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My Duty, My Purpose//Part 1: I'm just a girl
Bodyguard!Henry Cavill x Fat!Princess Reader; or Bodyguard!Henry X PlusSized!Princess Reader
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Author's note: I am kind of squeamish about RPF and I can't quite put my finger on why. And well, when it comes to Henry Cavill, none of his characters quite fit the vibe I am going for here, which is a boarding school educated, military decorated fancy boy in the streets, and a feral, possessive beast in the sheets. Let's split the difference and say this is a Henry Cavill!Bodyguard!AU. The rest is loosely inspired by all the pomp and circumstance in the fall out of the Queen's death. For the record, I think the monarchy is trash and should be abolished and the riches returned from whence they were thieved, but in this alternative reality, we're just going for smut and feels.  I tried not to explicitly code reader as white, but this is definitely England-ish constitutional monarchy, though I don't name it directly. It's very much a Bridgerton gloss-over of terrible colonial histories. Despite all these drawbacks, I  hope you enjoy!
Warnings!: 18+, proper smut to follow, rough handling, degradation, possessive behaviour, death of family members (mentioned in passing) substance misuse, risky behaviour (sexual and otherwise), depression, allusions to mental health(reader and others). Please let me know if missed anything, sorry for forgetting warnings at time of posting!
Word count: 1.7k 
Part 1: I'm just a girl
The bass thumped through your body. You had your eyes closed, moving with the crowd, feeling the man press against your back, his hands caressing your hips. Chris? Cory? Who knows and who cares. You wont see this American again and wont remember him at all soon.
You loved this club. It was the best club in....Berlin? Or was this Mykonos? Nope. You were in Belgrade, having arrived in the middle of the night last night. It didn't really matter as the trip from the airport to the rented villa started to feel the same in every city, the only differences were the accents and the food, not that you ate much anyway. Drinks and drugs propelled you from one moment to the next. 
The man's hand moved across your stomach and under your shirt, starting to creep up to cup your breasts, tweaking your nipples. You pulled away and he pulled you back. You stopped struggling, acquiescing to the man, not caring as the sensations took over. Your head leaned back against his shoulder, unable to hold yourself upright any longer. 
Your vision went black in the crowd, your eyes opening only briefly. 
At first you felt yourself being dragged. And then your eyes opened and you were on the edge of the crowd, music louder as you were lifted over a barrier. You blacked out again. You woke up feeling coddled, cool air blowing across your sticky forehead. A familiar cologne filled your nostrils, and you buried your face into a familiar chest, safe and warm. 
You were half awake for a short car ride, and then as you were carried up a flight of stairs to the beautiful villa you barely even noticed, let alone appreciated.
As you floated down, you felt weightless and then a sense of panic. Before you could react your body landed in a heap on a soft surface, a fluffy blanket bouncing up and covering you. You were about to settle in to sleep when you heard a loud huff. 
The familiar man had moved closer to the bed. "Princess, you have to get up. I need to talk to you."
You just laid there, allowing the soft blanket to lull you into a false sense of ease. The man growled and pulled the blanket off of you. You opened your eyes and were surprised to find warm daylight streaming in. And as your eyes adjusted you saw the stern, closely shaved face of Henry, hair a bit dishevelled from its normally perfect coif. 
"Princess, it's serious." His voice was soft and your heart stilled in your chest. Soon, your mind was filled with worry and the weight of the inescapable reality you had only dulled, not truly avoided for weeks. 
You grumbled but sat up, groggily making your way to the edge. Your shoeless feet touched down on the thick rug, which was a jolt of sensation, coursing through your body still flying high from the drugs. 
He sat down on a chair that he brought from the small desk in the corner. He sat in that precise and perfect way he always did, except this time,  he had his legs spread and elbows rested on his knees. He was struggling to find the words though his body language was speaking volumes. 
He reached forward and grabbed one of your much smaller hands, caressing your skin lightly with his calloused thumb. 
