate).

"This is madness," Harvey murmurs, still staring at his food.

"Don't let it get cold," Mike chides, and Harvey carefully spreads a tiny amount of mayonnaise on his bun and places it delicately on the burger. He's breathing hard through his nose.

"Harvey," Mike says gently. Harvey looks up, and Mike can see no prey-fear in his eyes, just worry and doubt. "It's just beef tonight. Trust me."

"Why?" Harvey asks.

"Well," Mike says, "I was raised to believe only the guilty should suffer. I would never feed you anything tainted against your will. Unless you've been killing people and not telling me, there's no reason to torment you."

"That's rich, coming from you," Harvey replies, doubt still in his voice, but he takes a bite of the hamburger. Mike watches in amusement as he visibly tries to taste if there's anything in it other than beef.

"What is it you want, coming here?" Mike asks. "You want...proof? A confession? Answers to questions?"

"Would you tell me?"

Mike thinks his father would like Harvey very much.

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, finds a hard little object, and places it between them on the table. The gold cap on the tooth glitters in the light.

Harvey moans low and bends his head over his food like a prayer, hands clasped between his knees under the table.

"I would tell you anything, Harvey," Mike says. It's not a lie -- he has found his true north, and there is nothing he wouldn't suffer to gain it: prison, death, torture.

"How many?" Harvey gasps out.

"Twenty-three, including him." Mike takes another bite of his hamburger. "None of them were innocent."

"Michael -- " Harvey's shoulders heave. Mike sets his food down, wipes his hands and mouth carefully, and slides around the table, falling to his knees at Harvey's side.

"I'm always very careful, I'm so careful, I'd never get you in trouble," he says, and rests his cheek on Harvey's leg. Harvey's body jerks like he's going to pull away, but he doesn't. "He was a bad man, Harvey, Dad told me it was okay if they were bad people. The innocent should never suffer," he repeats, recites.

"Madness, this is madness -- "

"Harvey, Harvey," Mike presses his face into Harvey's thigh, one hand curling around his leg desperately. "I thought you would understand, I hoped you would understand..."

Harvey stills at this, not even breathing. There is a long moment where the silence rings in Mike's ears, blood pounding behind his eyes. Then he hears the soft rustle of fabric, and feels Harvey's warm hand cradling his head.

"Oh, my brave boy," Harvey murmurs, and Mike's heart jumps. "Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

Re: Homicide Love 6/8


Re: Homicide Love 6/8




Re: Homicide Love 6/8

I thought that was a fun place to end it for a bit...

Homicide Love 7/8

Mike raises his head, and Harvey's fingers slide around to tip his chin up, his dark eyes searching Mike's face.

"I could never do it," Harvey whispers. "No matter how much I wanted to."

"I can," Mike says quickly, maybe too quickly. "I can, Harvey, I would for you."

Harvey runs his hand through Mike's hair, makes a pleased noise when Mike leans into the caress.

"I know, I know," Harvey says.

His hand tightens in Mike's hair and he stands, pulling Mike up, the pain sharp and sweet. Mike scrambles to his feet and is pulled into a kiss, bites Harvey's lip until it bleeds, rakes his fingernails fruitlessly down Harvey's chest.

"Ah," Harvey says, shoving him back. "Don't mess up the suit."

Mike surges back into him, face buried in Harvey's neck, and when he feels hands tugging on the backs of his thighs he jumps up, lets Harvey carry them together to the bed in the corner, lets Harvey tumble down on top of him.

"Is that Dominic in the fridge?" Harvey gasps out, hips jerking in the circle of Mike's thighs, Mike bucking up to meet him.

"Yes," Mike moans. He scrambles to push Harvey's jacket off, tug his tie over his head and his shirt soon after. Harvey gets both hands in his hair and pulls again, pinning him down to the bed.

"That was stupid, giving me the teeth," Harvey mutters in his ear. "Don't be stupid again."

"No, I won't, I won't," Mike babbles, trying to squirm out of his jeans.

"In that case, you and me, my boy..." Harvey releases his hold on Mike's hair, and Mike can feel him undoing his fly, shoving his pants down, "...we're going places."

Mike whines and arches his back. Sex usually seems so undignified, so messy, all those fluids -- but Harvey is promising him a lifetime of kills, promising to guide him, to tell him when it's time. Harvey has Mike's dick in his palm and is rubbing the swollen head with his thumb, his own cock bumping against Mike's searching hand. Harvey is going to call him my boy like Dad did and Mike will kill on command for him and bring him presents and it will be so good --

He's hardly aware he's coming until Harvey grunts and presses a hand to Mike's throat, the other smearing come up his belly as he holds him down. Mike chokes, relaxes, tilts his head back, and Harvey says, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, you're so -- " and Mike passes out.

