A Psych Story || Season 1 (Shawn Spencer x Fem!Reader)

S1 E1: Pilot, Part 1

Author's Note: This will be here to clarify things that happen in the story. Italic is either a flashback, memory, text or a call, or something you feel with your powers. Flashbacks will have a mention of a headache before them. You can't use more than one ability at a time since you don't have control. The regular text in between lines of italicized text will be thoughts. All bolded sentences are me, the author, speaking. Ik timeline's a little off.
F/F - (in this chapter) favorite fruit. H/L - Hair length. H/C - Hair color. F/C - Favorite color. F/R - Favorite restaurant. F/F/F/R- Favorite food (from) restaurant. L/N - Last name. F/N - First name. N/N - Nickname.

*Demonic screech from hell*

"Motherfucker!"

It's an ordinary Monday morning. I wake up, curse out the wretched alarm clock, and take a shower. I love the smell of my (F/F) shampoo, and it's honestly the best part of my day. Lathering it in my hair, I frown. The frigid water reminds me in the worst possible way that I'm broke and unemployed. As I rinse the soap lather from my hair, I get the worst headache imaginable.

The one thing I failed to mention is that my powers are fucking annoying. Every goddamn time I get a vision, I get a migraine. EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME. I've tried to get rid of my powers. You may be thinking: 'Why the hell would you do that, they're awesome?' I'll give you three reasons. A, they are broken, and I'm too lazy to fix them. 2, I never purposely use them. D, they are an unnecessary burden. 

I see a flash of red.

"Nice place."

"Thank you."

Why the hell is this vision so clear?

*Inaudible tv sounds*

"I knew you were gonna be my best table."

*Moans*

What the hell! I don't want to see a man banging a chick. Why subject me to this torture, O Lord Of A.S.S.? It's fun to blame someone for my visions.

Hi. Author here. A.S.S. stands for annoying, stupid scenes. Yes, A.S.S. is immature. Sue me.

*More groaning*

"...about voicing her concerns regarding the department's long-time policies. Joe, do the police have any leads at this time?" A woman asks.

"We're at a loss. We don't know what else to do. Been a tough few weeks. Hopefully, the police will be able to crack this one for us."

"Come on."

"Closing the books on the Visions break-ins could be just the olive branch needed to set things in the right direction."

"What are you doing?" The girl inquires.

"I'm calling the police."

"Any particular reason?" She sounds worried.

Like he's going to kill her. He prefers (H/L), (H/C) haired women, not your blonde ass.

What the fuck? Why do I know this? I don't want to know this much about a person.

"I think I just closed a case."

She gasps excitedly.

"You didn't tell me you were a cop."

"Oh, no, no, no. Definitely not a cop. Does that disappoint you?"

"I just thought you might have handcuffs."

"Oh, I have handcuffs." He replies.

Thankfully, I snap out of my vision. Good news, it hasn't been more than a minute. My "episodes" don't follow the rules of time. They can last hours, like that time in kindergarten (another story for another day), or seconds, like this one.