"I have terrible news." 
You watched him, curiously but still disengaged, as if he was talking to someone else, holding someone else's hand in his own large one. 
"The Queen... has died."
He searched your face, his beautiful blue eyes finding your vacant ones. 
He hesitated, possibly confused by your lack of reaction.
"Do you understand, Princess? Do you know what this means?"
You nodded. Your stomach felt like it was moving with the tide, juices sloshing and wild. You were in the eye of a storm now. 
Henry hesitated again. "You don't have long. You're expected back at the palace imminently."
You nodded. "Thank you, Henry. I will go shower."
He nodded back, a look of surprise crossing his features. 
You floated into the bathroom, head held high. In times of crisis you were clear-eyed. The training from your youth taking over. The lessons of your lineage activating from a long dormant part of your mind and heart. 
You stripped down, entering into the luxuriant shower, warm water prickling against your skin. You breathed deeply and washed away the grime and sweat from your disreputable few weeks. You went in a raver and emerged yourself. Well... at least the version of yourself that was palatable to the public. 
You dried and styled your hair, applied your simple skin care and make-up, and emerged naked into the bedroom. On the bed was a very sensible and flattering silk pantsuit; Modest in its tones and conservative in its cut. You slipped it on and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were glassy and vacant and the bags under them were dark and swollen. You hadn't noticed in the bathroom, as you readied your game face. 
A  knock at the door pulled your from your stupor, Henry entering without you summoning him. 
He had long ago stopped waiting for your permission to enter, as you were often too intoxicated or stoned or hazy to answer. He always found you, no matter how far you ran, how much you imbibed, how many times you gave him the slip. 
"Princess, the plane is ready."
You slung your expensive bag over your arm, and exited the villa. Behind you there was a flurry of activity as security swept the room and your lady's maid collected your personal items and packed your suitcase.
It was such a strange existence. So much was done for you, often just before you entered or just after you left a space. Your life was chaos but those around you still seemed to execute their duties with precision and discretion. It was times likes this you hated yourself. Poor little rich girl trying to drink herself to death. Poor little rich girl trying to escape the reality of her privlege. 
Within a few moments the car was driving quickly to the private airfield. You had somehow managed to go on this months' long bender without becoming front page news. You father would be proud. Well... what he didn't know never hurt him. 
You remembered your first day of school, your face warm with excitement and fear. Your father had promised that the photographers were just there, bustling and shouting questions at you, to wish you well. It felt like being in a hornets nest, the angry flashes and excitable grownups swarming your school. 
Your classmates teased you mercilessly that first year. You wanted to disappear. You made no friends, just kept to yourself and your books. 
But your father had reminded you of your duty and gave you advice that you tried to live by to this day, "They only get to see what we show them. And today, we're showing them what a brave and composed little girl you are."
You were comforted by that advice over the years, although the older you got the more you knew it to be untrue. Your father's philandering was exposed. Your mother's mental illness and subsequent death picked apart. Your own classmates selling you out to the gossip rags to fund their trips to Ibiza or their coke addictions. The press pried and infiltrated your life like mice in a larder, gnawing away at your stores until you felt split open like a bag of flour pouring out onto the tile floor. You were fragments, somehow less than the sum of your component parts. 
But as you and Henry travelled quietly, you watched the clouds pass the window of the private plane. The rich leather seats warmed with time and you were able to lean back gently and sleep for a few hours, until the abrupt landing shook you awake. 
Henry looked at you, concern etched across his handsome features. 
You nodded once. The singular nod you gave him that said more than any words could. He nodded back, as he always did, the connection between you having been forged over years of proximity and shared experience. 
His shoulders went back and he exited the plane first, checking the tarmac for threats. You quickly made your way to the waiting Range Rover, which whisked you into the dark of the night. It was 4am, it would be dawn by the time you made it to the palace. There may even be a crowd of photographers and reporters. 
