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verstappensrealwife · 29 days ago

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Penny for Your Thoughts - SugarDaddy!Lewis Hamilton x Reader

[lewis hamilton masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... the relationship between lewis and his sugar baby develops into something more. ʚɞ fluff, smut, angst (barely) ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 5600 words ʚɞ warnings: use of Y/N, smut, Fem Receiving!Oral, lewis cumming in his pants, some swearing, mentions of sex in conversation, kissing, swearing, unspecified age-gap.

-୨♡୧-

When lewis had met you he didn’t expect this… You were young and beautiful, and while he was equally beautiful, he was a little older.

Not that the age difference mattered to you. You weren’t with him for his good looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt. No, what drew you to him was the promise of his wealth, the endless opportunities for luxury that came with his lifestyle.

And as it turned out, he didn’t mind one bit. Lewis didn’t expect love or devotion, nor did he demand intimacy—at least, not all the time. What he truly enjoyed was spoiling you, a pastime he indulged with an almost reckless abandon. With more money than he could ever hope to spend on himself, Lewis found it gratifying to watch you revel in the fruits of his fortune.

So you came to an agreement, you get his credit card, he gets to show you off like a trophy at different events and around the paddock. You were his trophy, and he was your benefactor.

-୨♡୧-

It was one of those nights where everything seemed to go wrong. You had arrived at the bar with your friends, but somehow, they had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you stranded alone at the bar, nursing your drink and wondering if you should just call it a night. The hum of conversations and clinking glasses faded into the background as you sighed, glancing at the empty seats around you, wishing for some kind of distraction.

Then, unexpectedly, a warm presence slid into the seat next to you. Lewis. He didn’t make any grand gestures, no flashy introductions—he simply settled in beside you, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, despite the many other open chairs. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but when the bartender came by to take your order, he spoke up.

"I’ll take care of your next drink," he said, his voice smooth and casual, as if he already knew you.

You gave him a questioning look, but didn’t protest. A drink, a little distraction, that’s all you needed.

After a moment of silence, you let out a sigh, the weight of the evening still pressing on you. “Penny for your thoughts?” Lewis asked, his eyes studying you with a quiet curiosity.

“You’re gonna need a lot more than a penny,” you quipped, a forced smile tugging at your lips.

“How about 200…?” he replied, without missing a beat, as he casually pulled open his wallet.

“200 pennies?” You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was playing along or actually serious.

“Euros,” he said, a confident smile curling at the corners of his lips. He slid ten crisp 20-euro bills across the bar with a slow, deliberate movement.

Your jaw dropped. The sheer audacity of it caught you off guard. “Not enough?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, almost genuinely confused. “I can go get more from the cash machine if you need it.”

You stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Are you joking?”

He shook his head, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “Not at all,” he said simply, pushing the money even closer to you.

A mix of disbelief and curiosity bubbled up inside you, but, against your better judgment, you reached out and took the money. With that, you found yourself explaining the miserable state of your night—the mix of bad decisions, lost friends, and the way everything seemed to be falling apart.

Somewhere between your rant and the last sip of your drink, the conversation shifted. The night took on a different tone, one of unexpected comfort and growing connection. By the time you found yourself back at his hotel room, the details of the evening felt like a blur. What you did remember, though, was the feel of his touch, the luxury that oozed from every inch of him, and the crisp, freshly handed-over credit card tucked into your pocket.

-୨♡୧-

And now, there you stood in Bahrain, playing the loving-girlfriend role (for the first time at a race) as you watched him drive around the track over and over again. You were wearing expensive shoes, a pricy dress, and your hair done up so perfectly you didn’t want to touch it.

After the race had finished and Lewis placed 7th, You watched him climb out of the car, his posture tight, his expression far from pleased. He was used to winning championships, not fighting to stay in the points.

“Well done, Lew.” You had smiled when he came though the garage. He hummed a tiny thank you, clearly upset, and walked right by you. You looked down awkwardly, even the mechanics looked at you a little concerned.

