Title: Scattered Popcorn

Author: Raven_Silversea

Rating: T

Pairing: Colonnello/Lal Mirch/Sawada Nana

Prompt: Day 2: Scary Movies | Ouija board

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Humor, Movie Night, Scary Movies, References to Scream (Movies), Established Relationship

Summary: Nana definitely didn't suggest a Scream movie marathon because she enjoyed the way her two otherwise fearless partners steal her lap blankets to hide under. Why would you suggest such a thing?

Ao3

Colonnello stares at the TV screen. His hands clutch more than his fair share of the blanket to his chest as he curls into Nana’s side. The blue light of the movie sucks all the color from his face and reflects off his wide eyes. On-screen, Sidney Prescott slowly inches her way over the unconscious Ghostface to unlock the driver side door. He and Lal suck in twin breaths on either side of Nana, their bodies tense like springs pressed to the floor.

HONK! goes the car horn as Sidney’s elbow presses into it, and popcorn goes flying as Colonnello’s knee knocks the bowl with a “Motherfucker!” On-screen, Sidney and her friend wait with bated breath for a reaction from Ghostface. Off-screen, Nana calmly rescues the popcorn bowl, absently snacking on a handful of buttery kernels.

“You’re a fucking embarrassment,” Lal hisses from under the blue quilt she stole five minutes into the movie. Her eyes are just barely visible over where it’s tucked up over her nose. She reaches a hand out from her blanket cocoon and snags a fistful of popcorn and then it vanishes back under the quilt. The only evidence of her movement the quiet sound of popcorn munching.

Nana shifts the popcorn bowl closer to Lal and takes another handful herself.

Colonnello pulls himself out of the hollow he’s progressively tucked himself into over the course of the movie. It’s a quiet moment in the movie- Sidney and her friend have made it out of the car and are now arguing about just running vs discovering Ghostface’s identity. “At least I’m not hiding under- OH MY GOD!”

Ghostface comes out of nowhere and stabs Sidney’s friend- “I knew he was faking it!” Lal hisses-, and the lap blanket Nana had been sharing with Colonnello vanishes from the sudden force of Colonnello yanking it. Nana can’t help but laugh as her boyfriend almost launches himself up and over the back of the couch, gripping the blanket to his chest like a plushie. “WHAT THE FUCK, KORA!”

Pulling out a third blanket from the basket beside the couch, Nana says, “If it’s too scary for the two of you, we can watch something else.” She looks at each of them through her eyelashes, wondering if this will be the moment in their six movie marathon that her partners cry uncle. It’s invigorating in a way, being the brave one. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t keep suggesting horror movies to watch simply for the way these two fearless former soldiers reach for her like she’s their shelter from a storm.

Her partners loudly assert their desire to keep watching the movie, and Nana smiles. There’s a thump from upstairs, and all three go silent, waiting to see if whatever child they disturbed would stay asleep or not.

When no one comes traipsing down stairs with a heavy yawn and a question about what time it was and could they have a snack please, they relax back into the couch and each other. “Who’s scared?” Lal says with a sniff. She carefully pulls her quilt down and folds her hands in her lap. “I’m not scared.”

“I’m not scared either, kora.” Colonnello slides back down onto the couch proper but doesn’t release his death grip on his blanket.

Nana shakes her head with a fond smile and holds the popcorn bowl out to the two of them. “Of course not,” she soothes. “After all, you two are here to protect us from anything that may go bump in the night.”

“Exactly!” Colonnello nods. He frees a hand from his blanket to play with Nana’s fingers and aims a besotted smile at Lal who rolls her eyes but does lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

For the next few minutes, everything is quiet and peaceful. The movie punctuated only by the sound of popcorn.

Then the boyfriend is lowered from the rafters onto the theater stage, hung on the prop like a crucifix, and Colonnello all but jumps into Nana’s lap with a loud “JESUS H CHRIST!” while Lal falls off the couch all together.

KHRween Day 2 - Scary Movies

This one's just harmless chilling, maybe next one will be a bit different..!

KHRWEEN 2024

Title: Yamamoto’s Halloween Special That Squalo Never Agreed To ⚾👻🦈

Author: Nama from @na-nossa

Rating: G

Pairing: Yamamoto Takeshi x Superbia Squalo

Prompt: Day 2 | Scary Movies + Ouija Board

Tags: Chaotic Yamamoto Takeshi, Embarrassment, Friendship, Halloween Shenanigans, Horror Movie Night, Mild Language, Mock Fight, Ouija Board, References to The Ring, Squalo Being a Scaredy Shark, Squalo Gets Pranked, Squalo POV, Supernatural Elements (Fake).

Warnings: No major warnings apply.

*~*🎃*~*🎃*~*🎃*~*

If someone—anyone—would dare to ask why Squalo is sitting cross-legged on Yamamoto Takeshi’s floor on Halloween night, of all nights, he’d tell them to piss off and mind their own business in the most colorful language he could muster. The truth, though, is that even he doesn’t know what possessed him to stick around watching Japanese horror movies, and oh, perfect, now there’s some creepy girl with black hair twice as long as his dragging herself out of a TV.

It’s taking all he’s got not to look away. While he might be hardened by the daily horrors of being Xanxus’s second in command, this kind of freaky bullshit still manages to make his skin crawl… but the worst part is Yamamoto sitting next to him, grinning like a damn idiot and clearly loving every second of Squalo’s discomfort, as if it’s the best show in town.

