#shules fanfic

[figsandfandoms]

#flufftober2022 #day thirty one #psych #shules #psych fanfiction #shules fanfic

[obsidiancreates]

The Smartest Dumb Person She's Ever Met (Shules Shawn Genius Reveal Fic)

“Shawn, this is ridiculous.” Even as she says it, Jules knows her smile completely undercuts her protests as Shawn sets out more and more and more plates of food.

“Babe, I told you, we are finding our new go-to takeout spot tonight,” Shawn insists. “We’ll just dump all the leftovers on Gus! He’ll love it, maybe even more than he loves watching debates about rash cream side-effects.”

“I don’t think he loves watching those, Shawn.”

“Then why does he spend hours on it every few months?”

“Well, maybe, because he has a day job. We’re not all so lucky to be employed by spirits and whims,” Jules teases lightheartedly as Shawn sits down and starts putting together a sampler plate. “Speaking of which, we didn’t talk about what I should expect from living with a psychic.”

“Aside from constant swooning and daily hair updates?”

“Aside from those.”

“Well, Jules, I’m afraid I can’t tell you what to expect, because I don’t know either.” Shawn hands her the plate, and sniffs. “Truth be told, this is uh… this is the first time I’ve moved in with somebody.”

Jules smiles softer. “Mine too. But I just mean… how often do you have visions outside of cases? And what about your dreams, are those affected?”

“No, not as far as I know- but I have been told I talk in my sleep.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know me.” He kisses her before dishing up his own plate. “But uh, yeah, no psychic vision dreams for the most part.. … Well, sometimes, but not usually. And I can control the visions at home, don’t even worry another second about it.”

“Really? Because I thought you were completely beholden to them at all times.”

“Ehhhh… more or less.”

“Shawn.”

“Alright, so maybe a minor one here and there- but I’ll save the big stuff for the cases. No dramatic psych-outs in the living room.”

“Thank you.” Jules takes a bite of one of the various dishes on her plate, and coughs. “Oh my god, they used so much black pepper!”

“Let me try- hck! Oh my- ekch! That is just stupid, how much there is-”

“Get some water-”

“On it, on it, holy-”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn doesn’t have psychic visions or dreams, just like he promised.

But he has something else going on.

Jules starts noticing it after the first few days of lovey-dovey, disgustingly happy mushiness finally starts to settle into domesticity. She sits at the table and Shawn has a big stack of toaster waffles already drenched in syrup ready for both of them, even though he’s not a natural early riser, because it’s a day they both have off and it’s more Brunch than Lunch, and Shawn… isn’t eating.

His head is tilted, his eyes narrowed, and that usually means he’s having a vision. But this morning he’s just barely reading the newspaper- Jules is sure he’s not actually reading it, his eyes aren’t moving right for that, in fact they’re barely moving at all. They’re narrows and still, taking the paper in as one whole picture, probably absorbing nothing.

And she starts to realize he gets that look a lot, with no visions following them. He gets it when the delivery guy drops off their food, he gets it when the news comes on, he gets it when Lassiter comes over to drop off something Jules left in his car during a stakeout, and again and again and again.

And then it just goes away, and he doesn’t say anything. And she assumes, well, it’s a minor vision. He has them a lot more often than she had previously thought, clearly. Small, apparently unimportant visions that he just brushes off.

And then he tells her that they should stop getting takeout from the place two blocks away because the delivery guy is about to quit from being overworked. There’s no fanfare, no hand to his head, no sharp inhale- just an offhand statement that slips out right after he closes the front door.

It’s not the first time she’s heard him make a random prediction, not even close. But something about the understated nature of it makes her pause, and after a second she asks, “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve seen the state of that car they have him driving, it's one rough road away from falling to pieces. Plus his shoes are completely tattered, and his jeans, basically everything that’s not given to him as part of the uniform, but they’re also all stiff still- he just bought them and they’re already wrecked because of how many deliveries he’s making. That’d piss anyone off enough to quit, especially at his age.”

She hadn’t noticed that- at least, not all of it. She knew the car was a piece of junk, and the clothes were tattered, but thinking back she sees what Shawn means by them still looking stiff and out-of-the-box new. And somehow, somehow, she feels like if she points out that she hadn’t caught onto all of that herself, something… big, would just… slip away.

“That’s a shame, I like him,” is all she says instead. “He has a nice smile.”

“He just got his braces off, he’d probably literally skip for joy if he heard you say that,” Shawn says, handing over her food. Again, no fanfare, no theatrics- he just says it, unthinkingly, almost distracted as he digs into his honey cashew shrimp and chicken. 

It’s different. 

It has to be a vision, but it’s different. 

And again, Jules gets a feeling that pointing that out would break… something, about this moment. So she makes a note, and tucks it away in her mind, and hopes she’s able to remember to follow up later.

“Good for him.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawn talks in his sleep most nights, as it turns out. 

It’s not very comprehensible majority of the time- usually all she can make out, when she’s even awake to hear it, is Shawn mumbling something to or about Gus. At first it’s a little offensive, frankly, that her boyfriend dreams about his best friend constantly and she never hears her own name, but it quickly becomes just… normal. Like most of Shawn and Gus’s codependency. Some days she feels like she’s dating both of them, just a little bit. It bothers her less than it probably should, certainly less than she would expect if she was an outside observer. Gus was Shawn’s original rock, his strongest pillar, his tightest tether, and she knew she’d never truly be able to match that even before she and Shawn got together. 

She should probably ask Gus about some of Shawn’s more daily psychic dealings, actually- he’s known Shawn for their whole loves, so he must have lots of advice for her about how to deal with it. And how to deal with the rest of Shawn’s… quirks. Which she loves about him, she truly does, as messy and intrusive as some of those quirks are in their lives. Psychic visions, murder scene dates, fearing that Shawn’s going to get himself killed with his daily recklessness. She had kissed him on that Canadian overlook expecting all of it, thinking she had finally come to learn everything she needed to learn about him.

And then, all those months and years later, she’s laying in bed unable to sleep and reading a book to try and calm down when Shawn mumbles out something shockingly understandable about the case they’re both working.

She freezes, as though her silent eye movements while reading could somehow disturb the moment.

“Doesn’ ma’ s’nse,” Shawn mumbles in his sleep. “Th’ t’re tr’cks…”

Jules slowly lowers her book.

Shawn rolls over, facing her now, still fast asleep, lightly snoring. Jules watches him like a deer caught in headlights.

“T’res don’ ma’ch,” Shawn mumbles out. “Tr’d too w’de…” His brow pinches, his lips pursing a little. There’s a long beat of silence.

Jules holds her breath. Like with the delivery boy, something about this moment just feels… big. Important.

Shawn’s face smooths out. “M’gn’ts.”

Magnets. 

Jules thinks about the case that they’ve been working together all week, a hit-and-run. They’ve got one witness who got a whole license plate number, they’ve got the plate number matching a car of that exact description, and the only problem is they’ve also got  a suspect who vehemently denies ever driving that route in his entire life. And like always when things seem straightforward, Shawn had declared that he wasn’t convinced they had the right guy. 

But that doesn’t help her figure out what magnets have to do with anything. After a moment she doesn’t have to figure it out on her own, because Shawn makes a soft noise of sleep-laden realization.

“Th’ s’x an’ th’ n’ne.” His hand twitches, roughly tracing out the numbers on the sheets. “Fl’p ‘em…”

Magnets. 

License plate number magnets. Moveable, alterable plate numbers.

“S’me car m’ke, s’me num’er, diff’ren’ t’re.” There’s a note of satisfaction, even in the sleep-slurred mess that is Shawn’s voice. He smiles a little in his sleep, and moments later… he’s snoring.

Jules sits, book almost falling out of her nonexistent grip, stunned into silence.

Shawn just cracked the case. In his sleep. With logic and authentic detective deduction. 

… But that’s not possible.

Shawn doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t pay attention to clues, reason out possibilities, connect dots. He receives visions, he relays them, he makes connections with the help of his abilities. And maybe she’s seen some times that contradict tha belief, but- but it’s just not how he works. She would know.

… Maybe he does get psychic dreams. Maybe he just doesn’t know he gets them? But there was a thought process there, and a natural one for it to come to him so easily in sleep. She’d heard every step of the process, followed him on each conclusion.

… But the tire treads not matching? Jules relaxes, closing her book and turning off the lamp. That had to be psychic. No-one else noticed or said anything about tire treads through the investigation. How would he even pick out and remember that detail, anyway, without spiritual guidance? He’d seen only photos of the crime scene, and not great ones at that- darn trainees.

… Psychic dreams. Has to be.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jules, look at that.” Shawn smiles and points at the ducks in the pond they’re having a picnic by. “There’s a bunch of baby ducks over there.”

Jules gasps and looks over eagerly, but quickly frowns. “Where?”

“Right there, in those tall hot-dog looking things.”

“Um, the reeds?”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

Jules squints, searching for signs of ducklings. “Where are you seeing them?”

“Right there, look.” Shawn leans and points harder , like that will help somehow. “You can totally see the hotdogs moving.”

