#soccer club icons

[tokyicons]

do you think you could do some girl icons related to liverpool fc?

like/reblog if you use or save

follow @tokyicons for more

[swayziiwriter]

This is our family, Pedri & Gavi ❤️‍🩹

[crvgedits]

pablo vegetti icons

like se salvar

[pernillecfcw]

Too cold 🥶🎈

[vitos-ordination-song]

Banana Fish could easily become GL. Ash is basically a female action star anyway. And Eiji is a baby girl

[lifestylebuz]

The Most Expensive Trophies in the World: A Look at the Most Coveted Prizes in Sports

Trophies are an essential part of sports. They serve as a tangible symbol of accomplishment and recognition for athletes and teams who have worked hard to achieve their goals. However, not all trophies are created equal. Some trophies are more than just a piece of metal or a shiny cup. They are works of art that represent the pinnacle of achievement in their respective fields. In this article, we…

[brodygold]

The Brocess

You sat in the reception area, glancing around at the others. Your competition. Every one of you wanted to join the Golden Army, the elite sports club that had quickly become legendary. Invitations were rare, and you knew the journey to acceptance was grueling. But here you were, waiting for your interview after weeks of preparation. The stakes had never felt higher.

You had sent in your application, half-expecting to be ignored, but the Golden Army had replied within days. Their response was casual, almost cocky, inviting you to come in for an interview. “Just part of the brocess,” they said. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Finally, the receptionist calls your name. Heart pounding, you rise and follow him through a gleaming corridor until you reach a door that looks like it belongs to royalty. As it swings open, the room beyond takes your breath away—gold everywhere. Gold walls, a golden desk, even the light had a warm, golden hue. And sitting behind that desk, wearing the coveted Golden Army jersey, was the man you had spoken with on the phone.

He looked up from his paperwork with a grin, almost like he knew this moment was a formality. “Sup, bro. Name’s Hades.”

You clear your throat, trying to mask your nerves. “Uh, hey. I’m here for the interview… hoping to join the Golden Army.”

Hades leaned back in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I figured. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want in, right?” He grabs a clipboard, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Let’s get you brocessed then. First question: Are you ready to boost your bros when they’re down?”

The question seemed easy enough, but there was a weight to it. Being part of the Golden Army wasn’t just about soccer—it was about the bond, the brotherhood. You’d heard stories of the lengths they went to for each other. This was more than a game.

“Yes, absolutely,” you reply with conviction. “I’ll be there for my bros.”

Hades jots something down, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Next question: What’s your favorite soccer position?”

You pause. The Golden Army is known for its skill on the field, and while you know your way around a soccer ball, you wonder if this is a trick question. Do they want players with specific talents? Or are they looking for someone flexible, willing to play where needed? Either way, honesty seems like the only path forward.

You answer truthfully, and Hades gives a slight nod, scribbling again. “Alright, noted.”

The interview stretches on, each question probing a different aspect of what it means to be part of this brotherhood—your loyalty, your drive, your passion for the game. Hades asks with an effortless confidence, like he’s already decided whether you’re in or not, and you’re just waiting for the verdict. Hours feel like minutes as the tension in the room builds. You feel his eyes on you, weighing every word.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Hades sets his pen down and folds his hands. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Congrats, bro. You’re in.”

The relief washes over you, and you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. Hades stands, crossing the room to a golden closet and pulling out the iconic jersey. “Now, let’s get you suited up—and we’ve got to give you your new name.” He tosses the jersey toward you, and you catch it, your heart racing. The material feels heavier in your hands than you imagined, like it’s carrying the weight of every victory the Golden Army has earned.

As you pull the jersey over your head, the transformation feels real. Your arms and legs grow out, not too much but enough to make a difference on the soccer field. Your mind slows, focusing only on the golden army and your new bros. Hades is looking more and more attractive by the second. You’ll have to thank him in a special way later.

Hades grins as he looks you over. “Welcome to the Golden Army, bro. Practice starts soon. You’re gonna love it.”

You glance down at your new name and number stitched into the fabric. It’s official now. And as you head toward the field, any doubts you once had vanish. You’ve made the right choice. This was always where you were meant to be.

[extranenas]

well the Olympics just ended, but what do you think about a kylian mbappe scenario where he's dating someone who is an athlete who is competing in the Olympics

miss let down

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

genre: angst to fluff

plot: you always wanted to be the greatest- the girl who always wanted to be the best of the best- but when you finally get to prove yourself to the world in track- you failed miserably in your eyes…

extra: again for the sake of the story, reader was born in the us just so we have an idea of like what team she is and such (citizen ship wise yk actual ethnicity not specified) lowkey i had to make up some french players for the storyline😭😭😭

masterlist

august 3rd 2024 would be the death of you. the biggest day in your entire life and what you worked up to for… 4 years…? spending that time for a good 10 seconds of your life that meant too much.

something that would determine if you really what you thought you were.

you were going against huge names- your teammate sha’carri richardson who was the fastest woman in the world and the famous jamaican runners who were known for dominating that iconic red and white track.

and then there was just you- a girl who managed to pass through the trials and made the 2024 olympic team. crazy thing how the biggest celebrator of your accomplishment was your boyfriend though.

throwing a small party for you and everything because of making the team while usually its you celebrating him cause of well… hes probably becoming the best right now winning soccers biggest trophy at only 18, getting into probably one of the biggest- if not the hugest club in the world, and breaking records on records.

and you were over here competing against his national teams track team before finals on his countries on soil (which you hope he didnt take too personally)

you dont even really remember how you two met cause it was such a blur. it went by so fast!

“everyone knows that track is so much easier than football ky. its like… common knowledge! i mean come on- they just run around in circles for like… 20 seconds or whatever.”

“dont say that man… i mean if you tried it would you actually… complete it?”

“nah.”

“then why- ok dude.”

a then 19 year old kylian got up from the pitch he sat on. they currently were preparing for the upcoming world cup the year following and of course, an ambitious kylian wanted to touch that golden trophy.

he walked around the pitch and saw the players he seen every day just talking or laying down after a day of rough practice in that summer heat france was known for- other than pastries and such. he soon stopped by and went onto his phone in which one of his younger friends went up to him and did what kylian did.

“did you hear? about that united states team being in france right now.”

“what, what for?”

“some track tour or whatever- look.”

he soon shoved the phone in kylians hand which showed the news headline saying what he said.

“where are they training?”

“here dude!”

