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fandomweekly2020-10-18 06:41 pm
peaked) wrote in fandomweekly2020-10-18 06:41 pm
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[#29] WE LAY MY LOVE AND I BENEATH THE WEEPING WILLOW (THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR)
Theme Prompt: #29—Ghosts.
Title: we lay my love and i beneath the weeping willow.
Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor.
Rating/Warnings: M. Spoilers for the series; this is set post-series. References death. Title is from O Willow Waly by the Kingston Trio-O.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: ~1,000.
Summary: Owen and Hannah gain closure.
"I see you’re in a bat trap, now."
Owen doesn’t dare look. He’s heard her voice many times since leaving Bly and that terrible spell that had blinded him to the truth. He had heard her voice as he purchased his restaurant building and he had heard her laughter when he had printed and framed her photograph on the wall—the very first thing he did for his business.
Sitting on his porch with a glass of wine in hand, he’d been watching the bats as they fluttered in the sky. He had liked to come out and watch the stars. Despite having shed himself of all he could of Bly, he could never rid himself of what he had shared with her.
He still doesn’t answer her.
"I don’t know which one I prefer, a glue trap or a bat trap."
When he finally has the courage to look her way, he finds her standing before him. She’s still in red, a silver necklace around her throat, and she looks good. Better than good. She looks like Hannah.
"You look good," he says and feels stupid afterwards. The first thing he says to her after he buried her is that. You look good.
Hannah blushes and glances down. "I see you’ve finally trimmed your beard."
His hand brushes against his chin. "Well, I wanted to look dapper."
She laughs lightly and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard in years.
"Are you really here, Hannah?"
"Yes," she says. "I don’t know how. I had thought I’d be gone forever after Dani… well, you know what she did."
Rubbing his hands against his legs, he lets out a breath and gestures for her to sit. She declines with a wave of her hand. "I can’t stay. I’m sorry."
"Don’t be silly, Hannah," he says, frowning at her. She smiles at him and he finds he can’t help but smile back. He’s never been able to help himself when it comes to her. "I’m glad you’re here. A little overwhelmed… but glad to see you again."
"To see me in one piece?"
"Yes," he says. He remains seated despite wanting to stand and walk over to her. He’s afraid of forcing her away with any sudden movements. "I’m sorry," he says, voice cracking. "I should’ve known—"
"No," she says firmly and kindly all at once. "I have never blamed you nor will I ever blame you for not knowing. I didn’t know myself. Not until you helped me."
His brows furrow incredulously. "I helped you?"
"I was trapped, tucked away from reality and… you kept reminding me to fight, not to hide. You helped me come to terms with my death, Owen." She raises her hand when he opens his mouth, useless noises slipping from his lips. "It won’t make sense, but please trust me."
"Of course," he says quickly. "Always, Hannah."
She smiles, fiddling with her necklace, and looks around his house. Her gaze lingers on the warm glow of his lit candles. She looks good on his porch, leaning beside the railing. Owen wishes she could stay.
"Thank you for taking care of me," she says, looking at him. He keeps his eyes on her, unable to look away. She touches her hand against the base of her neck and glances away. "No one’s ever done that for me before."
"It was my pleasure," he says, voice thick.
Hannah smiles and looks down, and he knows that she’s crying.
"Hannah…"
"I’m fine," she says, lifting her shaking hand. Everything about her is perfect. He looks at her hands and doesn’t see dirt beneath her nails. Everything about her is wonderfully alive.
"I followed your advice and have a restaurant now," he says. "A Batter Place."
She laughs loudly.
"Ah, there it is. I miss that sound."
Hannah presses her lips together and looks at him, her eyes gliding over him warmly. It’s the first time since he’d discovered her at the bottom of the well that he’s felt at home.
"I know," she says quietly. At the arch of his brow, she laughs sheepishly. "I’m with you always, Owen. I’m living my life."
"You are?" At her nod, he leans forward, hands enclosing on his kneecaps. "If you don’t mind me asking… how?"
She laughs low in her throat and looks away. "We were released from Bly Manor, free to roam anywhere and everywhere." She sighs, almost wistfully, and it’s the loveliest sound he’s ever heard. He wants her to live. He wants to her experience the world. But he wants to be by her side.
Hannah looks at him somewhat bashfully before she steels her shoulders. "I chose to roam with you. A batter place, if you will."
He wipes wetness across his face. Closing his eyes tightly, he wills the tears to fall away so he can see her with clear vision.
"I wish you could stay. I want you to stay."
"I’m always with you, Owen," she says. "Waiting beyond the glue trap. Although, I don’t think this is a glue trap at all." She peers up at the clean ceiling of his porch and then his house, gesturing with a sweep of her hand to his new life. "It feels like home, Owen."
He sits back in his chair and wipes at his eyes, shaking his head. "Home was at Bly Manor."
"And now it’s here, with you," she says. She smiles, pressing her lips together, and shakes her head. "You’re silly for thinking a better place is not being by your side as you cook my favourite meals."
Smiling, he looks down. He has an entire section on his menu dedicated to Hannah, all her favourite meals and desserts.
With his gaze still lowered and tears wetting his pants, he feels a warm touch brush against his hair and cheek.
