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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

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Push of a Button

Day 16 → Remote-Controlled Vibrator 💋 Jenson Button

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Jenson leans back against the pit wall, arms crossed, his eyes locked on you. You’re standing just a few feet away, microphone in hand, talking animatedly to Lando Norris. Your smile is bright, your laughter effortless.

He’s seen it a thousand times, the way you light up around drivers, the way they light up around you. But today, there’s a twist in his chest, a quiet, insistent pressure that he can’t ignore.

Lando is leaning in closer than usual, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at something you say. Jenson’s jaw tightens. He knows that smile, knows it’s not just friendly. Lando’s flirting, and you’re — what? Oblivious? Playing along? Jenson isn’t sure which is worse.

“Having fun?” Martin Brundle’s voice cuts through his thoughts, casual but probing. He’s always been good at that, at picking up on things left unsaid.

Jenson forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just watching the show,” he replies, his tone light, but there’s an edge to it. His gaze doesn’t leave you.

Martin follows his line of sight, then chuckles softly. “Ah, I see. Lando’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

“Too charming,” Jenson mutters, almost to himself. He’s trying to keep his cool, but it’s getting harder by the second.

There’s something about the way Lando looks at you, like he’s seeing something more than just a journalist, more than just a colleague. And you — God, you’re smiling back at him like you don’t notice a damn thing.

Martin raises an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”

“Not jealous,” Jenson says, a bit too quickly. Then, quieter, “Just … protective.”

Martin claps him on the shoulder. “Well, she’s yours, isn’t she?”

Jenson nods, but the tension in his chest doesn’t ease. His. The word feels heavy, like a responsibility, like a promise. He watches as you and Lando exchange a few more words, then you laugh again, this time reaching out to lightly touch Lando’s arm. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like a punch to the gut.

“Excuse me,” Jenson says abruptly, pushing off the wall and striding towards you.

You don’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever Lando’s saying. But then he’s there, a solid presence at your side, and your eyes flicker up to meet his. There’s a brief flash of surprise, then warmth, and you smile up at him, a smile just for him, but Jenson’s too wound up to fully appreciate it.

“Jenson!” You say, your voice a mix of surprise and happiness. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” he says, but there’s no humor in his tone. He turns to Lando, his expression carefully neutral. “Norris.”

“Button,” Lando replies, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eye, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “We were just talking about the upcoming race. It’s going to be a tough one.”

“Yeah, well,” Jenson says, his voice steady but firm, “she’s done her job for now. You’ve got a race to focus on, haven’t you?”

You blink up at him, a little taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Jenson, we were just-”

“I know,” he interrupts, his eyes still on Lando. “But I’m sure Lando here has better things to do than chat all day, don’t you, Norris?”

There’s a challenge in his voice now, a quiet but unmistakable one. Lando’s smile doesn’t falter, but his gaze sharpens, meeting Jenson’s head-on.

“Of course,” Lando says easily, but there’s a tension in the air now, something almost electric. “Good to see you, Y/N. Catch you later?”

You nod, still trying to make sense of what’s happening, and Lando gives you one last smile before turning and walking away, leaving you alone with Jenson.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. You shift slightly, turning to face him fully. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Jenson says, but it’s too quick, too clipped.

You give him a look, one eyebrow arched, calling him out without saying a word. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“Lando was flirting with you,” he says finally, his voice low but intense.

You blink, then laugh softly, shaking your head. “He was just being friendly, Jense. We were talking about the race, that’s all.”

“That’s not all,” he insists, his eyes locking onto yours. “He was flirting, and you-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “You didn’t stop him.”

The accusation hangs in the air, and you feel a flash of irritation. “So what, you’re accusing me of flirting back?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he snaps, then immediately softens, his hand reaching out to gently cup your elbow. “I’m just … look, it bothers me, okay? Watching him look at you like that, knowing how much attention you get from the other drivers. It’s-” He pauses, searching for the right words. “It’s not easy.”

You stare at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the concern in his eyes. “Jenson, you know I only have eyes for you, right? I talk to these guys because it’s my job, not because I’m interested in them.”

“I know that,” he says, but there’s still something unresolved in his tone, a lingering insecurity that he can’t quite shake. “But it’s not just about that. It’s about how they see you. How they think they have a chance with you.”

“But they don’t,” you say firmly, stepping closer, your voice softening. “They never have, and they never will. You’re the one I’m with. No one else.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, absorbing your words, then opens them again, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I just … seeing you with Lando, it got to me. I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they can come between us.”

“They can’t,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. “And they won’t. But you have to trust me. Trust that I know where my heart is.”

He nods slowly, his grip on your elbow tightening slightly as if grounding himself in your presence. “I do trust you. It’s just — sometimes I get this feeling, this … fear, I guess. That maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize you could have anyone, and you’ll wonder why you’re with me.”