“I think that’s just the wind.”

“No, look, the moms are circling the hot dogs and luring the feeders over to them.”

“What?” Jules looks at the edges of the pond now, and realizes that, yes, the ducks are luring the people with the food towards the reeds- and finally, the ducklings swim out into view.

“Told ya.” Shawn takes a bite of an eclair. 

“How did you even see that movement from here?” Jules looks back at Shawn in awe. 

“You kidding? They were totally moving all over.”

“But it looked like the wind.”

“The wind is blowing the total opposite direction. Look, you can see it in the ripples.”

“Huh.” Jules looks back at the pond. “That’s really impressive, Shawn. I had no idea your eyesight was that good.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been asked to be studied by science for my eyesight, but they said it would drain all the color out of them, and then of course I’d have to become a supervillain.”

“Or a mysterious warning corpse in the basement of a haunted mansion.”

“Neither of which I felt up for.”

“Right.” Jules giggles, and looks back at the pond. 

She has no idea how he noticed that. Not unless it was psychic, somehow. And further, she has no idea why he’s acting like she should be able to notice it, too. And, like before with the delivery boy, it’s not the first time he’s done this. But it’s the first time it feels…

Like something she needs to pay attention to.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn?” Jules sets down the bowl of brownie batter when she realizes he’s stopped licking the spoon and is staring, eyes glazed, at the wall. It’s probably just a vision. She should just consider it a vision. There’s no real reason to think it’s not.

“Shawn,” she tries again, shaking his arm slightly. He startles, just a bit, and then clears his throat and puts the licked-”clean” spoon down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” His eyes flick back to the wall. “... Jules, uh, does the wall look…” He pouts a little, shrugging. “Suspicious, to you?”

“Suspicious?” She looks at the same spot. “It’s… a wall.”

“Yeah… but there’s something a little off, isn’t there?” Shawn walks over to it, and taps his knuckles against the plaster. “... Sounds off, actually. Come here, listen.”

She obliges, leaning in close. Shawn taps one spot on the wall, and then the spot he said sounded strange.

“... What am I supposed to be hearing, Shawn?”

“It’s more hollow over here.” Shawn taps the first spot, and then taps the second. “Right here, it sounds more uh… almost like wet cardboard.”

She listens again. “Okay… I think I hear it now. But you didn’t hear the wall from over at the counter, did you? Was it a vision?”

“There’s a ring around this spot,” Shawn mumbles, like he didn’t hear her. He smacks his lips, and then jerks away from the wall as the focus suddenly drops away into his usual energy. “Man, we’ve got a leak in the walls! I knew that landlord was lying when he said it was all up to code.”

“A leak? Shawn, we tapped the wall a little bit, that doesn’t really tell us anything.”

“Yeah, maybe… but I’m calling someone, tomorrow, just- remind me in the morning.” His eyebrows twitch up, his mouth forming an ‘O’ as he realizes something. “If I play this card right I might be able to knock a bit off our rent.”

“Shawn, you are not blackmailing our landlord over a leak that might not even exist.”

“I’m not! Not yet! Just planning to, possibly. So we can have more money for date nights!”

“It’s illegal.”

“Alright, alright. …How illegal, exactly?”

“Shawn.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s trickery. It’s lying. It’s wrong.

But she had been sitting at her desk, reviewing the latest round of new Detective’s Exam scores, when she’d remembered Shawn saying years ago that he had taken the exam when he was 15, and got 100.

A perfect score.

And maybe that meant very little to her once, when Shawn was just the strange somewhat charming guy who came into her life only on occasion to make a case more interesting. But now, dating Shawn and seriously considering spending the rest of her life with him, now as soon as she had recalled that tidbit it began to haunt her. Every time she watched Shawn around the house, and even in the station. It echoed in her head while she watched him look over reports, scan crime scenes, even while he was just watching movies and predicting things about their endings. 

I got 100. … Why? What did you guys get?

He hadn’t even been bragging. 

So now she sits on the couch, a thick binder in front of her, guilt twisting in her stomach at what she’s about to do. 

She’s about to lie to her boyfriend, with the full intent of tricking him into the taking the exam again, just to see.

When he walks into the house, slightly out of breath and carrying something that looks suspiciously like the pineapple statue put into evidence during the last case, he startles upon seeing her and hides the statue behind his back. But his excuse dies in his gaping mouth when he sees how stressed she looks.

“Babe? Everything okay?” He sets the statue- it’s definitely the same one put into evidence- aside as he moves to sit next to her.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Just- Chief Vick asked me to help review the Detective’s Exam after someone complained there were errors in it.”

“Hmm. That person should either pass immediately, or be barred from detective status forever.”

She giggles softly. “That’s a little extreme. It’s just, this is going to take forever, and I was hoping to go out today and finally try that spa that opened up.”

“Well you totally should!” Shawn looks at the binder. “Just, leave it for another time, it can’t be that pressing. After all, Santa Barbara already has it’s best detective.”

She rolls her eyes fondly.

“And, she just so happens to be dating an equally awesome but more brunette psychic detective.” He kisses her on the cheek. “So she should go out and treat herself while her awesome boyfriend tries to divine if there’s actually a mistake.”

“Oh, the spirits know that kind of thing?”

“Some of them, some of them.”

“Well, let them know I’ll still have to check their work, so they better show it.” She gives him a kiss back and stands. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The guilt gnaws at her as she drives to the spa, as she picks her treatment, as she gets her facial and her massage and her body scrub. She knows she had to- she knows Shawn well enough to know he’d never retake the exam if she just asked him outright. He’d be suspicious why she was asking him to, and she’s not sure she can tell him without making him think she’s doubting him.

She’s not. He is psychic. 

But he might also be more.

And if he is, he’s hiding it- maybe not as much as he did when she would only see him at the station, or planned dates, but he’s still hiding it. She sees him seeing things, noticing details, making connections, and when he does he never seems to…

She’s not sure. She just knows that he treats these moments like they’re something a normal person can do when they can’t, or like they aren’t happening at all, or even…

Even like they’re psychic.

She takes the long way home, breathing deeply the whole time. Shawn lies to her every day- she’s not blind to that. Usually about a case, usually because he’s more than likely doing something she could get reprimanded for just knowing about. She doesn’t like it, but even though he lies he doesn’t trick her, at least as far as she knows. 

When she gets home, Shawn isn’t there. She finds a note on the coffee table, stuck to the binder. Gus called, be back soon, XOXO.

She smiles, takes a deep breath, and opens the binder.

There’s mostly Doodles. His artistic skill on display ranges from shockingly masterful to shockingly kindergarten-like, some doodles belonging in a gallery and some not even qualifying for the fridge under a free pizza place magnet. Aliens, dinosaurs, scenes from movies, random invention ideas…

No answers, at first, which disappoints her. Until she notices that one doodle seems to coordinate to one of the questions, and it’s like a Rosetta Stone.

Not all, but many of the doodles seem to relate to the answer to a question in some way, and where there’s not doodles there’s not-answers that show knowledge of the actual answer. There’s snark and quips and jokes that contain answers, and every once and a while she even finds something straightforward smushed among the almost deflective content of the pages.

Deflective.

He’s deflecting that he knows the answers. The more she flips through, the more she sees it. Shawn went out of his way to answer without answering, to show his knowledge without admitting he has it. He couldn’t just not answer, and he couldn’t just pretend not to know- but he couldn’t outright show it either.

“Oh my god.” Jules closes the binder and puts her face in her hands. “Of course. Henry.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jules finds Henry’s detective’s exam score a week later. It’s high- not perfect, but high. She finds Shawn’s score to compare. Like he’d said. It was perfect.

She goes digging through the file archives on her lunch break, and finds the actual exam itself- someone preserved it, because a fifteen year old got 100.

It’s not like the one Shawn did in their living room.

It’s still got doodles, tangents, signs of distractibility- but the answers are much more plain. Forthright. It reads like an actual potential detective, taking the exam seriously, trying his best.

And she’s pretty sure she knows who gave Shawn that exam.

Of course, of course. His dad was a cop, a revered one, of course Henry taught Shawn some skills- more than some! How did that never occur to her? It feels silly now, to think Shawn wouldn’t have at the very least picked up a few tricks of the trade, even if Henry hadn’t taught Shawn outright.

She puts the file back, smiling and satisfied with knowing she was right and Shawn does have genuine, non-psychic detective skills like she’d suspected.

… The smile fades when she starts to wonder why he pretends he doesn’t.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Carlton, can I ask you about something?”

Lassiter looks up from his paperwork and sets his pen aside. “Anything to save me from the banality of filling another report out.”

“You… met Shawn’s mom, right?”

Lassiter’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes going a little wide. “This isn’t anything about you and Spencer’s… relationship progress, is it?”

“What? … Oh, god, no! No, I’m not looking to propose or anything.”

He sags (well, relatively- Lassiter never truly sags or loosens up) with relief. “In that case, yes, she did my last psych eval.”

“Right. And you-you talked with her a lot?”

“As much as was required by the situation.”

