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#marty mikalski x reader
lightofthemoonglow · 1 year
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𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚rter ficlet dump part one Featuring: Marty Mikalski, Milton Dammers and Vincent Sinclair
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❛ what are you looking at? (Marty Mikalski)
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--
It’s really hard to not look. Which is a terrible defense, and you know this, because it’s just so weird. Like, you do have impulse control even though you joke about not having any. You can look anywhere else, you’re out in the woods, which are really nice. There are trees, there’s probably birds somewhere and there’s the lake itself. Marty is just one thing in the lake. One shirtless, surprisingly ripped…person. Not a thing.
The two of you had been the last ones to leave the lake. The others were in town, killing time before it was dark enough to start a bonfire. You and Marty were all alone now, in the outdoor showers that had no curtains to separate the two showerheads. You’re doing your best to not look too hard at him as you rinse off the nasty lake water.
But his voice breaks the silence and you kick yourself.
“What are you looking at?”
Those five words are a knife to the chest, it just comes out of nowhere. At least to you. Your face feels like it’s on fire as you try and figure out what to say. The truth just slips out instead.
“You.”
Marty pauses for a long time. A really long time. It feels like the moment goes on for lifetimes. “Is it weird that I want to kiss you?” He sounds unsure, it’s so unlike him that it almost breaks your heart for a moment. Instead, you finally close the gap.
It’s warm outside, so it’s like you’re indoors instead of being exposed to the natural elements. Marty tastes like weed, faint and smoky as his lips part for your tongue. The breeze that nips at your bodies is just enough to make you shudder in his arms and it breaks the spell just long enough for you to pull back.
“Maybe we should take this inside.”
There’s a rug on the floor of the cabin that serves your purposes nicely. You can’t make it to the bedroom, not when the tension has finally reached its peak after waiting for so long. You smile wolfishly as you straddle Marty, running your hands over his shockingly toned bod. Marty is looking up at you in what feels like awe, his eyes unable to focus on one place for very long. “You’re fucking unreal,” he whispers, a trembling hand finding your breast. He’s hard, you can feel him. “I don’t know what to do with you…”
“Then let me take the lead.” You wrap your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your palm and Marty moans and it’s so sweet and pretty. You don’t even mind when he comes all over you, streaks of white on your stomach and thighs. There’ll be time for more later.
--
❛ you know where to find me. ❜ (Milton dammers)
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It only happens a few times a year. The two of you try not to cross paths intentionally. It makes things easier. Neither of you are in a place to have a relationship, both emotionally and practically. So, this is what you do.
As you finish packing up your temporary workstation, another case solved with the combined forces of the BSU and the Unexplained Phenomena Unit, you walk past Milton’s desk. It’s pure organized chaos, much like the man himself. “You know where to find me, Agent Dammers,” you murmur as you stand as close as you dare.
That night, once he’s confirmed his transport home, Milton finds himself at the local motel, on floor three, in front of room seven. He doesn’t always show up. Some days after more difficult than others. You understand and it’s never an issue when the two of you meet again. It’s why he keeps going back to you when those needs arise.
You’re in bed already, wearing nothing but a large t-shirt and underwear, your hair free around your face instead of tied up in a severe bun. Your jewelry is on the nightstand, neatly organized for you to put on in the morning.
“Do you want some water?”
“No. Maybe…after.”
Sometimes he stays. Usually he goes, but it never feels like he is abandoning you. But every time feels like a reunion, a borderline holy homecoming. When you reach for the hem of your shirt, Milton stops you. “Let me do it.” You nod and lay back, sprawled on the cheap motel bedsheets, legs opening for him as Milton finally joins you on the bed, a gloved hand resting on your thigh for a moment. The gloves stay on, and you know why. But maybe one day, they won’t.
You’re soon completely naked, bared to that dark gaze that holds a lot more pain than he deserves. All you can do is hope that this eases it somewhat. Milton crouches down, staring at the apex of your spread open thighs. “May I?”
“Yes. Of course.” He asks every time for a reason, and you don’t mind giving him permission every time. Milton nods and you gasp softly as his tongue drags across your core. It’s his way of showing you that this isn’t one-sided, that even though he may leave immediately after. He knows your body well at this point, knows where to lick, where his fingers need to go to make you moan in pleasure, coaxing pleasure out of you until you need to muffle your cries into the pillow.
