#shawn x juliet

[romancegifs]

PSYCH (2006 - 2014)

[holocrone]

PSYCH 2.09 | Bounty Hunters!

[userotp]

Shawn talking about Juliet in Psych S5E9 “One, Maybe Two, Ways Out”

[blairwaldcrf]

- Shawn. Look, I really screwed up today, and I just wanna say thank you for being there for me, it really meant a lot.

- It was a mistake. That's what friends are for.

PSYCH 2x06

[xoxostephanie11]

[philtstone]

juliet/shawn | bandaging an injury and/or falling asleep on a shoulder pleaseeeeee

i spent way too much time on this considering im still not sure how i feel abt the end result? i know in fantasy psych land concussions are a fun and easy trope but for whatever godforsaken reason i kept thinking "but the REALISM". like an idiot. anyway, set at some point in the second half of s3, but before the finale. enjoy!

Juliet is officially miserable. 

Her head hurts. Her ankle hurts. And, in between the stale Clorox fumes of the supply closet she’s currently wallowing in, creeping tendrils of embarrassment have wafted their way into her mental bubble and are sedimenting around her ears. 

This is so mortifying.

She’s supposed to be a good cop. She’s supposed to be beyond this kind of silly mistake. She’s not supposed to be knocked out and locked up in an ancient janitorial cupboard while the unexpected cabal of burlier-than-average plumbers (electricians? Air conditioning repair men? Juliet couldn’t quite catch the uniform logo) panic in the next room over whether the rest of the SPBD have wised up to their shockingly well-hidden gun smuggling ring.  

It was supposed to be an easy lead that she could follow up on all by herself, without Lassiter's overbearing, well-meaning interjections in her ear. His ability to trust her input has definitely grown, but sometimes Juliet gets tired of being ordered around. He was all wrapped up in the Rosenbaum case, anyway, and she was only dealing with a single teenage girl, alone and helpless against the world, worried about her idiot boyfriend’s midnight activities. Not five large men who got the drop on her in that alley way faster than Juliet is comfortable admitting. It wasn't even a particularly nefarious attack or anything – they panicked and knocked her behind the head, and Juliet was so surprised she tumbled down the back alley steps, like an idiot. Now she has a twisted ankle, a scraped up cheek, and is smack in the middle of a truly pounding headache that’s been around since the second she woke up. Now she's stuck here, unable to call for backup and with no idea when and how anyone's going to find her. Worst of all, now her favorite orange top is stained with whatever all-purpose cleaner was spilled onto the floor of this gross supply closet, now she’s scuffed the backs of her heels when wiggling them off so her swollen ankle throbbed just a little bit less, and now the flowery glass beads from the chopsticks in her hair are poking uncomfortably into the back of her neck. 

They haven't even tied up her hands. Her lame injuries and the comically large lock on the door are all the explanation necessary for why she’s not breaking out of here anytime soon. The only silver lining is the vent beside the closet door, which is probably the only reason she hasn’t yet suffocated on the cleaning supply fumes.

To add insult to injury, her stomach is growling loudly.

It’s all so unfair, she thinks. Lassiter’s going to be insufferable if he ends up having to come and rescue her, and half the progress they’ve made over the past year will be out the door. So long to him trusting her to do things alone. She’s dangerously close to feeling tears prick her eyes and just starting to wonder if she shouldn’t have put more stock in Shawn's two-days-prior vision about the new Nintendo Wii version of Mario Party when a muffled shuffling sounds abruptly from outside the thin closet door. 

Juliet stiffens.

It could be anything. It could be the plumbers returning; it could be a rat; it could be Candace -- that insufferable little snitch -- here to gloat about pulling the wool so successfully over a well-meaning Juliet’s eyes. So much for girl power, Juliet thinks uncharitably. She really hopes it’s not a rat. The shuffling turns into a faint scraping noise, then a clicking. Maybe it’s the vents. Maybe it’s the pipes, and these plumbers should spend more time plumbing and less time dealing arms. Maybe –

"Jules?"

Juliet blinks twice. This is it, she decides. The hunger and chemicals and possibly-a-concussion have gotten to her. She's started hearing voices. Not just any voices, but a-crush-that-it-is-absolutely-unwise-for-her-to-have voices. So what if in her knocked out delirium she considered, briefly and for a second only, what it would feel like to have him sitting here beside her, wrapping her up in a warm and secure hug that would make the dizziness and sprained ankle go away? That was a daydream that took place under psychological duress and was exclusively between Juliet and her god. There is no reason why –

“Juliet?” sounds Shawn Spencer’s unmistakable whispered tenor for a second time from behind the locked door. Juliet gasps. She sits up against the bucket digging into her back and ignores the wave of dizziness that washes over her. 

