41 - 60 of 129 Works by TrashyPandas (BlueJayFan)
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Harvey paused mid-sentence to look down at the papers. That was the mistake.
Without even thinking, driven by sheer boredom and what might’ve been a touch of heatstroke from the fluorescent lighting—or maybe by the perverse thrill of seeing if he could make Harvey’s jaw twitch—Mike reached across the table and—
Boop.
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Or, Mike finds out that actions have consequences—and learns absolutely no lesson from it. -
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The first time Harvey stayed the night at Mike’s place, he grumbled about the ceiling being too low and the sheets smelling like cheap detergent.
The second time, he brought a silk pillowcase from his place and acted like it wasn’t a big deal.
By the fifth time, he had a drawer. Mike didn’t even know when that happened—Harvey must’ve slipped it in one night like he was pulling a con.
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Or, Mike and Harvey spend the night talking and cuddling. -
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The thing about living with someone—or something—you fear is that, eventually, the adrenaline wears off. Mike had gone through the stages: terror, avoidance, denial, irrational bargaining (if Jerry stays in his corner, I’ll pretend he doesn’t exist), and finally, numb tolerance.
He didn’t like Jerry. Let’s make that clear. He didn’t bond with him. He didn’t talk to him when Harvey wasn’t around. He didn’t write secret haikus in his honor or watch spider documentaries to understand him better. No, Jerry was still a grotesque, oversized, Kafkaesque horror with more eyes than legs and more legs than should be legal.
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Or, when Harvey has to leave for a few days, it falls to Mike to keep their unholy roommate aliveSeries
- Part 2 of Jerry The Spider chronicles
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Mike wasn’t sure what kind of God he had pissed off, but he knew the bastard had a wicked sense of humor.
It started with one drink. Just one. Harvey had been in a rare good mood after winning a case that shouldn’t have been winnable, and Mike had been riding shotgun on the victory. The bar was expensive, the whiskey smoother than anything Mike could afford, and Harvey was smiling. Not the smirk, not the tight, professional curve of his mouth, but a real smile. Relaxed. Genuine. It should have been a red flag.
"So, you ever box?" Harvey asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
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Or, Mike, who has a way too big crush on Harvey, agrees to go boxing with him. What could go wrong? -
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The familiar hum of the firm, phones ringing and printers churning and assistants tap-tapping away, felt almost calming.
Then came the voice.
"Donna!" Mike’s voice rang out from Harvey’s office, laced with panic and that very specific tone he used when someone (read: Harvey) was being a complete dumbass.
She froze. "What did he do?"
"He’s being stupid!" came the reply, just as panicked, just as Mike.
Donna sighed, she hadn’t even had coffee yet.
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Or, Harvey gets sick, experiences vulnerability, and realizes that not everybody leaves.(can be read as a stand-alone)
Series
- Part 4 of The Three Way verse
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The first time she did it—really did it—Ed thought he was dying.
Not in the metaphorical, my wife just scared me to death kind of way, but in the honest-to-God, chest-tightening, limbs-tingling, your soul is being yanked out through your left ear by a ghost in a nightgown sort of way. He had bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, only to find Lorraine fast asleep beside him, her hands tucked under her cheek, expression serene.
And yet, in his mind, plain as day, he heard her voice whisper: They’re coming through the pipes.
That was almost fifteen years ago.
Tonight, she said: He buried the teeth in the celery patch.
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Or, Lorraine sleep talks, Ed suffers. -
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Summary
Mike didn’t notice at first.
But then the silence stretched—longer than polite, longer than confused. Mike looked up.
Harvey was a statue. Not his usual imposing courtroom presence, but stiff, like he’d been slapped. His hand gripped the doorframe hard enough to make his knuckles pale.
Standing in the hallway was a woman in her late fifties, maybe early sixties, trim, put-together, holding a beige purse like it was a peace offering. Her eyes were the same shape as Harvey’s. Same angle. Except hers were red-rimmed, like she’d been crying. Or expecting to.
"Harvey," she said. Just that.
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Or, in ten short days, Harvey's world gets turned upside down when his mother reappears in his life, and Hardman starts playing offense. -
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Summary
They’d just finished another round of what Donna cheekily referred to as "cardio with extra benefits," and now all three of them were sprawled across Harvey’s massive bed in a tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked skin, and heavy breathing.