You knew how to keep yourself contained, shutting down everything until you were as stoic as a cow in a field chewing its cud. 
That was all you were now. A broodmare. Without a stud you were nothing. You were the last hope in your family line. 
As you pulled into the front gates, the dawn was breaking. You looked straight ahead. Henry scanned for threats but you could also see him using his discreetly angled rearview mirror to scan your face and posture, seeking for clues of you. You ignored him. 
As you pulled in front of the palace, a footman opened the door and helped you from the vehicle. 
He solemnly bowed, "Your majesty."
You nodded at him and entered the palace.
Yours, now.
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canirove · 9 months
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The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 14
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"Welcome to Villa Farfalla" Roberta says when we get out of the car.
"Farfalla vendetta?" Mason chuckles.
"Everyone does that joke, you aren't being original" she replies, rolling her eyes. "It is called farfalla because that's the nickname my great-grandfather had for my great-grandmother. He built this place for her!"
"That's cute" Declan says.
"Should we start with the tour?" Roberta asks.
"After you" Mason says, taking her hand on his and kissing it, making her giggle.
"Are you ready for two weeks or hearing her giggle?" I ask Declan. Once we arrived home after the World Cup, we all decided to spend part of the summer holidays in Italy like Roberta had suggested, though only David and Sophie know that we are together. My parents think it is just Roberta and I, and the media believes that Mason and Declan are in Mykonos or Dubai like most of their teammates.
"I'm afraid we are gonna hear her do more than just giggle" Declan sighs. 
"Well, at least it is a big house" I laugh, linking my arm with his and following Roberta and Mason.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        
"Morning."
"Good morning. Coffee?" Declan asks, his eyes slowly scanning my body.
"Yes, please" I say, trying to play it cool and leaning against the kitchen's countertop where he is making himself some breakfast, doing my best to ignore the fact that my temperature has gone a few degrees up just by the way he was looking at me.
"They also woke you up, didn't they?" he chuckles, his eyes still fixed on my body. Thank you for buying me these pyjamas, Sophie. 
"I didn't get to sleep until they finished."
"I had never heard him be so loud."
"Same with Roberta. It was as if they had the door and all the windows open."
"Maybe they did."
"Then thank God they closed at least the door when I walked past their room now. They were back at it."
"Really?" he laughs.
"Yep. They are like rabbits or something” I laugh. “Anyway, what are you eating?"
"Just a toast with some peach marmalade I found" he says. "Do you want a bite?"
"Are you sure it isn't out of date? Roberta said most things on the cupboards were from last summer."
"I didn't check" he shrugs, giving his toast a big bite.
"Declan!"
"Whot?" 
"First of all, manners. You do not speak with your mouth full of food. And second, what if you get sick? I came here to relax and have a good time, not to be your nurse."
"You probably are a great nurse" he smirks.
"I'm the least helpful person in the world if you are puking or bleeding, so I don't think so."
"Shame. Guess it'll have to be just roleplaying" he says, giving the toast another bite.
"Are you into that?" I ask, arching a brow.
"Never tried it. You?"
"Nope."
"Do you want to?"
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Rice?" I ask with a mischievous smile.
"Well..." he says, putting his toast down and licking his fingers very slowly, definitely knowing what he is doing. "I thought we could... You know. Become rabbits too."
"Declan!" I laugh.
"Don't you want to?" he asks, grabbing me by the waist and pushing me against the kitchen's countertop.
"Become a rabbit? Nope."
"And what about doing what rabbits do?" 
"Maybe..."
"Just maybe?" he says, trying to sound offended.
"I guess you'll have to convince me."
"Ok" he chuckles. "May I kiss you?"
"You don't have to ask every time you want to do it, you know?" I laugh.
"Yeah... But I still fear MI6 may show up out of nowhere."
"The bodyguards here are all Italian, you are safe."
