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hrtwayne · 4 months ago

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My Kink is Karma || Alexia Putellas [Part One]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Physiotherapist!Reader

Summary: Where Y/n is hired as the new Physiotherapist for Barcelona Women's Team after a recent complicated breakup with one of the stars of English football.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Next Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

Y/n Henry adjusted her sunglasses as she walked through the streets of the Northern Quarter, her favorite refuge in Manchester. Despite the overwhelming success she had achieved over the past two years with her skills in physiotherapy, working with the Arsenal women's team and the French national team, she always found a way to return to this place, with its record stores and the cafés of the neighborhood where she grew up.

Manchester wasn't just her hometown; it was the essence of who she was. Her way of thinking, her sporting spirit inherited from her father—a player so well-known by the Gunners' fans, Thierry Henry—and the influence of her mothers in aspects that didn't involve a football or late-night study sessions to find ways to help some player.

It was almost impossible to ignore the influences in her life, growing up in a home divided by two footballing passions. Her father, a football star who had marked an entire generation of Arsenal fans, always took every opportunity to remind her of her roots. On the other hand, her mother, a loyal Barcelona supporter, made sure to balance the man's fanatical narrative.

That morning, Y/n decided to start her day at a cozy café, Fig + Sparrow, a place she had loved since her teenage years. She ordered her usual flat white and sat at a table near the window, watching the flow of people walking down the streets. Some were in a hurry, others glued to their phones, and a few chatting idly. As Y/n finished up some last-minute work for the semester, she tried to forget everything that was happening in her life: a recent breakup with one of English football's stars, her possible departure from Arsenal, and her new contract with a Spanish team.

The Northern Quarter had always been a haven of creativity and calm for her, and even now, at the peak of her career, she returned to those bustling streets when she needed to unwind.

After her coffee, Y/n headed to Afflecks, the paradise of alternative shops, where she used to spend her teenage allowance buying books and vinyl records with her younger brother, Harry. As she walked with her phone in hand to let the blond player know she was near the store, Y/n started a small list of things to buy by the end of the day.

"I thought you'd never stop giving autographs," Y/n joked, hearing the man's chuckle.

Harry, who was leaning on a counter, looking at some vinyl records, turned his attention to his sister.

"Hmm, did Charlotte call you?"

"The last time she called me, she was in Los Angeles filming that series," Y/n replied, picking up The Smiths' album. "Did something happen?"

"You know, the same old story. The idiot ex-boyfriend she always ends up going back to," Harry said, grabbing the blue-covered album, which Y/n recognized as Taylor Swift's "1989."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Charlotte's excessive stubbornness.

"So, she called you to say she got back with him?"

Harry placed the vinyl in the basket along with The Smiths' album.

"She called saying they were going to film a 'romantic' scene together, and then they ended up drunk in the trailer," Harry explained, seeing the bored expression on his older sister's face. "Dad's going to kill her when he finds out."

"And you know he'll blame some of it on us, right? Charlotte's an adult, H. If she made a mistake like that, she should face the consequences," Y/n cut the conversation short, noticing how Harry sighed wearily. "You need to stop worrying about other people's problems and focus on yourself, dude. You have an important game in a few days."

Harry seemed to relax his posture gradually, nodding as he followed his sister to fill the basket with vinyl records and old discs.

That same day, around 8:40 PM, Y/n stepped out of the bathroom wearing an oversized Arsenal shirt, her hair still wet and a somewhat tired look on her face. The messy room in her Manchester apartment was filled with books and reports about some players.

That place was truly the perfect mix of her chaotic personality. Y/n sat on her bed, arranging the scattered papers to try to organize the post-apocalyptic zone.

The sound of her phone ringing broke the deep train of thought Y/n was in. The French physiotherapist sighed, putting the paperwork aside to answer the phone. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

"Hello?" Y/n said, her voice still tired.

"Hey, Y/n. Did I wake you?" A firm voice with a slightly funny accent asked.

"No, I just got back from a walk with Harry," Y/n replied, recognizing the voice as Aitana's. "Did something happen?"

"I heard about your breakup with the English player, and I wanted to know if you're okay," Aitana began, in a tone that Y/n immediately recognized as genuine concern. "Last time you said things weren't going so well between you two."

Y/n hesitated, taking a generous sip of the tea that warmed her throat. She knew she couldn't hide anything from the player.