But then, Lewis paused, his frustration momentarily giving way to something else. He turned and reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of silent urgency. Wordlessly, he pulled you along with him, heading toward his motorhome.

You couldn’t help but smile, even in the midst of his disappointment.

"I need to go talk to the media," he said, his voice flat. You nodded, understanding the drill. "You can, uh... stay here if you want."

"Of course," you murmured. You didn’t mind

"You did great today," you added quietly, watching him closely. His eyes flicked to you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something in them—a spark of emotion. It wasn’t just the casual gratitude he usually gave you. This was different, almost vulnerable, like he was searching for comfort, even if he wouldn’t ask for it outright.

He gave you a small smile, nodding in appreciation, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could tell the result still weighed on him. With a final, quiet nod, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-୨♡୧-

It wasn’t long before Lewis returned, his shoulders more relaxed, though the lines of frustration still lingered on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked with a teasing smile, hoping to break the silence.

He huffed a tiny laugh, a sound that was both resigned and weary. "Just not happy with P7," he admitted with a shrug. You nodded, sensing there was no need to push him further. "Can we go back to the hotel now?" he asked, the exhaustion evident in his tone.

You nodded immediately, stepping in line behind him as you left the paddock together, the bustling sounds of the paddock fading behind you.

-୨♡୧-

The soft click of the door closing behind him marked the end of the race day. Lewis leaned against the wall, watching you move effortlessly through the room, shedding the remnants of the event like a second skin. First, your makeup came off, followed by the careful undoing of your hair. Then, without a second thought, you peeled off the dress, the expensive fabric slipping down your body and pooling onto the floor, revealing a little more of you with each passing second.

And yes, he watched—he couldn’t help himself. You were still his girlfriend, after all, even if this wasn’t exactly the most conventional of relationships. He admired your figure, the way your skin caught the light in the room, the way you moved with effortless grace.

“Perv,” you teased with a laugh, throwing the dress carelessly over the back of the armchair before slipping into an oversized shirt—one that could’ve been his, though you weren’t sure. You glanced over at him, your playful smile lighting up the room.

He just smirked, unfazed by what you said. Taking a few steps closer to you, the tension palpable. His hands move to hold your bare waist, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, looking down at your body, each curve, each freckle or mark. He looks back up to you, your lips, staring. Before he leans forward, kissing you, its needy and passionate.

Clearly the pent up frustrations with the car was getting to his head.

His hands roaming over your body, before he walks you backwards until your knees hit the back of the bed. He falls on top of you. Looking at you, really looking. Mumbling to himself about how beautiful you are. Then he’s on you again, his lips ravaging at your neck, nipping and sucking gently at the sensitive spot between your neck and collarbone.

Soft whines fall from your lips, tugging at his tshirt, urging him to undress. With one swift motion, he pulls the shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. He kisses down your body, pulling you gently to the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees. His fingers linger on your underwear, fingertips grazing the skin of your hips, looking up at you for a nod.

“Please,” You pant. Thats all he needed. Wrapping his fingers around the waistband and pulling them off. He wastes no time, his head diving between your thighs. Your loud, desperate moans echoing throughout the room. His fingers glide up the back of your thighs till they cant go further, squeezing at the flesh.

You are a wreck. Writhing, moaning, shaking.

You cry out in pleasure, heels digging into the toned muscle of his back as he plunges two fingers into you. You’re trying desperately to move your hips to ride his fingers. “Lewis,” You whimper, wound up so tight you could burst. “Lewis- I- fuck I’m gonna-”

The words are lost on you as you scream, your body spasms, everything tingles as your cunt tightens around his fingers. Hips bucking upwards as pleasure floods through you.

He pulls his fingers out, and mouth away. Your juices spread across his mouth and chin. He gives you a drunken-looing grin as he stands up. You sit up onto your elbows, then your eyes shoot down to his crotch, the once light grey joggers now dark and wet around his crotch. He looks down, noticing your stare. “I- that doesn’t usually happen- you were just being so hot and I couldn’t really help it.” He says sheepishly.