He wakes to find himself clean and warm, tucked up against another body under the blankets on his bed. Usually this would make his skin crawl; he fakes the normal human desire for contact well enough, but he doesn't actually like people touching him. Still, this seems nice. He feels sheltered, in a way he hasn't since he was a child in a sleeping bag on one of their camping trips.

The skin of his throat is tender when he touches it, and the body behind him moves, warm breath stirring the hair at the back of his head. He takes the wrist of the arm draped over his waist and raises it, kisses the pads of Harvey's fingers.

"Don't get all soppy on me, kid," Harvey says against his neck.

"I once bit the thumb off a child molestor," Mike says. He nibbles at the heel of Harvey's hand.

"Then I guess I don't need to worry," Harvey answers. Mike rolls onto his back as Harvey props himself over him, taking his hand back, fitting it gently to what is undoubtedly a ring of bruises around Mike's throat.

"All for you, always for you," Mike offers, eyes closing. Harvey's hand doesn't tighten, just rests there warmly.

"And only for me," Harvey adds, his voice dark and threatening. "Can I control you?"

"We'll find out," Mike promises, but he thinks, Yes.

"I'm not your daddy, Mike," Harvey says, and Mike rolls over to press his face to Harvey's warm chest, to bite hard enough to bruise at his collarbone.

"No, you're better," Mike says.

Homicide Love 8/8

Harvey can't kill. It's his only flaw, that he wants to but he cares too much, is too human to try it, and Mike finds himself both disgusted and envious at his inability. But relationships are all about compromise, after all.

He worried, for a while, that Harvey didn't truly understand. If it were Louis in Harvey's place, Mike knows, by now he would have been commanded to kill Harvey or Jessica, to smooth the path for Louis's ascent. Jenny or Rachel might order him to kill the other (though Jenny isn't on speaking terms with him anymore and Rachel lost interest a while ago).

Harvey has never suggested such a thing. He wants only the best for Mike, or rather the worst. On occasion he's told Mike to be the one to pick, which always makes Mike vaguely uneasy, but Harvey understands the rules and would be disappointed and angry if Mike chose an innocent.

Harvey has a magnificent kitchen: black granite, sleek brushed steel, red-stained hardwood. He has all the high-tech gadgets, beautiful bamboo stirring spoons and carbon-fiber whisks, flawless white porcelain plates. Cooking in Harvey's kitchen is a joy and privilege.

Harvey has never asked what's in the food Mike cooks for him there, but he's never hesitated to eat it, either. Mike makes the tenderest hamburgers, and only for Harvey.

Mike's collars hide the occasional bruise around his throat. Harvey's vests sometimes conceal blood spots on his shirts from scratches or bites underneath. It works for them.

Mike is a realist about these things. Someday, maybe, a true-crime journalist may write a book about them. He doubts the writer will get it right, but he hopes they will, and if he's still alive he'll be honest about it with them.

Because this is a love story, the one true love story Mike could ever have.

Daddy would be so proud of him.

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

I shouldn't be this attracted to a fill or to the idea of serial killers... but I am. Omg serial killer AUs are totally my favorite and this was so beautifully perfect in every way and just.... dear lord I don't have the brain capacity to express all the feelings I have for this fill or how amazing it is. And now all I want is more serial killer!Mike AUs.

Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-18 11:39 am (UTC)(Expand)

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

This is just beautiful. I can only hope that you de-anon yourself so I can read more of your work because this? Just... guh. I have no words.

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

:D OMG AMAZING <3 *hugs*

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

(not OP)

This is so fucking amazing, I don't even know what else to say. Trying anyways: this Mike would be so wrong irl but your writing is so right about how he would work, the plot and motivations and little spaces slip perfectly in and around canon, and immediately after I read your last line, I thought, holy shit this is the only way this fic could have ended.

Thank you for this fill. ♥

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

♥ So much love for this. I've read a few other serial killer fics in my time, but this is definitely the best and most beautiful. If you ever feel inclined to write in this verse again, I'd love to see Mike's future interview with the true-crime journalist - it would be so delightfully eerie.

Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-18 11:20 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

This is one of my favorite fills on the meme. You did a fantastic job!

Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-19 03:07 pm (UTC)(Expand)

Re: Homicide Love 8/8

Aaagghhh!! SO. GOOD! That was awesome! Thanks for writing!

Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-19 03:06 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - staci_starseed, 2011-09-22 04:35 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - staci_starseed, 2011-09-22 04:37 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2011-09-22 02:23 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: Homicide Love 8/8 - (Anonymous), 2012-10-19 02:47 pm (UTC)(Expand)