#lassiter x juliet

[sawyerfalksthesilverfox]

WIP: "The Moments We Live For"

[This is a snippet from a WIP inspired by "(Kissed You) Good Night" by Gloriana. For Carlton Lassiter x Juliet O'hara from Psych. I started this thing over a decade ago, and did not get very far - especially once the show went very hard on Juliet x Shawn. Still like it though.]

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Juliet's back slammed hard into the wall beside her staircase. Always opportunistic, the young woman's hands immediately sought purchase in Lassiter's short hair. She tugged the much-taller man insistently downward, their lips and tongues continuing their passionate, heated kiss. However, the sudden vibration of their actions rippled through the surface and disrupted the bookcase that shared the wall; a slim book about proper feline care popped free and fell, dragging another volume with it. They fell to the hardwood in a tumble of pages, smacking against each other in the process. 

The burst of sound drew Lassiter's attention momentarily, and he glanced back at Juliet with a scrunched look of concern. 

"I didn't hurt your back just there, did-" 

"No, of course not, now kiss me, dammit," the young woman demanded, her voice practically a growl. 

Desire flashed in the clear blue of her partner's eyes, and he made good on her demand. 

Lassiter swept her into another searing kiss, both exploring her mouth and lightly battling with Juliet's insistent tongue. Static thrummed gently under her skin, the shockwaves of it all settling in her center with distant throbs. The scent of him was something delightfully masculine and heady with arousal; Old Spice, most likely (Lassiter did love the classics) combined with something all his own. 

All the while she was pinned to the wall, gasping and whimpering. Lassiter drank them all down, Juliet's soft noises of want spurring him on to continue. 

He tilted her chin to him, nibbling her lip, tugging gently before swiping away the pinpricks of sensation with his tongue. 

Fuck, did Carlton know how to kiss. 

[under-loch-n-key]

Lassie caught doin' gay shit with Shawn and we love him for it.

I will probably be posting some more ethical omens art soon. Maybe even doodle some T4T Hilson (House x Wilson) art. [:

Anyway, enjoy this Shassie art!! 💛💛💛

[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay, I've been discussing ideas about a PJO Psych crossover and it is now time to share my findings

Okay, so once upon a time Henry Spencer met a woman who when posing as a mortal went by the name Madeleine but she was actually a goddess, they had a kid, she was a minor goddess, so she was able to stay for a while, but eventually she left.

Yes, of COURSE Shawn thinks it's his Dad's fault

The goddess was Mnemosyne, the Greek goddess of MEMORY and the mother of the muses (works perfectly, right??!??!?!)

And Gus is his Satyr protector!!!

Henry does all the same training with Shawn to be a cop and such

Shawn gets his eidetic memory from his mother, the goddess of memory

I've also decided he gets taskmaster powers (can do anything he sees from memory) because that fucks hard

Shawn gets the record of fastest kid to get claimed as his mother officially claims him before he even leaves for camp

Here's her symbol by the way!

Anyway, when Shawn gets to camp, he's a total little shit

At first, the other campers think he's just not being claimed, depending on how you work the timeline here? Percy is pissed

Then Gus and Shawn explain that he actually got claimed before he even showed up (Percy vows to personally thank his godly parent for being an actually decent person)

So, they ask who it is, and Shawn WILL NOT TELL THEM

Why? Because it's funner that way!

They have an ongoing tally and betting pool of who his godly parent is, no one guesses it

He also keeps sneaking Mr D alcohol because it's funny and no one but Dionysus is happy about that

Gus is still his best friend that he drags into things, obv, they probably end up soul bound just like percy and grover

Juliet is a child of Athena

Lassie is a child of Ares and if your going by the show there's a super funny joke about how he looks exactly like Hephaestus but is the son of the guy he hates most, haha

Shawn KILLS at capture the flag

No one believes him when he says he doesn't have charm speak

Instead of becoming a SB Psychic, he ends up being this crime solving traveling cryptid (he's gotta keep moving bc monsters) (dont worry, he still visits camp pretty often and likes to drop by Santa Barbara to solve crimes and piss off his dad)

There was also a lengthy convo about each gods opinion of him of any of you wanna hear that

Shawn is the muse of doing weird shit

Also art lover shawn 🔛🔝, he's got plenty of muse talent, yall

Instead of pretending to be a psychic, he's pretending to NOT be muse adjacent

And now, a list of Gods people keep guessing for Shawn

Dionysus, Hermes, Athena, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hecate

And finally, gay people real???