"Oh, great. Now the mafia is involved."
"Declan!"
"I was just teasing" he smiles.
"Roberta is tired of hearing people make that bad joke when she tells them she is Italian, so now when someone mentions it, she says that everyone in Italy has an uncle that works for the mafia and that should watch out."
"I'll have to ask Gianlu if that's true, then."
"Scamacca? He's hot."
"Excuse me?" 
"I have eyes" I shrug. "And if you didn't exist, he could be my prince."
"Imagine him with a crown and his neck tattoos" Declan laughs.
"My mum would faint the moment she sees me with him. She hates tattoos."
"I don't have any."
"You don't?"
"Want to check for yourself?" he smirks.
"I thought you wanted to kiss me" I reply with a similar smile.
"We can do both things. First I can kiss you," Declan says, brushing his lips against mine. "And then we can check each other to see if we have tattoos."
"I don't have tattoos."
"That's what you say. May I kiss you?"
"Urgh, stop asking and just do it" I say, pulling him closer to me and kissing him, that electricity I've always felt when we touch or kiss going through my whole body once again. It is something I can't get enough of. I can't get enough of him. I need him. I want him. And he seems to feel the same, his kisses getting more intense, his hands moving all over my body, getting under my clothes.
"Fuck" I gasp when his thumb brushes over my nipple.
"So hard" he whispers, his eyes focused on mine while he touches me again.
"Look who is talking" I smirk.
"Your room or mine?"
"Yours is too close to Mason's."
"Then yours it is" he says, taking a step back and picking me up.
"Declan!" I laugh again. "What are you doing?"
"I'm carrying you upstairs" he says as he starts walking.
"Why?"
"Because if we walk together, we won't make it. We'll probably start kissing and end up fucking in the middle of the corridor, and that's something I don't enjoy when we aren't alone."
"Does that mean that you've done it before?"
"There are too many stairs at my place" he shrugs.
"Ok" I laugh.
The moment we walk into my room, we are kissing again, hands all over each other, clothes flying everywhere until we are completely naked.
"Is the door closed?" I ask between kisses.
"It is" Declan says, moving me towards the bed and slowly pulling me down until we both are laying on it, kissing again. 
But we are not rushing it. We are enjoying every kiss, every touch, laughing, smiling at each other. It feels...
"Perfect" I say, hugging Declan. "That was perfect."
"It was, wasn't it?" he says, kissing my head.
"I can't remember the last time I made love with someone."
"We... Made love?" he chuckles.
"Yes, we did" I say, turning my head to look at him and resting my chin on his chest. "Didn't you feel it? It wasn't just sex. There was something more, it was... Special."
"It did feel special" he says, putting a lock of hair behind my ear. "The perfect first time."
"The perfect first time" I repeat with a big smile. 
"And I'm glad it went like this, you know?" Declan says, now caressing my cheek. "I didn't want our first time together to be just sex. I wanted it to be special because you are special to me. You aren't like any of the other girls I've been with, and not just because of who you are" he smiles. 
"Aren't you cute?" I giggle.
"I am. I am very cute, and I also am very hungry. Should we go downstairs and grab something to eat? You didn't let me finish my toast, and it probably is lunch time already."
"Can't we cuddle for a bit longer? Just five minutes before we go back to the real world" I pout, hugging him again with both my arm and my leg.
"You mean before going back to those two rabbits we have for best friends."
"Exactly" I laugh. "Let it be just you and I in our perfect bubble for a bit longer."
"Ok. Just the two of us" he replies, hugging me tighter.