“Shawn?” she hisses in reply.

“Ha!” responds his disembodied voice. “I told Gus you’d be in here. Hang on, stand back.”

She watches, wide-eyed, as with a very faint click, the doorknob of the supply closet door turns an inch and the door pops open with a faint creak. Yellow light spills in from the old hallway and frames a grinning, familiar shape. She knows the t-shirt (characteristically green) and the jeans (uncharacteristically dirty) and his styled hair, which is mussed and flattened at the top like he’s been shimming through tight spaces, concerningly well. She’d just recently been ill-advisedly fantasizing about him, after all. Juliet blinks twice to make sure she isn’t dreaming. 

“Is that – a lock pick in your hand?” she hears herself say.

Shawn looks down at the unmistakable lock pick very obviously in his hands. 

“... No?”

Juliet has so many questions.

“And I have many answers,” Shawn says, shoving his tools into his back pocket and shuffling to her side on his hands and knees (he only just avoids knocking over a mop), “mostly to other, unrelated questions that you will not be asking. How’s your head?”

“H-how – how did you –”

He grins a little crooked grin at her and waves two fingers in the air. 

"Shawn,”  she whispers, frowning and not buying it, “what are you doing here?"

"Finding you, of course," Shawn whispers back. The cramped dimensions of the closet require him to fold himself closely against her, his dusty knees against her own. The muffled voices of their perps float down the hallway. Of course. Shawn is close enough that she can see the earnest curve of his eyebrows and smell the weird musty metallic tinge clinging to his clothes.

“Shawn,” she whispers again, “did you crawl through the vents?”

“Would you be into it if I said I did?”

The honest answer would probably be a little, but exclusively from the part of her who hallucinated hug action while unconscious. Consequently, "Oh my God," she hisses, ignoring him and the faint white spots dancing in front of her eyes. "How did you -- where's Lassiter?"

"Camped out outside and still trying to figure out how to bust into this place without starting a firefight. Those carpenters are packing some mean heat, Jules."

"You're a civilian!"

"That word has so many syllables. Here, hold these.”

She splutters as he pulls a battered cardboard shape from his jacket pocket and presses this into her hands.

Shawn’s always been the kind of good looking that takes a second or third look to notice. This frustrates her, like so many other things about him do, because it means the handsomeness sneaks up on her in quiet moments, like this one, where he’s looking at her with an expectant expression of genuine concern that her head hurts too much to dodge neatly. She’s still dizzy. He’s still here. Colorful cartoon shapes look up at her from the front of the Band Aid box. 

“You just … happened to have this on you?” Juliet asks weakly.

“These,” he agrees easily, “a taser. A sample of Gulligan’s Sweet and Salty Almond Butter that’s probably gone bad in my breast pocket. Jules, you’re bleeding.”

“I fell,” Juliet begins. The closet is dim, but there’s just enough light from outside that she can see the serious flutter in the back of his eyes. Suddenly she feels the need to explain. “Not on purpose,” she says. She knows her own eyes are wide. She hopes it isn’t obvious that she’s pleading. “I – I had to follow my hunch.”

“I know,” Shawn says simply, and nothing else. Her heart jumps dimly in her chest, and maybe that’s why Juliet doesn’t say anything when his hands move up to cup her jaw. He tilts her head to the side and brushes his thumb carefully under the bruising scrape that’s been stinging for the last thirty minutes. The pads of his fingers are warm and dry and the pinch between his brows is frustrating the same way his looks are; it sneaks up on her. She didn’t think Shawn was capable of being so gentle. He reaches down, one hand holding her face, and peels the paper off of a little butterfly bandage with Velma’s goofy grin on it. 

He’s talking again, easy and breezy and still in that whisper, like they do this all the time.

“Trust me. When you’ve been friends with Gus long enough, having Scooby-Doo themed first aid on you at all times is a legal requirement absolutely pursuable in a court of law. I’d say for twelve states, including the great nation of Puerrrrto Rico, which deserves independence, don’t you think?” The soft gauze in the center of the Band Aid presses soothingly over her cut face. She forgets to be mad and embarrassed and dizzy, just for a second. “Hm,” says Shawn. “I should’ve given you Daphne. The purple would’ve complimented your shirt.”