“Was she… like Shawn, at all? It’s just that, well, even though she’s been in town three times now, I’ve never actually talked with her beyond some passing comments.” She’s barely involved with Shawn’s life- if Jules didn’t know how absent Madaline is from her son’s existence prior to dating, she’d have assumed Shawn’s mom hated her by how little they’ve actually interacted.

Lassiter thinks for a moment, looking out into the bullpen, and then looks down and picks his pen back up. “Not really, no. Closest she came was recognizing the Clint Eastwood movies I was telling her stories from. She was generally professional, somewhat soft-spoken, and somehow got me to open up without even half of the pressing nature of her son.”

Jules nods. “Did she… mention Shawn at all?”

“Only at the end, after I shared my innermost thoughts. … You know, I take it back. That was the most Spencer -like thing she did during our sessions.”

“Huh.” Jules looks down at her own paperwork. That answers nothing about why Shawn is pretending he isn’t a good detective. It can’t be his dad, Henry would be much softer and more proud if Shawn showed off that skillset, surely. Madaline seemed like a good lead…

“She was weird, though. Outside of the relation to Spencer. She didn’t even record our sessions, she claimed to have… dammit.” Lassiter frowns as he tries to remember. “Something about being able to remember everything she hears with almost perfect accuracy.”

Jules’s head snaps up. “What?”

“I thought she was bullcrapping, but I got ahold of the file and didn’t actually find any errors in the quotes she included- she must’ve tapped the room or something.”

“Carlton, go back. Perfect memory? Shawn’s mom?”

“See, I believed her about it until I learned that. With Henry’s recall, and a mom with perfect memory for sounds, there’s no way Spencer should be as airheaded as he is. Not unless his brain short-circuited from overwhelming competency it just wasn’t built for.”

“Oh my god.” Jules puts her face in her hands. “Carlton, what if that’s exactly what it is?”

“What? What are you on about?”

“Nothing, just- it’s nothing.” She fixes her ponytail and then stands up. “I’m taking my lunch break, I’ll bring you back a coffee.”

“Uh, and a danish.”

“And a danish.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry swings the door open with a readied scowl, but it drops away when he sees it’s Jules standing on his porch. “Oh, Detective O’Hara.”

“I’m here on a personal matter, actually.” Jules smiles a bit. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, sure, come on in.” Henry steps aside. “I actually just grilled up a catch from this morning, if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you, that sounds great.”

Minutes later they’re both sitting at the table, Jules sees a little carving in the top of the old piece of furniture, a shaky scratching of Shawn and Gus Club right by her elbow. It makes her smile.

“So, ah, what is this about?” Henry gestures at her with his fork. “Shawn’s treating you right, isn’t he?”

“We’re great,” she assures. “I just wanted to ask a few questions about Shawn’s gift.”

Henry leans his head to the side, frowning. “I uh, can’t really help you there, Juliet.”

“Not the psychic one.”

Henry pauses, his frown deepening. He looks up at her with something… unreadable, in his eyes. “How do you mean?”

“I’m not doubting him,” Jules rushes to reassure, and it does seem to loosen something in Henry’s twisted expression, but not by much. “I just… I’ve always known Shawn was a little smarter than he let on, you know? But I’ve had reason to believe, since we moved in together, that it’s much more extreme of a mask than I thought.”

Henry puts his fork down entirely. “What’d he do?”

“Just… little things, that I used to think were maybe minor visions or feelings, but sometimes… sometimes he just says things that blow my mind. He notices way more little details than he used to let on, for example, and then today Carlton mentioned that his mom has an um…” She take sout her phone to look it up again.

“Eidetic tonal memory,” Henry fills in before she can even begin typing. “She does. I have a visual one.”

Jules looks at him, quickly tucking her phone away. “And then Carlton said that maybe Shawn struggled with handling that- well, he didn’t say it in those exact words-”

“Shawn does not struggle with his memory, except for when he wants to.” Henry’s mouth is puckered, like he’s eating a lemon dipped in sour dust. “You’re saying you think he’s faking visions.”

“Not all of them.” That’s just not possible, with everything he figures out. “But some of them, and I just- I just can’t figure out why he would fake them for some of the things he does. I mean, the other night he talked in his sleep and basically walked me through his process step-by step by accident, and then the next day he came into the station and pretended it just came to him when he reexamined the scene photos.”

“Shawn has always had an overenthusiasm for drama,” Henry starts, speaking quickly and with heavy exasperation. “He likes things to be public and dramatic as much as possible, especially when it’s an embarrassment to himself and to me.”

“That’s a little harsh, I think.”

“Trust me, it isn’t. Shawn has never wanted to embrace his full potential, Juliet- yes, he has both a visual and tonal eidetic memory, and on top of that I trained him to be a detective for his entire life. I knew, I knew he had the ability to be the best detective this department has ever seen, if he just-!” Henry stops himself and rubs one hand over his head. “But he likes living in a fantasy more. He likes slacking off, and refusing to apply himself, and avoiding responsibility, so he… indulged his psychicness, over his actual detective skills.”

“... I’m not sure he has,” Jules says carefully, watching for Henry’s reaction with a readiness to run. 

Henry laughs a little, bitterly, and looks up. “He’s not a real detective, Juliet. No matter how much I want him to be, or how much he insists he is.”

“Just because he’s not on the force, it doesn’t mean he’s not a detective.” 

“It might as well.”

“... You should be proud of your son, Henry. He’s helped solved a lot of cases we’d have had to let go cold without him.”

“I am proud.” He says it quickly, defensively- but not inauthentically. It occurs to Jules that this is the first time she’s heard Henry declade Pride in Shawn, in all seven years she’s known them both. “I am. Just not of his methods.”

“... Well, um, thank you, for the food, and-and the information.” Jules stands up. She’s starting to form a new theory about why Shawn hides his skills. “Do me a favor and, don’t tell Shawn about this? I just don’t want him to feel weird that I’m, well… investigating him.”

Henry shrugs and pretends to zip his mouth and throw away the key.

“Thanks.” She gives him a smile that has to be forced out, and leaves.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well I bet you can’t quote every line from The Breakfast Club without looking it up.” They’re playing a game of low-stakes wagers while they make baked mac ‘n cheese for dinner, and Shawn is losing badly- mostly because he’s only making bets that have Jules showing off her best skills.

Shawn looks at her, genuinely offended, before it smooths out into acceptance. “You’re right, I can’t. Not unless I’m given a big buzzing button, to replace the slurs.”

Jules nods. “Fair. How about you just point to me and I’ll make the noise for you?”

“Now that is a plan.”

She feels bad about tricking him again. She does. But she watches him run through the whole movie script, doing the dances, dramatically flailing around the room- and she sees something she’d been completely overlooking for years. 

She laughs as he finishes it off, sweating and panting but grinning at her. “How do you remember all of that but the other day you couldn’t tell me if you’d even locked the front door?”

Well I remember important things, Jules.”

“Home security is important, Shawn.”

“When you’re not a detective dating a psychic, maybe.”

“Ha-ha. I’d still rather not come home from a date to our TV missing.”

“... True. Fair. I’ll work on it.”

“Seriously though, Shawn, sometimes your memory makes no sense to me. Do you think ADHD medication would help with some of the… little details?”

“Uh, no.” Shawn shakes his head. “No can do, tried it once and swore it off forever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it uh… stuff filtered in but didn’t filter out, you know? Like Gus at a buffet.”

“Gross.”

“It was, it was gross. Both the meds and the buffet.”

“I can’t imagine. It would be awful, just… being unable to stop things sticking around in your head.” She watches him from the corner of her eye as she pulls the dish out of the oven.

Shawn’s posture tenses a little. His mouth parts and the tip of his tongue comes to touch the middle of his top lip. He shrugs, and nods. “Yeah. What a-” he interrupts himself with a chuckle that Jules can only tell is bitter and nervous because of how long she’s known him. “What a sucky thing that’d be!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn, this is too much,” Jules says as he leads her, his hands covering her eyes, somewhere for a date. 

“Are you kidding? You saved my life on this case, again, and you totally prevented a huge disaster with getting the detonator away from that guy.”

“And you are the one who noticed he had a detonator in the first place.”

“The spirits noticed, Jules. But I will take credit for this.” He moves his hands away from her eyes, and she gasps.

They’re in some kind of outdoor dining area, an archway of flowering vines set up above a table covered with a floral cloth and light-blue chinaware. As Shawn comes around to her line of vision she sees he’d hidden a nice suit under his usual jacket when he first told her he had a surprise planned, and his tie…

“Shawn, are you recreating the play?” It had been a particularly great date, for a variety of reasons- but mostly, because Shawn had actually managed to sit down, watch the play, and not turn it into a criminal investigation. He’d still kept up a running commentary and restless fidgeting of course- Jules would have been worried if he hadn’t- but otherwise it had been proof to her that he could take this seriously.

“Maybe.” He offers her his hand and leads her to the table. 

“Shawn, these plates are exactly like the ones from the date scene, how did you-”

“I may or may not have, solved a little case for the owner of the theatre and taken payment in the form of old props.”

Jules laughs, picking up the menu on the table. “Is this the actual menus too, then?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I think Gus- I mean, I, recreated them pretty well.”