“what? here? they cant find somewhere else or…”

“no. theyre gonna be on the whole other side though so im guessing its fine man. i dont know.”

kylians eyebrow raised- sharing a centre with a track team? that doesnt make much sense.

-

the day came where the track runners finally arrived and got to the field where they started condition. of course those two being the curious men they were- decided they wanted to go see the team. they constantly bickered on whether or not they should go- even with the reminder if they did and they got caught snooping- 250 push ups would be needed for about 2 days.

and they still went.

they saw the team and were somewhat disappointed on what they saw.

“wheres all the running? this is bullshit dude! i thought they would like- i dont know run cause theyre apparently the best or whatever… those damn americ-“

kylian immediately stopped him and went quiet.

“i hear someone man. shut up real quick.”

they nodded and turned around to see a girl in the track uniform standing and looking at them.

“who are you guys?”

that day was probably one of the greatest ever for kylian- meeting the love of his life cause he got caught snooping. now he watched her grow into a professional and is now running on the track to win a gold medal.

he sat in the crowd with a shirt of her face on it with a huge smile- waiting for the signal so the girls could start running

finally it rung out- and all you saw was 11 girls blasting off and running for their damn life for a 100m race. one of them being immediately spotted cause of her hair kylian helped choose out before she left.

she ran for her life- going ahead of nieta before running behind again- soon regaining speed and going back up.

8 seconds past by until 9 hit… then 10. finally someone hit first. and it wasnt ___… she still ran and got 3rd place. stopping as she crossed the finish line with a frown as tears welled up in her eyes.

‘bronze? i got bronze?’

kylian noticed- immediately keeping it in mind.

she walked out of the stadium after receiving that bronze medal- headphones in with a defeated look before getting tackled by kylian.

“amour! you did so good!”

“stop ky… im tired.”

“but its true! you did great- i mean bronze at your first olympics? who else can do that?”

“carri’ got silver on hers kylian! its her first too! i wanted gold not bronze- i worked too hard for just bronze!”

kylians face fell as he got quiet, immediately hugging her.

“you still did great amour- i don’t understand why you feel other wise. i get losing is hard but its inevitable! you need loses to win ___ trust me.”

“yea you say that cause you lost the world cup two years ago even though you won it already.”

“youre missing the point here.”

“sorry.”

“look all im saying is that you shouldnt be so hard on yourself cause you didnt get what you exactly wanted- you still ran- you still placed- be proud ___! you worked too hard for this.”

she looked at him with a small smile, finally taking in her win.

“do you want to wear it then?”

“yes- definitely.”

she laughed as she placed the medal around his neck- finding solace in this situation.

[u6is]

"you cut your hair but you used to live a blonded life"

part 1

warnings: profanities, drug-use

— kylian mbappé x reader: angst

The lights of the club swirled in a dizzying array of colours, casting shadows that danced with the music.

It was a typical Friday night in Paris.

Your friends had claimed a table in the corner, your laughter bubbling up like a geyser of joy. You clinked your glasses together, the sound of ice cubes chiming like a celebratory bell. The whiskey burned a warm path down your throat, loosening the grip of the week's tension.

There was something unique about tonight.

Through the throngs of partygoers, the VIP corner, a bastion of opulence in stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the main floor. It was where the elite came to play, cordoned off by velvet ropes and stern-faced bouncers. Inside, the football players were celebrating their latest victory, and the air around them charged with excitement.

They were the kings of the city for the night, and everyone knew it.

The strobe lights painted the room in brief snapshots of reality, a visual symphony that only made the music feel more alive. You felt like a bird released from its cage as you moved through the crowd, your movements fluid and unrestrained. Your arms stretched out, as if you could touch the stars above.

You are as unbound as a bird in flight, weightless and free.

Kylian Mbappe, the soccer star everyone talked about, stood in the VIP section, his eyes scanning the dance floor. His restlessness was palpable, even from afar. He craved the pulse of the city's nightlife, the unscripted moments that made each night unique.

He slipped out from the VIP section, a playful grin tugging at his lips, and vanished into the sea of faces. The whispers grew louder as people recognized him, but he was already lost in the rhythm, just another soul seeking the essence of the night.

Suddenly, a flash of color caught his eye.

You, with your hair dancing in untamed delight, your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the disco lights.

He felt the music in your soul.

He approached you with the same swiftness he used on the field, weaving through the tightly packed bodies as if they were mere obstacles. As he reached you, the music dropped to a whisper in your ears as he leaned in to be heard over the din. You felt a rush of excitement as you recognized him, but you played it cool, not wanting to reveal the racing of your heart.

You two spoke, completely absorbed in the sound of each other's voice. His eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment it felt like the whole club had stopped moving.

It was an ordinary Friday night in Paris, yet that night held a quiet magic all its own.

It began so swiftly, your bond with him, like a spark that caught fire. What started with a simple meeting at a party spiralled into something more, something fast.

One moment, you were in the stands of a grand stadium, cheering for him, his invitation still ringing in your ears.

The next, you found yourself in the warmth of his arms, tucked away in the peace of his home, just you and him, lost in the stillness.

The bond grew stronger with each shared experience. In the quiet moments, you'd catch glimpses of his vulnerability, a side the world didn't get to see behind the glitz and glamour of his soccer career. He spoke of his love for the sport, his fears, his dreams, and the weight of expectations that sat upon his shoulders like a crown. You, in turn, revealed your passions, the dreams that kept you awake at night, and the fear of not making a difference. Together, you found solace in the understanding that everyone had their battles, even those who seemed invincible on the field.

"I want to dye my hair white."

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his spontaneity.

"White?" you repeated, trying to picture his iconic buzz cut in such a stark color. He nodded eagerly, a childlike excitement lighting up his face.

"Yeah, like the moon. It'll be perfect for the next game."

The following evening, he arrived at your small apartment, a stark contrast to the opulent mansions he was used to. He brought with him a box of hair dye and a determination that was contagious. You led him to the bathroom, which was a cozy space filled with the scent of your favorite lavender candles and the faint sound of the neighbor's television. As you mixed the solution, the anticipation grew. The air was thick with playful tension as he perched on the edge of a stool, you nestled between his legs.

You painted the dye onto his buzz cut with a gentle touch, each stroke a silent promise of support. He leaned back into your touch, his eyes closed, a contented smile playing on his lips as the conversation flowed like a river between you.

He spoke of the pressure to perform, the weight of the nation's hopes and dreams, and you shared your fear of being forgotten in the hustle of the city. The strokes grew slower as you both lost yourself in the comfort of the moment, the world outside fading away.

