Supa Strikas One-shots ⚡❤️

Halloween special 🎃💀

Okay... I guess I'm a tad late but it's fine... It took me two days so it better be worth it 😤

Word count: 2774 words

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The lights of the super league hall room glowed in eerie greens and purples, casting long shadows over the Halloween decorations scattered across the venue. Cobwebs adorned the entrances, fake bats hung from the ceilings, and a fog machine sent wisps curling around the feet of Super League players and staff dressed in an array of spooky costumes. It was a night of frights, fun, and festivities—and everyone was ready to celebrate. Everyone, that is, except Shakes, who was fashionably late and feeling a bit… exposed.

Shakes hesitated outside the entrance, tugging at the feathers of his angel wings. El Matador, standing beside him and proudly dressed as a sparkling vampire in a cape and golden fangs, nudged Shakes forward. "Come on, amigo! You look incredible! It’s custom-made, only the finest for Supa Strikas’ star striker!"

Shakes gulped, glancing down at the costume El Matador had insisted he wear. White, flowing fabric hugged his frame a bit too closely, and the hem of his robe was dangerously high. Shakes had thought “angel” would be an innocent enough costume, but the strategically cut robes and the shimmering wings added a hint of... otherworldly allure.

“El Matador, are you sure this isn’t a little… much?” Shakes asked, tugging at the neckline, which dipped slightly lower than he was used to. His cheeks warmed under the cool October air. “You didn’t say it was going to be so—uh, fitted.”

El Matador raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Of course it’s fitted! You’re a star! Besides,” he added with a wink, “an angel should stand out, right?”

Shakes wasn’t sure if angels were supposed to stand out quite this much. But there was no going back now. He took a deep breath, mentally braced himself, and followed El Matador through the grand doors.

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As they stepped inside, the room seemed to go quiet. The usual hum of chatter faded, and a few jaws dropped, eyes widening as they took in Shakes’ costume. The Supa Strikas team members were the first to react.

Dancing Rasta, towering above most of the crowd in a pirate costume complete with an eye patch and a feathered hat, raised a protective eyebrow. “Shakes, man,” he started, struggling to keep a straight face but visibly trying to keep his composure. “Is that really you?”

Blok, dressed in a full medieval knight’s armor, blinked from behind his visor and let out a muffled murmur in Brislovian. His surprise was clear, even if no one quite understood what he’d said.

Cool Joe nearly choked on his drink, a toothpick skeleton sticking out from his afro. “Whoa, Shakes! Brother, I know you’re an angel, but that look is seriously next level!” He whistled, grinning broadly.

Even Twisting Tiger, who was usually calm and composed, couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. “You… look… very holy,” he said, eyes glinting with humor.

Shakes’ face turned redder than El Matador’s vampire cape. “I—it’s just a costume, guys,” he muttered, fidgeting with his wings. He glanced at El Matador, who was smirking proudly beside him. “El Matador thought it would be funny…”

“Funny? More like unforgettable!” El Matador struck a pose, his cape billowing dramatically.

From the other side of the room, Big Bo—dressed as a towering Frankenstein—caught sight of Shakes and immediately took a few giant strides forward, positioning himself like a wall of protection between Shakes and the other partygoers. “Anyone so much as looks funny at Shakes, and they’ll answer to me,” he said, crossing his arms. A few of the rival players exchanged nervous glances, deciding to keep their distance.