"Maybe breaking up was the healthier solution, A. It wasn't exactly news that things weren't good between us," Y/n paused. "You know, I couldn't run away from it forever."

Aitana seemed to hesitate, and the call fell silent for a few seconds.

"And are you going to stay on the same team as her?" she finally asked, in an almost maternal tone.

"Well... I've received a few offers from some teams. Nothing too different from what I do here at Arsenal, but it might be a chance to try something new. My contract is up now, so I can sign a pre-contract with any team that's not an English rival."

"Don't tell me there's an offer from Barcelona in the mix," Aitana said, hearing the physiotherapist's chuckle.

"Well, you guessed it," Y/n said, in a fake tone of annoyance. "Next week I'll land in the city to sign the contract and start working."

"I can finally rub it in the English girls' faces that I have you on my team," the woman celebrated, making Y/n laugh. "Now I'll let you think about what you're going to tell your dad."

"Don't even remind me, he's going to be furious. But at least it's not Chelsea or Manchester," Y/n joked, hearing the midfielder laugh.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #woso x reader #aitana bonmati #barcelona femeni #fem reader #gxg

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sports-on-sundays · 6 months ago

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princess of monaco / CL16

Summary: Charles x Monégasque!wealthy!singer!female!reader - You finally get to meet the famous Formula 1 driver from your country. But it promises to become much more than just one meeting. I encourage listening to Enchanted by Taylor Swift in the first scene, and Monaco by MKTO in the last scene.

Warnings: language, use of pet names 'princess' and 'honey', slight soulmates feel

Requested?: No

Author's Note: Sorry my go-to careers for reader is always a singer or a baker, and today it ended up a singer. Also my requests are open right now; feel free to request! (Thank you to the person that did request; I'm working on that right now!)

Your father is one of the richest men in Monaco. Which means, of course, with all the other blessings you've had lavished upon you your entire life, you've always had the pleasure of these boring parties.

But you're here, because you have to be, and really, are you in any place to complain?

Besides, you have a certain amount of fame yourself. Though not a very famous one, you are a songwriter, and have done a few shows as your fame increases.

It's then, though, that your older brother saunters over to you with a big smile on his face, and you suddenly have a feeling by that mischievous look maybe this party could be promising after all. He smiles, nodding to you, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off the snack table before slipping to stand next to you, eating it.

"What's this all about?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at him. Your brother Gabriel is nearly as successful as your father, in his own field, as a specialist doctor, but never acts nearly as professional at these parties as your father does.

His grin widens. "What is what all about?"

"The stupid smile on your face, dimwit. Got some prank you're about to pull on me or something?"

"What?!" he asks, mocking offense. "No, of course not! I actually have great news to tell you."

"Hmmm?" you ask, unimpressed, crossing your arms, still not sounding very convinced.

"I swear! Great news. Has to do with Formula 1, actually."

Now you're really confused. Ever since you and your brother were children, you were huge F1 fans, and watched the races every single weekend together. It's a tradition that has long since faded, with the business of adult life, but the two of you still continue to follow the sport and be fans of, of course, your country's own, Charles Leclerc. "Formula 1? What has that got to do with anything?"

"It actually has to do with everything?"

"What? Last minute Hamilton is retiring and Sainz is staying in Ferrari after all?"

Your brother laughs at the joke, and jokes back, "No, no, not quite that miraculous..."

"Oh, then, never mind then," you say teasingly, re-crossing your arms and turning your face away from him. "I don't even care what it is if it's not that!"

"Oh, really?" Gabriel says quieter, nudging you. "You wouldn't even care if I told you Father invited Charles Leclerc to this party, and he actually showed up?"

"H- Huh?" you ask, suddenly very interested, your head snapping right back to your brother's gaze.

But he just grins and subtly gestures with his head.

And your eyes follow his gesture across the room, until your eyes finally land on Charles Leclerc himself standing there, talking with some other less rich, less important, less famous guys. Your heart beat quickens in awe as you stare.

"Hey, but don't leave your mouth hanging open like that. That way, you look really stupid, and you definitely won't have a chance with him."

"Huh?!" you ask, your voice cracking, as you look back to your brother. "What are you talking about?"

He smirks. "You do have a mad crush on him, don't you?"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Well, don't go up asking for his autograph. You'll look like a fool."

"Gabriel, I know," you say in exasperation, gulping as you look back at Charles Leclerc himself, in the flesh.

And only across the room from him.

"Well, are you going to go talk to him?"