The laughter grew louder as you accidentally smudged some of the dye on his forehead, creating a streak that looked like a rebellious warrior's paint. He playfully grabbed the brush, threatening to return the favour. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the sweetness of your shared laughter as you danced around the bathroom, dodging his playful swipes.

Each kiss stolen felt like a victory, a secret shared only by the two of you in the sanctuary of your little apartment.

The game came and went, a blur of excitement and nerves as Kylian took to the field with his new white hair. The crowd erupted when he scored, the flashes from cameras creating a constellation around him.

Days later, the vacation invite came, a simple text message that felt like a ticket to the stars.

"I've got a week off, and I want to spend it with you," he wrote.

"How does a getaway to the Maldives sound?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the tropical paradise.

A week in the sun with the man who had captured your heart, it was like a dream you hadn't even dared to dream.

You replied with an enthusiastic "Yes!" before you could overthink it, your thumbs dancing across the screen.

The Maldives was a world away from the cobblestone streets of Paris, a place of azure waters and endless skies, where the only thing that mattered was the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun.

The private jet, the endless horizon outside the windows, it was all so surreal. Kylian sat beside you, his hand in yours, his thumb tracing circles on your skin as if to reassure you that this wasn't just a fleeting dream.

The resort was a symphony of bungalows floating on the water, a serene sanctuary that whispered secrets of tranquility to the soul. Each step closer to your destination felt like a step closer to paradise, a place where the chaos of the world was a distant memory.

As you stepped onto the pristine white sand of the Maldivian beach, the heat of the sun kissed your skin, and the scent of the ocean filled your lungs with a salty embrace.

Kylian looked at you, his eyes reflecting the same excitement and disbelief.

"This is all for us," he said, gesturing to the horizon. "A whole week of just us and the sea."

He took your hand, leading you to your private bungalow, the gentle sway of the wooden walkway beneath your feet. The moment you stepped inside, your breath was stolen by the sight of the vast expanse of turquoise water beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was adorned with tropical flowers, a romantic gesture that made your heart swell.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange, you found yourself drawn to the beach. The warm sand felt like a lover's caress beneath your feet as you made your way to the water's edge. He followed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Without a word, you both waded into the warm embrace of the ocean. The waves kissed your legs, beckoning you further. He pulled you closer, his hands resting gently at your waist, the water rising to your chests.

Your foreheads met, the only barrier between the silent whispers of your thoughts. The horizon was a canvas of light, the setting sun a fiery ball of passion that mirrored the intensity of the moment. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore served as a gentle soundtrack, a natural symphony that drowned out the noise of the world. The salty kiss of the ocean spray mingled with the sweetness of his breath as you both floated in the embrace of the sea.

For the first time, he broke the silence with the words you'd hoped to hear.

"I love you."

They hung in the air, suspended in the warmth of the moment, echoing the rhythm of the waves. Your heart raced, a crescendo of emotions crashing over you like the tide. The world around you seemed to still, the very fabric of reality bending to the power of those three little words. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but found only the truth reflected back at you.

You felt the warmth of his love like the sun on your skin, a gentle reminder of the bond that had grown between you amidst the chaos of the city.

His confession was a soft melody in the symphony of the waves, a declaration that resonated through every fibre of your being.

"I love you, too, Kylian." You murmured your voice a tremulous whisper that seemed too small to hold the weight of your feelings.

His smile grew brighter, lighting up his entire face, as if the stars had descended to kiss him.

The days in the Maldives passed in a blur of bliss. Each sunrise painted a new picture of beauty, a backdrop for your burgeoning love. As you watched the sunsets melt into the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of pinks and purples that stained the sky. The nights were filled with stargazing, the constellations above whispering ancient secrets as you lay entwined in the soft embrace of the beach. The world had shrunk to the two of you, and everything else was just noise.

But eventually, the vacation had to end. You both returned to the city, to the bustling streets of Paris that seemed so much more alive with the vibrancy of your newfound love. Kylian's schedule picked up again, training sessions and games taking up the bulk of his days, but the nights remained yours.

His touch was a gentle reminder of the warmth of the sun you had left behind, his whispers in the dark a sweet symphony that lulled you to sleep. You watched him from the stands, his white hair a beacon of light as he ruled the soccer field, his every move a declaration of his love for the game.

The parties grew grander, the crowds more suffocating. His teammates' laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses became the soundtrack of your life together. Each night was a passionate dance, a celebration of victory and friendship that swirled around you like a tornado of glamour.

Kylian was adamant about keeping your relationship a secret.

His smile was for everyone, but his love was for you alone.

He'd sneak glances at you from across the room, his eyes speaking a language that no one else could understand. You felt like the keeper of a precious stone, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world, cherished only by the two of you.

Yet, as the weeks turned into months, the bars of the cage grew heavier. Each time you watched him leave for training or a game, a pang of sadness gripped your heart.

You were a spectator in his world, a silent cheerleader whose love could only be whispered in the shadows.

The night of the Ligue 1 final, the tension was palpable, a living creature that breathed in the air of the stadium. You watched from the VIP section, your heart racing with every step he took on the field. The crowd was a sea of noise, a symphony of hope and passion. And there, in the stands, were his parents, proud and stoic, watching their son play the game that had made him a star.

When the final whistle blew and his team emerged victorious, you felt the urge to celebrate with him, to share in the joy of his triumph. Yet, when you approached his parents to introduce yourself, Kylian's mother looked you up and down, her eyes cold and assessing, her smile forced. It was a look that spoke volumes without a single word.

You felt like an outsider, a mere shadow in the glaring spotlight of their family's success. Kylian was swept away in a tide of congratulations, leaving you to navigate the social current alone.

The sting of his mother's dismissal remained with you long after the game, a bitter taste that lingered like an unfortunate aftertaste. When you brought it up, Kylian was just apologetic but firm.

"They just need time," he'd say, his eyes full of hope and a hint of desperation. "They're protective."

Same thing happened, the excuses grew old, and the distance between you and your friends grew wider. Each time you suggested Kylian meet them, he'd find a way out. Training, games, press conferences, and the endless string of responsibilities that came with his stardom. The walls of his world grew higher, and you found yourself feeling like you were the only one making sacrifices.

The quiet moments of your solitude grew into a crescendo of doubt.

Was this really what you wanted? To be the hidden lover of a man whose every move was public property?

The silence in the car was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside. Kylian's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched in a way that spoke of his own internal war. You knew he felt it too, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air like a thick fog.