“Do you want to see me this time?”
Milton hesitates, truly mulling it over. “Yes. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to take me every time.”
His lips are shiny, and he licks them without a second thought. “But I want to.”
You nod and watch as Milton unzips his pants and rolls on the condom. While you don’t know exactly why he never takes off his clothes, but you know enough about him to have a good idea. The scar by his eye says more than one would think. You wonder what it would feel like to have his bare chest pressed against yours, to feel his whole self pressing against your body as he pushes inside. Instead, you hold onto his shoulders as he enters you, filling you up just right. Milton’s face is a mask of concentration as he precisely thrusts into you, eyes only fluttering closed every once in a while.
There’s something right about this. You want to hold onto him forever, his cock feels so good and you feel safe. Milton makes you feel safe, because you know that despite how fragmented he is on the outside and on the inside, he’s not the sort of man to turn it on you. Not even right now, as you move your hips to meet his motions, he’s holding onto you for dear life and you’re holding him, warning him you’re going to come. He kisses you for the first time as you do, swallowing the sounds that accompany your climax.
Milton opens his mouth, as if to say something, but his own orgasm cuts him off and he’s lost for a few moments, coming back to himself only after it is done.
The condom is quickly disposed of and he just looks at you, still sprawled on the bed. “I can’t stay.” Milton lingers by the bed, watching you, unable to move just yet.
“I thought so.” You smile sadly and sit up, looking for your underwear.
“Maybe next time.”
“I’d like that.”
--
❛ i’ll be good, i promise. ❜ (Vincent)
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[warning: bit of a dark!Vincent vibe going on here. Or a lot. It does border on dub-con so read at your own risk!]
You can feel the pounding of your heart against your chest, a steady, frantic beat that never seems to end. You don’t want it to, you want to feel this for as long as possible. The wood of the table you’re laid out on is smooth, but a splinter would be a welcome distraction from the all consuming terror that is threatening to overtake you as you look up at the man looming over you.
“Please, Vincent.” Your lips are so dry that they practically crack after you utter your first words in what feels like days. “Please.”
It had started with your car breaking down. A true accident, honest to God, Bo had claimed. You had needed to walk a few hours to get to Ambrose, not noticing anything odd due to the heat sickness. And by the time you had been given water and time to rest, they had been able to cover everything up. It was just a dying town to you by the time you had been able to ask questions.
Vincent had been the most elusive of the three brothers during your time here. Lurking in the shadows, never speaking. Only listening to your chatter as you had remained a respectful distance away. You liked him the best, even if the occasions where he would sign a response were rare.
But then you had gone into the theater.
And now you were on the table, straps digging into the soft flesh of your wrists and ankles. Totally helpless, at his mercy. Your dress is hiked up, exposing your thighs, the rumpled straps doing the same to your shoulders.
Vincent gazes down at you, the mask hiding his expression. You don’t know what he’s thinking, what he wants, but his hesitation to do anything gives you hope. Slowly, he reaches out, trailing a finger along your face, following the dark streaks left behind by a mix of tears and mascara. He takes your chin in hand, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
The lips of the mask press against your own and you kiss back, despite…everything that’s going on right now. “I’ll be good, so good, just for you.” It’s all you can say as Vincent takes a knife to your dress, slicing it off. The halves fall to the floor, and you nod when he pauses, giving him permission for whatever he wants to do.
When the straps are undone, you sob in relief, about to babble your thanks, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. Before you can get the first word out, Vincent has you in his arms, he’s bending you over the table. Your body practically slamming against the wood knocks every word and thought out of your head. A hand goes to your head, strong fingers weaving into your hair and then he gently presses it down, indicating he wants you to remain still.
It's dimly lit, he can barely see you. So the first attempt just slides between your thighs and Vincent keeps thrusting, rubbing against your center as he grunts, still holding your head down. You can smell him, musky and something else, something familiar yet elusive. You clench your thighs, shivering in the cold air of the workroom as Vincent fucks between your thighs, never quite giving you enough to feel something. At some point, he lets go of your hair to grip both hips hard enough to bruise, fucking your thighs hard enough to make it sound like he’s spanking you, the room filling with the sound of flesh against flesh. It shouldn’t be enough, but it turns you into a mess anyway, you’re shaking and crying, tears flowing freely by the time the tip finally finds its way inside of you.