"Fuck no!"

Your brother stares at you like you're stupid. "Why not?"

"Are you?"

"Not unless he talks to me."

"Why not?"

He sighs, getting your point made, and shrugs, before saying in his silly tone of voice, "You know, if we just hang out here by the snacks the whole time, he's bound to come over to get some at some point."

"My God, Gabriel."

"You can't deny it's a good plan."

"You're stupid."

He grins. "Really? I personally think it's pretty smart."

So, it's decided. As stupid as it seems, you're going to stand by the hors d'oeuvres the entire night, until Charles Leclerc might come over to get some snacks, and there's a slight chance that you and your brother will get to have maybe a quick exchange with him.

Well, it's worth it. What else do you have to do any better?

But, apparently, luck is on your side tonight, because pretty soon Gabriel nudges you and murmurs, "Oh, lookie. It's the man himself coming over. Don't make yourself a fool."

And sure enough, you see him walking over across the room in your direction as he finishes up a conversation with one of your father's friends. He looks extremely fresh in his black suit and bow tie, and pristine white shirt underneath. You swallow.

He's literally the hottest one in this room. At this entire party.

And he's shining, too.

Your heart pounds in your ears as he ends his conversation and heads towards the snacks, a hand casually in his pocket.

He's reaching for a drink.

You gulp.

He's so close, you could reach out and touch him.

It's then, though, that he glances up.

Meets your gaze.

Because of course you were staring.

And he smiles.

You heart squeezes in your chest, magic fills your head, and you feel as though you could faint right there and fall right into poor unassuming Gabriel's arms.

Charles finishes grabbing his drink and a snack, and you're expecting him to just walk away, and that would be your only interaction with him, and you would replay that smile in your mind time after time, but that would be it, but-

He casually steps over to you and your brother with that lovely smile on his face, puts his hand out to Gabriel, and says, "Charles Leclerc, and you are?"

Gabriel beams, actually, in your opinion, looking more like an idiot than you do, before telling Charles his name, and introducing you as his sister, as well, with your name.

Charles eyes immediately turn to you as he puts out his hand to you, saying, "Y/n? That's a lovely name. It suites you, mademoiselle," he takes your hand in his. "Lovely name for a lovely young lady. I'm delighted to meet you." And with that, he leans down, bringing your hand to his lips, gently kissing it, before letting it go and straightening with- oh God- such a charming smile.

Now you really do feel as though you might faint.

"Thank you..." you get out, glad you didn't forget to respond to the man out of pure enchantment.

And, thankfully, after that, Charles and Gabriel just chat mostly for a while, which gives you a chance to regather yourself after the dizziness hit you. And that gives you a chance to, frankly, stare at Charles, and listen to his just lovely voice.

You just don't realize how much he can see you in the corner of his eye. And how every moment you glance away from him, he takes glances right back at you.

Soon, though, suddenly, your father comes rushing over. "Father-!" you say with a little smile, your face lighting up. You're always happy to see him, since you never really get to see him much, even at his own parties.

But once you realize he's serious about something, you let your shoulders slump again as you glance away. Your father whispers something to Gabriel, and Gabriel nods, his expression serious, before saying, "Right." He turns to Charles, saying, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go."

Charles smiles and nods, "No problem at all."

Gabriel nods, and just like that, both your father and brother are gone.

And here you are, with Charles Leclerc, a nervous, blushing wreck.

Charles nods to you, though, taking a step towards you, and sips from his glass, before saying, "Well, Y/n, it looks like it's just the two of us, huh?" You think his eyes might quickly glance down to take in your fitting black slit dress, before returning to your eyes and saying, "So, the host is your father, hm?"

You smile, nodding, clearing your throat, trying to keep cool. "Ah, yes, uhm- Yes, me and Gabriel's father."

He nods, that little smile still on his face, the air between the two of you thick with electricity.

But maybe you're just imagining it. Right?

It's then that you feel the ounce of confidence to actually continue the conversation yourself. "So.. uh, congrats on your season this year..." You show a polite little smile.

He nods, glancing around the room, "It could have been better, but we pushed. Most races, we did everything we could."

You feel yourself begin to relax into the conversation a bit more as you laugh a bit and say, "I was really hoping Ferrari would win Constructor's."

He chuckles, nodding, taking another sip from his glass. "Oh, trust me. I was, too."

You stare at him, with his dimply little adorable smile, and say kind of dreamily, "Monaco was... amazing..."