“Come on, Squalo, don’t tell me you’re scared of this stuff?” Yamamoto says, nudging him, wide brown eyes sparkling with that relentless good humor that makes Squalo want to punch a hole through a wall.

“Shut it, brat,” Squalo mutters, shifting uncomfortably, because from the first moment he laid eyes on Yamamoto, he knew that behind that whole “nice guy” act lurked a chaotic gremlin, no matter how innocent he tries to appear. “Should’ve gone with some good old giallo instead of this crap.”

“Oh, it’s about to get better,” Yamamoto says, his smile stretching even wider as he reaches into a nearby box, pulls out a dusty Ouija board, and holds it up with the kind of reverence reserved for ancient relics. “This thing is super haunted, I swear.”

Squalo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Spirits love hanging out with idiots like you.” Thinking fast, he adds, “Fine, whatever, let’s see it, then,” hoping it’ll redirect their attention away from the screen.

With a grin so enthusiastic that Squalo, yet again, finds himself questioning the series of poor decisions that led him here, Yamamoto grabs the remote, mutes the movie, and stands to kill the lights, leaving them bathed in a dim, eerie glow from a lamp draped with an old cloth—an unnervingly precise effect, giving the impression that he’s been planning this whole setup for weeks. On his way back, Yamamoto reaches up to a shelf, grabs a shot glass, and sets it upside down on the Ouija board.

Squalo stares at him, incredulous. “Since when do you have shot glasses lying around?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Yamamoto flashes a smirk, unfazed. “I might’ve picked it up from my dad’s restaurant,” he answers, placing his index finger against the base of the upturned glass.

Squalo, suppressing the urge to sigh, mirrors him, pressing his non-mechanical finger down on the opposite edge of the glass rim with just the right weight to signal he’s playing along, but not too seriously. There’s this conspiratorial glint in Yamamoto’s eyes as he murmurs, “Spirits, are you with us?” Their fingertips touch, the kind of brief, meaningless contact that shouldn’t even register; much to his annoyance, Squalo does and feels immediately ridiculous.

Then, like he’s delivering a line in some grade-school play, Yamamoto leans in, his voice dropping to a serious whisper: “Sadako, if you’re here, give us a sign.”

Squalo’s skin prickles despite himself. Fantastic.

Nothing happens with the glass, which is as it should be—until Yamamoto’s eyes suddenly go wide, and he flinches a bit. “Did you see that behind you?” he whispers, voice low and urgent.

Squalo whips around, heart pounding, only to find… nothing. Just the stupid movie still rolling on in silence. He grits his teeth, turning back to give Yamamoto a piece of his mind. “Real funny, you moron. I told you this was a—” He stops dead mid-sentence. Right there, inches away, is a curtain of long black hair, and this guttural, zombie-like moan fills the room.

“What the—!” Squalo yelps, scrambling backward in a frantic, clumsy attempt to stand, half-tripping as he blurts out in Italian, “Che diavolo—!?”

But before he can begin to comprehend what’s in front of him, Yamamoto is giggling so hard he’s doubled over, clutching his sides as he yanks a black wig from his head.

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen your face!” he chokes out, gasping between laughs. “Big, bad Varia, taken down by little Sadako-chan!”

“YOU—!” Squalo’s voice shoots up. “You’re dead, you hear me? I’m going to kill you for that!” His cheeks burn, blood simmering with embarrassment as Yamamoto’s laughter pours out, loud and unstoppable. And somehow, in the midst of all that mortification—against all reason and his own better judgment—Squalo feels a traitorous twitch pulling up at the corner of his mouth.

To cover it up, Squalo does the reasonable thing and lunges forward, grabbing Yamamoto in a mock chokehold that’s tight enough to get the point across without actually meaning it. Yamamoto, wheezing and struggling for air, manages to gasp out, “Alright, alright! Didn’t think I’d get you that good—guess I’m a better actor than I thought!”

Squalo releases him with a quick knucklehead smack and a shove, sending Yamamoto sprawling. Arms crossed, he looms over him with a devilish curl of his lips that would make a lesser man dash for the door.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, Takeshi,” Squalo sneers, savoring the twisted satisfaction bubbling up as he envisions all the ways he’ll terrify the brat out of his smug, easy-going comfort zone. “Next Halloween, you’re in for some Varia-style horror, and I’m not holding back.”

Still catching his breath, Yamamoto picks himself up, grabbing his discarded wig and the shot glass that had flown from the Ouija board during the commotion. He grabs the remote and, without missing a beat, cranks the volume as the movie hits a blood-curdling scene, casually dropping back down beside Squalo.

With his gaze fixed on the screen, he reaches over and gives his long hair a quick yank. “Looking forward to seeing you try, scaredy-Sadako,” he says, wearing that self-satisfied smile that implies, more or less, every tiny detail has gone exactly according to whatever scheme he’s concocted.

A creeping frustration rises up in Squalo, building to eclipse both the ridiculous nickname and the gruesome scenes on TV, not to mention the nerve of that hair-tug from someone who ought to show more respect to his swordsmanship senior. He thinks he recognizes it—it’s the all-too-familiar suspicion that he’s fallen, once again, right into Yamamoto Takeshi’s hands.

To be continued next year...? 🎃

A/N: My headcanon is that Squ’s into old-school movies and would pick Suspiria over The Ring any day. My other headcanon is that he's secretly terrible with horror movies (not that he’d ever admit it), while Yama has nerves of steel and can sit through the wildest slashers without flinching. No, don’t ask me why, I just know this in my bones xD

@khrrarepairweek