As you can see, we mostly talked about Shawn lol

[lab-trash]

I need more crossovers of psych and supernatural. Like, Sam and Dean knowing Shawn isn't a psychic because they've met them, Shawn knowing Sam and Dean aren't FBI because of his hypervigilance, Lassie and Gus being in denial about ghosts or whatever other supernatural entity, Jules utterly simping for the gay ass angel known as Castiel while Shawn and Dean seethe with jealousy. It's perfect.

Also maybe Shawn calling out Dean's closeted ass about Castiel

[little-cereal-draws]

This idea was too funny, I had to draw it

Tags from @transfemmbeatrice Original art template from @animelionessmika

[its-your-girl-geekerella]

Here's a simple math problem:

Psych + The Office = ?

Do you have an answer? Ok, here goes:

Brooklyn 99

[philtstone]

title: we close our eyes and dream (the world has turned around again)

in the year of our lord 2024 i wrote psych fic ... wow there was this hilarious list of reverse prompts floating around tumblr a little while ago and one of them, instead of high school au, was "nursing home au". something somewhere fundamental in my brain clicked and i thought "this would be perfect for shules. i just know it" and then after many years of being generally too terrified to try my hand at the very unique narrative flavour that is psych, i wrote this. title is from "we close our eyes" by the oingo boingos which plays over the final scene of the series finale and always makes me cry. i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Juliet is sitting alone by the couches when she meets him. 

They’re in the dining hall at Glorious Pines, and she’s chewing her lip and staring impotently at her fancy-looking plate of risotto. She hates that risotto is making her feel so weird and insecure. Dinner with Sarah was usually a lot simpler than this; Juliet has never really been a good cook, and her granddaughter was often too busy with work to manage anything more than a mis-mash of premade Trader Joe’s delicacies. Now she’s in this big beautiful building, surrounded by vibrant and dynamic old people who’ve been living here long enough to all know each other and have interesting hobbies and be in on the latest gossip. Juliet’s always loved making new friends, but the risotto is reminding her how out of practice she really is. Up until four days ago she had been taking her meals with Sarah, who’d moved Juliet to Santa Barbara in May so she wouldn’t be all alone in that old house of theirs. And before that – well, she’d been alone. Her hobbies have gotten progressively more old ladyish over the last five years, and while it’s true that she sewed her own pajamas while in her twenties, too, that wasn’t all she spent her time doing. She’s pretty sure her glamorous neighbors by the lemonade bowl who still have the guts to wear red lipstick won’t be too interested in her recent return – for nostalgia purposes only , and not because she likes solving the mysteries before the book does – to her ancient childhood box of Nancy Drew novels. And, gosh, the last time a man flirted with her was … oh, twenty years ago, now.  

She’s pushing the sticky, fragrant rice around and trying not to think too hard about the prospect of socializing with strangers when he materializes into the armchair beside her.

The sudden and graceful materializing is on its own impressive, considering most of the residents of this place have had hip replacements.

“Oh – hello,” Juliet says, mostly just to be polite

“Hi!” says the man. “You’re in my seat.”

Juliet freezes with one spoonful of risotto finally halfway up to her mouth. She narrows her eyes at him from behind her bifocals. “Excuse me?”

“My seat,” he explains. “I was sitting right there. I had, in fact, just gotten up to go grab Gus some orange juice – you know Gus –” Juliet doesn’t “-- And now I am back, and, so, as you can see, that was my seat.”