Your heart clenches at his words, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “Jenson, I’m with you because I love you. Not because of what anyone else thinks or how many people flirt with me. You’re the one I choose, every day.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away — the noise of the paddock, the pressure of the job, the endless demands on both of your time. It’s just the two of you, standing together in this moment, connected by something deeper than words.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”

You smile, a soft, tender smile that makes his heart ache in the best way possible. “Then stop worrying about Lando or anyone else. You have me, okay? All of me.”

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. For a long moment, you just stand there, holding each other, the rest of the world forgotten. Finally, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll try,” he promises, his voice low and sincere. “But if Lando makes another move, I can’t guarantee I’ll be as calm next time.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “There won’t be a next time. Trust me.”

He smiles, but there’s still a hint of something unresolved in his eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he admits quietly.

“You won’t,” you say firmly, your hands still resting on his chest. “You never will.”

He nods, his tension finally easing, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” he whispers, and it’s like a promise, like he’s sealing this moment between the two of you. “Okay.”

***

Jenson zips up his travel bag, his eyes flickering towards the clock on the nightstand. You’re running late, as usual, busy with the final touches of your makeup in the bathroom. He can hear you humming softly, a familiar tune that brings a smile to his face.

“Five more minutes?” You call out from the bathroom, your voice slightly muffled by the closed door.

“We’ve got to leave in two,” Jenson replies, but there’s no real urgency in his tone. He’s used to this routine, knows you’ll make it out the door just in time. Still, something in him shifts as he glances at the bed, an idea forming in the back of his mind.

You emerge a moment later, your hair perfectly styled, lips a soft shade of pink that matches the blush on your cheeks. You’re stunning, as always, and Jenson feels that familiar stir of pride — and possessiveness. You’re his, but today, he wants to make sure you feel that, too.

“We should get going,” you say, grabbing your bag from the chair.

But Jenson moves faster, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. Before you can react, his hand is around your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you back towards the bed.

“Jenson, what are you-” You start to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you short.

“Sit down,” he says, his voice calm but authoritative.

You hesitate for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. But there’s something in his gaze, a mixture of intent and desire, that makes your pulse quicken. You let him guide you to the edge of the bed, your heart thumping in your chest as you sit down.

Jenson kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, his voice low, “about what we talked about yesterday. About how much I want you, how much I need you to know you’re mine.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Let me finish,” he says softly.

You nod, the air between you charged with anticipation.

“There’s something I want to give you,” he continues, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “A reminder, something special, just between us.”

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but you don’t break eye contact, trying to read the intent behind his words.

Jenson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, elegant box. Your breath catches as he opens it, revealing a sleek, discreet toy nestled inside. Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. But there’s none — only a steady resolve and a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Jenson …” you start, your voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

He takes the toy out of the box, his touch deliberate and gentle. “Trust me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly, his lips brushing yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “I want to take care of you, make sure you feel me, even when we’re apart.”

You swallow hard, the implications of his words sinking in. “How …”

“I’ve got it all figured out,” he says, his voice soothing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine. “I control it from my phone. So no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, you’ll know I’m there with you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the idea both thrilling and nerve-wracking. “But the race-”

“We have time,” he interrupts, his voice firm but tender. He slides his hands up your thighs, his touch slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You nod, a silent affirmation, and he gently pushes you back onto the bed, his movements careful and deliberate.

“Relax,” he whispers, his hands deftly parting your legs. You do as he says, your body responding to his touch, the anticipation building with every passing second. Jenson is focused, his hands steady as he places the toy exactly where he wants it, his touch both tender and possessive.

You bite your lip, the sensation already making your heart race. Jenson watches you closely, his expression one of quiet intensity. He’s enjoying this, you realize — the control, the closeness, the way your body responds to him.

“Comfortable?” He asks, his voice a low murmur, laced with something darker, more intense.

You nod, unable to find your voice, your senses heightened by the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

He reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out his phone. He unlocks it with a swipe, his eyes never leaving yours as he opens the app. “You’ll feel me with you all day,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And when the moment’s right, I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a delicious mix of anticipation and trepidation. “Jenson,” you murmur, a mix of nerves and excitement in your voice.

He smiles, a slow, confident smile that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “Trust me,” he repeats, his thumb hovering over the screen.

And then, without another word, he presses down.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as the toy hums to life, a gentle vibration that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You grip the bedspread, your eyes widening as the sensation builds, filling you with warmth and desire.

Jenson watches your reaction closely, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. “You like that?” He asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky but honest.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Because this is just the beginning.”

He adjusts the setting, increasing the intensity, and you arch your back, a moan slipping from your lips before you can stop it. The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you can’t help but cling to him, your fingers digging into his arms as he holds you steady.

“Jenson,” you gasp, your voice tinged with desperation. But he’s relentless, his control unwavering as he watches you writhe beneath him, his expression a mix of tenderness and possession.

“Just breathe,” he soothes, his hand caressing your thigh. “You’re doing so well, love.”

You try to focus, try to ground yourself in his touch, but the sensations are too much, too intense. Every nerve in your body is alight, every inch of your skin hypersensitive to his touch, to the vibrations that are driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Jenson shifts, his lips brushing against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, grounding you in the moment, reminding you of his presence. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a low, possessive growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you in a rush, as much a plea as a declaration.