“It’s hot,” You smirk with a small shrug.

After everything settled, the intensity of the moment slowly faded, leaving a soft, warm silence between you both. Lewis carefully helped you clean up (after washing his face), his hands gentle as he brushed some stray hair from your face, his eyes full of care and affection.

You gave him a funny look as he stared intently at you.

“What? Can’t I admire my girlfriend?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You can, if this ever becomes a normal relationship.”

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something more serious. He watched as you crawled onto the bed, pulling the thick covers up to your chin, curling into the softness of the sheets. “Would you want that?” he asked quietly, the question lingering in the air between you. “Like, an actual relationship… not just—whatever this is?”

You shrugged, your eyes flicking to him before settling on the ceiling, lost in thought. “Maybe one day…” Your words hung in the air, both hopeful and uncertain, the weight of what you said not lost on either of you.

Lewis nodded slowly, absorbing the thought. There was no rush, no need for labels. But the way he looked at you—his gaze softening, his lips curling into a gentle smile—made it clear that, in some way, this was becoming something more. He didn’t say anything more, but the unspoken agreement between the two of you was clear: one day, maybe, things would change. For now, he was content to let the night settle in around you both, taking each moment as it came.

-୨♡୧-

You hadn’t gone to the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix—things had gotten too hectic, and you needed some time to yourself. But you were at the Australian Grand Prix, and it was Friday. The buzz of the paddock surrounded you as Lewis was out on track, doing his practice laps, while you sat in the garage. The hum of the engines and the chatter of the crew filled the air as you made small talk with one of the mechanics, discussing anything and everything to pass the time. The world of F1 still felt like a foreign one to you, but you were learning.

After a while, Lewis returned to the garage, stepping out of the car with the usual furrow in his brow. He immediately started speaking to the mechanics about the car, explaining in technical terms the issues he could feel. It was all a blur of words you couldn’t quite grasp, but you could tell by his tone that he was frustrated.

-୨♡୧-

Saturday came, and it wasn’t the best of results. Lewis had qualified 11th—a decent starting position, but not where he usually found himself. His frustration was palpable, but it was nothing a good evening couldn’t fix. After the race, he took you out to a nice dinner, treating you to some of the finest food in the city. He even bought you a new perfume—a gesture that was more thoughtful than extravagant. The evening ended with you both lying side by side in bed, staring at each other, the soft hum of the city outside the windows creating a peaceful atmosphere.

“Remember like, a month ago…” Lewis started, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. You nodded, prompting him to go on.

“When we were talking about being, like… a proper couple—would you wanna maybe try that?” he asked, his voice cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You lay there, processing the question. He sounded so nervous, and for a moment, it made you wonder why. Why was he asking? Why now? The uncertainty lingered in the air between you, but after a moment of thought, you gave a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” you said softly, making his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Sure—why not?”

-୨♡୧-

Oh, how naive you were.

Less than 24 hours later, you could’ve strangled him.

The race had been a disaster—Lewis had DNF’d, and it was clear he was livid. But it wasn’t the result that was bothering him—it was the way the whole weekend had unraveled, and somehow, he made it your problem.

You didn’t see him at all until after the media duties, and even then, it was like he was avoiding you. He walked past you in the paddock without so much as a glance. You stayed in his driver’s room, trying to give him space, but your patience was wearing thin. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he entered, his body tense, his face still etched with frustration.

He didn’t even look at you.

“Are you oka-” you started, your voice soft, hesitant.

“Just shut up,” he snapped, cutting you off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your mouth falling shut in shock. “All the fucking time, just—‘Lewis, Lewis, Lewis,’” he mocked, mimicking your voice with an exaggerated sigh, his frustration boiling over.

You sat there, stunned, trying to process what was happening. This wasn’t the Lewis you knew—this wasn’t how he usually acted, especially not toward you. The words stung, leaving you speechless, unsure of how to react.

Before you could even respond, he turned to say something else, but you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up, moving quickly toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Without saying a word, you left the room, not wanting to be in the same space as him anymore.