It's just the tip, but it’s enough to make you wail out of sheer want. Vincent comes before he’s even a quarter of the way inside, most of his seed landing on the floor. You’re left unfulfilled but at least you can feel the pain of denial.
Even though you know that you’re free, you don’t move. Not yet. Instead you wait, wait until Vincent turns you around to face him. The relief finally comes when he signs one word.
Home.
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bby666k · 2 years
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considering writing a marty from cabin in the woods x reader and adding to my collection of 2012 singular movie character fanfics lmao
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lightofthemoonglow · 2 years
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Who I Write For
Jason Voorhees
Michael Myers (OG and RZ)
Thomas Hewitt
Carrie White
Norman Bates
Billy Loomis
Stu Macher
Herbert West
Bo Sinclair
Vincent Sinclair
Tiffany Valentine
Crawford Tillinghast
Leslie Vernon
Marty Mikalski (from The Cabin in the Woods)
Milton Dammers
Ash Williams
Peter Strahm
Amanda Young
Also, if someone isn’t on the list, ask me and I’ll see what I can do.
What I Write
Headcanons
Scenarios/imagines/fics
Those alphabet meme things
Short fics
Probably other stuff
If I reblog one of those prompt lists, something off that. If you see one of those and it looks cool, send it my way!
Both SFW and NSFW things
Age gaps are fine, as long as all characters are over 18.
Here is a link to my rules re: ‘spicy’ material
Here is a link to the tag on my blog that’s for prompt lists I love. If you send in a request for one of those, please specify the list. 
Also, very important: this is a blog where by default, the reader is not white. Why? Because I am a human smoothie and this is my blog.
What I Won’t Write
Eating disorder or body image related requests (due to being in recovery in regards to something in that department)
If a request is very, very specific may take some time to write due to me trying to fit everything into the piece.
Anything to do with/related to clowns. Why? Because I hate them.
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lightofthemoonglow · 3 years
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Who I Write For
Jason Voorhees
Michael Myers (OG and RZ)
Thomas Hewitt
Carrie White
Norman Bates
Billy Loomis
Stu Macher
Herbert West
Bo Sinclair
Vincent Sinclair
Tiffany Valentine
Crawford Tillinghast
Leslie Vernon
Marty Mikalski (from The Cabin in the Woods)
Milton Dammers
Ash Williams
Also, if someone isn’t on the list, ask me and I’ll see what I can do.
What I Write
Headcanons
Scenarios/imagines/fics
Those alphabet meme things
Short fics
Probably other stuff
If I reblog one of those prompt lists, something off that. If you see one of those and it looks cool, send it my way!
Both SFW and NSFW things
Age gaps are fine, as long as all characters are over 18.
Here is a link to my rules re: ‘spicy’ material
Here is a link to the tag on my blog that’s for prompt lists I love. If you send in a request for one of those, please specify the list. 
Also, very important: this is a blog where by default, the reader is not white. Why? Because I am a human smoothie and this is my blog.
What I Won’t Write
Eating disorder or body image related requests (due to being in recovery in regards to something in that department)
If a request is very, very specific may take some time to write due to me trying to fit everything into the piece.
Anything to do with/related to clowns. Why? Because I hate them.
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lightofthemoonglow · 3 years
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Hi so I see u write for Marty right the cabin in the woods is one of my fav movies if u are cool with it could u write one instead of Dana being the virgin it’s a pothead reader and she’s a actual virgin and Marty decided to just wreck her like kinda Rough and possessive and the scientist watching are just like fuck we’re screwed or something like that love your work by the way
Note: I hope it’s fine that I changed things up a bit. The changes are that the reader isn’t intended to be the Virgin, she’s a last minute addition (Jules invited her in a moment of idiocy, so another way the organization screwed themselves), shifting Dana into the Skeptic Love Interest of the Scholar. I like to think that as long as the main archetypes are present and the requirements are fulfilled, there can be extras to spice things up.