Juliet blinks. He’s around her own age, early seventies, with a full head of thick grey hair, bright hazel eyes that crease liberally at the corners, no glasses, and a big nose that probably gave him a striking profile in his youth. He’s wearing a garish red polo shirt that says FASHION! on the front in block letters, and house slippers.

READ MORE ON AO3

[sometimes-a-night-owl]

Juliet: "why does Shawn call you babygirl?"

Lassiter: "how about we stop talking for a little while"

[markedbyindecision]

Psych & Lucifer parallels (4/7)

“Partners don’t keep secrets”

[wearethefandomsthatwaited]

Vagos pt.3 - Play nice ... or not

Part 1 Lassiter? More like Assiter!

Part 2 In the Chief's office

The medic clears her after a grueling thirty minutes of anesthetic-less stitchwork — even a local anesthetic would have sufficed — ordering her to rest, and to get the wound properly looked at in the hospital. Like that’s going to happen, she thinks, pushing off from her lean on the table, thankful that her gun holster is no longer digging into her back. She moves to give Smith, who is crouched over packing his equipment, a handshake. When she notices the blood still clinging to her fingers, she thinks better of it, opting to send the medic a nod, and a quick ‘ thank you’ instead. Jewel exits the conference room to the sound of Smith whistling some Top 40’s pop song, smiling to herself when he misses a note. 

She takes slow steps, eyes searching as she walks. She spots a uniform exiting the restroom, and heads that way, wanting to scrub her hands clean. The fluorescents of the bathroom do her no favors, highlighting the dark shadows under her eyes, and the even darker bruise blooming across her cheek. Jewel grimaces at her reflection, wanting nothing more than to shower the dust and grime away. She scrubs her hands, taking care to scrape blood from under her fingernails, until they’re pink from the hot water. After a moment's hesitation, she bends to wash her face, wiping the blood from her split lip, and eyebrow. She hears the thud of a utility belt being hooked on a stall, as she pats her face dry, studying herself in the mirror. 

Not my best , she thinks, licking her split lip, but definitely better than all that heavy makeup . Even without last night’s makeup, she looks a far cry better than she had walking into the precinct this morning, which is saying something given the impressive black eye and bruise high on her cheekbone.

She exits the restroom with a sigh, carefully slipping back into her leather jacket as she enters the bullpen on her journey to leave. She stops in her tracks when she spots Lassiter and O’Hara working at their desks, rerouting towards them, instead. Home, well the dingy apartment she’s undercover at, and blissful sleep.. after writing up my report, of course …will have to wait. She stops in front of Lassiter’s desk, standing patiently with her hands clasped behind her back. After a moment of him ignoring her, her boot begins tapping impatiently on the tile, eyes trained on his salt and pepper hair as he bends over a file.

She bites her tongue, hard breath pushing out of her nose, before turning away. “ Carlton ,” O’Hara chides, disapprovingly at her partner. Jewel makes a step towards the female detective’s desk, before turning slightly, pausing as Lassiter finally looks up, at his partner first, then locks eyes with Jewel.

With a put-upon sigh, his narrowed eyes piercing under his furrowed brow, he finally growls, “What do you want?” Jewel scoffs. So much for trying to smooth things out , she thinks, shaking her head before fully making her way towards O’Hara’s desk, watching as Lassiter throws his arms up, out of the corner of her eye. 

“Detective O’Hara,” Jewel nods amicably, projecting her voice enough that Lassiter can hear, a slight smile pulling at her split lip. “I figured it would be beneficial if the team saw the case file I’ve been putting together.” She glances at Detective Lassiter, who perks up at her words, face blank. “Would you like access to my files? I have them backed up securely online.” She and the other female detective share a smile, before O’Hara nods, moving to raise from her desk chair. “Oh no, please, sit. Sit . I’m sure you’re on your feet enough around here.” Jewel ignores the protest she can see forming on the blonde detective's kind face, opting to walk around the desk instead, so they both face the screen. 