“Mmm. Let me guess, you ‘managed’ the recreation, and Gus did the work on it?”

“I also turned on the printer.”

“Basically did the whole thing yourself.” She looks over the menu again- it had been held up briefly during the play, a larger version of it shown on a projection screen behind the actors, and she wouldn’t have remembered it if asked before this moment but now, seeing the recreation, she’s almost certain it’s exact.

It had been on stage for maybe one minute, maybe less.

“How did you even remember this?”

“Psychic recreation, Jules. I traveled back to the past in ethereal form. Your future self was there too- clearly, my gifts rub off on you fifty years from now.”

She laughs again, softer. He’s lying of course- he likes to lie for the humor, and the fun, and because no-one can truly call him out on his powers because even he doesn’t understand them as he often admits. But it feels different now.

He’s not lying entirely for fun. Partly for fun, sure- but he remembered the play, he remembered the menu, because he has an eidetic memory and can’t forget things and in the days since she spoke with Henry to confirm it that fact has been haunting her.

She has trouble sleeping some nights- it’s gotten better since Shawn moved in, having someone curled around her making sleep feel safer- because of the things she’s seen, experienced, endured. She still has nightmares about the clocktower, about sitting in a hospital bed waiting to hear if she has Thornburg, about desperately hunting down clues to Shawn’s whereabouts with Gus and having no idea if they’d even find him alive by the end. The images, the emotions, the sounds… they all stick with her, forgotten until the moment they strike.

What is that like for someone with Shawn’s memory? If her memories push in unwanted, what about his? The looks into the distance, the glaze over his eyes right before he reveals something, the visceral reactions when he remembers something he doesn’t like- it breaks her heart now, knowing that at least some of those are because his mind shoves near-perfect flashbacks at him. 

And with observation, she’s realized that it’s usually unwanted and not sought out- just like his visions. It’s hard to tell them apart from the outside, which just makes her even more concerned- does he even know the difference most of the time? Does it affect all of his thoughts, his imagination, the way he fills in blanks? Is that why sometimes his “visions” are so wrong, because he’s so used to them working the same way as the rest of his mind that he can’t tell what’s Him and what’s The Spirits?

“Hey.” She’s jolted out of her spiraling thoughts by Shawn reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Are you okay?”

She plasters on a smile. “Fine. Just- thinking about how lucky we are. To be here, after everything we’ve gone through.”

Shawn smiles back and pats her hand once before withdrawing his. “Lucky, or just awesome and unstoppable as a team? You, me, Gus, sometimes Lassie- we’re literally a dream team.”

“We are.” She tries to push her concerns about her boyfriend out of her mind, ordering food from a waiter wearing a costume clearly not sized for him- Shawn is always making seemingly impossible things happen, and Jules has no idea how he roped a real restaurant into this, aside from it being either a favor or a blackmail- but Shawn doesn’t blackmail people as far as she’s ever known, so probably a favor.

Shawn is impossible. More and more so every day. And the most impossible is his contradictions. She watches him fumble with his napkin, and remembers him leveling a gun with a steady confident hand on more than one occasion during a case. She listens to him recount a completely wrong story that she keeps correcting the details of, and looks at the perfect recreation of a scene from a play they saw once, months and months ago. She watches him exclaim in surprise over realizing the plates have a design of playing labradoodles at the edges, and thinks about how he saw the reeds moving in a different direction than the wind was blowing from almost impossibly far away to pick up on such a detail.

“Shawn.” She sets her fork down and interrupts his gushing about how cute the design of one of the puppies on the plate is. “I need to tell you something.”

His smiles drops, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape, eyes alight with panic. 

“I’m not breaking up with you.” The quick assurance makes Shawn sigh and slump in relief. “And-and I want you to know before I say this that I’m not doubting you either, or your psychic abilities.”

The tension in Shawn returns. “What?”

Jules bites her lower lip. “I just… can’t pretend not to know anymore, Shawn. Because it’s been just… awful watching you do everything you can to pretend you’re not intelligent.”

“... Jules, I-I don’t-”

“I talked to your dad.” She immediately wishes she’d started with anything else, the way Shawn shuts down and clams up. “No, that’s not what I- Shawn, I know you have an eidetic memory, and that you’re probably hyperobservant, on top of being psychic.”

Shawn’s mouth is tightly pursed, eyes searching, body language just withdrawn. Jules plows forwards, swallowing thickly.

“I’ve been seeing it since you moved in. You’re so smart, Shawn, and-and your detective skills are amazing. One night you solved a case in your sleep, and you mumbled the whole thing, and I was just blown away by how you were able to come to those conclusions and connect those dots.”

Shawn looks down, briefly licking his lips. “Chief Vick never asked you to review the detective’s exam, did she?”

“... No. And, you just proved my point. You made that connection so fast, Shawn.”

Shawn shrugs. “What-what is this? Why right now? On our date?”

“Because I love you.” She reaches over, pries his hands away from his sides and holds them. “And I want to understand why. Why do you pretend you’re not one of the best detectives I’ve ever seen? Your psychic visions are one thing, Shawn, but your skills… they’re genuinely incredible.”

Shawn won’t look her in the eye, traveling his sharp gaze around anything else around them. “You know me. I just uh, love putting on a show.”

“That’s what your dad said.” She feels his hands tense in hers. “But I don’t believe either of you. Well, I believe that’s part of it, but not the full thing. … Your dad said you’ve never really embraced it.”

“Of course he did.”

“But you do, embrace it. You do every day. I watch you get completely antsy and out of your mind without a case, and I used to think it was because you were just… chaotic, and-and bored, and maybe some kind of psychic restlessness but it’s not, right? It’s because you need to be able to solve something. Because you like being smart and solving cases, but you don’t like people knowing. Why?”

“Jules…”

“I’m not asking you to bring me in on your process, or to admit to anyone else when you solve instead of divine. I’m just… trying to understand you, Shawn, because I want us to work. And for us, this, to last… we have to know each other, and I feel like I’m just learning about you all over again.”

Shawn is silent for a moment, and then takes a deep breath and meets her eyes, reluctantly. “Gus knows,” he admits. “You probably figured that, but, he does.”

Jules nods. 

“Did my dad… talk about uh…”

“... He mentioned he trained you since you were young.”

“... Yeah. … I don’t know how to, uh…”

She waits. He seems… lost.

“... I learned how to properly stalk a perp through a hideout before I learned how people get sick from each other,” he says. Jules blinks in confusion until he continues, “I learned most things about being a cop before I learned everything else. And it wasn’t… he’s not proud of me, you know? When I was a kid I wanted to be just like him, and I couldn’t be, and he was disappointed in me. Eight years old, I could close my eyes and tell you the clothes anyone in the room was wearing, could tell you who was married and who wasn’t, how… how many hats, were in the room, and it didn’t matter. It was…” He scoffs. “Adequate. That’s it.”

Jules rubs her thumb along the back of his hand. “You got bitter about it.”

“Bitter’s a strong word.” It’s not- it’s just right. It’s in his voice, his eyes, his posture. But he doesn’t like these words, she knows that about him. He doesn’t like these words and these feelings, and he likes to pretend they don’t exist, and he doesn’t experience them. And how hadn’t she realized that was a problem before now? How had that just settled in her perception of him without setting off alarms that maybe something wasn’t okay?

“Shawn, you’re more than adequate. Your dad said so himself, he told me he is proud of you.”

“... He-he did?” The genuine surprise, it makes Jules’s heart shatter all over again.

“And more importantly, we’re all proud of you. Me, Gus, Carlton is even if he won’t admit it either- The Chief, she’s so proud of you and the work you do! Even when you mess it up or cause major problems, she still defends you and knows you do good work.”

Shawn’s mouth finally untightens, slightly, one corner twitching up for a brief smile. But it fades all too quick. 

“What’s the rest of the reason, Shawn? It can’t just be because your dad didn’t give you the credit you deserved. You’ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, like I said Jules, it’s not as fun. You know? You-you solve something psychically and everyone is in awe! Throw in some jokes, make a scene, plus the bad guys always seem to confess way faster when they think I divined certain things, it’s just better!”

“You could do the same with your deductions! I mean it, Shawn, they’re amazing, the way you solved that case with the hit-and-run was incredible. I don’t even know how you came up with the magnets.”

He puts a finger by his temple and gives her a somewhat prodding, questioning look. She frowns at him and raises an eyebrow, and he puts his hand back down with a defeated nod.

“... I don’t want to be my dad.” Shawn shrugs. “I don’t want to be my dad, and as amazing as he is I don’t want to be Gus, and I don’t want to be Lassie, or even-even some… ideal, me. I want to be… me, Jules.”

“I’m not asking you to not be you.”

“Not on purpose, but- this is me, Jules, this is who I am. I can’t live my life with everyone expecting me to remember everything completely perfectly no matter what, or asking me about every little detail of everything all the time, or saying I should know things or be smarter than what I did or-or have to be better than that-”

It’s like when the last piece of a case finally fits into place.

