This is by far my favourite thing I've seen for this community. I feel so much pressure to read certain books that I haven't got the money to buy and I feel wrong talking about the ones I am reading. This community is great, and I know we all want to be pretentious and snobby, but let's use that for aesthetic purposes and not to put others down.
(Btw ironically enough I found this text post on Instagram, not Tumblr and now I'm reposting it to Tumblr because idk how to find the original)
The original creators: @read-and-be-merry @iammewhooaryou @narukoibito
Ao3, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven
Part Twelve
In the desert out west, a little girl sat bolt upright. The morning was dry, the air was hot. Her antique bed squeaked and she leapt onto the cold tile floor.
“Is she here yet?” she asked, running out into the kitchen.
“Oh, are you excited about her coming?”
She immediately remembered the tough-guy persona she was trying to adopt. “No. I was just wondering.“
The caregiver smiled in return. “Well, she’s not here yet, silly. It’s still early.”
She ignored her words and her new attitude, and excitedly ran towards the entry window. Every time, this was where she planted herself. Staring out at the driveway, waiting for the gate to open.
It was the same routine every time. After twenty minutes standing, she’d drag a kitchen chair over. She’d request to be served Meal 1 there. And somewhere in the mid-morning, she would show up.
Her lessons were skipped on Visiting Day, but behind her, she could hear the caretaker typing on a computer. She swiveled in her seat, and leaned her chin on the back of the chair. “What’re you doing?”
“Writing.” She got a warm, assuring smile back.
“Writing what?”
“A report. You wouldn’t be interested.”
She huffed, and turned back around. She pressed her feet against the window, just like she’d been told not to do, and listened to the soft beeping that came of it.
“Stop it,” the caregiver barked, and she huffed again.
She brought her feet back, and the beeping stopped.
“When’s she going to get here?”
“Not for a while.”
As if on cue, a knock came to the door, and a paper slid underneath it.
She knew better than to reach for it, and simply waited for the caregiver to retrieve it.
“What is it?” she asked.
It took a moment for a response, but in a passive voice, she eventually replied: “Melissa isn’t joining us this time.”
Her entire body went slack for a moment, before she remembered their lesson on self-control and anger. “What do you mean?”
“She’s… sick. And she won’t be able to come.”
She followed the caregiver into the kitchen. “But it’s visiting day. Do I have to wait till next year?”
“Yes. Now, go get dressed in your uniform. I’ll have your first meal prepared in a moment.”
Fists hanging at her side, she stomped back into her room. This anger would diminish to just a passing thought in the back of her mind in the coming hours, days, weeks, as she practiced her lessons. Next year, when Melissa showed up, she would just get to be even more excited.
But for now, she just did as she was told. Got dressed bitterly. Ate bitterly. Learned bitterly. All the while trying to ignore the special little box she’d been told to save for something else.
Mulder realizing how much he loooooves kissing scully
Honestly, he realized that before he even kissed her.
A Lot A Lot A Lot
By: mldrgrl
Rating: R
(1 - 19)
Sunday is his favorite day now. It’s the day they’ve agreed upon is theirs to waste and do whatever they want with. Together.
He always wakes earlier than she does and lets her sleep in. They’re at his place this weekend and when he rolls over, she’s sprawled adorable across the left side of the bed like a frog, limbs akimbo. Her hair is mussed, frizzing at her temples and back of the neck from the humidity of last night’s lovemaking. He can still smell and taste the salty tang of sweat and passion on her skin as he presses his lips to the back of her shoulder.
As gently as he can, he brushes the hair off the back of her neck and puts his lips there as well, branding her cool skin with his warm mouth. He kisses her between the shoulder blades and then stretches his neck to kiss her cheek before he rolls away and slips out of bed.
He grabs his running clothes and gets ready in the bathroom with the door partially shut only to block the light from waking her. Before he leaves, he crouches by the side of the bed and nuzzles her neck. She grunts softly, lifts her fingers and catches his chin. He kisses her all over the exposed side of her face, whispering to her at the same time that he’s going for a run, to go back to sleep, he’ll be back soon. She grunts again and he moves back to take her hand and kiss each one of her fingertips.
(20 - 33)
She’s still sleeping when he gets home and he doesn’t feel so bad about waking her now. She’s curled on her side, hugging his pillow like a teddy bear. He lays down diagonally across the bed and kisses her bottom lip, repeatedly, until she scrunches her face.
“Mulderrrrrrr,” she groans.
“Hm?” he answers, peppering her face with soft kisses.
“What time is it?”
“After nine.” He tries to capture her mouth again, but she turns her head.
“Morning breath,” she protests.
“Don’t care.” He holds the back of her head and manages to snag the upper curve of her mouth. She scrunches her face again and he kisses the wrinkles at the side of her nose. “I stopped at the deli on my way home.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Egg and cheese. With bacon.”
“Mmm…” Her hand moves into his hair to pull him closer, but he backs off.
“I need a shower.”
“Don’t care,” she whispers, bringing back to her mouth.