Jewel leans over, fighting a wince at the stretch, as she logs into the encrypted site, ignoring the asinine argument about breakfast cereals that Spencer and Guster are having across the desk. Personally, she thinks cocoa puffs far outshine fruit loops , but she’s not going to entertain the discussion… not outwardly anyway, she has a reputation to maintain, afterall. She prompts O’Hara to enter her work email so that she can share the files to the computer. While she’s at it, she interrupts the debate, eyes turning to Guster, “What’s your email?”

“What about mine?” Spencer questions, offended. Guster puffs out his chest, a sneer on his face as he looks from her to Spencer. The two suck their teeth at each other, much like when she first arrived this morning, before Guster punches Spencer in the arm, promptly shutting him up. The psychic , she doesn’t buy it, whines, hand clutching his bicep. 

“I trust his internet security more than yours, Spencer.” Jewel hears a soft snort behind her, turning to find Assiter a few paces away, nonchalantly rifling through a filing cabinet. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the computer to share the files with the psychic duo. After a few moments of listening to Guster’s boasting over Spencer’s whining, she tunes her focus to behind her, listening to files rhythmically moving back and forth, scraping against the metal. “ Head Detective Lassiter ,” she drawls out, “would you like to deign us with your presence, and be granted access to my files?” 

“Might as well,” he replies, an air of nonchalance to his deep voice, as he slams the drawer to the filing cabinet, hands empty. She’s barely brought up the sharing page, before he’s bodily forcing her out of the way, leaning past her to type in his email. The jostling causes her to bump into the desk, the connection sending a jolt of pain up her abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she hums, forcing a steadying breath through her nose. Prick . 

“How bad is it,” O’Hara questions, kindly, motioning toward her stomach. Lassiter’s typing pauses for a moment as he, haughtily, glances back at Jewel, before he returns to his task. She shrugs, forcing the pain down, as she takes a step away from the Head Detective’s proximity.

“Stitching would’ve been better with some numbing cream, but a broken beer bottle can only do so much damage.”

“That is so cool,” Spencer exclaims, earning a glare from O’Hara and Guster.

Jewel chuckles around a wince. “It wasn’t cool when they smashed it on my face before stabbing me with it, but I agree…pretty cool.” They all freeze, even Assiter, turning to look at her with wide eyes. Spencer is the only one to smile back at her, offering her a fist bump, which she hesitantly returns, before he makes an explosion noise.

“Badass,” he beams, giving her a suggestive once over. She smirks back at him, before turning back to the others, who still seem perturbed.

“Oh, before I forget,” she starts, pulling out both of her phones, “I’ll need your contacts.” She steps around the desk, handing her work phone down the line, “this is the undercover one, so don’t use your full names, and please never use my name.” They finish going down the line, exchanging numbers, before she passes her second phone to repeat the process. “This is my personal, I guess, for normal working matters. I don’t carry it when undercover, so you might have to try both phones sometimes. And my name,” she air quotes, rolling her eyes, “is Gem , so it’s easy to remember, though all the bikers call me Brandy.” If it were her choice, it would have been something much cooler, but unfortunately, the ATF created the cover without her input. Maybe next time. 

“Really, Gem , and Brandy ” Lassiter intones, head rolling forward over his crossed arms, dark brows raised. “ Classy .” His sarcasm is thick, a mild contempt dripping from his cold voice. “Pretty sure I’ve arrested a few of those.”

“Wasn’t my choice,” she replies, straightening to look him in the eyes, “but don’t worry Head Detective , they’re supposed to sound like stripper names, it’s my backstory,” she sneers. They glare at one another, Jewel refusing to back down to the Head Detective’s cold eyes. She feels victory blooming in her chest when an angry flush starts to spread upwards on his neck. The reverie is broken, however, when she feels a large, warm hand tap her shoulder. She sends one last narrow-eyed glare, before turning to see the tall, dark haired officer from before.