Oh and let’s say that at least one place succeeded, so the world isn’t going to end.
Third person reader, because that’s how it came out.
--
It’s clear what’s going on. Sort of. There is something out there, watching them. That much they know.
The sextet have barricaded themselves in the cabin, trying to figure out what to do. Jules had snapped out of whatever thing had been making her weird lately after escaping likely death and had been able to instruct Dana and Holden when it came to patching people up. Thank God for her being pre-med. Curt has her in his arms, the two of them huddled by the fireplace. Dana and Holden are pouring over the diary and some other stuff, trying to figure out what’s going on.
The other two members of the group are in one of the bedrooms, trying to process everything with the usual amounts of weed.
“It’s obvious that we’re fulfilling roles,” she says after taking a large hit. “Curt is the jock; Jules is the slutty airhead. That’s obvious. And Dana has been a bit more argumentative lately, so…the skeptic? I don’t know Holden very well, so while I can’t say how much he’s changed, but I’m guessing he’s the nerd. You’re the stoner, duh.”
“And what about you?” Marty asks, taking the joint she passes him.
“What does every horror movie have?” There’s a pause and she continues. “A virgin who usually is the only one to see daylight.”
“You’re a-“
“Yes, I am.” She presses her lips together and sighs. There isn’t enough weed in the world to cope with this. These people are her friends, though in Holden’s case he’s more of a friendly acquaintance. She doesn’t want to see them die. But especially Marty. Sweet, funny, hot as hellfire Marty who she’s spent hours smoking weed and shooting the shit with, never able to say what she’s been thinking.
Marty is watching her, seeing the fear in her eyes and how she’s making herself smaller. They’ve been friends since freshman year, just like most of the others in the group. They’re often the only ones left together at the end of the night, when everyone has either gone home or paired off. He’s never had the guts to tell her how he feels, and it looks like they’re going to die before dawn. Or at the very least, it’s possible.
“Huh,” is all he can say in response. As he looks around the room, Marty remembers that someone is watching. “Wonder what would happen if you weren’t…”
“The apocalypse?” she jokes, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Though there isn’t much mirth in her voice.
Under normal circumstances, they would laugh. Not now though, not when that could be possible. She moves closer to him when it’s time for her to take the joint, sitting close enough that their thighs are touching.
Their faces turn towards each other and she can see the moistness of his lips, the stubble that’s verging on being proper facial hair, how his eyes are softer than usual. He can see every eyelash, how the corners of her mouth are twitching, and he can see the last remains of her lip balm around her mouth, just a tad bit shinier than the rest of her skin.
“There was so much I wanted to say.” Her voice trembles and it cracks a moment later. “Especially to you.”
“I know how you feel.” Marty tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and rests a hand on her face for a moment before pulling back. Her hands are shaking when she tries to take another hit off the joint and Marty takes it from her. “Remember freshman year, when you hurt your hand and couldn’t hold a joint?”
“Yeah. You gave me a shotgun hit.” And then someone had found a bong, which had made it easier.
“Wanna do it again, for old time’s sake?”
Back then, Jules and Dana had teased her for a couple weeks because they hadn’t even touched mouths and since they had figured out her crush before that night, they had given her shit for missing her chance.
This time, their mouths do touch. It’s soft, tentative. The sort of thing expected for a first kiss. They break apart and just stare at each other.
“I don’t want to die a virgin,” she whispers, and Marty realizes right away what she means.
“Are you sure?” he asks, a hand resting on her thigh.
“Yeah. I don’t want to give those bastards what they want. Not that it’s about that. Not entirely. I’ve thought about it, you and me, a lot. Ever since freshman year.” Before she can start babbling about how it’s not weird, she’s tried to date, that she’s not some weirdo who has been pining for most of college, Marty kisses her again.
This time, it’s rougher, more insistent. They fall back, laying across the bed, legs dangling over the edge as they kiss. Marty knows that they’re probably being watched and to even his surprise, it just makes him kiss her harder, pulling her even closer.
There’s nothing else they can do right now but wait until dawn, since the working theory is that surviving until dawn means surviving this whole horror show. Hopefully, whoever is watching them plays fair, because they’re sure as hell trying to.