Mike was flat on his back, trying to remember how lungs worked. Donna was curled against Harvey’s side, head resting on his chest, legs tangled with his. Harvey lay in the middle, staring at the ceiling like it had suddenly become fascinating.
That was the first sign.
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Or, Harvey wants to try bottoming, Mike is totally into it, and Donna is there for emotional support.(can be read as a stand-alone)
Series
- Part 3 of The Three Way verse
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Donna made a small sound—somewhere between a sigh and a scoff.
"What?" Mike asked, looking at her.
She pointed at the screen. "The notes don’t match."
Mike blinked. "What do you mean?"
"The actor’s just... mashing keys. You can see it. And the audio’s playing this perfect, complicated piece that’s definitely not coming from whatever those fingers are doing."
Mike leaned forward. "Huh. You’re right. How did you even notice that?"
Donna shrugged, leaning back into the couch. "I used to play."
Mike looked at her. "Wait, what?"
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Or, Mike finds out Donna used to play piano and decides to do something nice with Harvey's help(can be read as standalone)
Series
- Part 2 of The Three Way verse
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"I’m not spiraling."
"You are spiraling."
Harvey stood up straight and tried to muster his usual swagger, but it had the consistency of a soggy cracker. "Fine. You want the truth?"
She raised her hands. "Finally."
"I think I might be..." He trailed off and stared at the wall, as if hoping it would finish his sentence for him. When it didn’t, he made a vague circle motion with his hand. "You know."
Donna narrowed her eyes. "Do I know?"
"You know. Into... guys. A guy. One very specific guy. One very specific infuriating, too-smart-for-his-own-good, sleeps-like-a-dachshund guy."
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Or, Harvey has feelings for his associate and his assistant, which is inconvenient—right up until Donna reminds him that he has two hands.Series
- Part 1 of The Three Way verse
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Harvey Specter was not a man who tolerated chaos in his domain. His condo was sleek, immaculate, curated like a goddamn museum exhibit. Every single thing had its place: the bourbon on the shelf, the cufflinks in the drawer, the suits spaced evenly in the closet. It was a reflection of the man himself—controlled, cool, untouchable.
Which is why it should have been absolutely shocking that he shared his home with a spider.
But Jerry wasn’t just a spider. Jerry was a behemoth
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Or, Mike finds out about Harvey's unusual roommate.Series
- Part 1 of Jerry The Spider chronicles
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How To Keep Your Boyfriend Alive (For As Long As Possible) by TrashyPandas (BlueJayFan)
Fandoms: Suits (US TV 2011)
23 Jun 2025
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Summary
Mike smiled lazily, letting himself enjoy it. This was good. This was better than good. This was what he used to fantasize about when he was scraping together ramen money and convincing himself that working with Trevor was definitely a real job and not just slow-motion career suicide. He had everything he wanted. He had a job that didn’t make him hate himself — most of the time. He had a partner who was smart, sexy, maddening, and deeply invested in pretending he wasn’t a romantic at heart.
He exhaled, his breath warm against Harvey’s chest. Perfect.
And then, because his brain was a traitorous bastard, a thought hit him like a cold slap: Harvey is ten years older than you.
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Or, Mike comes to the realisation that Harvey is in fact older than him and spirals. Meanwhile, Harvey, of course, comes to his own conclusions about all this. -
A (Counter-)Guide: How To Manage Your Emotionally Overinvested Legal Puppy, Mike Ross by Harvey Specter by TrashyPandas (BlueJayFan)
Fandoms: Suits (US TV 2011)
19 Jun 2025
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Summary
Do you know how it feels to walk into your home, the place where you pay for the furniture and the fancy soap and at least half the takeout, and find your boyfriend—yes, boyfriend, we’re saying it now—typing up botanical metaphors about your mental health?
He compared me to a plant. An actual plant. Not even a cool one. Not like a cactus or a tree that kills things. A houseplant. With leaves that need dusting and vines that creep and god help me, rotating. Like I’m some delicate ficus that needs whispering affirmations and filtered sunlight.
So yeah.
I’m retaliating.