“Oh.” Jules squeezes his hand, and he cuts himself off to look at her with pinched brows and still parted lips. “Shawn… that kind of pressure is insane to put on a child. I’m so sorry.”

He blinks, frozen, and Jules stands up to come to his side and kiss his forehead. She crouches down by his chair. “You, are more than a detective,” she assures. “You are funny, and fun, and sometimes you’re so stupid and reckless that it literally hurts to watch, but that doesn’t mean that what you do right doesn’t matter. You don’t have to match your stupidity to your intelligence just to balance them out.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Isn’t it? … Oh, my god, and after-after Yin you started going more overboard-”

“Jules-”

“-because he called you out and you had to hide even more-”

“Jules.” She looks into Shawn’s eyes and they’re… glassy. Red. Watering.

“You, being good at what you do, did not put me in danger,” she says softly, reaching up to brush her thumb over his cheek. “You being intelligent will not push me away, or change what I expect of you, or make you lose anyone you care about. But it might make us lose you, if you keep trying to bury it and compensate for it.”

“... I-I…”

“You know you’ve gone too far the opposite direction a lot these last few years, don’t you?”

He’s silent.

“... I understand these feelings run very deep, and all the back to your childhood. I understand that you probably resent what made your dad tain you just as much as you resent him and his training.”

“I don’t resent-”

“Shawn.”

“... I’m… working on not resenting him. Especially after he got shot.”

“I know. But you’re not working on how you feel about yourself because of him, are you?”

“... This is… very uncomfortable.”

“I know.” She wipes away an escaped tear. “You don’t like people being able to really know you, do you?”

“I like you knowing me. And Gus.”

“Do you? Because I had to figure all of this out on my own. Shawn, are you so used to hiding what you could be to be what you want to that you don’t even know how not to hide anymore?”

He flounders, opening and moving his mouth with no words, looking at the ground to her side. “I-I don’t know,” he finally gets out.

Jules nods. “And that’s okay.” Has he ever heard that before, in response to him not knowing something? Maybe. She won’t know unless they keep talking about this. She hopes they keep talking about this.

“... But you uh…” He presses his wrist, sleeves pulled down and gripped in his palm, to his nose for just a second, and sniffs. “You’re not saying you don’t believe I’m psychic anymore?”

“No, I’m not.”

He nods. “... You know, uh… Lassie is the whole reason I even got started, on the psychic detective thing.”

“Really?”

“Really. We still have this uh, table and everything for a few more hours, if you want to hear the story.”

She recognizes it for what it is. You know now, I’m uncomfortable with it, but I’ll try to not be, for you. So she sits back in her seat and listens to Shawn describe how he figured out a case through watching the news, and when Lassie didn’t believe him about it he claimed it was a psychic vision, and then he realized that works.

It recontextualizes even more things for Jules, even more of what Shawn must feel and think, and she wonders if she’ll ever fully figure him out. 

She’ll just have to spend her entire life with him, she supposes.

#I'm not super happy with the ending but I can't make anything else work any better so. Ah well. #psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #shules #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

[kickedshins]

baby’s first psych fic! it’s called an accent wall and a corkboard and it takes place in late season 2. shules, 7.8k, rated T

It’s nice that he sat with her, and it’s nice that he’s still being Shawn. He’s still being Shawn about everything, and she really doesn’t think things will be different afterward. It’s hard to do that. It’s… mature, which is not a word she thinks anyone has ever used for Shawn.

Her half-sentence hangs in the air. Shawn waits, but not in an expectant way. Not like he’s trying to push her into saying something. Just that he’s methodically getting through his glass of wine, and that he’s very intentionally giving her some space.

Seriously, is he actually mature?

And Jules sort of breaks. It’s a combination of the alcohol and the fact that she made some insane choices tonight and the way he looks in profile, the way he looks when he’s actually calm for once in his life. It’s the memory of his hands on her hips and his mouth on hers and the way his shoulders feel under her palms, and fuck, she’s never going to be able to forget those things. It’s the fact he’s acting so much more like a person than she’s ever really seen him act, and she’s finding it harder and harder to ignore that she wants to know more about who that person is.

She stands up, puts his half-finished glass on the coffee table, and climbs on top of him.

i had. so much fun writing this and i’m having so much fun thinking about other “what if they got together before they got together” fic ideas. transgender juliet o’hara you will always be famous. enjoy!

#pysch #juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #shules #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #kickedshins originals #my writing

[someonefantastic]

hyperfixing over shules after a rewatch while also seeing your angel posts has me so 👁👄👁 about supernatural shules that i could throw up and so .. it’s time for you to do something with it i think <3 cheeky one shot about vampire shawn falls for sexy detective or vampire jules falls for hot fake psychic… i don’t know but it’s time <3 slay🤪

well good news! my friends and I actually have a monster au where Shawn is a werewolf and Juliet is a vampire, it's quite fun and you can read some of the fics we've written here! I also have an au where Juliet is a werewolf set in a different universe and you can read the fic I wrote for that during whumptober here and also the infinitely talented @avasrhodes wrote this incredible fic. I loooooove supernatural aus so much so writing for them is quite fun! May wind up doing a little something for whumptober this year too, we'll see

edit: just remembered I also have this tag which has exactly two posts for the monster au but hey it still exists

#anon #asks #psych #shules #fanfic #shules lovers monster au

[disastardly]

5, 9, 22 for salty asks!

Oooh thank you for the asks! I spent way too much time thinking about these, haha.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

"Ruined" might be a strong word - I was never much of a Harringrove shipper (though I def saw the chemistry/sexual tension) but god that is just such a toxic barrel of snitty arguing and shit-flinging that I avoid almost all Harringrove content on sight. (Even stuff by authors I typically like.)

I like Lawrusso from their interactions on the show, but jesus so much of the fanfic is saccharine sweet and wildly OOC, I just couldn't engage with that side of the fandom. Johnny's a writhing ball of toxic masculinity and insecurity. Daniel's a pretentious weeaboo with a stick up his ass. They're both hung up on the past. Gimme more of that. That's why I love them.

Other than that, I feel like being in the fandom has changed my mind on certain pairings, especially canon or seemingly endgame ones. I'm generally a multi-shipper, as long as it makes sense, but Mileven and Stancy are much bigger mehs for me since I got more into the ST fandom scene. Modern PRMF fanfic turned me from Chip/Vida to Chip/Vida/Xander. I was always on-board for Shassie, but fandom has made it hard to watch the heavier-handed Shules episodes, which makes it harder to watch later Psych content in general.

A kind of niche one (maybe not on this hellsite) but Juliette and Cal on First Kill were a huge letdown after all the thought pieces and gifsets I saw here. They were okay, but the chemistry was mid and the writing was so inconsistent, I had a hard time connecting with them after the expectations set by the fandom.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Oh this is a tough one. Like of course I dislike Billy Hargrove, he's made to be a piece of shit with dubiously redemptive potential. Same for guys like Jason Carver - if I dislike them, the writers did their jobs right.

Every time Mineta appears on MHA, I groan internally and externally. I know anime is probably cheating but god that little shit gets on my nerves. Honestly, any anime character that exists purely to be pervy comic relief immediately activates my fight or flight response.

22. Popular character you hate?

I don't hate Tommy Oliver, per se, but he's so fucking over-saturated in modern PR media, I just want more from other legacy Rangers and seasons.

Kusaka from KR Faiz - another character I'm meant to dislike but god he's so popular in certain circles and I know it's because the actor is likable but Kusaka himself is so punchable and the cause of so many problems throughout the season, including keeping one of my favorite pairings (Takumi/Yuuji) on opposite sides.

Is Tori from Cobra Kai popular? I like the idea of her but god the writing is so inconsistent, it's like the writers wanted a female Robby but couldn't figure out her redemption arc the way they did his. (Not that his was great but hers is just a scattershot of redemptive tropes and the writers going 'eh? eh?')

#ask games #tumblr asks #salty asks #stranger things #power rangers #cobra kai #karate kid #power rangers mystic force #kamen rider #kamen rider faiz #anime #my hero academia #first kill #psych

[cosette141]

Space (Psych fanfic)

Fandom: Psych

Pairing: shules

Author: cosette141

Words: 53K

Summary: Now that Juliet knows Shawn's secret, she tells him she needs space. Unsure of what to do, Shawn decides to find some space for himself. But when Shawn stumbles into trouble and ends up missing, will his friends figure out he's in real trouble before it's too late?

Also on AO3 and ff

Chapter One

2001

Shawn stared out the window. He pulled his beat-up baseball cap down lower over his eyes. Clouds gathered in the sky. A storm was coming. It might even delay his escape.

Shawn descended the steps of the city bus and walked down the sidewalk. He thrust his hands in his pockets, trying to thaw his freezing fingers. He looked ahead, barely taking notice of anyone or anything around him. Everything felt like a blur.

Shards of recent memories burned in his mind. He never had the best relationship with his father, but tonight, things changed for good. Shawn couldn't stand to live with the man who drove his mother out of their family, the man who arrested his own son, the man who worked tirelessly to ruin his son's life.