"Hm?" he asks, confused for a moment, before he says, his little smile immediately turning into a big grin, "Oh, yes, my win?"

You nod. "Yeah. I was here for it."

"Oh, yeah? Yes... it's one I'll never forget."

"Me neither," you smile. "In all honestly, despite how embarrassing it is to admit it, I cried when you won that race."

"Cried?" he says with a little twinkle in his eyes. "You've been my fan a while then?"

You blush, shrugging. "I suppose you could say that. But I'm Monégasque. What else would you expect?"

He shrugs with a little cute nod, and says, "I guess so. Well, thank you for your support." He looks back to you, studying your face. "It's nice to think about all the fans from my own country who have been supporting me through the years, such as yourself. I'm sure there's none of them that are as beautiful as you, though."

Your eyes widen at the sudden last comment, and your cheeks heat up, before you stutter, "O- Oh... I- Thank you."

"It's the least I can do as repayment for getting to have a conversation with someone so stunning as yourself. So tell me about yourself, then. Because I've gone on about myself for far too long. Besides," he smiles knowingly. "You seem like the type of girl that would know a lot about me already, hm?"

You glance away, trying to swallow the embarrassed lump in your throat that's keeping you from speaking, feeling thoroughly like a flustered mess. You sigh shakily, before finally murmuring, looking away from his eyes, your head spinning with delight, "I... I guess you could say that... Well..." you clear your throat. "There's not much to say about me... I'm a singer."

His eyebrows raise in immediate interest at that. "Really? So you like music?"

You nod, sighing a bit as your composure comes mostly back to you. "Yes... I've always loved music. You know, singing, and a few instruments, but I was never that good. But I know you play some instruments?"

He smiles, nodding. "Primarily piano," and then he gently teases, taking a casual step towards you, "Maybe we'll have to write a song together sometime. I can only imagine your singing voice is just as captivating as you yourself."

Your heart skips a beat at that one as, just like that, that one more little flirt sends your head spinning once more and your face heating up.

You swear, usually, you wouldn't be this ditzy, especially not with a guy. But this guy is Charles Leclerc.

Charles beams, finishing his drink and setting it down on the table, his arm reaching near you in order to do that, before looking back up to you and saying after, his soft greenish eyes taking you in as he teases quietly, in a gentle, respectable voice, "Getting a bit shy now on me?"

You swallow, glancing away, your heartbeat pounding in your ear. "Not... really."

He smiles and murmurs, taking one more step closer, so he's standing basically right next to you now, inches away, "Then why don't you look me in the eyes?" A soft hum escapes his mouth as his hand gently touches your chin, tilting your face towards his own. His soft smile turns to a smirk as he jokes, "Head up, princess. Your crown is falling."

You know there's no going back when a line that would usually make you roll your eyes by how corny it is makes you feel butterflies down within your stomach.

You decide to convince yourself that it's just the tone, and has nothing to do with the words that actually came out of his mouth.

"Stunned speechless, princess?" he asks, eyebrows raising. "I thought you'd be used to this attention, from guys a lot more handsome and charming than myself."

"That's just the thing..." you swallow, gazing into those eyes. "I don't think I've ever met a guy that's as handsome and charming as you."

His eyes flicker in amusement and gratitude before he licks his bottom lip and nods, glancing around the room, before murmuring, turning back to you with the cutest little smile, "Y/n, I like you."

"From what I know about you, I like you, too."

His smile widens and those adorable dimples deepen. "And I just realised something somewhat unfortunate."

Your eyes immediately grow concerned, and before your brain has a chance to run possibilities, you ask, "What is it? Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes." He's now looking out at all the people at this party. Most people are talking, but slowly more and more couples have begun dancing in the middle of the floor to the lovely music being played live. Slow, classical, but absolutely and utterly pleasant. The kind of scene you could imagine in a royal ballroom, someplace far away and hundreds of years ago. "It's just that..." Charles continues on. "I seem to have missed the memo that I'm supposed to have a date for this party... All these couples dancing, and I've no one to dance with."

You stare, swallowing, thinking you know exactly what he's getting at, but being thoroughly too scared to ask.

That's when he looks right at you, his eyes bearing into you, and says simply and quietly, "I'm sure you with me... dancing, no one would be able to keep their eyes off of us."

You swallow, your eyelashes fluttering.

Is this a dream? Because you swear you've dreamed of stupid fantasies just like this one before.