“Wait—no—Y/N—fuck,” Lewis called after you, his voice laced with regret, but it was too late. You were already storming out, heading straight for the nearest taxi, leaving the driver’s room—and Lewis—behind as you made your way to the hotel, the sting of his words lingering in the air between you.

It was almost 10 PM when he finally walked through the door, his presence quiet but heavy. You had been in bed for a while, reading your book as though everything was fine, pretending you didn’t care that he had just hurt you. Of course, you cared—you always cared—but right now, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply it stung.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching you, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. He called your name softly at first, then again, a little more insistently, when he realized you weren’t responding. When it became clear you were intentionally ignoring him, he sighed, his voice filled with regret.

“I— Princess, I really am sorry.”

Still, you said nothing, keeping your focus on the page, even though you could hear the sincerity in his tone, and the words on the page were melting together, you ignored him. With another heavy sigh, he reached for one of the pillows, dragging it off the bed before retreating to the small sofa across the room. He grabbed the thinnest blanket he could find, folding it around himself as best he could.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft, sad. You didn’t respond, not wanting to break your silence just yet. You turned off your light, rolling over to face the wall, your thoughts swirling.

Sleep came quickly for you, but not for him. The couch was far too small, too uncomfortable for someone his size. You could hear his restless shifting—the soft groans and quiet huffs that filled the room as he tried, unsuccessfully, to find a comfortable position.

Eventually, you woke up to the sound of him fumbling with the couch. You blinked a few times, your mind still fuzzy from sleep, before calling out to him, your voice confused.

“Lewis?”

He froze instantly, embarrassed by the noise he had made. “Sorry,” he muttered, trying to adjust quietly, shifting his body awkwardly to find some semblance of comfort.

By this point, you had hoped he would have just climbed into bed with you. It was obvious he wasn’t getting any sleep on the couch, but he wasn’t making any move to join you. You let out an exasperated sigh, pushing yourself up on one elbow, your eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. You yawned, looking at him with disbelief.

“Are you seriously still trying to sleep on that thing?”

“It’s fine,” he lied, adjusting the pillow again for what felt like the hundredth time. “Just go back to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed by his stubbornness. “Lewis. Just get in the bed.”

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. “But I—”

“Get in,” you repeated, cutting him off firmly, patting the empty spot next to you.

There was no more arguing after that. With a small grunt of defeat, he climbed into the bed beside you. “Sorry,” he muttered again, though the apology felt more genuine now.

You nodded, not needing to say more. “It’s okay… just shut up now,” you yawned, your eyes drifting shut as you sank back into the pillow.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, the tension still hanging between you, but it was starting to fade. You could feel the weight of the day slowly slipping away, your exhaustion starting to settle in.

And then, without warning, you found yourself crawling toward him, drawn to his warmth. You threw your arm over his chest, resting your head against him, your legs tangling with his under the covers. He tensed at first, clearly surprised by the sudden closeness, but within moments, his body relaxed, and his arm came around you, pulling you into him.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, and despite the tension of the night, everything felt right again. Silent, comfortable, and for the first time that evening, at peace.

-୨♡୧-

It had been a few months since the Australian Grand Prix, and now, here you were, trudging around the Silverstone track in the blistering British summer heat. Every step felt like a mountain as jet lag clung to you like a weight, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed for a solid, uninterrupted sleep. But instead, you were stuck walking the track with Lewis—who, despite his usual high energy, seemed to be in no rush.

The two of you had been taking things slowly in your growing relationship, maybe even too slowly for your liking. The pace was frustrating at times, especially when you wanted more but couldn’t push him faster than he was willing to go. You wanted to enjoy your time together, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were standing still while he took his time to figure things out.

But right now, you just wanted to get this walk over with. You glared at the track, imagining it as a long stretch of nothing but sleep.

“Okay, Grandpa, get a move on. I am exhausted,” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice, but it came out sharper than intended.