Shawn fought any emotion. He didn't want to feel, so he didn't. He felt nothing at all. Nothing but a lingering desire to get the hell out of Santa Barbara.

"You can't run from your life, Shawn."

Henry's voice echoed in Shawn's head, but Shawn forced it away. He clutched his drawstring bag tighter. Shawn walked into the airport and weaved through the crowd of people. Shawn flinched as echoes of the argument with his dad flitted through his mind.

Somewhere in the back of Shawn's mind, he had a fleeting realization that there were twenty-four hats in the airport terminal. A certain anger crept into Shawn. What did that gift even mean anymore? What did it ever mean?

Approaching the ticket desk, Shawn handed the woman his credit card and asked for the next flight to Miami. The woman's gaze flicked down at him and back to his eyes. Her eyebrow slowly hitched upward.

"What?" snapped Shawn.

"Luggage?" the woman asked hesitantly.

"Don't need any." muttered Shawn as the woman handed him a ticket. When he took it, she didn't let go. He met her eyes.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that running away doesn't fix anything?" Her gaze was genuine. Her kind, innocent eyes searched his. Maybe under normal circumstances, he would have considered her words. Maybe he would have pushed aside his anger and flirted with her. Maybe he would have changed his mind about leaving.

Under normal circumstances, he would have done a lot of things differently.

Shawn tugged on the ticket and she let it go. He averted his eyes. "Maybe not," said Shawn quietly, but firm. "But there's just some things that can't be fixed."

Shawn left the desk, strung his bag over his shoulder and handed his ticket to the man waiting at the door. Shawn boarded the plane without a single look back.

Present Day

Shawn stared out the window. He watched the rain hit the glass of the Psych office window. Shawn reached a hand to his right shoulder, gently massaging the stab wound mindlessly.

"If I just didn't give you my jacket… Then everything would still be okay."

"But you did, Shawn. You did."

Shawn sighed. He looked around the darkening room. He felt numb. Empty. Shawn looked back at his computer screen at the photo of himself and Juliet at Lassiter's wedding. Him. Juliet.

And that damned jacket.

A rush of anger suddenly rose in Shawn's chest. He slammed the laptop shut, tired of looking at his greatest mistake. He sank into his desk chair.

"Shawn, I think—I know… I need space."

Space. Shawn propped his elbows on the desk and held his head in his hands, feeling his headache from the concussion creep back. He sighed.

Space.

Shawn pulled out his phone and scrolled the Yellowpages. He found a number, made a quick call and stood. Juliet was right. Space might not be such a bad idea.

But the last time Shawn needed space, he didn't come back for over ten years.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Shawn looked up as a horn sounded outside. A yellow cab waited in the street. Shawn grabbed his wallet and phone. He didn't need anything else. He left the office and got into the cab. He slid across the backseat. The driver, an Indian man a few years older than Shawn himself, gave Shawn a smile.

"Mr. Spencer?" asked the driver.

"Yeah," said Shawn absentmindedly. "Airport, please."

"My name's Juan," said the driver. He backed the cab up and pulled into the street. Shawn didn't respond. He just stared out the window and watched the rain.

"What you need the airport for?" asked Juan. Shawn slowly shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, seeing the eagerness in Juan's eyes staring back at him.

"I need some… space," said Shawn quietly, hating to be repeating the words Juliet spoke, the words that felt like a knife in his heart.

"I think you should move out."

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Shawn's gaze fell back to the window of the cab, watching the rain pick up, the drops spilling in a mess of rivulets on the glass. He couldn't help noticing the appropriateness of the weather, considering his mood.

"Space from…?" prompted Juan, making a right down the next street.

Shawn shut his eyes, irritation growing. Under normal circumstances, he would have indulged the driver. But this wasn't a normal circumstance. He didn't have patience for anything at the moment. "I appreciate the concern, Juan, I really do. But I'd really rather we have a quiet trip."

"Yes, I understand, I understand," said Juan, nodding. Shawn and Juan sat in silence for about thirty seconds before Juan said, "You know, I'm a big fan."

Shawn looked back at the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, you're Shawn Spencer!" exclaimed Juan. "I read about you and that Gurton Buster in the paper. You're the psychic!"

"Yeah," said Shawn, about to correct Gus' name, but instead just said, "Well, thanks, Juan." Shawn leaned his head against the window. It was either his mild, day-old concussion or the weather that was killing his head. He let the chilled glass sooth the dull throb. Shawn shut his eyes, wondering what he was doing. Where was he going to go? Back to Miami? He sighed. He didn't want to go to Miami. Was he really going to leave? Make the same mistake he made years ago? He wanted to be with Juliet. That's all he's wanted ever since she found out the truth.

Ever since he lost her.

Shawn kicked himself. How could he have been so stupid? Lifting a hand, Shawn rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't slept in nearly two days. Juliet hadn't been returning his calls. Shawn hadn't contacted anyone. Gus had tried calling Shawn a few times, but Shawn didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone. There was nothing he wanted to say.

He just wanted Juliet back in his arms.

Shawn opened his eyes. The passing buildings and houses came back into focus and Shawn watched them slide in and out of his vision. He watched as Juan made a left—

"Hang on," said Shawn, lifting his head. "You made a wrong turn. The airport is back that way," said Shawn, pointing in the opposite direction.

Juan didn't reply. He kept driving. Shawn sat up. "Juan, you made a wrong turn," repeated Shawn slowly. "Turn the car around."

"I can't do that," said Juan in a quiet voice. Shawn's heart skipped a beat. His hand shot toward the door and he tried to open it, but it was locked. The unlock button was busted. How hadn't he noticed that when he got in? He notices everything.

Heart picking up more speed, Shawn looked at Juan. "Where are you taking me? Who are you?"

"Oh, my name really is Juan!" said Juan quickly. "But, see… I'm in a little trouble here, Shawn Spencer…"

"What kind of trouble?" demanded Shawn, removing his seatbelt, trying to think of the smartest way out. He glanced around the car. He yanked on the door again.

"People are looking for me," said Juan, stepping on the gas suddenly. The car lurched forward, throwing Shawn backward.

"Who?" asked Shawn through clenched teeth as pain radiated from his stab wound.

"I lost his money—I didn't think he'd find me—!" exclaimed Juan, looking cautiously behind him. Shawn followed his gaze. The road behind them was clear.

"Stop the car!" yelled Shawn.

"You're a psychic," said Juan quickly. "You can find it, right?"

"Juan, stop the car!" repeated Shawn. Shawn pushed off the backseat and reached for the wheel and pulled it to the left, almost hitting the car passing by.

"I had the money at the taxi station—swear! Maybe it was someone at the station… Maybe they switched the cabs—" continued Juan, yanking the wheel back his way, making Shawn fall forward, narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the dashboard. He grabbed the wheel again, and tried to steady the car.

"You're going to crash it!" yelled Shawn, trying to pry off Juan's hand. Juan held tight. They came dangerously close to another car beside them, and Shawn threw himself forward, grabbing the wheel and twisting it back to the right. The car blared its horn. Shawn saw something out the corner of his eye and was suddenly paralyzed, watching the SUV, black as night, driving straight at him.

He didn't even feel it strike.

You can read the rest on AO3 or ff!

#psych fanfic #psych #psych fanfiction #psych space #space #cosette141 #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #carlton lassiter #burton guster #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #shules #shules fanfic #cosette141 ffn

[mockingjayne12]

Take Your Time: Way To The Future

(Shules / Psych Fic)

(PART ONE)

“We’re going to get caught,” Juliet nervously whispers in the elevator.

Shawn scoffs at her with a clicking sound like he’s offended that that thought was even brought to his attention.

“We won’t,” he shakes his head, bringing the bundle in closer to his face, his voice going up in pitch, until it sounds like complete gibberish.  “You’re always good, aren’t you?  Yes, you are, you’re a good jellybean.”

Juliet rolls her eyes at how absolutely ridiculous her husband is, but feels her heart swell as he squishes the wrinkly face of their pug, Starfish.  They’d rescued her some months ago, the search for the perfect addition to their little family one that ended with an underweight pug, whose head dwarfed her body, eyes taking up most of her face, and somewhat crossed.  One look and they knew she was theirs.  And a spoiled one she was.  The two of them almost never leaving without her tagging along, usually with Shawn.

A bark echoes through the metal car, and Juliet shoots a look at Shawn.

“We’re so getting caught,” she mumbles.

“Okay, new plan, quick, put her under your shirt,” he says shoving Starfish into her arms.

“Shawn, I’m not going to put the dog under my shirt,” she says with a scrunch of her own pug face.

“Come on, come on, it’s the maternity floor, no one’s going to think anything of it,” he says, lifting her shirt, she slaps at his hand.

“All the more reason they will think something of it,” she shoots back, the numbers on the elevator dinging past.

“Hurry, we’re gonna get caught,” he says, repeating her own words and she swears.  This isn’t the craziest plan she’s gone along with, but certainly the most ridiculous this week.

Lifting her shirt, she attempts to conceal the dog, giving her a glow of panic, and a look of pregnancy to her slim frame.  