Though the people watching them in the control room don’t feel like they are. “What the hell is he doing?” Sitterson grumbles as they watch the pair kissing, all tongues and even a bit of teeth now. Their hands are roaming over each other’s bodies, slowly starting to strip the layers off. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Has this ever happened before?” Truman asks Lin, who doesn’t answer, her mind racing as the action gets steamier.
Within minutes, the pair is mostly undressed, and the members of the organization can only watch, horrified and fascinated, as Marty pushes her onto the mattress, the two of them now properly laying on the bed, her head resting on the pillows as Marty kisses her neck. When he bites down, the intern cheers for him, quickly shutting up.
Marty is fueled by spite, just a little bit. Or maybe a lot. Depends on who you ask. But it’s also about how after years of pining and wondering, he gets to find out what this is going to be like. How she’ll feel. It doesn’t feel like there is going to be enough time for everything, but he still prepares her. His fingers slide inside her wet heat, his thumb fumbling before finding her clit. She’s gasping and moaning his name, rocking her hips upwards as she chases that peak of pleasure. When she comes, it’s with a whimper of his name and her thighs clamping together.
They kiss some more after he comes up and hoists her legs up, placing them on either side of his body. She loosely wraps them around his waist just before he starts to enter her, moving slowly to let her get used to him being in her.
Once he’s all the way inside, they break their kiss and he rests his forehead against hers. They almost smile, unable to believe that this is happening.
When Marty begins to thrust, she moans and grips his upper arms. Once again, he remembers that they’re being watched and that just makes him move harder, his grip on her hips tightening.
“You’re going to be okay,” he mutters in her ear. “No one is going to take you from me.”
The sound of flesh meeting flesh fills the room. She’s soon beyond words, only able to moan and sigh as Marty pulls her closer than she thought possible, his teeth sinking into her neck again and again. He fills her up so well, to the point where there are moments where it feels like she can’t take it anymore, as if there is too much of him. There are going to be bruises all over her in the morning, but she doesn’t care.
Two of his fingers go between her legs, harshly rubbing her clit. She doesn’t think she can come again; her body feels like there is a fire and a storm raging in it all at once and when she comes, Marty kisses her, swallowing her screams as he begins to pound her into the mattress, the springs shrieking. It’s worth everything that she’ll be feeling in the morning. Because right now, they aren’t thinking about not making it. They’re barely thinking at all, too wrapped up in each other, in sharing their bodies. Marty’s words are borderline nonsense, he mumbles that she’s his, that he won’t let anyone touch her, as he turns her over onto her knees, grabbing her hair as he thrusts inside again. The pace borders on brutal, her ass is going to be sore in the morning, but she can’t bring herself to care. Her mouth is hanging open, only little whimpers escaping as his fingers and cock bring her to a third orgasm.
Inside the control room, they watch as the Fool finishes his deflowering of the Virgin by pulling out and coming on her back. The two of them roll over and just stare at each other sappily, as if this is a whole other genre. They hold each other and he kisses the top of her head.
“Adorable,” Hadley mutters sarcastically as Sitterson buries his face in his hands. The Director is not going to be happy.
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lightofthemoonglow · 4 years
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Promptober
I am doing both Hauntober and Kinktober, though with my own list this time for the latter. The Kinktober prompts are under the cut!
Here is my request rules page. Though I am not writing for Michael this year because this is his holiday and let’s let the others get some love.
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[link to Hauntober page]
Kinktober Prompts
Correcting each others technique 
Oral sex 
Chair sex 
Gags
First time
Blindfolds
mutual masturbation
grinding
having to be very quiet for fear of being overheard
No speaking (only using body language)
Comfort Sex
Quickies
the pleasant misuse of ties
At the cinema
Make-up Sex
orgasm denial/edging
one person clothed and the other naked
sleepy sex
Loud sex/knowing someone can hear
Getting caught
Mirror
Friends with benefits
Outdoors (in nature)
Morning sex
Femdomme
Handcuffs
Praise kink
Over or on a desk or table
Striptease
Filming themselves
Wild card
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lightofthemoonglow · 3 years
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how did i miss you write for marty? i don't even include him on lists because i thought it was just me. and you reposted that kinda prompts thing. it's like it's kismet. because i can just imagine stoney baloney slow languid taking in each other sexy times with marty. and asking you if it feels good. and that you're so good for him. i don't know if this is a request or an idea. or me just being super stoked but hav my random stoned marty sexy thoughts. god! he is unreasonably attractive
honestly, marty is such a babe, like oh my god, he just does it for me. he ticks so many of my boxes that i’d let him at my box any day. 