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Or, exactly what it says on the tin, a (counter-)guide that will help your own Mike Ross (and/or puppy) thrive — courtesy of (exasperated) Harvey SpecterSeries
- Part 2 of Guides To Plants & Puppies
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It was 2:37 a.m. when Harvey shot upright in bed, the sound hitting him like a gunshot in the quiet—a sharp, wet, unmistakable sob. At first, he thought he might have imagined it. Maybe it was a leftover echo from a dream, some stupid courtroom dramatization with a weeping witness and dramatic lighting.
But no. There it was again. Muffled, choked, heartbroken.
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Or, another week, another night of Harvey losing sleeping because of MikeSeries
- Part 4 of Mike Ross: Nocturnal
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"I don’t have a crush on you."
Mike says it like he’s declaring bankruptcy. Loud, defensive, out of nowhere. The words hit the conference room table like a dropped file folder—papers scattering in every direction, silence ballooning in the aftermath.
Harvey doesn’t even look up from the deposition transcript in his hand. "Good to know."
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Or, Mike doesn't have crush on Harvey, really, really doesn't, and decides to let him know that -
A Guide: How To Take Care Of Your Emotionally Repressed Boyfriend by Mike Ross by TrashyPandas (BlueJayFan)
Fandoms: Suits (US TV 2011)
01 Jun 2025
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Summary
Okay, so here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you fall for someone like Harvey Specter: he’s basically a high-performance sports car with the emotional range of a houseplant. No, scratch that. That’s an insult to houseplants. At least they droop when they need something. Harvey just gets… more smug. Like his emotional drought is your fault. Or Louis’s. Usually Louis’s.
So this is your official guide. A how-to, if you will. How to survive — and help thrive — Harvey Specter: Lawyer, Legend, and Loveable Dumbass Who Forgets to Drink Water.
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Or, exactly what it says on the tin, a guide that will help your own Harvey Specter (and/or houseplant) thrive — courtesy of Mike RossSeries
- Part 1 of Guides To Plants & Puppies
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Summary
Mike had the ring in his pocket for three weeks. Three. Weeks. Which in regular human time felt like about three decades.
Long enough for him to memorize the exact weight of it, how it dug into his thigh when he sat wrong, how it felt like a goddamn secret grenade ticking away in his jacket lining.
Long enough for him to imagine all the ways he could screw this up. And yet, not long enough for him to figure out the perfect way to propose to Harvey Specter.
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Or, Mike tried to propose to Harvey. No one warned him that it was going to be this hard -
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The third week was when Harvey accepted—really accepted—that he was in a relationship with a man who had the energy of an unsupervised Tumblr blog. He’d lived through late-night worm metaphysics and feline world domination theories, but tonight was something else entirely. Tonight wasn’t poking. It wasn’t urgent talks about global furball conspiracies.
Tonight was... whispering. Continuous, deliberate, tender whispering.
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Or, Harvey learns what ASMR is thanks to his boyfriend, who apparently never sleepsSeries
- Part 3 of Mike Ross: Nocturnal
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He should have been asleep. Mike was. Or had been. Harvey had checked twice—once when he slipped out of bed and again when he came back for the pen he forgot. Mike had been curled on his side, facing Harvey’s pillow, all blond cowlick and slack mouth, chest rising and falling slow and deep like he trusted the world to stay steady till morning.
It made Harvey insane. With love. With fear. With everything.
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Or, Harvey plans to propose to Mike. Mike stumbles upon him making the plans. Chaos ensues. -
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Harvey was dreaming about something important. Something that probably involved expensive cars, closed deals, and him walking away from an explosion in slow motion while Metallica played in the background. It was good. It was peaceful.
Then the poking began.
First soft. Then insistent. Then unmistakably intentional.
Harvey Specter opened one eye, and it was war.
"I swear to god, if you say the word ‘worm’—"
"I’m not gonna say ‘worm,’" Mike whispered like a man who absolutely was not to be trusted. "But listen. Just—just hear me out. What if—okay, what if cats are actually running the Internet?"
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Or, Harvey, naively, thought that the If I Were A Worm debate was a one time fluke. He was so, so wrongSeries
- Part 2 of Mike Ross: Nocturnal