He smiles at her widely, apprehension on his face, as he holds out a disposable coffee cup. “Thought you might need this.” She takes it from him gratefully, a small smile gracing her lips at his gangly great-dane puppy energy. “I didn’t know how you take it, so I figured a cream and sugar should be safe,” he pauses, eyes widening, “unless you're lactose intolerant, oh man .”

She cuts him off before he can fret too long, sipping at the hot coffee. “It’s perfect, and surprisingly thoughtful… Officer McNabb, was it?”

He nods, extending a hand to shake, “Yup, Buzz McNabb.”

“Detective Stewart,” she smiles, “Now, McNabb, is there a firing range here? And if so, could you help a girl out and lead the way?” The officer enthusiastically nods, stepping back to allow her to grab her phones, log out of the encrypted site, and nod a goodbye. 

“Shouldn’t you be going to relax,” O’Hara questions, concern in her kind blue eyes. 

“That’s what I’m doing.” Jewel chuckles, shaking O’Hara’s hand before sending a wink Spencer and Guster’s way, steadfastly ignoring the Head Detective’s eyes following her. Yes , she thinks, shooting off a few rounds is just what I need to relieve some stress .

“Wow Lassie,” Guster states disapprovingly, as she walks away.

“Lassiter, you simple, lanky, irishman,” Spencer continues, voice fading as she follows McNabb away, “You talked to her for less than an hour, and she already needs to shoot things.” 

Jewel chuckles around a mouthful of coffee. She can’t hear Lassiter’s reply, but can imagine the disdainful remark he surely throws her way. As if I'm the one who started it, Assiter.

[crazyk-imagine]

The Coffee is Not the Murder Weapon

Pairing: Shawn Spencer x Plus!size!reader Characters: Plus!size!reader (aka Beans), Shawn Spencer, Burton “Gus” Guster, Carlton Lassiter, Juliet “Jules” O’Hara, Woody, Greg (the murderer), Buzz McNab (briefly mentioned) Warnings: Mentions of guns and bullets, violence, this man Greg is crazy, coffee shops should not be a place for murder plots, Woody being “prepared”, okay plot but stay for the fluff, friends to lovers, my love for writing for these peps returns Word Count: 2,466

A/N: Bad plot but I tried, and it didn’t turn out completely horrible so yay. Yes, I’m giving myself a pat on the back, don’t judge me :p

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“Push on the gas, Lassie or else someone is going to get hurt and it’s not gonna be me,” Shawn says, his voice elevated as he thinks about what could happen. 

“What’re you talking about, Spencer?” 

“Shawn, calm down and tell us what’s going on,” Juliet tried to reason with him. 

“No! I can’t- I- you just gave to trust me on this.” 

“If you want us to trust you, you have to explain what’s going on. Do you feel something?” 

“Oh my god,” Gus says, after Shawn hands him the phone. “Floor it, Lassiter!” 

“Why?!” 

Shawn rubs his hands across his face. “The barista did it. We were wrong about the manager being poisoned.” 

Juliet furrows her brows, trying to make sense of the words flying out of the psychic’s mouth. “But Woody said-” 

“He-” 

“He’s calling me,” Gus announces, showing his friend the phone. 

Shawn quickly snatches it out of his buddy’s hand, answering it. 

“Shawn, you’ll never believe the story I overheard last night when I was at the bar. So, this girl, who was close to turning thirty, although I think she was lying. Anyway, she was saying-” 

“The barista did it with one of those skinny tongue depressors.” 

“Yes! It never ceases to amaze me how well your skills are.” 

The psychic tosses the phone up in the air for his friend to catch. 

“Sounds like we have the right to arrest someone.” Carlton speeds up, maneuvering himself, safely, between cars. “Where am I going, Spencer?” 

“Where do you think?” 

“If I knew, do you think I’d be asking you?” 

“The coffee shop. Beans told me she had a shift, and our killer does too. She put it together before my visions became clearer. If we don’t get there within the next five minutes, it’s going to be a manhunt and I’ll be the first in line.” 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to her,” Juliet tells him. 

“I’ll believe it when I can see that she’s safe.” 