yes, it would be stoney baloney slow, languid sex. picture it: the two of you tangled up in his bed on a lazy saturday afternoon, the shades allowing in just a little bit of sunlight. the room smells like weed, but that’s okay because you clearly don’t mind and even if you did, you’d hardly notice. 
and he’s got his forehead pressed against yours as his fingers gently rub your clit, whispering that you’re being so good for him, asking if that feels good and it feel so good that you can’t even talk. he’s so gentle and yet he makes you fall apart so beautifully. 
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lightofthemoonglow · 4 years
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through every forest, above the trees
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Summary: The gang finds out that their efforts paid off months ago. Takes place in an ‘everything is fine’ AU.
Part One
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After tearing down the pillow wall, you and Marty had tried to make up for lost time, as it had been over a week since the last time the two of you had been able to do anything beyond steal a few kisses or a quick grope through clothing. But the other four people in the cabin had been noisy and nosy. There had been a lot of knocking on the door with the occasional ‘helpful tip’ shouted at them, the latter almost always killing the moment just when it had started getting good. Jules had tried to stop them, though she’d had a few nuggets of advice of her own.
So, the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, with only one of Marty’s layers off and all of yours still on. As both of you had consumed the least booze, you were the first to wake. Marty went for a wake and bake walk while you made breakfast. Jules was the next to wake up, stumbling into the main area of the cabin wearing Curt’s shirt and only one of her socks.
“How did it go last night?” Jules asked, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee you offered her.
“Well, sleeping was difficult because people kept knocking on the door and giving us tips such as ‘try a reach around, Y/N’.” You rolled your eyes playfully and resumed making pancakes.
“Sorry about that. I tried to keep ‘em under control but…” Jules smiled, and you waved it off, not really being upset. In fact, you were barely even bothered. There was a pause before Jules spoke again. “If you don’t like Marty, you can tell me. And he’s a good guy so if you shoot him down, he’s not going to get all aggro.”
“That’s not it, Jules.” You sighed, focusing on the pancakes instead of your friend, afraid of giving it away if you looked at her. “I just…don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Well, I know for a fact he’s totally crazy about you. He will stop a rant mid-word if you walk into a room. The way he looks at you is going to give us all diabetes, I swear. Same goes for how you look at him.”
Before you could answer, Holden made his entrance by walking into a side table and nearly knocking over a lamp, diverting your and Jules’s attention.
--
Later that day, there was a sudden need for firewood. A surely rigged game of ‘not it’ had made it so that you and Marty were the ones sent to gather it while the others went to the local general store.
“You know, you look really sexy wielding an axe,” you teased Marty as the two of you wandered deep into the woods.
“Maybe I should drop out…become a lumberjack,” he replied. “Live off the grid. Wanna come with me?”
“Sure, why not? We can become hermits in these here woods.” You chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.
The woods were not half bad, you could say that much. The trees were nice, the sunlight coming through them nicely, making Marty look like he was glowing every now and then. You couldn’t stop looking at him, not even bothering looking for potential firewood after a while.
“Hey. We’re alone now.” You stressed the last word and watched as Marty put it together, a wolfish grin blossoming on your face.
The axe was shortly abandoned on the ground and you found yourself with your back against a tree, hooking a leg around Marty’s waist. He tasted like weed, with a hint of maple syrup from breakfast. You shivered as his large hands ran over your body, even with your t-shirt in the way. Your fingers knotted in his hair, gripping it tighter as the kisses became more heated, all of your pent-up lust finally coming forth.
Soon, your shirt was tossed by your feet and those wonderful hands were sliding up your torso and since you hadn’t bothered with a bra, that meant Marty had a clear path to your chest.
But before his hands could get there, something interrupted things.
“Holy shit!”