“I look ridiculous,” she claims, glancing over at Shawn, who’s gone quiet. staring at her with wide eyes, a soft smile on his face.  And she can feel the blush heating her face.

“You look beautiful,” he says, leaning over and planting a kiss on the crown of her head, among the blonde curls.

The elevator beeps, opening its doors to them.  Juliet clutches Starfish closer to her, and she squirms.

“What happens when she barks?” She grits through her teeth at Shawn.

“We endlessly shame whoever for judging our baby,” he quirks, his hands coming to her shoulders, directing her towards the room they were heading for.  Thankfully, few people even glanced at them, none of them seemingly noticing that it was a dog she was carrying in her misshapen shirt.

Quickly finding the room number they were looking for, they slip in, Shawn holding up the pineapple he’d insisted on bringing, immediately going over to Gus, who was standing next to Selene, a proud smile on his face.

Hovering by the door with her intrusion, Starfish squirms, and she releases her from her shirt, cuddling her to her chest.  Her tiny head nestling against her, and Juliet finds herself cradling the dog like she would a baby.

“Is this him?” She hears her husband ask, only to be met with a “Come on, son” by his best friend.  A quick exchange between the two that turns into gibberish between them, ending with Shawn practically skipping to the sink to wash his hands.

Smiling to herself, she walks further into the room to see a baby being placed into Shawn’s arms.  She can’t recall a time she’s ever seen Shawn hold a baby, only when she closes her eyes and tries to picture their life in the future.  She’s not sure what she expects, awkwardness, perhaps, but instead he seems to be a natural.  Gus is hovering over him, protective father mode already in full force.  But Shawn seems unfazed, instead making faces at the baby in the same way he does with Starfish.

A small barking whine comes from her arms, jealousy of seeing her papa talking to someone else in the voice reserved for her, and all eyes turn to Juliet.

“Shawn, you brought your dog here?” Gus’ annoyance clear.

“She wanted to meet her brother,” Shawns practically coos.

“My son is not your dog’s brother,” he corrects.

“Fine, cousin? Best friend?” He goes through the titles, each one shot down, the same clicking noise of annoyance heard between them at the same time.

Coming up behind Shawn, careful to keep the dog at a distance, she spies the cutest baby, eyes closed, hand waving about at the sound of Shawn’s voice.

“He’s so cute,” she practically squeals, quietly, not wanting to wake the little guy.

“We know,” Selene chimes in, and they smile back at her.

Her free hand comes to rest on Shawn’s back, rubbing softly over him, as they stare adoringly at the tiny baby that looks a bit like Gus and a bit like Selene.  The overwhelming feeling of their love weighted in the arms of her husband.  

A near pout comes to her face, as she sees the gentle care Shawn displays, his finger tracing the baby’s tiny features, nose, lips, chubby cheeks, before letting him grab onto his finger, and directly grasps Juliet’s heart along with his grip.

With a sputtering sigh, she finds herself whispering.

“I want one.”

“Distract Gus, and I’ll take this one,” he jokes, bumping into her with his hip and a raise of his brow.

“I think they’d notice if this cutie went missing,” she teases, her voice going up at the end, burying her chin into Starfish’s head.

It’s only later when she’s shoving Starfish back under her shirt and making their way to the elevator that he brings up the exchange.

Hitting the button to go down, she can see him glance over at her out of the corner of her eye, one hand supporting the dog’s bottom, the over around the middle, distracting from the shape, and looking like her hands were actually wrapped around a baby bump.

“I want one too,” he says, the doors dinging open, and they step into the elevator.

“What?  A dog under your shirt?  Here,” she says, revealing their panting dog, crooked tongue sticking out, giving a kiss to his nose, as she passes her over to Shawn.  “Go to Papa.”

Starfish’s butt wiggles with excitement, as Shawn moves closer to Juliet, resting his head on her’s, his arm slung around her all the way to the car.  The green bug like a beacon in the fog surrounding them.

Placing the pug in her car seat, her head popping up in the rearview, Shawn hops into the front, and Juliet fiddles with the air controls.

“Shawn…” she starts, and he looks over at her with a goofy grin.  “What did you mean?”

“That we’ve practiced enough…I think I’m pretty good at it,” he wiggles his eyebrows, and she hits him across the chest.

“Oww,” he jokingly whines.  “Now is that any way to treat your future baby daddy.”

Her face immediately falls into one pure adulation at the words.

“Are you serious?” She asks, the idea that they could potentially be deciding to change their lives in such a drastic way knocking the breath from her, while simultaneously swelling her heart with love.

“Starfish does need a sibling…”

Juliet dramatically rolls her eyes  “Shawn,” she groans.

“All I could think about was what our kid would look like in there…blonde hair, blue eyes, cute little squishy face…a tiny little Jules.”

Her face scrunches at the comment, and his hand comes to trace her features.  

“Just like that.”

“Are you anywhere in there?”

“Well obviously she has my charming wit, and sense of style,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” she nods, a smile peaking through.  “So we’re doing this.”

“I guess we are,” he tries making a scared face, but can’t even pretend, instead a huge grin peaking out to mirror her own.  Leaning over in her seat, meeting him halfway, her hand comes to rest on his neck, her thumb tracing his jawline.

“We’re trying,” she whispers, putting their fate into the universe, sealing the statement with a kiss that deepens.

#shules #psych #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #shules fanfic

[dawnsedits]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Fandom: Psych (TV 2006)

Relationships: Juliet O'Hara & Karen Vick, Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer

Characters: Karen Vick, Juliet O'Hara, Shawn Spencer

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Romance

Words: 439

Summary: When Shawn gets hurt just before Christmas, Karen is there for Juliet.

A/N: Merry Christmas @trixiesfranklin!

#karen vick #juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #shules #karen vick fanfic #juliet o'hara fanfic #shawn spencer fanfic #shules fanfic #psych #my fanfic

[heyvivalapluto]

i have a very special place in my heart reserved for couples with person a completely annoyed at person b and person b annoying them by flirting with them

#i would die for this dynamic #there’s so much flavor about it #ship dynamics #person a and person b #ships #literati #hanleia #traught #ladynoir #shawn x juliet #shules #pucca x garu #fanfic trope #tropes #person a #person b #ship meme

[pagingevilspawn]

other works

this is just a small masterpost where i list all of my works that aren’t grey’s/jolex related!

here you can find my works from other fandoms. give them a read if you feel like it! (all of them are only available on ao3)

CRIMINAL MINDS

the love that lasts the longest is the love that’s never returned 

➷ “It was when she saw her arm linked in his, hand fisting his suit jacket that she realized that maybe Catherine Adams wasn’t as delusional as she thought she was” (Cat Adams/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid/OFC or Reader)

only the ash and sparks remain

➷ “She looks more human now than she ever did before, and he feels a slight pang in his chest that he wouldn’t understand until a few minutes later. Right then, she was just another woman who wanted to see a man one last time before she goes” (Cat Adams/Spencer Reid)

PSYCH

secrets kept inside

➷ five things Shawn didn't tell certain people, and the one thing he never told anyone. (Shules, various {platonic})

PRETTY LITTLE LIARS

that’s how i fell in love (bit by bit, then all at once)

➷ She had always hated the cliches. He had always loved them. —Funny really, how they both ended up in the middle of one. (Ezria) 

#criminal minds #psych #pretty little liars #spencer reid #cat adams #reidams #cat adams x spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #shules #burton guster #henry spencer #jennifer jareau #psych usa #pll #psych fanfic #pretty little liars fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #ezra fitz #aria montgomery #ezria #ezria fanfic #ezria fanfiction #shules fanfic #shules fanfiction

[the-platelet-queen]

Reality Check (12422 words) by The_Platelet_Queen Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Psych (TV 2006) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter & Juliet O'Hara Characters: Juliet O'Hara, Burton "Gus" Guster, Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter Additional Tags: posting this as taking a break from doing studying lol, i should be updating every few days!, shawn and the real girl, reality show, dating show, Shules Summary:

Based on "Shawn and the Real Girl", Juliet has to go undercover on a reality dating show to catch the killer.

Fanfiction.net link: X

#psych #psych usa #psych tv #psych fanfiction #psych fanfic #shawn x juliet #shules #shules fanfiction #ao3 #ffn #the-platelet-queen

[figsandfandoms]

#flufftober2022 #day twenty-four #psych #shules #psych fanficiont #shules fanfic

[emilyjulietpineapple]

A little fic about how the Psych characters handle being in the covid pandemic.

WC: 824

Rating: General Audiences

#psych #shules #juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #Karen Vick #carlton lassiter #henry spencer #covid tw #fanfic

[themaybewoman]

@whumptober2021

Day 29: Too Weak to Move Fandom: Psych Characters: Shawn Spencer, Juliet O'Hara, Burton Guster, OC Perp/Gunman Warnings: Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Rooftops.

#whumptober2021 #no.29 #too weak to move #psych #fanfic #guns #gunshot wounds #lilly's writing 2021 #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #shules #ships & otps #burton guster #lilly's writing

[someonefantastic]

Fluff #7, Shules!

Okay so this maybe isn't super fluffy but I got this idea and just went with it. Thank you for this great prompt!!!