“Sha-” 

“We’re here. Spencer, I’m only going to say this once and only once. Do not and I mean, do not go in there.” 

“But, I can-” 

“No,” Carlton tells him before he and Juliet rush out of the car, standing by the front door with their guns in front of them before they sneak into the building. 

-

“I’m going in.” 

“Oh, no you are not,” Gus slams his hand onto the door lock. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Sha- Shawn.” Gus makes the noise people typically make when trying to call a cat over, “psst. Psst. Shawn, no.” He gets out of the car when he realizes his friend isn’t going to follow him back towards the safety. 

The two make their way into the building, sneaking through the front door, only pausing when they hear a strange noise. 

“Are we really going to go in there, Shawn? I mean, what if he has a gun or some other weapon?” 

“That’s when you selflessly throw yourself in front of our bad guy while I, the hero, save the day.” 

“I don’t like that plan.” 

“Well, it’s the only one I have so far.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Fine, it’s not but this one makes us both look like heroes.” 

“I understand why you’re making jokes, but we need a real plan if we want to make sure Beans doesn’t get hurt.�� 

The psychic sighs, “I know, Gus.” He leans off the wall, glancing back over his shoulder. “I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” 

“You stay here and I’m gonna make a distraction.” 

“Okay- wait! What?” He turns around, finding his friend nowhere near him. “Dammit Shawn.” 

-

Shawn walks around the corner, hearing clattering coming from the back and rushes forward only for you to duck behind the counter. 

“Shawn?” You stare at him with furrowed brows. “Duck. Duck.” 

“Duck?” He dives to the floor when bullets come flying through the door, breaking the glass window. He wraps his arms around you, covering your head as he pulls you closer, making sure nothing happens to you. 

Once the firing stops, you lift your head off his shoulder. 

“Do you know the way out of here?” He whispers. 

“We won’t make it without being seen. Why are you here alone?” 

“I remembered you told me this place has a really weird back entrance, so it takes a few minutes to get in here. If we stall him long enough, then maybe we can make it out of this alive while Lassie and Jules do their thing.” He stops talking and becomes quiet. “I have an idea.” 

“You are not going to try and make a conversation with him. Are you?” 

“It’s called a distraction.” 

“A terrible one, at that.” 

“I could do it.” 

You glance over his shoulder. 

“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” 

You gulp, nodding. Your former coworker, Greg, grabs your arm, yanking you away from your friend. 

“Hey. Hey! Let her go.” 

Greg shakes his head, “no, I don’t think I will.” He forces you into the nearest chair. 

“You don’t need to need to manhandle Beans like that.” 

“It’s her fault.” 

“What’s her fault?” 

“Ruining my plan and you, the psychic coming around wasn’t any help either.” 

“It sounds like you have a problem with me and not-” 

He waves the gun around in Shawn’s face. “You stay over there. She stays here.” 

You tense up at the feeling of the metal on the back of your head. 

He nods. “I’m staying over here. You don’t need to keep waving the gun around.” 

“Santa Barbara PD, drop your weapon,” Carlton says, keeping his attention on Greg. 

“I don’t think I will.” 

“You sure you want to do that?” 

“Why not? I’ve got a hostage right here,” he steps to the side, letting the officer get a view of your back. 

“Let the civilians go so we can talk.” 

“No,” he clicks the trigger of the gun. 

You close your eyes, trying not to shake as you hear everything going on behind you. 

“No,” Shawn takes a step closer, and everyone’s focus turns onto him. “Remember it was me. I’m the psychic, I know why you did it. He wasn’t giving you the proper respect, right? And he should have, you’re the one who made sure everything ran smoothly around here especially when he would take his sporadic trips. You did everything he should have done and he- he-” 

“He was gonna fire me and give my job to Janet, but she put it in her two weeks’ notice after that and then she,” he spits in your direction. “Was the next one.” 

“And, you believe she would have taken your job without hesitation?” 

Greg nods. 