Curt’s voice scared away all of the wildlife in addition to ruining the moment. Marty handed you one of his layers so you could cover up quickly rather than fumble for your shirt. Standing nearby were all of your friends, who had varying expressions of surprise. Except for Curt, who looked delighted. 
“How long has this been going on?” Dana asked, sounding as surprised as she looked. 
“Since New Year’s...” Marty admitted, raising his hands in admission. 
“Sweet! That means I win the bet!” Curt high-fived Holden, the shit-eating grin on his face somehow getting bigger. 
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lightofthemoonglow · 4 years
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two Marty fics? on my blog? it’s more likely than you think.
Fic One: “I want to go home.” “And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.” [prompt list]
Fic Two: “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” [prompt list] (under the cut)
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92. “I want to go home.” “And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.”
Note: Takes place in an AU where the Ancient Ones did not rise because another country was able to satisfy them. So, Marty, Dana and Holden made it out alive. RIP Curt and Jules.  
I have a theory that at least some of the artifacts were found after non-Organization related incidents and were brought to the cabin because they thought that what happened would make for a fun ritual. Ie they learned about whatever Hellraiser inspired madness happened with the puzzle box and tracked it down to bring it back to basement. And this theory forms the foundation of this fic. How? Read on to find out.
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It had been three years since that horrible night, when they had lost Curt and Jules to…whatever had been out there. The remaining three members of the group had managed to hold out until dawn. They had been rescued by people who claimed to be with the state police, but none of them had brought it. But they had been unable to prove anything, either due to lack of concrete evidence or because no one was willing to listen.
Marty still insisted that there was something out there. Something bigger than them, than even the actual state police. Dana and Holden agreed, but they wanted to move on. And eventually, Marty hit enough dead ends that he had paused his investigation for a little while.
Which was how he had ended up in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana, in a cabin in the middle of the bayou, the closest neighbors being a mile away. He had rented the place for a couple of weeks to try and clear his head. The quiet might do him some good, he figured.
The day before, he had seen you during his morning wake, bake and walk. You had been sitting on the dock near your rental, your feet dangling just above the water as you looked at the rising sun, a joint of your own in hand. When the two of you had locked eyes, you had waved and Marty had wound up joining you on the dock, exchanging names and some small talk. Much like he had been on that trip to the cabin, you were the fifth wheel. You had joked about your best friend being more concerned with eating her boyfriend’s face than anything else.
Maybe in another life, he would have accepted your invitation to come party with your friends. But Marty only said something along the lines of ‘maybe another time’ and you had smiled, nodding.
The next time Marty saw you, you were pounding on the door of his cabin, screaming your head off and covered in blood. He had let you in and you had fallen into his arms, still screaming in sheer horror for a few moments before you had managed to speak.
“THERE’S SOMETHING OUT THERE!”
Eventually, he had gotten the entire story out of you. One of your friends had brought some weird book and out loud from it. Marty had been unable to stop himself from saying ‘fuck’ in response to that bit of detail. You had explained what had happened to your friends, how they were all so fucked up now, the ones who weren’t dead, and you had only managed to run away because your best friend had been busy eating her boyfriend’s face, this time literally.
Marty knew that he would have wound up involved in this situation anyway, so once you were done explaining what had happened, he began to barricade the doors. You had managed to read that the madness would stop at dawn and that was hours away. All the two of you needed to do was wait it out.
Though that was going to be easier said than done. One of your friends had managed to get inside, attacking Marty and you had needed to dismember him with a meat cleaver. Once the pieces were outside and the two of you were safely locked in the pantry, you had fallen apart, collapsing into his arms.
“I want to go home!” You wailed into his shirt, tears mixing with the blood that was all over both of you.
“And I want to go to the moon. It ain’t happening sweetheart. Time to accept that.” Marty stroked your hair, trying to sound comforting. “We’re not going home yet, but we will.”
And you did. Both of you stumbled out of the cabin at daw, bloody and battered, but alive.
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Note: Takes place in a ‘everything is fine’ AU. The cabin is legit, Curt does have a cousin. The basement is filled with non evil things. I promise. 
“Join us, the water is great!” Jules yelled, shrieking with joy as Curt picked her up and spun her around, splashing Dana and Holden in the process.