“For Gus,” she finally manages in a whisper, responding to his first point. “Because he’s so accident prone.”

“Definitely.” Shawn doesn’t miss a beat. “Gus is the one who broke his arm twice in tenth grade -- didn’t you know?” 

“Shawn,” she says. He squeezes her empty hand. 

“What say you and I get outta here?”

It’s her line. She knows how to do this. “I wouldn’t say no to a moonlit stroll.” 

Shawn grins. Despite the frustration, it’s easy with Shawn. It’s always been easy, with Shawn. He waggles his eyebrows.

"Sounds romantic."

"I was thinking ... haunting. Halloween." Juliet has to search for her words. "Oh! Spooky. No kissing allowed."

“Okay,” he says, again, simply. “C’mere.” 

She blinks a few times to focus. When she does, she looks at him as seriously as he’s looking at her. “Oh. Shawn. You’re going to … carry me?” she asks finally.

“Yes,” Shawn replies, with that expectant solemnity that always makes it sound like he’s waiting for everyone else to catch up.

"Why?" she asks, confused.

“Because your ankle’s on vacation, and your beautiful brain seems pretty scrambled. And because you are the approximate size and weight of a small bird.”

She probably shouldn’t be as flattered by this phrasing as she is. “Hmmm,” Juliet says. She reaches for him anyway and finds the back of his neck to be very warm – slightly damp with sweat. They only fumble a little bit in the half-dark trying to fit their limbs in the right places as the voices and footsteps in the next room continue. “I’m not fragile,” she informs him in a comically belated way, while Shawn picks her up in short, practical movements that only require a small grunt of exertion and his knee under her ass for leverage. Her feet dangle. Juliet didn’t realize her ankle was that swollen.

Like a little stockinged balloon, she thinks. Ow.

“I never said the small bird couldn’t totally judo flip my ass,” Shawn mutters. He looks kind of silly, Juliet decides, as far as rescuers go. From this angle she can sort of see up his nose while he cranes his neck to peer out the closet door. Her ankle throbs, but probably less than if she’d tried to stand on it. This is the most intimate they’ve ever been. She can feel his heartbeat against her shoulder and the strong shift of his arms against her back. His shoulders are very solid. And warm. Her hug delusions weren’t all that wrong after all, which might be a worst development than Juliet expected. Juliet doesn’t want to deal with that right now. She lets her forehead drop against his neck while he continues to chatter, presumably for her benefit, at the lowest possible register. She pretends he doesn’t smell good under the lingering strands of possibly-eau-de-vent. They creep out into the hallway, staying close to the wall, and Shawn’s feet are eerily, concerningly quiet. The yellow overhead lights spill over onto Juliet’s face. She winces, closing her eyes.

“... beyond a caboose design. I think that was when Gus discovered he was into clowns, romantically speaking. You can tell him I told you that, by the way.” 

“Ow,” she says, aloud this time.

Shawn’s steady stream of whispers die in the space above her head for only a second. Then he speaks again, soft and murmured:

“Hey, keep it together, Jules. You can’t go giving the small birds a bad name.”

It’s such an inane bit to commit to, the way all his bits are, and suddenly Juliet begins to feel the fuzz creep properly into the edges of her consciousness while her body inadvertently starts to sag. Relief, maybe? She’s not sure. She wonders again how he knew where to look for her. The spirits, her foggy brain supplies. That’s probably it. The only explanation. Like clockwork, Shawn appears on the scene only after she’s handled the situation first, even if she’s handled it poorly. She doesn’t always handle it poorly. Sometimes she handles it really well. Shawn loves to tell her so, and does things like take axes out of her shaking hands or very nearly almost kiss her late at night or ply her with homemade crab cakes while she puts regular, non-Scooby-Doo Band Aids on the gross roller skate blisters on her feet in the Psych office. He does stuff like that no matter how capable or incapable she was on her own. 

“Shawn?” she whispers, as they creep slowly against the wall in a direction she can’t really make out.

“Yeah?” he whispers back immediately. 

“D’you … do you really have’a taser?”

“Sure. Nicked it off Buzz.”

“Tha’s illegal.”

“What? Nah. Tasers are totally pickpocketable items in the state of California. Just ask Gus.”

“Gus’s a pharma … pharmaceutical salesman,” Juliet mumbles.

Is Shawn holding his breath? He's kind of tensed up against her. Juliet’s mind suddenly feels like it’s wading through molasses. Her cheek smushes against his warm collarbone as her head starts to nod. Someone’s talking from a long distance away. The plumbers, maybe. Or were they landscapers …?

