abbie

decided im going to start taking requests for oneshots here because im so bored lol

fandoms ill take requests for

• the walking dead

• skins uk (gen 1 only)

• zero day 2003

• my babysitters a vampire (show)

thats all i can think of for now but i might think of more and add more

things i will NOT write

• pedophilia/ stuff between adults and children

• noncon/rape

• somnophilia

again thats all i can think of but if i think of more then i will add it

so yeah ill do smut, fluff, angst literally anything else just comment and tell me the character and the prompt u want me to write and pls give me actual like plot points

often i feel like a lone moth

stuck on the outside of a window

clutching on for dear life with it’s weak insect limbs

desiring, yearning, needing

to be inside

fluttering along with the light

up high with the ceiling

lighting up the organised, clean space

larger than any home it could dream of

always fresh

always new

always bright

always shining

always the best

never running out

never dying

never strained

never in need of a replacement

will you miss me

or will you miss the warmth of my body,

the softness of my skin,

heating your hands on those cold december mornings,

counting the days until christmas although we’re growing too old now,

or will you miss my youth and my bright smile,

that disappeared the day i first bled,

when i cried and first knew that all i was made for was to do what you do,

and although i love you, it would be my worst nightmare,

or will you miss the youth we shared,

in playground grass and muddy shoes,

or arguments and stolen perfumes,

no matter how much i aggravated you,

you never made me feel bad, as i was only a child who idolised your teenage angst,

but now that i have it, all i want is to give it back,

or will you, you, you, you miss my anxieties disguised as jokes,

or the laughs or the fights or the late bitchy nights,

or the days out shopping or the ranting without stopping,

will you, you, you, you sit at the end of that table and think of me.

will that table ever feel the same again? will you feel my spirit consume all of the joy?

or will you, oh, god, not you,

will you remember the romantic messages, the blank faces when in public,

the electricity running through my veins when we brushed arms in crowded corridors,

or the blushes on our faces after the teasing from each of our friend groups,

or the unspoken words that still eat me from the inside out; did you feel them too? do you still feel them? will you remember them when you’re married with children and i’m six feet under and 20 years decayed?

or maybe even them,

the ones who don’t know my name but will make fun of my timidness,

treat me like a fallen leaf, trampled on, because it’s crunchy which it makes it more fun,

the ones who will ask the person next to them for my name while sat at my funeral service around my grieving family,

and pretend they knew me, and, yes, they knew me but they didn’t KNOW ME and they didn’t care and they never will.

i could slit my throat in front of them, gargles of blood pooling in my mouth, and all they’d say is “that’s the first time i’ve heard her speak!”

and finally, you.

all i can say is that i’m sorry.

i’m sorry that we grew up to no longer want to grow up.