Lewis shot you a sly smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, I can certainly understand why,” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, suggestive tone. “I did fuck you pretty well—”

Ok, maybe not taking the relationship entirely slowly.

“Okay!” you quickly interrupted, your face flushing with embarrassment. Not in public, please. “No need to be crude in front of the children,” you added, nodding toward Kimi, who was walking a few feet ahead with George and Carmen, all of them oblivious to your exchange.

Lewis burst into laughter, his playful side coming to the surface as he pushed you lightly in retaliation. You responded with the same energy, shoving him back and laughing along with him. The two of you exchanged grins, the tension of the last few months lightening for a moment.

You’d been together for months now, shared countless moments, laughed, argued, spent time together both in and out of bed. You’d done everything that a couple should do, or so you thought.

But there was one thing that hung in the air, unspoken, like a cloud that never seemed to lift: the three words. Those three simple words that could turn the connection between you two into something deeper, something permanent. And yet, despite everything, he still hadn’t said them.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for something, or maybe he just wasn’t there yet. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way. You’d never pushed him, never asked for those words, but they were always in the back of your mind, like an unfinished sentence.

Sometimes, you'd see flashes of affection in the way he looked at you, in the little things he did, but there was always this strange emptiness when it came to those words.

But what did it all mean if he couldn’t say it?

-୨♡୧-

Qualifying day dawned, and it was clear that the team had made significant progress overnight. The car felt more alive, and Lewis was able to extract more from it with each lap. He pushed through the first two sessions with a mix of determination and calculated risk, knowing that every second counted.

In Q1, the pace had been good, but there were still a few corners that didn’t feel quite right. It was enough to get him through, though, and as the weekend progressed, the confidence built.

By Q2, Lewis was firing on all cylinders, and the team’s strategy seemed to be paying off. The car’s balance was improving, and with each lap, it was clear he was getting closer to the top.

But when it came time for Q3, the pressure was on. He pushed hard in the final sector, his focus unwavering as he navigated the tight corners, pushing the car to its limits. The lap had been enough to secure 2nd place. He wasn’t quite on pole, but he was in a great position, only a fraction of a second behind the pole sitter.

There was a sense of pride as he climbed out of the car, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He had fought hard for that position, and the team’s work was paying off. The atmosphere in the garage was electric, with engineers high-fiving and congratulating each other. Now, it was all about turning that qualifying pace into a solid race result. But for now, 2nd place felt pretty damn good.

He walked over to you, in the corner of the garage, beaming at you happily with his helmet tucked under his arm. “Not bad for a grandpa, huh?” he teased, his voice laced with playful smugness.

You rolled your eyes at him, fighting back a smile.

“You’ve got to admit, I’ve still got it,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in slightly, clearly enjoying the moment. He was so proud of what he'd accomplished, and you couldn’t deny that you were proud of him too.

“Did you ever lose it?”

He flashed you a grin, clearly satisfied with your approval, before he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “God, I love… erm… when you come to races…” he says, clearly stopping himself from saying ‘I love you’. He clears his throat. “It’s not over yet, though. I’m gunning for that top spot tomorrow,” he said, the competitive edge in his voice returning.

You smiled, watching him walk away, the energy around him infectious.

-୨♡୧-

In the dimly lit hotel room, the soft glow of the television illuminated the quiet space. A film was playing, but neither of you were paying much attention to it. You lay there, side by side, your heads nestled into the pillows, the comfort of the bed surrounding you both. The hum of the movie blended with the sound of your voices, an easy conversation flowing between the two of you.

You were close, so close, you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, his hand resting gently on the bed near yours. There had been an unspoken tension for a while now, something hanging between you both. You could feel it in the way he looked at you when you laughed, in the small touches, the way he’d hold you just a little longer than necessary when you hugged. It was as if the words were right there, on the tip of his tongue.

You were almost sure this was it. This was the moment.

The conversation had shifted, casual at first, but then he turned to you, his expression softening. The way he was looking at you now, it was different—more intense. You could feel your heart start to race, anticipation building.

