This Relationship of Ours (+Extras)

The One With The Horror Film

Anonymous asked:

when harry saw mia at the movie theater she was going to see a horror movie and he was thinking about how she only allowed him to watch them because he would hold her & he would be all 🥺🥺 with her.... so that leads me to ask can we possible get a blurb like that🥺

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Aw man, if Mia hates something, it's horror films. She doesn't understand what's so fun about getting a couple heart attacks and jumping out of your skin. And willingly doing that? She would never.

Harry, on the other hand, has been nicknamed a serial killer by her because of how excited he gets at horror movies. He could watch them all day with minimal breaks, so when the pair clash, and it's movie night and Mia's typing in Legally Blonde into his laptop search bar, he can't help himself when he wraps his fingers around the screen of his laptop and jerks it out of her hands.

"What the heck!" she exclaims. He ignores her, typing in a movie he's been meaning to watch. He knows it's a bit less than scary for him, but if he's going to be forcing her to watch something of his liking, he'd rather not have her pass out besides him out of fright.

Hereditary. That's not too bad.

"I'm not watching that," Mia says immediately when he sets up the laptop to his T.V. "I am not!"

"Suit yourself," Harry says with a shrug, knowing she's not going anywhere. "Go do some homework or something."

"I don't have any," she grits. If she weren't sitting on the sofa, she would be stomping her feet. "I'm not watching that!"

"Nobody's asking you to. I always have to watch yours, don't I? S'not fair you don't let me watch mine."

She scoffs, but Harry doesn't even blink at her. "Watch them on your own time!"

"Watch Legally Blonde for the fifth time in your own time."

He reaches for the popcorn and places it between his legs, situating himself comfortably on the sofa. The blanket is besides him, but he won't touch it yet. Not until she's in his arms like she's going to be. He approximates about eleven minutes. The movie begins to play, he messes around with the volume, and then it's perfect. Mia still sits besides with a strict posture, unwilling to bend his way.

She crosses her arms. "No."

"Okay," Harry says, but continues to watch the movie. He shoves some popcorn in his mouth.

"I said no, sir!"

"I heard you." Then, he muses, "S' a cute little neighborhood. Hope nothing happens to it."

Mia grows quiet as her head turns to the screen. Her curious eyes watch the movie for what he counts to be three minutes before she unravels her arms around herself.

He smiles to himself. She gets distracted so easily, it's like she's a child. Turning on a movie is the only thing that will get her to shut up and stop whining, and although he's grown accustomed to her whining, he quite enjoys the silence. Her lip is between her teeth, eyes dancing over the screen as each character is introduced.

He was wrong. It only takes nine minutes for her to curl up besides him like a kitten, and his arm invites her into his chest around her waist. She drops her head to his shoulder and sighs. She even murmurs a "Thank you" when he drapes the blanket over them.

The movie isn't scary, but it sure it creepy. And then the infamous scene of the decapitation is shown and Mia groans, turning her head to his neck, eyes squeezed shut. Harry's chuckling.

"I knew it," she moans lowly. "I knew that was gonna happen. Why are you laughing?!"

"You don't think it's sort of funny?"

"No!"

"It's been less than twenty minutes and that happens. I think it's pretty funny how quick she died."

She doesn't reply, peeking at the screen again when the scene is gone.

Every remotely alarming scene has her jumping, and at every frantic retreat into his chest, she whispers, "Change it! Please!"

Harry doesn't change it. He's far too amused to. He's never seen her so frightened. Not even when he's using a hard voice with her, or when Harry rolls down his window to bark at the person who just cut up off and shove a middle finger in their face. No, this is a funny type of fright.

The end of the movie has resulted in her permanently burying her face in his shirt. She's shaking her head over and over.

He turns his head and presses a kiss to her hair, laying his head on hers. When the movie ends, she doesn't even realize it. He snickers and tugs on her hair so she can glance up at him. "Just a movie, Amelia," he says quietly, kissing her head again.

"I'm never gonna get that image out of my head. I'm never going to forgive you for this, sir. Never."

"It wasn't so bad."

"We're only watching my movies from now on."

"Absolutely not."

"It wasn't a question."