"You never told them, did you?" you finally said, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "You never told your parents about us." The anger simmered just below the surface, a pot ready to boil over at any moment. Kylian's grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he didn't look at you.

He had, in fact, spoken of you to his parents. But his mother, with a dismissive shrug, simply urged him to stay focused on his game, reminding him of all they had sacrificed for his success. To her, your bond was fleeting, a mere ripple in the tide of his life—nothing more than a momentary distraction.

"What does it matter?" he replied, his voice gruff with frustration. "They'll come around."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "What matters is that I'm not some secret you hide from the world! It's like I don't even exist outside of these stolen moments." The words hung in the air, sharp and accusatory.

He sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving the road. "You know it's not like that."

But you didn't know. You felt like a shadow in his life, a secret to be kept hidden from the glaring lights of the world. The anger grew hotter, a fire in your chest that threatened to consume you. "Then tell me what it's like," you demanded. "Make me understand why I can't be a part of your fucking life without hiding!"

Kylian's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his breathing was shallow.

"I am at the peak of my career!"

His voice was sharp, frustration cutting through every word. "I told you about this whole privacy thing," he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "And you agreed! You said you were fucking fine with it!" The tension in the air was almost tangible, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Not with your parents, at least!" you shot back, your voice rising as anger flared within you. The words left your lips before you could stop them, sharp and unyielding, matching the tension that filled the car. You stood your ground, meeting his fiery gaze, unwilling to back down from the storm brewing between you.

His voice rose, laced with frustration he couldn’t contain. "God, you’re so damn clingy sometimes," he snapped, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "I can’t just drop everything for you, alright? I have a career to think about—I don’t need you acting like a stupid bitch about it."

"Stupid what?" you interrupted, your voice rising as you turned to him, disbelief flashing in your eyes.

"Yeah, you heard me," he shot back without thinking, his frustration spilling over. "Stupid ass bitch."

Your breath caught, his words hitting harder than anything he’d ever said to you before. "Stop the car," you said, your voice shaking with anger.

"Stop the car!"

"Yeah, I’ll stop the fucking car!" he barked, slamming on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt by the side of the road.

Without hesitation, you flung the door open and stepped out into the cold night air, slamming it shut behind you. The sound echoed, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He sat there, gripping the steering wheel, his heart sinking as the weight of his words crashed down on him.

Realization hit like a tidal wave, and he threw the car into drive, creeping slowly to match your pace as you stormed down the street.

He kept the car rolling beside you. “You’re really gonna walk out on the car like that?"

You didn’t stop, didn’t even look at him. “Fuck you!” you shouted, your voice trembling with anger and hurt.

“Come on, babe,” he called out, his voice softer now, laced with regret. “I can’t leave you like this. Let me take you home.”

You stopped in your tracks, turned to face him, your eyes blazing. “Leave me the fuck alone!” you screamed, each word sharp and cutting. “I don’t wanna see you anymore!”

He stopped the car, watching helplessly as you walked away into the dark, your words echoing in his mind. He sat there, paralyzed by regret, knowing he might’ve just lost the one person who truly mattered.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The darkness wrapped around you like a shroud, the only light the flicker of the streetlamp outside your window, casting shadows on the walls like a silent movie of your tumultuous thoughts. His words echoed through the empty space, a symphony of doubt and anger that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. How could he treat you like this?

The realization hit you like a cold shower.

The man who swept you away under the dance floor's glow,

Who held you close in quiet rooms, where whispers grow,

Who heard your first "I love you" by the Maldives’ gentle tide,

Was absent in the leathered luxury where his ego would abide.

Now, stats and numbers steal his tongue, your dreams left unsaid, a stranger in the driver's seat, where your heart once led.

Kylian had become a star, and in doing so, had forgotten the gravity of the simple moments that had brought you together.

The quiet moments of shared laughter had been drowned out by the roar of the stadium, and the gentle strokes of his hand had been replaced by the firm grip of his ambition.

Kylian blamed himself. He let his anger consume him, a wildfire burning through reason and restraint. When he finally told his mother about you, he hoped for understanding, maybe even support. Instead, her words cut deep, embedding themselves in his mind like code in a machine. From that moment, he felt programmed to meet her expectations.

Be the best, Kylian.

Her voice echoed endlessly in his head. It wasn’t a choice anymore; it was his identity, the role he was born to play. The weight of their pride, the legacy, bore down on him, suffocating his own desires.

He wasn’t just Kylian; he was their Kylian, the greatest thing they had ever created, and he couldn’t let them down.

But in trying to be perfect for them, he wondered if he was losing the parts of himself that mattered most. The parts that belonged to you.

Weeks turned into months, and the silence between you and Kylian grew louder. The only bridge between you now was his messages, desperate and pleading.

"I’m sorry, baby. Can we talk? Please?"

Your replies were short, distant.

"I can’t. I’m busy."

Winning Ligue 1, another trophy to add to his collection. But the victory was hollow.

The nights were the worst—endless hours spent scrolling through your Instagram. There you were, smiling again, surrounded by friends. That radiant face he had first seen in the club, now only a memory behind a screen. Not in his arms. Not his anymore.

"I’ll never mess up again, I swear. Just… call me."

Your reply came, cold and final.

"We’re over. Stop contacting me."

His thumb hovered over the screen, disbelief washing over him. He dialed your number, hands trembling, but each ring dragged into silence. No answer.

"Did you block me!?" he typed, panic seeping into his words.

Still nothing.

"Answer me!"

But his words only reached the empty void of delivered.

That’s when the rage bubbled to the surface. His fists clenched as the realization struck like a thunderbolt—you were gone. Truly gone. The medals and trophies that lined his shelves seemed to mock him now. All lost in the suffocating shadow of his parents’ expectations.

Kylian slammed the phone onto his desk with force, the ache in his chest unbearable. No victory could fill the void you left behind.

And as your presence faded further into the past, he realized the cost of trying to be perfect. It was too high. He had lost you. Forever.

The party lights flickered, reflecting Kylian’s distorted thoughts as he drove recklessly through the streets. Fueled by anger and a dangerous cocktail of drugs, his mind spiraled into chaos. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see past the image burned into his mind—you, smiling in someone else’s arms.

While scrolling through your friend’s Instagram story, he spotted you with a man, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, and you were smiling.

That picture had pushed him over the edge, and now, nothing else mattered.

Parking haphazardly outside the party, he stormed in, his eyes darting frantically through the crowd. And then he saw you—ascending the stairs with the man from the photo. His fists clenched, his pulse pounding as he watched from the shadows. When you reappeared alone, heading to the bar, he seized his chance.