You were perched on the dock, sitting next to Marty and watching the others have fun. Under your baggy t-shirt, you were wearing a tie dye two-piece. Dana and Jules had suggested you get out of your comfort zone and when Jules had found the bathing suit in your dresser, they had insisted that this was the thing to do it. You couldn’t disagree with the point that it would go to waste if you didn’t wear it on the trip.
Rolling your eyes, you stood up and took off your shirt, letting it fall onto the dock. Holden jokingly whistled and Curt let out a whoop of approval. “Doesn’t she look great, Marty?” Dana asked as you stood on the edge of the dock, psyching yourself up to jump in.
“She looks…fine,” Marty answered, his eyes darting from you to his joint. You jumped into the lake, laughing when you came up and swam to the dock, looking up at your friend.
“Just fine, Mikalski? I’m wounded,” you teased him, giggling, taking the joint from his hand and having a quick hit before going back under the water. You didn’t notice Marty’s eyes lingering on you, but the others did.
Or so it seemed.
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This wasn’t the first time that the group had tried to get you and Marty together. On the ride over here, Dana and Jules had jokingly hogged the seats so you would have to sit on Marty’s lap and when it had been discovered that there were only four rooms, Curt had suggested that you share with Marty, with Dana insisting that she snored, which you knew was a lie. You had roomed with her freshman year. But you had wound up agreeing, the two of you making a big show out of erecting a pillow wall.
Even before this trip, there had been little attempts. Leaving the two of you alone during group outings, making sure that the two of you were together during last call, once leaving the two of you at the mall. As in, the two of you had been abandoned at the mall for three hours before someone had come to get you. There had even been a game of spin the bottle during a party a few weeks ago that was their most transparent attempt yet, right ahead of how the two of you had basically had your heads smashed together for a New Year’s kiss.
That night, Jules and Curt went to ‘explore nature’ while Marty, Dana and Holden explored the basement. You had gone down there with them, but the dust had fucked with you too much, so you had bailed within a few minutes. So, you went to the kitchen to have a drink, some sweet colorful alcohol in a bottle.
After about a half hour, Marty came up from the basement and stood in front of the counter you were perched on. “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together,” he said, a chuckle escaping as he spoke.
“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow and took another sip of your alcoholic juice.
“Yeah. I overheard Dana and Holden whispering. They think it’s just a matter of time before you ask me out.”
“Funny. I overheard Jules say that she thinks you’ll make the first move.”
There was a brief pause before both of you began to giggle and then moved in for a kiss at the same time. It had happened on New Year’s Eve, after that awkward midnight kiss. The two of you had approached each other once everyone else had either gone home or passed out, being alone giving you the courage to tell each other that the kiss had been great despite the awkwardness. 
And ever since that night, the two of you had been dating. It was why being left at the mall, you sitting on his lap and sharing a room hadn’t been a big deal. The two of you were crazy about each other and found the transparent attempts to set you up hilarious. So you and Marty were going to keep up the ruse for a little while longer. Just for fun.
“Want to go tear down that wall?” Marty asked and you nodded, gently nipping his lower lip. 
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lightofthemoonglow · 4 years
Text
hauntober day six
Marty Milkalski
Fog 
requested by an anon whose birth is today! fuck yeah! our birthdays are six months apart, fun fact. 
a link to my promptober page
The fog has rolled in. You’re sitting on top of the Rambler with Marty, looking out at the woods. The others are in their rooms, doing what it is that they wanted to do in the dead of night. Maybe some of them are sleeping. Jules and Curt are probably at least cuddling in the afterglow. Maybe Dana and Holden are finally going to end their little back and forth that had started months ago, the last time everyone had come out here.
It is quiet in the middle of nowhere. Maybe a bit of an obvious statement, but it was weird compared to the city the two of you went to college in. You were used to the noise, the sound of people.
But this is nice. It’s peaceful, sitting on top of the RV with your friend, even though you want things to be more than that.
“You cold?” Marty asks as you pass him the joint.
“Just a bit.” Before you’re even done, his sweater is awkwardly draped over your shoulders. It swallows you up and you smile at him, leaning in to peck hm on the cheek. “Beautiful night, huh?” you say, looking out at the foggy woods. 
“Yeah.” But Marty isn’t looking at the fog. 
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