"I was thinking," he started, his voice quieter than usual. You looked up at him, holding your breath, hoping he was about to say what you were both thinking.

He paused, and you could feel the weight of the silence stretching between you, and in that brief moment, everything felt like it was about to change.

“I—” he began again, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that sent a flutter through your chest.

You were ready. This is it, you thought. Finally.

But then, just as you were about to exhale in relief, he shifted in the bed, his expression changing as he sat up slightly, breaking the moment.

“Did you hear about the new engine updates for next race?” he asked, casually, as if he hadn’t just been on the verge of saying something that would change everything.

Your heart sank a little, the words you were waiting for slipping away, replaced by the familiar mention of the track, the car, the race. You blinked, trying to shake off the sudden disappointment, but it lingered in the air.

You nodded slowly, a soft smile playing on your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, I did. I think we could be in for a good one next time."

He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he did but chose not to acknowledge it, diving into the technical details with his usual enthusiasm. You listened, nodding in all the right places, but in the back of your mind, that moment—the moment—still lingered, unanswered.

You lay back down beside him, the distance between you not in inches, but in the words that had almost been spoken, and the ones that never came.

-୨♡୧-

“Good luck, Lew,” you whispered against his lips, your hand resting on his chest for a brief moment.

Without a word, his lips met yours, a slow, lingering kiss that seemed to stop time for a moment. The buzz of the crowd faded into the background as you melted into the kiss, his hand cradling your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours, his voice barely a whisper, “I’ll make it count.” His words were full of focus and confidence, the kind that left no doubt he was determined to win this one. You smiled, your heart swelling in your chest, knowing he would give it everything.

“I’ll be here,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand before he turned and jogged toward his car.

The race began in a blur of roaring engines, speeding cars, and deafening excitement. Lewis was in the zone, navigating the twists and turns of the track with precision and power. You could see it in the way he drove—the focus, the confidence, the hunger for victory. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, your heart in your throat with every corner.

Then, it happened. With one final push, he crossed the finish line, the roar of the crowd erupting around you. He had done it. He had won his home Grand Prix- again.

The victory was his. And the joy was contagious.

As he pulled into Parc Fermé, you rushed over to the barriers, your heart still racing from the intensity of the race. You were front and center, waiting for him to emerge from his car. When he did, he looked absolutely elated, his face glowing with the purest happiness. He waved to the crowd, then immediately made his way toward his team, hugging everyone in sight. Each embrace, a moment of triumph. You watched as he celebrated with them, his adrenaline clearly still running high.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he spotted you.

With a wide grin, he sprinted toward you, his helmet still in his hand. The world seemed to pause as he reached you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no hesitation. He threw his arms around you, pulling you in close, and without a second thought, he took off his helmet, tossing it aside. His lips found yours, this time even more urgent, more intense than before the race. His kiss was full of raw, unbridled emotion—adrenaline coursing through him, the exhilaration of the win, and the joy of having you there with him to share it.

His lips moved against yours with the same intensity as the race itself, as if this moment was the culmination of everything. His hands were everywhere—one holding you close, the other gently cradling your face. You could taste the sweat and the salt from his skin, the remnants of the race, but it was a kiss that felt like everything you had both been waiting for.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, a satisfied grin plastered across his face, he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with adrenaline.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, knowing how excited he was, knowing how much this meant to him.

“I love you,” he blurted out, his voice thick with emotion, the words tumbling out without any hesitation, as though the moment had finally come and there was no holding back anymore.

Your eyes widened, surprised by the bluntness of it, but then an exasperated laugh escaped your lips, the tension of the past months lifting off your shoulders. “FINALLY!” you exclaimed, smiling at him as the words sank in. You reached up and kissed him again, this time with even more feeling, pulling him back into you.

“I love you too,” you murmured, your arms around his neck as you kissed him again, this time without holding back. The crowd, the team, the celebrations all seemed distant, fading into the background as you reveled in the most important moment of the day—the one that had been building up for so long.

And in that moment, everything felt perfect.

-୨♡୧-

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