He approached swiftly, his grip firm on your arm.

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, irritation clear in your voice.

“I’m trying to talk to you, but you blocked me. Why would you do that?” His words were sharp, almost desperate.

You yanked your arm free. “I blocked you because we’re done, Kylian. There’s nothing to talk about.”

But he didn’t back down. “Did you fuck him?” His tone was cold, accusatory.

“What?” You stared at him, stunned.

“You heard me. That guy upstairs. Did you fuck him?”

The confusion on your face deepened. “Who—Alex? Are you serious? He’s one of my best friends. He’s gay.”

“That’s bullshit.” His voice rose, disbelief clouding his judgment.

“It’s not! And the drinks I was getting? They’re for my friends. You’d know that if you ever bothered to ask or get to know them!” Your frustration boiled over.

“You only care about yourself!” you added, your voice trembling.

“I only care about myself?” His anger flared, but you didn’t wait for his retort. Turning on your heel, you started to walk away.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” he growled, grabbing your arm again, pulling you into an empty room.

“Let go of me!” you shouted, your voice breaking.

Kylian’s grip loosened for a moment, his expression flickering between fury and regret. “Baby, just listen to me. Please,” he pleaded, his hands shifting to your shoulders.

“I’ll tell my parents. I’ll tell my friends. I’ll tell the world. I don’t care. Just come back to me.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No,” you sobbed. “I can’t. Look at you!”

You saw it in his eyes—bloodshot, clouded, a haze of intoxication stealing the clarity they once held.

"You think I want a life with you? Just look at yourself!" Tears streamed down your face as your voice cracked with emotion.

“What do you mean, look at me?” His anger reignited, his voice sharp and cutting. “I’m here, aren’t I? I'm here for you, bitch."

Your gaze met his, hollow and disbelieving. “Stop calling me that!"

His anger surged again, and before he could stop himself, words he didn’t mean escaped his lips.

“You’re such a selfish bitch!”

Your slap echoed through the room, sharp and startling. You didn’t wait for his reaction; you pulled away, trembling, your tears blurring your vision.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” you choked, your voice filled with fear and heartbreak.

Something shifted in Kylian’s eyes then—realization, maybe. His hands fell to his sides, his body frozen in place as you stepped back, wiping the tears from your face.

As you walked away, his chest felt hollow, his world unravelling. As the drug coursed through his veins, it claimed his body in a haze of surrender, weaving a spell that blurred the line between control and chaos.

He watched you disappear into the crowd, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. For the first time, he saw it clearly—you weren’t just leaving. You were gone. And it was entirely his fault.

—

Years passed, but time never dulled the weight of his regret.

When you left, he stripped himself of the colors you gave him. The bright white streaks that once danced through his hair—your touch, your light—faded like the ghost of a dream. He dyed it back to black, the shade of before, as if erasing every trace of you could silence the ache.

Kylian had it all—his name immortalized in football, his dream club in Madrid awaiting his arrival. Yet, in the silence of his nights, the triumphs felt hollow.

Sometimes, when the ache grew unbearable, he’d find himself scrolling through your Instagram. There you were, in Germany now—living the dream you used to whisper to him about, the life he should’ve supported. A home and a man who held you the way he never could. A picture-perfect, framed in a happiness he no longer dared to imagine for himself.

But it was the Maldives photo that truly broke him. It stayed tucked away, a relic of the love he lost. In it, you stared straight at him, your eyes warm and alive, as if seeing straight into his soul. He could barely look at it without choking on the memory of the first “I love you” whispered under that endless sky.

On the loneliest nights, when the roar of the crowd faded and his medals gleamed like mocking ghosts, he clutched that photo and prayed.

Not for forgiveness—he didn’t deserve that—but for you. For your happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, for you to haunt him.

"Come out and haunt me."

Lying alone in his cold, empty room, he whispered those same words into the void, hoping they might somehow reach you.

Haunt him with the sound of your laughter. With the light in your eyes. With the love he destroyed but never stopped yearning for.

But they didn’t. They never would. Because you were gone, and he was alone.

Because even in the echo of his greatest victories, it was your absence that screamed the loudest. And he knew—he would carry that hollow ache, that haunting memory of you, for the rest of his days.

this fic is deeply inspired by Waves (2019), directed by Trey Edward Shults.

the film brings me a sense of comfort, and the inspiration to write this story about kylian is exactly what i needed 😣

part 2

[midwesternvibes]

This one is currently winning on my little motivation poll so here we go

SEPERATED LEO AU!!! (because we don't have enough of those already lol)

Link to original post

So, I wanna talk more about how they all refound each other (link to how they met here)

Just to recap, Big Mama has Mikey, Draxum has Raph, and Splinter has Donnie. Big Mama's in her Nexus Hotel, Draxum is in NYC with a cloaking broach, and Splinter's in the ever iconic sewers.

Big Mama is actually a very kind mother to Mikey! She loves her little baby, and especially loves how he has her beloved Lou's smile. She spoils him to death and lets them express himself however she'd like. (If you haven't picked up on it yet, Mikey is genderfluid in this au and generally presents as a feminine man) Mikey absolutely adores skirts and zip-up hoodies, and usually wears a very bright suit top with a big orange ball gown skirt to formal events that Big Mama matches at Mikey's whims (I cannot draw for the life of me so if anyone is willing to draw this for me I will work out some kind of trade with you if you'd like 🙏)

But yeah, Big Mama does not let her fight in the Nexus, and has even toned down the brutality of the Nexus due to Mikey's pleading. There aren't any more lethal fights and she rarely makes binding, lifelong contracts because it made her baby upset to see all the sad and scared people.

They are a very cute duo and both genuinely love each other very much

Then there's Draxum amd Raph! Draxum luckily snagged two cloaking broaches before his lab exploded and slapped them on both him and his 2 year old son before heading up to the surface. The two of them then got a apartment in the.....*shuddder*........human world. Draxum tries to hide them in mostly secret, only leaving the house for groceries and necessities, but eventually realizes that poor Raphie is very lonely.

This is made so much worse when he meets the little girl downstairs and wants so desperately to follow her to school after their playdates.........Draxum finally caves.

With the help of Mr. and Mrs. O'Neil, he enrolls Raphie in the same Kindergarden as April and lets him finally go to school after years of homeschooling. Raphie struggles with the transition a bit, but eventually he gets the hang of it and thrives! Draxum encourages him to join as many clubs as he can (without getting overwhelmed of course) and is his biggest fan.