A door bangs open and shakes Juliet awake. Footsteps again. Not Shawn’s. Where –

“Jules,” she hears, whispered urgently over her head. “Jules, sweetheart, you can’t fall asleep with a concussion. Just hang on, okay? We’re almost there.”

She’s not asleep, she wants to tell him. And she likes that he called her sweetheart, but she doesn’t like that she likes it. He should know. She likes him. He would be a worse idea than her little jaunt this afternoon, though. She hopes that doesn’t hurt his feelings. It kind of hurts hers. Juliet wants him to call her sweetheart more, even though she doesn’t, and he just has really comfortable arms. It’s embarrassing, but not any more than being stuck in a supply closet with a twisted ankle was. 

When she blinks her eyes open again, it’s harsh and sudden and awful, and she’s sitting in the back of an ambulance groaning at the blinding white light around her. Carlton sits across from her, looking pale.

He reaches out and grabs her arm to steady her. She thinks blearily that he looks scared.

“Don’t be mad,” she blurts out.

“Ju – what the hell are you talking about?” Carlton rasps.

Juliet isn’t sure. The last couple hours are kind of a blur.

“Did we get them?” she says, after a long moment of silent mutual staring. His eyes widen imperceptibly. He coughs. His shirt is open at the neck and his tie is rumpled and he smells like a shooting range. Then he laughs.

“Jesus, O’Hara,” he says. “Yeah, we got ‘em.”

Juliet nods absently. She can see Shawn standing slumped against a cop car through the open back door of the ambulance, over Calrton’s shoulder. He has a split lip that she can’t remember from before – she supposes it was pretty dark in there. Gus, standing beside him, seems to be furiously whispering at him about something, but he waves when he catches her watching. He doesn’t make a move to come over. That’s fine, she thinks. She’s happy just waving back. 

For once, Carlton doesn’t complain.

[singsadshantiesformyships]

I realized my ships have a trend...

The bratty sunshine invading the grumpy sarcastic stern one's space while they are working.

[ggardengirl]

how is it that nobody has giffed the moment in psych 6x13 “lets doo-wop it again” where shawn is high after surgery and goes “and you’re my wo-man. put a baby in me.” and jules responds with “now’s not the time, shawn.”

like that is a tumblr gifset if i’ve ever seen one

[katiethedane12]

no but really tho JULES DID NOT DESERVE THAT, why do you have to hurt me like this

[markedbyindecision]

Psych S4E13 “Death Is in The Air” // Rizzoli & Isles S4E15 “Food for Thought”

[thefourthnorn]

WIP of my beloved Shules wishing you a very Zootopia Halloween

[terapsina]

And those rarest of creatures...

My Top 10 Favorite Canon ENDGAME OTPs

(and I realize some of these will be a surprise because I haven't posted that much about them but... well, when everything is perfect and nothing hurts there's less need for venting... also a bunch of them don't align with my Tumblr heavy periods or precede them entirely, so...)

1. Parker and Hardison - Leverage

The absolute sweetest couple maybe ever. The way Hardison just... loves Parker, without ultimatums or impatience. Just there once she's ready to meet his feelings with her own. And Parker, knowing she's developed feelings for... 'pretzels' and admitting it in the only way she can initially. So good.

---

2. Aneela and Kendry - Killjoys

You give me two amoral queens, have them be evil and immortal, and have them fall in love? I was a goner from the word go. Giving them a sci-fi kid just added fuel to the fire.

---

3. Jo and Zane - Eureka

I shipped the 1.0 version too. But when they accidentally erased the original timeline and had Jo remembering being in love and nearly engaged and having Zane not? Damn. Talk about angsty ship bait.

---

4. Kensi and Deeks - NCIS: Los Angeles

Sunshine and gunpowder. Freaking made for each other and doing a proper piney slow burn. My jam.

---

5. Magnus and Alec - Shadowhunters

I mean. Do you think I could resist a grand wedding crash with a 'if your son wants me gone he's going to have to say it to me himself' with the widely grinning sister of the miserable groom going 'I invited him'? What am I, made of stone? (War of Hearts is tattooed on the inside of my eardrums).

---

6. Nico and Karolina - Runaways

Okay. But like, even beyond the flawless imagery of Gothic Witch Queen and Royal Heir of Sunshine and Rainbows... they were so captivating. So ready to sacrifice anything for each other's happiness. I love them your honor.

---

7. Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang - Love Between Fairy and Devil

"Everything in this world is fate. Only love is not fate."

