Supa Strikas One-shots ⚡❤️

A charity catastrophe

Ok guys, I really, really tried writing a fanfic with Riano, I hope it lives up to you guys' expectations (^⁠ω⁠^⁠）

Word count: 1165 words

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Riano stepped out of the limousine, adjusting the lapels of his finely tailored navy-blue suit. He looked around at the grandeur of the event venue—a sprawling estate lit by chandeliers and swarming with dignitaries, journalists, and players from the world’s top soccer clubs. It was the kind of event Riano loved. The kind where he could shine not just as a player but as a gentleman, the ever-dashing representative of Barka FC.

And tonight, he had an extra reason to look forward to it.

Shakes.

The thought of seeing the South African striker sent a ripple of warmth through his chest. Shakes was the kind of person who could make even a formal event like this fun—his easygoing demeanor and unassuming charm were a breath of fresh air in the often-pretentious world of professional soccer.

“Riano! Over here!”

Riano turned and gave a polite nod to one of the event organizers who was directing players toward the red carpet. He strolled down it gracefully, pausing for photos and giving the occasional wave. But as he entered the grand hall, his gaze immediately swept the room in search of a familiar figure with a signature hairstyle and a disarming smile.

Instead, his eyes landed on someone else entirely.

Skarra.

Standing near the hors d'oeuvres table, Skarra looked about as thrilled to be there as a cat at a dog show. He was poking at a tray of stuffed mushrooms like they’d personally offended him, and his expression sour.

Riano sighed and strode over, his disappointment growing with every step.

“Ah, if it isn’t Señor Sunshine,” Riano drawled as he approached, his accent laced with its usual charm.

Skarra turned, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want, Riano?”

“To know why you look like someone dragged you here kicking and screaming,” Riano replied smoothly. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, swirling it casually as he spoke. “Not that I’m surprised. You never were one for refinement.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us have time to prance around at fancy events,” Skarra shot back, crossing his arms. “Some of us actually care about soccer.”

Riano raised an eyebrow. “And yet here you are, prancing with the rest of us.”

Before Skarra could retort, one of the event organizers approached with a clipboard. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, glancing between them. “I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Shakes won’t be able to make it tonight.”

Riano froze. “What?”

“Yes, unfortunately, he had a last-minute conflict,” the organizer explained. “We’re so sorry for the inconvenience.” She gave a polite nod and walked away, leaving Riano to process the devastating news.

Skarra, meanwhile, muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

“Something wrong?” Riano asked, his tone deceptively sweet.

“Nothing,” Skarra snapped, though his clenched jaw said otherwise.

The next three hours passed in what could only be described as mutual torment.

For Riano, it was the disappointment of not seeing Shakes combined with the indignity of being stuck with Skarra. For Skarra, it was the sheer agony of being in the presence of someone who seemed to radiate smug perfection.

They moved from one scheduled activity to the next—dinners, speeches, a painfully dull auction—sniping at each other the entire time.

“Are you always this insufferable, or is it just for special occasions?” Skarra grumbled as they sat through yet another tedious speech.

Riano smirked. “Only when I’m in the company of someone who makes it so easy.”

Skarra glared at him but didn’t respond.

When it was time to mingle with the crowd, things didn’t get any better.

“You know,” Riano said as they navigated the room, “you might actually enjoy yourself if you tried being civil for once.”

“And you might actually enjoy yourself if you stopped acting like the prince of Spain,” Skarra shot back.

“I am from Spain,” Riano replied, feigning surprise. “Did you not know that? How embarrassing for you.”

It all came to a head during the dessert course, when the two of them found themselves seated at the same table with several high-profile donors.

Riano, ever the diplomat, was engaging the group with stories of his childhood in Barcelona when Skarra, clearly fed up, decided to interject.

“Let me guess,” Skarra said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You grew up playing soccer in the streets, dreaming of the day you’d become a hero? How original.”

Riano turned to him, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with challenge. “And you grew up... what? Plotting how to trip other kids on the playground? Explains a lot, really.”

The table fell silent, the tension palpable.

Skarra opened his mouth to retort, but one of the donors—a stern-looking older woman—cut him off. “Gentlemen,” she said sharply. “This is a charity event, not a schoolyard. Kindly behave yourselves.”

Riano gave her an apologetic nod. “My apologies, señora. I’ll try to keep my colleague in check.”

Skarra scowled but said nothing, choosing instead to focus on his dessert with the intensity of someone who desperately needed an outlet for his frustration.

As the evening drew to a close, the two of them found themselves standing near the exit, waiting for their respective cars.

“Well,” Skarra said, breaking the silence, “that was a waste of time.”

“For once, we agree on something,” Riano replied, though his tone was less biting than before.

Skarra glanced at him, clearly surprised by the lack of a snarky comeback. “You’re not going to gloat?”

Riano shrugged. “What would be the point? Shakes wasn’t here, and let’s be honest, neither of us wanted to spend the evening with each other.”

Skarra snorted. “No argument there.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them easing ever so slightly.

“Do you think he knows?” Riano asked suddenly.

Skarra frowned. “Who? Knows what?”

“Shakes,” Riano said, his voice quieter now. “Do you think he knows how much we…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “…value his presence?”

Skarra looked away, his expression unreadable. “If he doesn’t, it’s probably for the best.”

Riano studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

The sound of a car pulling up broke the moment, and Riano turned to see his ride waiting.

“Well, Skarra,” he said, offering a faint smile, “it’s been… educational.”

“Yeah, sure,” Skarra muttered. “Try not to trip over your ego on the way out.”

Riano chuckled as he climbed into the car, the tension of the evening finally beginning to fade. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe next time, things would be different.

Maybe next time, Shakes would be there.

And maybe—just maybe—he and Skarra wouldn’t kill each other in the process.

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Hope you liked this oneshot guys ❤️❤️❤️

-Willow