Once Draxum is able to settle down, he's actually a huge soccer mom and goes to all of Raphie's events, he gets totally embarrassed sometimes. Draxum and the O'Neils are really good friends and try to have dinner at least once a week

But once again, a very happy family! They struggle to show it sometimes, but they truly love each other and only want what's best for each other

Then we have Donnie and Splinter! Splinter was mutated with the DNA from his pet rat that he picked up on his travels with Big Mama and Draxum to get the turtles, and he was only able to grab Donnie and retreat to the sewers before Draxum's while lab collapsed. He, along with the other two, belive his partners and other children to be dead, so he never goes searching for them. Instead, he raises his son in the sewers on his own, foraging for all that they need just like in canon.

However, their sewer home is PREEEEEEEETY nice, since Donnie doesn't really doesn't have anything better to do other than make their home as nice as possible. He's has all major appliances working since he was 6 and only makes improvements from there. He also has his little pet project, but Splinter doesn't know about that yet!!!!

Speaking of Splinter, he varies pretty dramatically from canon. He's a lot less depressed because he had a much better experience with the yokai world and doesn't feel nearly as ashamed to BE a yokai (or yokai-adjacent) and keeps himself in much better shape, helping him with the dysmorphia that he does have. Overall, Splinter's doing pretty well, and he's a pretty attentive parent overall!

He was able to access some of his funds from his Lou Jitsu days and pays for Donnie to go to online school, and by the time Donnie meets up with the rest of his family at 11, he's halfway through high school work and has plans to go on to college so that he can start building up his tech empire by the time he's 18

But yeah, yet again, a overall happy parent/child relationship!

(Then there's Leo. All the angst had to go somewhere, right???)

Moving on! Now, the adults all lived separately with each of their respective kid, but when Raphie was about 8, he got really sick. Like, really really sick. Draxum went to as many human doctors that he could trust, but none of them were able to figure out what was wrong with his baby. He finally musters up the courage to go down to the Hidden City, and finds out that Raphie has Mystic Overload Syndrome. While he's running around trying to find stuff to help his little boy (he's so affectionate guys), Raphie sneaks out! He starts running around the Hidden City unbroached, and he feels truly seen for the first time in his life.

While running around, he literally runs into another turtle yokai, one who's dressed in expensive orange clothes...........

This post got REALLY long, so stay tuned for more! Next post will probably be how Draxum and Big Mama finally met, and then how Splinter and Donnie come into play!

(Don't worry about Leo this isn't about him he's fine)

First // Previous // Next

(Also stay tuned for the name reveal of the AU!

[retropopcult]

RIP Pelé (October 23, 1940 – December 29, 2022)

Pelé (born Edson Arantes do Nascimento), the Brazilian soccer legend who won three World Cups and became the sport’s first global icon, has died at the age of 82 from complications related to colon cancer.

For more than 60 years, the name Pelé has been synonymous with soccer. He played in four World Cups and is the only player in history to win three, but his legacy stretched far beyond his trophy haul and remarkable goal-scoring record.

“I was born to play football, just like Beethoven was born to write music and Michelangelo was born to paint,” He once said.

Averaging almost a goal per game throughout his career, Pelé was adept at striking the ball with either foot in addition to anticipating his opponents' movements on the field. His dribbling skills were on a higher level, and the best and most experienced defenses were rarely able to stop him. In all, Pele's pro career totaled 1,280 goals (a Guinness world record) and he scored 77 goals for Brasil in World Cup games, also a record.

He won many titles with his Brazilian club, Santos FC, and is their all-time goals leader. He also represented Brasil in four World Cups starting at the age of 17, winning in 1958, 1962, and 1970.  FIFA then dubbed him simply, “The Greatest”; Brazilians called him O Rei (”The King”). 

After retiring from Brazilian (and International World Cup Play) soccer in 1974, he signed on with the New York Cosmos and wowed American fans for three years.  Pelé finished his official playing career by leading the Cosmos to their second championship in 1977.  He then enjoyed his international celebrity status, including a starring role in the film “Victory”, shown above.

[swayziiwriter]

Pablo Gavi FC Barcelona

[simblorbo-bracket]

Simblr Blorbo Sexyman Tournament - Round 1

Susan Wainwright (premade, submitted by @dad-a-base) VS. Nicholas Beasley (@nakasumi-sims)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

Who deserves the title of Simblr's Sexiest Blorbo more? Remember to vote with your heart!

Additional images and propaganda (if provided) available below!

Susan Wainwright

(propaganda courtesy of @dad-a-base)

I like Susan. Maybe not to the degree that some people do, but I think she's an alright sim. However, I think the sexiest thing she has going for her is her status as a Simsecret/Modthesims fourm icon. I think out of any premade woman who originated in Sumset Valley, she's the best because of her eccentric, ironic fanbase. She's an icon. She's a legend. She IS the moment.

The vice president and co-founder of the Paranormal Club. Already once he's been deemed illegal by tumblr for his glorious pecs (the situation that took 3 months to clear up). Who wouldn't like a handsome buff nerd to sweep them off their feet? He loves hiking, camping, reading, and video games. On the weekends, you can catch him playing soccer and on weekday mornings, you'll find him on his daily run before his workout before classes. Right now, he enjoys his days at university and going on investigations with the Paranormal Club. One day, he hopes to become a park ranger.

Some extra propaganda

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Freedom Dance💃🕺⚽️🏈🏉⛳

“The @realDonaldTrump viral dance might seem like a minor issue. It’s NOT.  It captures a shift in the zeitgeist.  It is now cool to openly show support for Trump, for common sense, for reality.  The degenerate left (including most academics) have had a complete stronghold on all institutions that shape culture.  It will take a generation to eradicate the parasitic ideas and the suicidal empathy but this is a good first step.” -Behavioral Scientist Gad Saad

"The Donald Trump tour has gone worldwide! Players from the English soccer club Barnsley hit the Trump dance after a goal."

NFL can't fine Nick Bosa $11,000 for dance moves!

NFL has no problem with athletes taking a knee on the field or socks that portray police officers as pigs.🤔

Former Brazilian President Bolsonaro.

Japan

Greek politician Ariadni Latonopoulou has gone viral after posting a video of herself performing Trump-inspired dance moves to the classic tune "YMCA" on Antenna Greek TV. #Latonopoulou #trump

China

Greece

Argentine President Javier Milei 

Golf

USA Soccer & Football & Boxing

Daddy Dance Dance Moves

2020 TikTok Challenge

[louisupdates]

VIDEO

The former One Direction will perform in Chile on May 24 at the Bicentenario Stadium in La Florida with his "Faith in the Future" tour. We talked exclusively with the British star who went from being a teenage pop idol to a professional soccer player, and finally to consolidating his own more mature and rocking sound. This is the successful present of the artist who loves to sing as much as he loves to play ball.

