Title: Mistletoe
Pairing: Matt Sanders/James Hart
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There was mistletoe hanging above the front door in the the hallway. Matt thought, I won't be getting any use out of that.
Disclaimer: All stories with relevance to real people are not coincidental, and are called fanfiction. I mean no ill will or harm toward the people involved in such stories and only end up using them as stencils for my creative outbursts. I mean no disrespect, and it's all in fun.
Author's Note: Merry fuckin' Christmas, everyone. Have some smut :D

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

( Part Four )

so, i totally haven't posted fanfiction in forever, whatever, fffffff.

Title: Remembering Sunday

Author: sleeponrooftops

Fandom: Owl City

Pairing: Adam Young/ofc

Rating: R

POV: Adam, Emily

Summary: I can finally see that you’re right there beside me.  I am not my own, for I have been made new.  Please don’t let me go; I desperately need you.  From the very beginning, he knew she was “the one”.  And then she walked right out of his life.

Warnings: Language, sexness.

Disclaimer: Don’t own.  Title belongs to All Time Low, lyrics to Owl City.

AN: He’s becoming far too adorkable for me not to, lol, :D

 

 

( prologue )

 

anyone wanna read?

Carlton arrived home from the police station at 5 AM Christmas morning. He had volunteered to work both the Christmas Eve swing shift and Christmas Day, but the chief had insisted that he take at least part of the holiday off. Carlton scoffed internally. So now he was home, and he could look forward to spending most of the day trying to sleep. If he got really indulgent, he might order from the good Chinese restaurant for Christmas dinner. And before he settled down for his annual holiday viewing of Die Hard, he might suck on one of those obnoxious pink candy canes that Juliet had insisted on handing out.

 

He took off his suit jacket, hung it neatly in the hall closet, and then collapsed on the couch. He figured that after a good hour of staring at the ceiling, he would be ready to go to his real bed. That's when he heard it. A faint but distinct rustling. Definitely a rustle. He didn't have anything as inconvenient as a pet, so it had to be some kind of intruder, either human or rodent. Carlton really hoped it wasn't a rodent. A thief he could deal with, but he had tried shooting rats in his apartment before and had only ended up with holes in the wall.

 

Carlton drew his weapon and moved toward his bedroom. As soon as he made it to the door, it was obvious where the rustling was coming from. Somehow a Christmas tree had appeared in the room, garishly decorated in too many lights and way too much tinsel. Probably a fire hazard. Under the tree was the largest package Carlton had ever seen, wrapped in shiny red paper and a big, poofy, green bow. What really worried Carlton however was that the package appeared to have holes in it and was also moving slightly, causing the poofy bow to create the rustle that had brought him into the room in the first place. Clearly, there was something living inside that big, red package, and Carlton really did not want to deal with that right now.

 

Carefully pointing his gun at the package, Carlton made his way toward it. He reached forward with his other hand and ripped off the bow. He placed his fingers under the top and slowly tipped it up. Before he could even process what he was seeing, Shawn Spencer had popped up and knocked the top out of his hand. Now, said fake psychic was standing up in the box with a ridiculous grin on his face and nothing on his body but a pair of leopard print bikini briefs.

 

Against his better judgment, Carlton lowered his gun. “Spencer! What the hell are you doing in my bedroom? In a box? Practically naked?”

 

Spencer swung his head back and forth, seemingly surveying the carpet. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and Carlton followed his gaze to see a green envelope laying on the floor.

 

“You didn't read the card, did you?” Spencer said with a little wag of his finger. “Didn't your mother teach you never to open a present without looking at the card first?”

 

“Well Spencer, I was a little worried that the present was about to cause a flea infestation in my home.”

 

“Is that why you had the gun out? Afraid that a puppy might go for your face and try to kill you with adorable doggy kisses?”

 

“You can never be too safe Spencer.”

 

“You are exactly the definition of too safe, my dear Lassie. That's why I'm here.”

 

“Why are you here Spencer? Really? And, more importantly, why aren't you leaving?”

 

“Really, Lass, you should read the card. It explains a lot.”

 

“I'm not reading the damn card Spencer. Now, get out.”

 

Shawn sighed, wriggled a bit, and then exclaimed, “Well, if you're not going read my carefully prepared note, then I guess I have no choice but to take direct action.” At this, Shawn leaped forward, tripping over the edge of the box into Carlton's arms, which automatically reached out the catch him. Carlton couldn't help it; it was pure reflex. Instead of excusing himself and extracting himself from Carlton's grasp, Shawn smiled up at him, hopped a little so he was back on his feet, and then pressed his lips directly against Carlton's. Carlton gasped and suddenly found a tongue in his mouth. Carlton moaned and suddenly found he didn't mind it.

 

….....

 

Carlton woke up four hours later. It was still Christmas day, but instead of lying in bed watching Alan Rickman take over a building in LA, he was lying in bed with a young man he used to believe he hated. Carlton smiled and ruffled Shawn's hair a little. Amazingly, it sprung right back into it's perfectly-gelled shape. He was going to have to ask Spencer where he got his hair products from.

 

As Carlton glanced around his room, he saw the empty box, the destroyed ribbon, a pair of leopard-print bikini briefs hanging on the Christmas tree, and a green envelope, still unopened.

 

Curiosity started nipping at the edges of his brain. He slowly extricated himself from Shawn's octopus-like grasp and made his way across the room, picking up the envelope from the floor and carefully wresting the flap open. Carlton rolled his eyes at the disgustingly adorable kitten on the outside of the greeting card, looking up at him with doleful eyes and wishing him a “Meow-y Christmas”. The inside was blank except for Spencer's chicken scratch, making it's way diagonally across the open space.

 

“Dear Carly,

 

Way back a long time ago in a place not so far away (oh, about 15 minutes by the beltline, I think), I started thinking about your Christmas present, after my birthday present of black, silk boxers didn't go over so well. But, seriously, you would have looked so sexy in those! Assuming this next part works out, and I'm not laying dead under my tastefully decorated Christmas tree, would you wear them for me? I'm sure I can find some matching handcuffs...and maybe a black leather holster? Okay, before I get too distracted, way back then, I had one important question to answer - what does one get for a Head Detective Carlton Lassiter? After another five months, I had a partial list:

 

Guns

Gun accessories

A new face-wig

A hundred broken and utterly defeated snow globes

Criminals in handcuffs

Criminals to handcuff

Family-size artificial creamer

 

But nothing seemed quite right. That's when I had to start asking the spirits what they thought was the most appropriate present for you. The spirits thought a conservative tie with blue stripes, but I decided the spirits were dumb and boring, so I started watching you more closely instead, hoping to gain some insight into your Lassie-brain. That's when I noticed it. You always found an excuse to stand closer to me. You were touching me for no reason, despite your loud exclamations of hatred and annoyance in my direction. When you thought I wasn't looking, you would secretly smile at some of my antics. You weren't nearly quick enough at removing my various body parts from your person when the spirits decided I needed to touch you. And that's when it hit me. It had been so obvious - why hadn't I seen it before? There was just one thing you wanted for Christmas, and I was the only one who could give it to you. It was perfect. Suddenly I knew it had to be true - All you want for Christmas is me.

 

Love,

Shawn (the one with the perfect hair, not the other one who works at the police station – you know, that guy that does forensics or something – his hair is awful)”