Talk about ripping out my heart. In a story built around two people more trapped by fate than anyone, they save each other by doing the one thing fate has no say over.

(I usually prefer my romances to be the B and C plots, but these two? They are the exception that proves the rule. This whole show is their love story and I was spellbound for 36 episodes straight).

---

8. Shawn and Jules - Psych

So. Much. Pining. And the inclusion of the cruelest 'I love you' known to man, because who doesn't love a good 'I've been shot, and the guy who shot me just let me call my girlfriend but I'm using the call to give out clues about how to find me, so I'm pretending you're Abigail, but he's listening and he wants me to tell you that I love you and I know... think... suspect... that saying it will hurt you, but I don't have a choice and I'm so sorry'.

---

9. Nikita and Michael - Nikita

They both know what it feels like to lose someone you love. Which is why the way them kinda having at least a scene a season where one of them thinks the other just got killed is brutal. But I live for the looks on their faces when they figure out they're wrong.

---

10. Korra and Asami - Legend of Korra

What's more fun than falling in love with the ex boyfriend's ex girlfriend? Nothing. They got me to stand up and pay attention right quick once I realized where this was going (and the finale was how I started watching reaction videos... it made me so happy watching everyone else cry, cheer and squee too)

[abandoned-as-mustard]

i fuckin love this. i love this. i haven't seen a good slowburn in so long. i love how u can just pretty much sum it up as:

anyone: *mentions juliet*

shawn: oh, juliet? 😍😍😍🥰🥰😍😍😍😍 *turns to look at her* juliet 😍😍😍🥰🥰😘🤩🤩😍

[itookashotinthedark]

Psych Fanfic: Immersion Therapy

Juliet is still reeling from Shawn’s betrayal. It’s been weeks since their breakup, and just as she’s trying to pick up the pieces, a dangerous criminal from Shawn’s past escapes prison. Juliet is suddenly forced to confront old wounds and work with the man who broke her heart.

As Shawn grapples with resurfacing trauma from the case that had him shot and kidnapped, he’s determined to prove himself to Juliet once more—even if it means reliving the worst moments of his life.

Shawn whump and Shules! Post Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark (STASITD) and Deez Nups.

Read on Ao3 or FFic.

Juliet picked up her mug with both hands, taking a moment to let the warmth seep through her palms. She sat down in her office chair and breathed in deep, the pleasant scent of coffee relaxing her instantly as she tuned out the hustle and bustle of the station around her. Not that the relaxation would last long. Since Lassiter’s wedding two weeks ago, she hadn’t felt calm—just anger and a chest-aching sadness.

Shawn had finally stopped calling. He wasn’t popping by her apartment anymore or showing up at the station. Still, every time someone walked into the station, she found herself scanning for tousled brown hair and familiar hazel eyes, unsure if the knot in her stomach came from dreading his presence—or hoping for it.

She scowled and took a sip of her coffee. It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to see him. He was a liar. More than that, Shawn Spencer, ‘psychic’ detective, had completely, irrevocably shattered her heart. The only decent thing he’d done was stop reaching out when she’d demanded space. If he’d ever cared, he’d give her that much.

Juliet grimaced, recalling the despair on his face when she’d screamed at him, cutting off his attempts at an explanation.

“I don’t want to know!” she’d screamed, even putting her hands over her ears like a child. “I don’t want to know how you lied and tricked and manipulated everyone into thinking you're psychic. I don’t care!” He’d shrunk back as she’d stepped forward, her entire body trembling. “I want you to leave me the hell alone and give me some damn space!”

“Okay, Jules,” had been his whispered response and he’d walked out of her apartment, the backpack he’d stuffed his clothes and toothbrush into slung over his shoulder. 

At least he’d kept his word on that. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

The clearing of a throat behind her made Juliet jump and nearly spill her coffee. Juliet swiveled in her chair.

“Detective O’Hara.”

“Chief.” Juliet felt her cheeks burn, realizing that she’d been at the station an hour and hadn’t so much as logged into her computer.

Chief Vick’s lips pressed into a thin line as she scanned Juliet up and down. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Juliet’s heart pounded. Shawn.

...

Continue reading on Ao3 or FFic!

[suddenrundown]

Hey Juliet (Shawn/Juliet)

This one's for me and the three other people who used this song for these two in *checks notes* 2010

(also on youtube if you prefer to watch it there)

[someonefantastic]

GIFMAS ❅ One Shules Gif for Every Season ↳ for @drumsetinasadorchestra