You barely squeak, "I... for some reason, I reckon you're right."

He grins and holds his hand out to you, before whispering the most anticipated words: "Care to dance, my lady?"

You let your hand slip into the one he's holding out to you. "Why, I'd love to."

He beams and gently grips your hand, before pulling you out onto the dance floor with himself. His hands find your waist, and you put your arms on his shoulders, your sweaty hands clasped behind his neck. You dance together, letting him lead the way. At first, that's all it is, him gazing romantically into your eyes with that charming twinkle in his eyes, until, after a while, he mutters, just so you can only you can hear, "Are you comfortable?"

You nod, your gaze never leaving his, a little simper grazing your lips before you say, "I'm having fun. Charles."

He winks at you- sort of. His other eye scrunches up a bit, which makes you smile as you realise he really can't wink very well. But you don't mind. You like it. It's cute.

Besides, he seems to be doing everything else right, anyway.

"Oh, good," he says as he suddenly dips you in rhythm with the music, sending you into a fit of surprised giggles as he chuckles softly, too. When he brings you back up, your hands slip down to rest against his chest as you laugh.

And he looks at you like you're just the most beautiful work of art he's ever set eyes upon.

A look like that would be enough to make anyone's heart skip a beat. Especially from Charles Leclerc.

"Your laugh is almost better than the music itself," he compliments. "It's like all I want to do now is make you laugh."

You smile, shrugging. He continues to sway you as you talk. "It's not very hard to make me laugh."

"Oh, good. Does that mean my job is easy?"

You shrug, grinning. "All I'm saying is that it shouldn't take much, Mr. Leclerc."

He chuckles. "Just Charles is fine."

You beam. "Okay, Charles."

It's then that he takes your hand up and twirls you in a circle, making you happily squeal, which turns into more giggles, before he catches you, dips you low, and brings you up, so all the sudden, there he is, with one hand holding yours and the other around your back, with his face merely centimeters from your own.

You gasp, the giggles getting caught in your throat as you stare into his eyes.

"Did you think I was going to kiss you, princess?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of how hopelessly bright pink your face must be. "I- You might."

He smiles and whispers, "Do you want me to?"

You swallow, staring, almost paralyzed by the question. Do you want him to?

The question hangs in the air, until you sigh, somehow conquering your bad case of speechlessness and murmuring, "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind it if you did."

His eyes travel between your eyes, before finally resting on your lips as he whispers, "Perfect." And he leans in, kissing your lips gently, like he means it.

And when he leans away, he looks at you like he really did just kiss a goddess.

You feel like you might just faint right there in his arms. And this time, you really do mean it.

Charles dances with you and talks with you the entire night, up until he has to go. Now he stands by the snack table, where he first walked up to you, facing you with a little smile.

You stare, every fiber of your being wishing the night wouldn't have to end. You swallow. "Well, I guess this is it, then, huh?"

His eyes soften. "I guess so, Y/n. It's been fun."

You smile softly, your heart aching, though you know you've already gotten tons more than you would have ever asked for or imagined. "It has been. Charles."

He smiles, taking your hand in his. You can feel a piece of paper in his palm, and are about to ask him about it, but before you can, he leans in and gently kisses you for the last time. As he pulls away, he murmurs, "Well, princess, it's been a pleasure."

And with that, he leans away, slips his hand out of yours, and turns walking out. Leaving the slip of paper in your hand.

You watch him walk out of the building until he's completely out of sight. Only then do you open your palm as look at the paper, which has presumably Charles's swirly manuscript scrawled across it.

I've loved this night together, Y/n, and I hope we can turn it into many more, if I charmed you as much as you charmed me. I hope you won't forget me like I won't forget you

Text me if you get the chance; I think I've gotten the privilege of meeting the princess of Monaco herself tonight

Followed by a phone number.

And that's when you realise that this isn't the end. Why, this is only just the beginning.

"You got what?" Gabriel stares at you, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"I got Charles Leclerc's number."

He stares at you, dumbfounded, before suddenly leaning back, shaking his head, crossing his arms across his chest. "Okay, okay. Now, what's the point of this prank?"

"It's not a prank! I swear I'm being honest! I can show you the texts."

He leans in, eyebrows raising. "Go on."

You take out your phone, pull up the texts, and hand the phone to him. You watch in amusement as Gabriel reads it, scrolling, his face progressively getting more and more shocked the longer the phone is in his hand.