"Alcohol you later, Owen," she says quietly. He laughs wetly.
When he looks up for her, she’s gone.
Well. For now, at least.
Title: we lay my love and i beneath the weeping willow.
Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor.
Rating/Warnings: M. Spoilers for the series; this is set post-series. References death. Title is from O Willow Waly by the Kingston Trio-O.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: ~1,000.
Summary: Owen and Hannah gain closure.
"I see you’re in a bat trap, now."
Owen doesn’t dare look. He’s heard her voice many times since leaving Bly and that terrible spell that had blinded him to the truth. He had heard her voice as he purchased his restaurant building and he had heard her laughter when he had printed and framed her photograph on the wall—the very first thing he did for his business.
Sitting on his porch with a glass of wine in hand, he’d been watching the bats as they fluttered in the sky. He had liked to come out and watch the stars. Despite having shed himself of all he could of Bly, he could never rid himself of what he had shared with her.
He still doesn’t answer her.
"I don’t know which one I prefer, a glue trap or a bat trap."
When he finally has the courage to look her way, he finds her standing before him. She’s still in red, a silver necklace around her throat, and she looks good. Better than good. She looks like Hannah.
"You look good," he says and feels stupid afterwards. The first thing he says to her after he buried her is that. You look good.
Hannah blushes and glances down. "I see you’ve finally trimmed your beard."
His hand brushes against his chin. "Well, I wanted to look dapper."
She laughs lightly and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard in years.
"Are you really here, Hannah?"
"Yes," she says. "I don’t know how. I had thought I’d be gone forever after Dani… well, you know what she did."
Rubbing his hands against his legs, he lets out a breath and gestures for her to sit. She declines with a wave of her hand. "I can’t stay. I’m sorry."
"Don’t be silly, Hannah," he says, frowning at her. She smiles at him and he finds he can’t help but smile back. He’s never been able to help himself when it comes to her. "I’m glad you’re here. A little overwhelmed… but glad to see you again."
"To see me in one piece?"
"Yes," he says. He remains seated despite wanting to stand and walk over to her. He’s afraid of forcing her away with any sudden movements. "I’m sorry," he says, voice cracking. "I should’ve known—"
"No," she says firmly and kindly all at once. "I have never blamed you nor will I ever blame you for not knowing. I didn’t know myself. Not until you helped me."
His brows furrow incredulously. "I helped you?"
"I was trapped, tucked away from reality and… you kept reminding me to fight, not to hide. You helped me come to terms with my death, Owen." She raises her hand when he opens his mouth, useless noises slipping from his lips. "It won’t make sense, but please trust me."
"Of course," he says quickly. "Always, Hannah."
She smiles, fiddling with her necklace, and looks around his house. Her gaze lingers on the warm glow of his lit candles. She looks good on his porch, leaning beside the railing. Owen wishes she could stay.
"Thank you for taking care of me," she says, looking at him. He keeps his eyes on her, unable to look away. She touches her hand against the base of her neck and glances away. "No one’s ever done that for me before."
"It was my pleasure," he says, voice thick.
Hannah smiles and looks down, and he knows that she’s crying.
"Hannah…"
"I’m fine," she says, lifting her shaking hand. Everything about her is perfect. He looks at her hands and doesn’t see dirt beneath her nails. Everything about her is wonderfully alive.
"I followed your advice and have a restaurant now," he says. "A Batter Place."
She laughs loudly.
"Ah, there it is. I miss that sound."
Hannah presses her lips together and looks at him, her eyes gliding over him warmly. It’s the first time since he’d discovered her at the bottom of the well that he’s felt at home.
"I know," she says quietly. At the arch of his brow, she laughs sheepishly. "I’m with you always, Owen. I’m living my life."
"You are?" At her nod, he leans forward, hands enclosing on his kneecaps. "If you don’t mind me asking… how?"
She laughs low in her throat and looks away. "We were released from Bly Manor, free to roam anywhere and everywhere." She sighs, almost wistfully, and it’s the loveliest sound he’s ever heard. He wants her to live. He wants to her experience the world. But he wants to be by her side.
Hannah looks at him somewhat bashfully before she steels her shoulders. "I chose to roam with you. A batter place, if you will."
He wipes wetness across his face. Closing his eyes tightly, he wills the tears to fall away so he can see her with clear vision.
"I wish you could stay. I want you to stay."
"I’m always with you, Owen," she says. "Waiting beyond the glue trap. Although, I don’t think this is a glue trap at all." She peers up at the clean ceiling of his porch and then his house, gesturing with a sweep of her hand to his new life. "It feels like home, Owen."
He sits back in his chair and wipes at his eyes, shaking his head. "Home was at Bly Manor."
"And now it’s here, with you," she says. She smiles, pressing her lips together, and shakes her head. "You’re silly for thinking a better place is not being by your side as you cook my favourite meals."
Smiling, he looks down. He has an entire section on his menu dedicated to Hannah, all her favourite meals and desserts.
With his gaze still lowered and tears wetting his pants, he feels a warm touch brush against his hair and cheek.
"Alcohol you later, Owen," she says quietly. He laughs wetly.
When he looks up for her, she’s gone.
Well. For now, at least.
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Ugh best icon of the best Haunting couple!