He manages a few deep kisses before her stomach growls. She groans in embarrassment and he chuckles against her mouth.
“Guess you don’t want to keep the egg and cheese waiting,” he says, crawling backwards off the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I was serious about the shower.”
“Have breakfast with me and I’ll join you later.”
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
(34 - 67)
She makes good on her promise and stands naked at his sink, clipping her hair up and off her neck as he adjusts the temperature of the taps of his shower. He’s first in and she’s just behind him. She makes soapy circles on his back as he washes his hair. When he’s finished, she presses herself against him and he presses one hand to the tiles as she slides her hand around his hip and starts to stroke him. He pulls her other hand up from where it rests on his chest and holds it to his mouth, occasionally sinking his teeth into her palm as he moans in pleasure.
They switch places and then it’s her turn. He kneels down behind her, apologizing to his knees and at the same time assuring them it’ll be worth it. He kisses her ouroboros tattoo, licks it from head to tail with the tip of his tongue and she puts both hands on the wall and spreads her legs like she’s about to be frisked. He kisses her hip, moves lower and sinks his teeth into the plump swell of her right buttcheek. She jerks in surprise and he sucks the sting of his bite away. He has her writhing before he even turns around and buries his face between her legs.
The great care she took to try prevent her hair from getting wet was all for naught.
(68 - 72)
She blow dries her hair in her bra and panties as he sits on the closed toilet in his boxers and clips his toenails. He throws on a pair of jeans and stands behind her, rubbing her hips and telling her about a flea market he thinks they should check out as she applies a thin layer of eyeliner and mascara to her lashes.
“Yeah sure,” he says, shrugging him off her shoulder as he lifts her bra strap and kisses her. “Stop jostling, I’ll ruin my make-up.”
“You don’t need it anyway,” he mumbles and drags his bottom lip across her shoulder to her neck.
“Just a little.” She shrugs again and he places a hard kiss in protest to her neck before he lets her go.
(73)
They keep wandering away from each other at the flea market. Not on purpose, just by nature of browsing. They always end up in the same place eventually though. Mulder finds her admiring a glass vase that’s such a dark color of blue that every time she shifts it in her hands it looks purple.
“How much?” Mulder asks the man at the stall.
“Twenty,” he answers.
“I was just looking,” Scully says, setting it back on the shelf.
Mulder already has his wallet out and is passing a twenty dollar bill over to the little stallkeeper that reminds him of Frohike. The vase is wrapped in newspaper and put in a plastic bag, which he gives to Scully.
“Mulderrrrr,” she says.
“I think vases are the traditional one month anniversary gift.”
She blushes and chuckles at the same time, dipping her chin to hide her face from him, but only for a moment. “Thank you,” she says, and puts her hand on his abdomen, thumb dipping into the waistband of his jeans as she lifts up onto her toes and gives him a kiss. He grins at her and slings his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him as they continue to browse.
“I should find something for you,” she says.
“You’re more than enough,” he answers.
(74 - 77)
He pulls over suddenly on the way home and stops abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing. Be right back.”
She’s unbuckling her seatbelt, ready to act as backup for whatever situation he’s about to run into, but she quickly realizes he’s stopped in front of a sidewalk florist. His back is to her, but she can see him pointing and nodding and gesticulating. He’s back in the car only a few minutes later with a bouquet of white and yellow daisies.
“Can’t let the vase go empty,” he says, as he hands them to her.
She places the flowers on her lap and rests her hand on his cheek as he leans across the seat to kiss her. Three kisses later, he finally starts the car to keep heading home.
(78 - 100+)
There’s a creature feature marathon on TV, but they’re both drunk on pad Thai and each other and hardly pay attention. Scully is flat on the couch, her feet in Mulder’s lap, accepting a well-deserved massage as he slouches with his head back and eyes closed. The vase full of flowers and water and a tab of aspirin that Scully said will help them last longer is sitting on his desk.
“I should go.” She sighs.
“You can’t.” He wiggles one foot back and forth. “I haven’t gotten to a hundred yet.”
“A hundred what?”
“Kisses.”
She raises one eyebrow. “You’ve been counting?”
“I figure, we’ve known each other for seven years. I definitely owe you at least one kiss a day for lost time. That’s 365 times seven. And plus leap years. Which is...you know, a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. If I can make it to a hundred every Sunday, maybe, just maybe, I can make up for it.”
“Mulderrrrr…” She smiles and flexes her toes. “That’s absurd.”
“It helps that you’re so damn kissable.”
“Oh, am I?”
He stops rubbing her foot and pulls on her calf, sliding her down the couch closer to him and then pulling her up so she’s in his lap. She wraps her arms loosely around his neck and cocks her head at him.
“How many more do we need?” she asks.
He squints one eye and wrinkles his brow. “22,” he answers.
“Good thing you’re also so damn kissable,” she replies, taking his face in her hands. “I intend to surpass that goal.”
♡ david william duchovny ♡
( b. august 7, 1960 )
“ one of the nice things about acting is that it allows you to open up to the other people within you. ”
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