Finally, he hands it back, and murmurs simply, eyes wide, "No. Fucking. Way."

You grin. "Told you!"

"How? You're seriously going out with him next Friday? Charles Leclerc is pulling up next Friday in his freaking sexy Ferrari to pick up my sister for a dinner date?"

You shrug, liking to finally be on the front end of the teasing, and seeing Gabriel, The Tormentor of All Your Childhood, basically, reacting like this. "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, it's not that crazy..."

"Oh, shut up!" your brother snaps, giving you a gentle shove, rolling his eyes. "We both know you're just ecstatic about this."

"You're just jealous. You want Charles to take you on a dinner date."

"Hey-!"

"What?! You sure act like you want him, too!"

Your elder brother just rolls his eyes, shaking his head and standing up saying promptly, "Y/n, you, my beloved sister, are thoroughly a lost cause."

"You won't be saying that when Charles is my boyfriend!" you squeal with a little giggle as Gabriel begins walking out of the room.

"Actually, I will be! And I'll be saying that in your guys' fucking wedding party, if I have to!" your brother calls back obnoxiously from the next room. But you can hear the laughter in his voice.

And you can also feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"Charles, it's beautiful..." you gasp softly. You stand on his boat, in the middle of the night, just you and him. He has his arm around you, holding you close to his side, and you look out, back towards the land, towards the beloved city that you both call home, lit up in the night with it's millions of lights, shining out, reflecting on the sparkling, beautiful Mediterranean Sea. Water gently beats on the sides of the boat, soft waves gently swaying it, and cars driving far off in the distance can be heard, the sound travelling across the water. The cool salty sea breeze gently blows your hair, tossing it gently on your shoulders, refreshing your face and bare arms. And Charles's body, with his arm around you, warms you, keeping the breeze from chilling you and causing goosebumps to begin appearing on your arms. You inhale the fresh, perfect, silent air. "It's just perfect."

He hums, nodding. "It is, isn't it? This is my spot, in the middle of the night, that no one else knows. But when I thought of the perfect place to bring perfection herself, I thought of right here. Because this is the only spot where I can close my eyes and just be."

You swallow. "But what about me? We've only just met? How can you call me perfect if you hardly know me?"

He stares ahead. Is silent for a while, before saying gently, "I suppose I wish to know exactly who you are and what makes you radiate such... perfection. What makes my heart drawn to yours like a magnet?"

You gulp. "Oh, stop saying stuff like that. It's all too early."

He finds your hand and squeezes it as you lean your head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

You sigh. "Well, it's alright."

He nods, and says, "I suppose I've just finally found who I'm looking for. It's like you're exactly the girl I've dreamed of. Everything you tell me. About yourself, about your life. What makes you tick, and every single thing you love. It's like..." he trails off.

"I suppose I feel the same..." you murmur.

You feel him lean down and kiss your scalp. You shut your eyes as the cold wind gently strokes your cheeks.

Charles took you to a restaurant, and you sang in the car ride there, and it was like he just fell even harder. He had looked at you like you're the entire world herself, and let every single note fill his being.

It's like your heartbeat was synced with his own.

"Y/n, look up."

Your eyes flicker up, and you tilt your head to look up, where Charles is looking.

"Wha-"

"Honey, the stars."

You stare, taking in the heavenly lights, your eyes slowly finding more and more, finding the blanket of glimmers adorning the sky like jewelry on the most lovely queen.

It takes your breath away.

"Someday," Charles says with a wistful tone to his voice, "I hope I'll be able to say I love you to the moon and the stars and all the way back. But right now, at least, I can tell you with confidence of this:" he looks back down at you. You meet his gaze before he continues, "All the stars in the sky and planets in the system and galaxies in the universe. Every single lovely thing I've seen on earth and in the heavens- I am convinced that none of it has anything on the kind of beauty that effortlessly shines through you, inside and out."

You stare in utter awe of him.

And that's when he takes you in his arms and kisses you with all the emotion that those words invoke.

It seems like a lot of words for just having met someone. The kind of story that could either fall apart within months, or become the most adoring, beautiful relationship that lasts a lifetime. But if the world around you tells you anything, it tells you that the world is full of beauty. And if the look in Charles's eyes tells you anything, and the way a puzzle piece seemed to fit the moment he kisses you, then you know how this story promises to end.

And aside it all:

Hasn't the prince of Monaco finally found his princess?

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