Dove Couple

Monday, April 8, 202408:10 am

[Translated from Spanish]

In 2022, Louis Tomlinson stepped on Chile for the first time alone to present his debut album "Walls". A bet that exceeded any expectation, because the madness was such that the British, that the former One Direction filled the Movistar Arena three times.

But that was not all, his fans had prepared a surprise for him that, as he confessed to La Cuarta, gave him "goosebumps." During the chorus of the song "Kill my mind", the young women organized themselves to coordinate the lights of their cell phones, creating a kind of mesmerizing wave, leaving the singer and his team speechless, so much so that the moment was recorded in his documentary "All of Those Voices". Moreover, the photo of one of those concerts was nothing more and nothing less than the poster.

But the music that makes him vibrate so much was not always his first choice in life. In 2013, just when the One Direction world tour that brought them to Chile was announced with two concerts at the National Stadium, Louis signed a contract with the League TwoDoncaster Rovers team, and only in 2017, two years after the group took an indefinite break, he was able to debut as a substitute in a match witnessed by more than five thousand fans.

“It's really an honor to be in the club where I spent most of my childhood," he wrote at the time on his Twitter account. However, the boy's dream stagnated when in 2020 and in the middle of the pandemic, he decided to launch himself as a soloist. All of his former bandmates had done it; it was his time.

Thus Louis - whom we recognize with nostalgia, familiarity, and a psychological interest - became one of the most important artists of his generation, adding milestones such as a billion streams on Spotify, numerous awards and being in the Guinness World Records book for breaking the record for the most watched live broadcast concert of a male soloist.

"I FEEL VERY GRATEFUL TO HAVE THAT LOVE HERE"

On the day of the interview with the newspaper, we arrived at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel where the interpreter stayed two days after a successful presentation at Tecate Pa'l Norte 2024 in Mexico, and a promotional step through Brazil. Despite the fatigue, he maintained a good attitude with the press, but mainly with his crowded fans outside the venue, who shouted his name from time to time.

Being in front of a pop idol who has spent half of his life on tour, in conferences and with a handful of iconic songs that marked more than a generation, is truly intimidating, but Louis makes anyone lower their guard because he welcomes you as if he were your friend. Wearing a pair of relaxed jeans, black t-shirt and sneakers in tune, he smiles and greets us in a friendly manner. Although he is surrounded by people who make up his team— overwhelming— but this is his natural environment; and thus begins a dialogue with La Cuarta about his two passions.

Q: Louis, you return to Chile in May after filling three arenas on your last visit, something historic! What will it be like to return with that powerful precedent?

Louis: I feel like my Spanish is coming back! I almost knew what you were asking (laughs). I'm very excited, I feel very lucky to be able to perform in an enclosure of that size in my... well, technically on my second solo tour. I feel very grateful to have that love and passion here. I'm mainly very excited about these shows.

Q: In several of your "Faith In the Future" songs, you talk about nostalgia, changes and the passage of time. Are they topics that you think about frequently or only arise when composing?

Louis: Yes, I would say that I am a little bit of a deep thinker. I think it helps me as a songwriter, but I also think that nostalgia is a great thing to write about. It’s a great topic to feel as a listener and also to write as a songwriter. And I'm also interested in psychology, so anything that makes the brain feel in a certain way, I think it's interesting.

Q: What would the 32-year-old Louis with a successful second album under his arm and a new tour say to the teenager who applied to The X Factor in 2010?

Louis: I would insist that he should do it. I think there is definitely an element, in every young person in that situation, there is something very terrifying that makes you want to start. But I would also tell you, what I have learned the most, to trust your instinct, trust that feeling and be brave to make decisions, the right decisions for yourself.

Q: Among those decisions is to be the last 1D member to make your solo career, and today we are here with "Faith In The Future" that sounds 100% yours. Looking back, how do you see the path has unwinded?

Louis: I feel very comfortable. The mentality I have now feels very different from the one I had when I started this trip as a soloist. I feel very blessed to be able to continue making music. But it's also a very nice feeling and it's something very new for me to feel so comfortable on stage and so comfortable when I'm making the music I want to make. In general, yes, I am very happy.

WHEN CHILE DRISTLED HIS SKIN

Q: Louis, I imagine there must be some time in your career when you said, wow, I did it!

Louis: You know, I used to resist that idea, ‘cuz for whatever reason, I don't know, I never wanted to give myself that, I suppose… my brain. But I have, I have started trying to have those moments more for myself. It often happens on the live show. It can be something that fans did together, like some kind of fan project. But also, even when I played the festival just now, in Mexico, that was one of those moments. I was kind of nervous going out there, and the audience was so vast, but people seemed to be having a good time. So yeah, it was great.

Q: Now that you mentioned the fan project, when you came to Chile, your followers prepared one for the song "Kill My Mind" that was beautiful. How did you experience it from the stage?

Louis: I had no idea that was going to happen! I know that fans often do their own little fan projects, in a way of doing something fun for me and something unique at every individual show, but I didn't know what to expect. And to be honest, that— literally gave me goosebumps, it was such an incredible spectacle. And, again, like always at these shows, and especially in Latin America, you’ve not got like ten people giving it a go, everyone in the room is participating! It’s a very euphoric thing for me to see from the stage.

Q: Changing the subject, football is one of your passions, what place does it occupy in your life today?

Louis: I would say that definitely, before I was in the band, nothing came close in my life, football was my IT. Now music is. I absolutely love football, but for me nothing comes close to music. Obviously it's my job, that's important, but as a fan, I'm talking more like a fan, I probably don't watch enough football these days, I'm usually busy, but I catch up with the "highlights" (the most important moments of the game). It's still a big part of my life, especially when they play in England. I'm excited for the next European Championship. We're going to win it!

Q: Of course! [England] is the parents of football. Finally, what makes you happiest today?

Louis: The family, definitely, the family and friends. And specifically in my work world. It's live concerts. That gives me amazing feelings.

