#happy halloween heres a sprinkle of some gentle uwu ♡♡♡

[meatriarchived]

[ run ] - for receiver to run their fingers through sender’s hair + [ twirl ] for receiver to twirl a strand of sender’s hair around their finger | @johnnysslaughter

she remembered being amongst the sea of yellow in front of her, some weeks ago.

when the air had been sweet with fragrant flowers — of golden daisies, taller than she'd ever seen them grow before, with their little faces turning up towards the sun. basking in the sunlight as she was, hundreds of little reflections of that blindingly beautiful sphere that lit their world up.

that warmed her shoulders that day she was last here — with camera in hand, snapping photos of the daisies.

( and of later running past them — in one of her many escape attempts. the sweetness in the air had soured then, when she heard boots catch up from behind, had felt vice grip clasp around arm — she had failed yet again. )

it was just as beautiful of a sight in the evening, all these weeks later, as it had been that day. where yellowed petals now deepened to an orange shade as the sun slowly descended in the distance behind them, behind the tree they rested under. darkening the sky slowly, casting shadows that loomed over petals just as the man whose head rested in her lap now loomed over her in the cells below his shack.

strange it was, that as maria looked out around them — to all the open space ahead of her, the stretch of fields in nearly all directions, they didn't quite tug at her heart as they used to. encouraging her to make a run for it, while he slept.

( you could get away, whispers hopeful voice in mind, while he's out cold. you could still try. it's right there. go for it! )

and yet? her body did not follow.

perhaps experience, repeated failures, constant heartache of believing she could get out, that she naively outsmarted him, he had no idea which direction she could have run off in — all of it, repeatedly crushed under heavy boot, ground into dirt. it had all gotten to her, eventually. all those times running aimless through tunnels, finding dead ends and seeing silhouette of him back the way she came, being cast across walls, misshapen like some sort of beast, by the glows of scattered lanterns.

it was pointless, trying to run.

he may be deep in sleep, head rested against her thigh, exhausted from the work he sets out every morning to do around the property. but she's been around him long enough, since he moved her from the cells below the shack to a mattress on the floor above ground, across from his own, to know very, very well how easy, how quickly, he stirs awake.

( how many times had she tried, too, to catch him in such a deep sleep? how many times did she find herself, with carving tool in hand, to stab him in the throat — and every time, he's wide awake, grinning back at her, cooing tease and praise at her simple, clumsy little attempts — at her trying to kill him. )

maria averts attention from the daisies, down to her lap, down at johnny, thinking to earlier in the evening.

he had just stepped into shack, after spending most of the day out. not unusual for her to be left alone for hours. but when he had come back, he was clearly freshened up — hair still damp, clean set of clothes. and he undid the restraint on her ankle, told her to follow him to the house across the dirt road — his mother, or his aunt, whoever she was — to use the shower.

she assumed the woman was gone, considering how he's told her to stay away, stay silent if she ever comes near the shack ( there was a strange, unnerving urgency when he warned her of this, one she didn't think she wanted to test the waters on seeing if the woman was truly someone to stay hidden from or not ).

but maria had taken her time, or as much as his patience waiting on her to finish would probably allow. and when she had finished, and changed into clothes he had left on bathroom counter for her, they left the home again, but rather than return to the shack, he had her follow him across the property, out among the fields, until they came across the tree, and he told her sit before he dropped beside her.

told her to wake him once it started getting dark. and propped head against her — maybe just for the softness compared to the ground, maybe just to make sure the still-damp of his hair didn't pick up dirt.

whatever the reason, they stayed like that for some time, until she heard his breathing settle into calm pattern, telling her he was asleep.

maria's eyes stayed down, tracing along his features, of the scar that snaked down across cheek to eye to brow. along jawline, to lips that were normally stretched into grin, now relaxed into simple line.

he was handsome still, to her. in spite of everything he has done since he took her. since that night, where he leaned onto tabletop beside her, flashing flirty smiles, tucking hair behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine...

her eyes move, then, to the dark locks of his own hair, no longer styled back as he usually has it — but loose, draping along her thigh around his head. and she feels an itch come over her, a curiosity, and she finds her hand raise and — lightly — does she slip her fingers through his hair, slowly smiling at how soft it was, how thick it was when not slicked back, how fluffy — almost like a cat, like juniper...

she glanced to his face, pausing briefly when she catches glimpse of lashes and eyelid twitch, before cautiously resuming. gently and lightly playing with his hair, smiling more as she coils little bundles of it loosely around a finger before letting it lay down flat again.

and she did so for some time longer as the sun continued to lower, idly running fingers through deep brown strands, humming softly to herself ( to him, even, asleep or not ) as the daisies danced around them in the soft breeze — until the cool evening air began to send shivers through her, and her gaze returned down at him, to the small daisy she had plucked off from closet stem and tucked just above ear...

she looks at the sky, as blues had gone and reds and oranges and yellows started to darken to black overhead, before she sighs to herself, knowing she should wake him before it got any darker.

maria gently gives his shoulder a shake, and she waits a moment, until his eyes open, to look up and meet hers.

" it's getting dark, johnny ... you said to wake you when it did. "