Shawn nods before he starts to chuckle. “And that’s when you need to listen or pay attention to all employees because she’s a very kind woman who would never do that and I’m lucky to know... that took a minor detour, I’ll admit but it just proves that she isn’t what you created in your mind.” 

“Are you done?” Carlton asks. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” 

That’s all the detective needed to hear as he takes another step forward. “Let her go.” 

“I don’t think I will.” 

“Greg.” 

“What are you doing?” Shawn whispers. 

“Do you know why our boss would take sudden trips?” 

“Yeah. He’s a greedy bastard who wants to blow away his money.” 

“No, his wife is sick, and she’s been in a home that specializes with her condition. She has her good days and her bad days, so when it’s not looking good, he rushes over there in case it’s going to be his last time with her.” 

“Really?” He jerks your arm. “How do you know?” 

“He told me because I found him crying in the storage closet when it was my turn to close the shop a few months ago. He trusted you, that’s why he was confident with you being in charge.” 

He lowers his hand. 

Shawn sees the way you’re eyeing your coworker and shakes his head. 

Greg drops his gun. 

You take this as your opportunity to run away from him before anything else could happen. 

Shawn pushes you behind him. 

Juliet and Lassiter do their thing, arresting him just as Gus rushes in, holding a broom as his weapon of choice. 

“Nice timing, Guster,” Carlton tells him as he passes by to put the, now, arrested man in the nearest squad car, which of course happens to be Buzz’s. 

“Is he gone?” 

“Yes, Gus. He’s gone, you can stop now.” 

The frightened man takes notice of the scene and slowly sets the broom down before sniffing as he wipes his nose. “I knew that; I was just testing you.” 

“No, you weren’t,” you chime in. 

“I’m gonna let that slide for right now.” 

“You’re so nice, Gus.” You groan, holding your side. “I think it’s time for me to get checked out.” 

Two paramedics run in, asking which of three needs to be checked out. 

All three of you answer, informing the gentleman that it’s you. Once they make sure you’re all good, they give you one last recommendation to get a full check up at the hospital to make sure you’re all good and don’t have any underlying injuries they may not have caught. 

You wave them off, “yeah, yeah,” your words fine out slurred before you pass out. 

The whole way there, everyone was worried about you, Shawn more than the others. 

-

Henry walks into the room, placing a hand on his boy’s shoulder. “When was the last time you left the room?” 

“Not once.” 

“You need to eat something, Shawn.” 

The psychic doesn’t say anything else. 

“You know, you need to eat something if you want to confess to her.” 

“Confess what?” 

“I raised you better than to play dumb, Shawn.” 

The younger man gets up out of his seat. “Fine, so maybe I do know what you’re talking about but why would I-” 

“Shawn.” 

“No, no. Don’t distract me.” 

“Shawn.” 

“Why are you-” 

“Shawn.” 

“What?” 

Henry sighs and spins his son around, leaving his boy to get the girl. 

“Oh, you’re up.” 

“I am.” 

He grabs the water by your bed and holds for you. 

“I can drink water on my own.” 

He nods, slowly placing the cup in your hands. 

“How are you?” 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

You set the cup down onto the table. “You could but, you’re antsy and an antsy Shawn isn’t a good Shawn.” 

“Funny.” 

“Usually, you’d have some witty comeback when I say things like that, what’s going on in your head?” 

“You could have died.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

“But you could have.” 

“I didn’t though.” 

“But… you could have and- and-” 

You slowly push yourself up, reaching out for his hand, bringing him closer. 

He’s careful as he sits down beside you. 

“What would have happened, if it did happen? Can you find it in you to explain that bit to me?” 

“You mean, other than the fact that the woman I’ve been in love with since we were kids would be dead, not much.” 

“Wha-” Your jaw drops. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a clever plan and pretend like I didn’t know how it happened even though you know when I’m lying.” 

“So, what you’re saying is you like me and you want to ask me out?” You ask, a sly smile dancing across your lips. 

“Maybe.” 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Yep.” 