[holyblonded]

KENZA CREOXELLS

Kenza Esperança Creoxells (born August 13, 2003) is an American soccer player who plays for the Yale Bulldogs as well as the United States women's national soccer team. When she was younger she played for the Barcelona Femení youth team. She's currently plays for as a forward for the Liga F club Barcelona since she was 14 and 291 days old. She is the most recent winner of the Golden Girl Award and the Kopa Feminin Award.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘇𝗮 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘀

Full Name: Kenza Esperança St. Clair i Creoxells

Date of Birth: August 13, 2003 (age 20)

Place of Birth: Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain 

Height: 5'8"

Education: The Benjamin Franklin International School (graduated)

Yale University (currently)

Postion(s):           Forward

Current Team: No.3 - Barcelona

No.3 - Yale Bulldogs

International Team: United States

Awards: Full List

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Kenza Esperança Creoxells, known in the soccer world as "Golden Girl" or "The King" alternately "King Kenza", was born August 13, 2004 to Akoni St. Clair and Nor Creoxells in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain. Her father is a retired NBA player who is known for his phenomenal rebounding skills. She two younger siblings, Khai and Kyro that don't have many current media appearances.

Creoxells has been playing soccer since she was merely two years old, but even back then she had a talent for it. Her talent was first seen by her father who encouraged her to keep playing and be "the best soccer player you can be." Creoxells’ parent divorced when she was merely 5 years old. She spends the school year with her mom in DC and her school breaks she spend it with her dad either in his usual residence in Minnesota.

When she was in Washington DC, she befriended Azzi Fudd. In Minnesota, she made many friends like Paige Bueckers and Jalen Suggs who both attended her father's basketball camps. In Barcelona, she befriended Leonkinda, a Greek aristocrat, as well as Pedri and Gavi, both fellow La Masia graduate.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

Her mother is Spanish supermodel, Nor Creoxells. She is very close to her mother and as a child, Creoxells was always spotted at the runway shows supporting her mom. Her mom speaks to her children strictly in Spanish and Catalan when they were growing up making that Creoxells first language. When Creoxells was ten, her mother got remarried to American basketball legend, Diana Taurasi.

Diana Taurasi came into Creoxells’ life when she was seven years old, and the two have been quite close. Creoxells has been pictured many times throughout her life at a basketball game and Taurasi has been photographed arguing with little league refs. The most iconic moment was at the 2012 London Olympics, when Taurasi gave her gold medal to nine year old Kenza, hard launching her relationship to Nor Creoxells. St. Clair has said, "she [Taurasi] has been an important figure in my life and to my career. She truly stepped up into a parent role like it was nothing. I owe everything to her."

NBA Legend, Akoni St. Clair is her father and at a  young age, Creoxells said he 100% encouraged her soccer career. Creoxells credits her dad with her success in soccer even though the two aren't that close. In fact, after her parents divorced, Creoxells didn't see her dad for two years due to his excessive partying. When Creoxells was 14, Akoni relinquished his parental rights for reasons unknown to the media. Since then, Kenza either has Creoxells or occasionally Taurasi on her jersey.

The five year old twin boys, Khai and Kyro, are often kept out of the spotlight, but Creoxells does seem to adore them. The twins were born through IVF that Nor carried. Anytime the two are brought up on an interview, there's a burst of excitement.

Creoxells has had numerous brief flings with fellow La Masia alum, Alejandro Balde. The two were spotted on the streets of Barcelona kissing  various times throughout their teen years. Though there is no confirmation of the relationship, the two seem to be great friends now. Giovanna Ramos is Creoxells’ recent fling as the two were pictured kissing outside of a club.  Although neither parties have confirmed nor denied the rumors.

Creoxells’ reoccurring relationship rumor is with Paige Bueckers. The two have known each other since childhood and are often seen around UConn and Yale campuses together. While both deny the rumors, witnesses say they often flirt with each other in public.

CAREER

When Creoxells was about 8 years old, she earned the opportunity to train at La Masia. After Creoxells and her father begged her mother, she was allowed to go and stayed with her mom's childhood friend, Alexia Putellas. Putellas quickly became another mother to her , watching her grow up and eventually join her on the pitch. Creoxells said, "La Masia taught me major discipline and how truly gifted I was at the sport (soccer). It also gave me the opportunity to build my skill set and knowledge in football. It also gave me the opportunity to build these relationships at Barca, I don't know what I would be doing without my team."

Creoxells has a very interesting style on playing. She has a keen eye and is able to spot spaces and gaps to squeeze herself through. Her elite ball control, speed, ambidexterity, and spatial awareness make her a dangerous player to go against. The way Creoxells even envisions a field is different from most players and seems to give her some sort of upper hand. In her entire carrer, Creoxells has never missed a penalty kick.

At 14 years old, Creoxells was offered a spot on the Barca Femení professional team. She accepted and played there ever since. Her debut game she scored a goal and a hatrick against Chelsea FC, but what made her memorable was her constant confused looks when she scored. At Barca, she earned the nickname, Bebita and Princesa, from her teammates. This nickname is not only due to her age but her naps that she took during any sort of break. Creoxells even got caught napping during halftime at a game, curled up next to Ingrid Engen and Mapi Leon. The second nickname was earned because of her judgmental glances during games and her lack of a poker face. For the Barcelona fans, they give her the nickname "Chica Dorada" aka Golden Girl. Her other nicknames like King Kenza came later on. Her newest nickname and a fan favorite is "La Artillero" meaning the gunner, poking fun at Arsenal who tried to take the prodigy many times but failed. The nickname also refers to her precision kicks into the goal.

After about two years of Creoxells playing on Barca and attending university, her grades slipped making Barca's manager Jonatan, decided to put St. Clair's spot on Barca is currently "on hold" as she furthers her education in college. Creoxells plans on graduating early so she can go back to play.

She currently plays for the USWNT but after they refused to raise her pay, Creoxells is in the process of switching teams. The USSF claim they are currently in negotiations with Creoxells’ management to dispute the situation. Not so long ago, the USSF faced a lawsuit against the women's team for equal pay. Creoxells made a statement saying, "They [USSF] are paying me less than what they said on a contract. It would take some serious groveling for me to stay on the team." She is currently eligible for the English (her mother) and Spanish (her mother) National Teams. As well as t

𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒

2x First-Team All-American

Gatorade Player of the Year (2022)

Hermann Trophy (2023)

Rookie of the Year (2021)

U.S Soccer Young Female Player of the Year Award (2022)

Golden Girl Award (2021, 2022, 2023)

2x NCAA Tournament College Cup

Primera División: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

Copa de la Reina: 2020-21, 2021-22, 2022-23

UEFA Women's Champions League Player of the Year (2022-23)

Kopa Féminin Award (2023)