Set during 6x01. Soulmate AU where soulmates can hear each other's thoughts depending on how close they are in proximity. Juliet figured it out shortly after they first met but Shawn still hasn't.

Shules - Fluff #7 + “I think you might be my soulmate.”

Shawn's known Juliet for almost six years now and he still can't figure out why he can literally sense an aura around her. He also can't figure out why he seems to have more intrusive thoughts whenever he's around her, mostly having to do with paperwork or annoyance at the station's coffee quality. It's just another layer added onto the mystery of Juliet O'Hara, one that he is slowly unraveling each day, and one that is unraveling much faster now that they've started dating.

He's loved getting to know her even better in the last few months, loved learning little things like how she likes her eggs or what shampoo she uses. They've gotten much closer these past four months, and the fact that their relationship has been a secret really helped. They haven't really had to worry about what other people might think or how their careers may be affected and that avoided stress meant a lot more time to just be together.

But now Lassiter knows and possibly both the Chief and his dad. And to make matters worse, Lassiter is accusing him of crashing a dignitaries party-- something he did actually do-- and hooking him up to a lie detector and Shawn can't figure out if it's out of spite or if Lassie is actually doing this for justice.

He's highly suspicious that it's the former.

This is why, as Lassie makes a checkmark on the paper that the lie detector is producing, he interjects. "Look, Lassie, we both know what this is about. This is about me and Juliet."

"Answer only my questions, please." Comes Lassiter's annoyed voice but Shawn's never been one to listen to him.

"Yes, we're together. You hate it. I get it."

"Spencer-" Lassie tries to interject, staring at him with hard blue eyes.

Shawn keeps talking, the words spilling out of him faster than he can think. He knows how this is killing Jules, he can practically feel her sadness every time Lassie gives her the cold shoulder, so if he can say anything to change the detective's mind, or at least make him be okay with their relationship, then he's going to very well try. "I can't help it, man. I've been fighting this thing for years."

"Spencer, stop."

"It's not just gonna go away."

Lassiter throws a hand up, practically shouting. "Stop."

"You're gonna have to deal with the fact that I love her, okay?"

The admission escapes him faster than he can realize but as soon as he does, his stomach lurches. He hadn't meant to say that now. He wasn't ready to stay that now. Especially not in front of Lassie, the Chief, and his dad. (Gus, on the other hand, was a different story. He'd be fine if his best friend was there for all of his major life moments.) And what would Juliet think? What if she doesn't feel the same way? Or what if she's thrown off by him saying it too early? He can almost feel her shock and it does little to still his anxieties.

But then something breaks through his mind, a thought so loud, it practically drowns out all of his other thoughts. Though it doesn't feel like one of his own.

"I love you too."

Everything clicks. The aura sensing, the intrusive thoughts, the fact that whenever he's around Juliet, he doesn't feel like his brain is fully his. How she knew he wasn't psychic before he even told her.

His head snaps towards her, eyes blown wide, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. When he meets her eyes, he knows that she already knows what he's thinking but it doesn't stop the words from spilling out.

“I think you might be my soulmate.”

#psych #shules #shawn x juliet #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #fanfiction #psych fanfic #psychfic #soulmate au #skipps writes

[sci-fi-pony]

Fandom: Psych

Characters: Shawn, Juliet

Categories: Comfort, Fluff, Family

A/N: My first entry for the @comfortember writing event! One of my first attempts at a post-canon fic. Married Shules is so soft and relaxed, and I hope I captured that feel here. Also, it felt weird to be writing Shules again, I've been writing for a different Psych ship over on ffn the last several weeks and it was weird having to switch back again for this.

Prompts used: 7-Blanket Fort & 15-Campfire

"I'll Be Your Hiding Place"

Shawn glanced up at the sound of the doorknob rattling. He relaxed again a moment later when he heard the scrape of a key in the lock and the familiar sound of his wife's footsteps in the entryway.

His attention turned back to the little girl snuggled into his lap, helping her turn the page on the book that was too big for her tiny hands. But part of his focus was still on the noises coming from the front area. He didn't miss the fact that Juliet double checked the lock on the front door before removing her shoes and sidearm. Or the way her eyes scanned the room upon entering — and specifically the windows — before landing on her family.

"Mom!" Riley shouted, launching across the room at her mother.

Juliet smiled tiredly, kneeling down to wrap her daughter in a hug. "Hey, sweetie. How was your day?"

The greeting was normal enough, but there was something off in the tone used. And something entirely too protective in the grip that held her little girl close.

"We made muffins," Riley said proudly. "And Dad took me to his office. I got to talk to the clearance."

"Clients," Juliet autocorrected. Between her husband and daughter, she'd become quite adept at interpreting them without having to put any conscious effort into it. Shawn was somewhat impressed by that talent.

"Selene had a doctor's appointment today," Shawn explained. "And Gus had to work all afternoon, so the kids ended up at Psych. Riley's cousins insisted on organizing the whole backroom while she helped me up front."

"I was good at it," Riley felt the need to add.

"She is surprisingly good at dealing with the customers," Shawn agreed. "I think we're raising a little con artist."

"Well, she is your daughter," Juliet teased, finally releasing the squirming girl in her arms. "Everything went okay today?"

Shawn understood the unspoken part of that question and nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, everything was fine here."

He didn't ask out loud how her own day had gone, but the concerned frown he sent her was enough to get the idea across. She nodded back, biting her lip as her hand landed on her daughter's tousled head.

Riley added her own agreement, completely unaware of the silent conversation going on over her head.

It was never hard to keep their painfully oblivious child out of the loop on things like this. So far, she showed no signs of having inherited her father's memory and observation skills. Madeleine told them it was unlikely it would manifest in her as early as it had for Shawn, but Shawn was secretly holding onto the hope that it never would. He knew the downside to having an eidetic memory and wouldn't want his daughter to go through that. Even if part of him would have loved to have someone around who could see the world the way he did.

"So, what's going on in here?" Juliet asked. She stepped farther into the living room, eyes sweeping over the massive blanket fort and other items gathered around. "You two renovating the apartment?"

"We're camping," Riley said. "We were gonna do s'mores. You want some?"

Juliet laughed, hand swiping quickly at her cheek. "Sure, sweetie. That sounds great."

"Why don't you grab the marshmallows from the kitchen," Shawn suggested. "I left them on the table."

Happy to have a task to do, the little girl rocketed towards the kitchen, disappearing through the doorway.

Juliet sat down on the pile of blankets next to Shawn and leaned into his side. He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, resting his head on hers. They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of mild destruction coming from the kitchen. It wasn't anything they couldn't clean up later.

Shawn frowned as his wife leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around him and clinging on tight. He held her tighter in return — a silent promise that finally let some of the tension ease from her body.

"I've got them!" Riley shouted as she barreled back into the room, holding her bag of treats high.

Keeping one arm around his wife, Shawn helped her get a marshmallow onto a chopstick. Their flameless candle surrounded by lincoln logs didn't hold up to his father's idea of a real campfire, but at least it wouldn't burn down their apartment, so it would have to make do. And the nice thing about having a child with an overactive imagination was that Riley never seemed to care when they had to make substitutions like this.

Someday they'd be able to invest in a real house with a backyard for Riley — and a matching yard next door for her cousins. With Gus's ever-growing army of mini geeks, that day might have to come sooner rather than later. But for now they were content with their little home.

"We weren't sure what time you would get home," Shawn said quietly. "So I kind of promised her that she and I could sleep in the tent tonight. But if you need—"

She shook her head, jostling his slightly with the movement. "No, that actually sounds really nice. As long as you two don't mind me joining you?"

"Yay!" Riley cheered, giving her obvious approval of the idea. "We made a big tent, Mom. You'll fit easy."

"Big-ish," Shawn corrected with a laugh. "But it should be fine."

After they'd eaten their uncooked s'mores, Juliet headed back to the bedroom to change while Shawn helped Riley brush her teeth. They regathered in the blanket fort a few minutes later.

The three of them snuggled into the pile of pillows and blankets, with Riley sandwiched between her parents. Shawn opened the book he and Riley had been working on the last few nights and read the next chapter until his daughter finally nodded off.

Closing the book, Shawn pressed a kiss onto the blonde head nestled against his shoulder. "I love you," he murmured into her hair. It didn't matter how often they exchanged those simple words, there were some days he felt it really needed to be repeated.

"Love you, too," she murmured back sleepily.

After getting them all settled into more comfortable sleeping positions, Shawn checked the window and door locks one last time before climbing into the makeshift tent beside them.

The quiet living room, lit only by the soft glow of the flameless candle, was soothing after the chaotic day.

He was almost asleep himself when a hand reached across from the other side of the tent. Smiling, Shawn latched onto it, letting both their hands rest on the sleeping child between them. A few minutes later, he could hear his wife's gentle snores drifting over.

He might not be able to protect her from the bad days like today, but at least he could be there for her when it was over. A silent reminder that, no matter what she was going through, she would always have people here who loved her.

#psych #psych fanfic #shules #comfortember 2020 #my fanfics