“I feel like there’s something else you have planned.” 

“Yeah, you’re gonna go find my doctor, ask when I can leave so then you can take me out on our date and fall asleep on my couch.” 

This is the first time he’s smile since this morning, and it feels great. “Don’t move.” 

“I won’t.” 

Woody rushes in with a black bag. 

You raise a brow. “Did you really think I was dead?” 

“Wha- oh this,” he points to the bag. “No, no. I was just- I thought I needed to be prepared.” 

“Get out.” 

“I’m the one who brought the flowers.” He points with a weak smile.  

“Thank you, they’re beautiful but get out.” 

“Yep, got it.” Woody manages to move out of the way before he could bump into Shawn and your doctor and continues to run out of the building. 

-

You and Shawn had a wonderful time getting dinner (with Gus driving so you could pick up the food) and dropping you guys off at your place (after being told he wasn’t invited). 

“If I’m not a part of this date, why did I drive you two to go pick up jerk chicken?” 

Shawn shrugs, “sorry, buddy.” 

You jab your elbow into his side, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, he used you. How about tomorrow we all go out and get breakfast before we head over to the station?” 

“Thank you, I think that would be a great idea.” Gus doesn’t move from his spot. 

“Do you want to take some for the road?” 

“This is why I like you.” 

“You’ve liked me being around since we met, I used to pretend you weren’t involved in whatever it was he,” you point to Shawn. “Was doing so you wouldn’t get suspended.” 

“And that’s exactly why I’m happy he’s partially your problem now.” He takes his napkin wrapped portions and waves you two off before he leaves. 

“Can we go upstairs now? It’s getting cold.” 

“Quite whining and maybe you’ll get a blanket.” 

-

He leans against the doorway as he waits for you to pull out your keys. “Is there anyway, I could persuade you?” 

The doorknob clicks, you open the door and smile at him. “No.” 

“I think you’re lying.” 

“Your psychic abilities tell you that?” 

“Maybe.” 

You roll your eyes and step inside. “Come on, I’m hungry and I’m not afraid to take the food from you.” 

“But then you’d have a starving man in your home, rummaging through your fridge searching for a pineapple.” 

“I’m not afraid to take that risk.” 

“Rude.” 

You chuckle, “hurry up and get over here. We can watch a movie.” 

“I’m getting us some drinks. I can’t die of thirst after fulfilling my need of food.” 

“Okay.” 

“And here is your drink,” he sets them down on the coffee table. “And your food.” 

You practically snatch the food from him. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I mean… for everything that’s happened.” 

He settles on the couch beside you, turning for you to see his soft smile. “I know.” 

You shake your head. “You’re so cocky.” 

“Only for you.” 

“I feel like I should be ending things here.” 

“But you’re not. You love me too much.” 

“Shush and watch the movie.” 

He smiles to himself, knowing he’s made you all flustered.

[iceeericeee]

Go onto your AO3. Which ship have you written for the most? The least? Does this correspond to who you consider your "favourite?"

The ship I’ve written for the most is Shassie (with a total of nine oneshots)

The ship I’ve written for the least is the Polyclue (Shawn x Gus x Lassiter x Juliet) (with a total of one (1) oneshot)

And yeah it pretty much tells a lot about which ship is my favorite lololol

(all of my fics can be found on my AO3: Isolation68)

[lab-trash]

I am 2016 words into my Psych x Supernatural attempt and they haven't even met yet.

I'm willing to bet it'll be at least another thousand words before they do, but that number is probably closer to 2.5k.

[jasmancer]

Psych + X Files crossover. Shawn and Mulder gaslight each other the whole time (Unstoppable force [Shawn ADHD] meets immovable object [Mulder Autism]) Lassiter has a crush on Scully. Juliet has a bigger crush on Scully. Gus and Mulder get along like a house on fire (<- nerds. worship Scully.) Skinner may or may not be fooled by the Psychic thing. It is revealed that he and Henry go way back. Woody and Scully shared one class in med school.