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bluesmason · 2 years
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i mean mason took his bodyguard on holidays last summer & i think paris and a few times on nights out but that’s about it 😭
ohhhh yeah i mean he def took him on his trip to mykonos last year but i think it was for all the boys not just mason, and then for the other times i don’t know if he was with them but maybe he migh’ve been :)
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mykonosconcierge · 5 years
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arjullahossen · 4 years
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skynnexav · 3 years
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mykonosprive123 · 4 years
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murreyterry · 4 years
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Private Bodyguard and Security services in Mykonos island. Personal security for VIPs and Celebrities. Mykonos Bodyguards Mykonos VIP Bodyguard/Driver Services PRIVÉ is a group of travel and service oriented professionals with a combined experience of more than 20 years on Mykonos Island, offering personal concierge services to discerning clients traveling every summer to Mykonos. mykonos bodyguards #mykonosprive #mykonosconcierge #privatedrivermykonos #mykonoschauffeur #bodyguardsmykonos #mykonosvipservices #bodyguards #privatedriver #concierge #privatedriver #chauffeur
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stephspurs · 3 years
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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction
Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...
Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!
Love always,
Steph xx
UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!
Part 3. | parte terza
warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.
word count; 2081
writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.
next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!
Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven
link to fic masterlist here
It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.
Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.
She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.
“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.
_____________________________________________________________
“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.
Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.
“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.
“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.
“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”
“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”
“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”
At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.
“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”
“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.
“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”
The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.
“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.
“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”
At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.
“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.
“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.
“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.
“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.
“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.
“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”
“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.
“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”
Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.
“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.
“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.
“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.
“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.
“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.
Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.
“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.
“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.
It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?
Part 4. | quarta parte
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mykonosprive46 · 5 years
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chauffeur mykonos
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vvfied · 10 months
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permanent starter + plot call // like if you want to interact with evelyn.
socialite and reality tv star. ends every night with a glass of wine. the best at anything she pursues but would rather lounge around doing nothing.
wanted plots / connections
upper east side friends (childhood friends / fake friends)
frenemies (ala blair & serena)
other reality tv celebs that pretend to be friends with her for the clout OR that genuinely wants to be friends with her but she only thinks you’re using her
someone she’s blackmailed
fake dating to boost popularity 
on again and off again boyfriend 
jealous exes 
travel adventures (jetting to france to go shopping, mykonos to go boating and etc) 
events they really don’t want to be in so they’re sneaking out and walking through the city instead 
waking up in vegas (bonus if they find out they’re suddenly married) 
bodyguards trying their best to look after her while she’s drunk
additional information
her mother is a daytime tv show host and her father runs a cybersecurity company 
she is currently in a reality tv show about new york socialites 
she is as famous as olivia palermo
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chicken-fifi · 4 years
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KEY: Smut🌶️, Fluff 🥰, Angst 🥺, Violent 🔪, Ships 🚢, Suggestive 😏
Xiumin Marshmallow 🥰 Domestic Things 🥰
Suho ~None~
Lay Come Back to Bed 🥰
Baekhyun Chanyeol v. Baekhyun 🥰 When I Come Back 🥰🥺 Our Future 🥰 No Life for a Baby 🥺
Chen (Plantonic only) Spoil 🥰
Chanyeol Baby Fever 🥰 Chanyeol v. Baekhyun 🥰 One I’ve Been Missing - Secret Santa Gift 🥺🥰 I’m Not Done Yet 🌶️
D.O Mykonos 🥰
Kai Chanyeol v. Baekhyun 🥰
Sehun Bell Peppers 🥰
Reactions
Comforting EXO (Ot12) Falling for a Fan Teaching their g/f to Dance Using Fruit In Bed - NSFW You’re a Dog Groomer You Have a Personal Protection Dog Their Celebrity Crush Has a Crush on Them
Headcanons:
Baekhyun Headcanon - He’s Your Bodyguard Chanyeol Headcanon - You Struggle to Show Affection
Moodboards
EXO-L Secret Santa 2021 - D.O, Kai, Sehun
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mykonosprive7 · 5 years
Link
Private Bodyguard and Security services in Mykonos island. Personal security for VIPs and Celebrities. Mykonos VIP Bodyguard/Driver Services
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Link
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