His eyes flare with satisfaction, and he lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath away. You kiss him back with everything you have, pouring all your love, your desire, your trust into that kiss.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with pride. “You’re doing so well. Just a little longer.”

He adjusts the setting again, and this time, the intensity makes you cry out, your body trembling with the effort to hold on, to ride the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But Jenson is there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, guiding you, supporting you.

“Jenson,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “Please …”

But he only smiles, a slow, knowing smile that tells you he’s not done with you yet. “You can take it,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can.”

And you do, because he’s right — he knows you better than anyone, knows exactly how far he can push you, how much you can take. And right now, he’s pushing you to your limits, testing your resolve, your trust, your love for him.

The toy buzzes relentlessly against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You can barely think, barely breathe, your world reduced to the sensations overwhelming you, to the man who’s controlling them.

“Jenson,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. But he’s there, his touch grounding you, his voice guiding you, his presence a steady, reassuring force in the midst of the storm.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice rough with emotion, with need. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper. “Yours.”

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he finally relents, his thumb sliding over the screen, lowering the intensity until the vibrations stop altogether, leaving you trembling and breathless in his arms.

Jenson pulls you close, his hand gently sliding down to fix your underwear, carefully smoothing it back into place. He takes a moment to pat over it, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he feels the warmth radiating from you.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his touch lingering as if he’s imprinting this moment into both of your memories. “There’s a whole day ahead, love. And I’m not done with you yet.”

You shiver under his touch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the anticipation of what’s to come makes your heart race all over again. As he stands, offering you a hand to help you up, you know this day is going to be one you’ll never forget.

***

Jenson leans casually against the pit wall, his eyes fixed on the big screen broadcasting the live feed from the paddock. You’re on camera, poised and professional as always, a radiant smile on your face as you prepare for the post-FP2 interviews. The soft buzz of the paddock fades into the background as he watches you, the world narrowing down to just you and the screen.

He knows your routine by heart — the way you stand, the confident tilt of your head, the way you hold the microphone with ease. But today, there’s something different, a lingering anticipation that’s been building ever since this morning in the hotel room.

You catch sight of Charles Leclerc approaching, and your smile widens, eyes brightening with recognition. “Charles! A strong session today. How are you feeling going into qualifying?”

Charles grins back, his boyish charm in full force as he stops in front of you. “Feeling good. The car’s in a good place, and we’ve got a solid shot at pole.”

Jenson watches the interaction closely, the subtle way Charles leans in just a fraction closer than necessary, the playful glint in his eye as he responds to your questions. It’s nothing out of the ordinary — Charles is known for his easy charm — but to Jenson, it’s a reminder of how easily others are drawn to you, how effortlessly you command attention.

You laugh at something Charles says, a soft, genuine sound that Jenson feels in his chest. He sees the way Charles’ eyes flicker over you, lingering for just a second too long. It’s innocent enough on the surface, but Jenson knows better. He knows the effect you have on people, the way you light up a room just by being in it.

“Glad to hear it,” you say, your voice smooth and warm, the consummate professional. “There’s been a lot of talk about strategy — how much of a role do you think tire management will play tomorrow?”

Charles’ gaze doesn’t waver from yours, his smile widening as he leans in slightly, just enough that it feels intimate. “It’s always a factor, but I think we’ve got it under control. Of course, anything can happen on race day.”

Jenson’s jaw tightens imperceptibly, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring up inside him. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers brushing against his phone. The control, the power, is right there, just a tap away. He can’t resist the temptation — especially not when Charles is looking at you like that.

You’re in the middle of another question when Jenson’s thumb hovers over the app. He watches you closely, the slight flush in your cheeks, the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other, the way Charles’ attention seems to linger a bit too long on the curve of your lips.

Without a second thought, Jenson taps the screen, the motion almost casual. He increases the intensity just enough to remind you of his presence, of the promise he made that morning. The toy buzzes to life against you, sending a jolt of sensation through your body that’s as unexpected as it is intense.

You falter, just for a split second, the question dying on your lips as your body reacts to the sudden stimulation. Your eyes widen slightly, the microphone trembling in your grip as you try to maintain your composure.

Charles doesn’t seem to notice the brief pause, still caught up in his answer, but Jenson sees everything. The way your breathing hitches, the way your posture stiffens as you fight to keep your cool. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it sends a thrill through him.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks, noticing the brief flicker of something in your expression.

You force a smile, nodding quickly as you scramble to regain control. “Yes, just — just a little tired from all the running around today. But I’m fine, really.”

Jenson smirks to himself, satisfied with the small victory. But he’s not done yet. He adjusts the setting again, this time dialing up the intensity just a notch, enough to keep you on edge but not enough to make it impossible to continue.

You feel the change immediately, the vibrations intensifying against you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to react visibly. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on Charles, to keep the interview on track.

But it’s hard — so, so hard — when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, when every word feels like a battle to keep your composure.

“So, Charles,” you continue, your voice slightly strained but still steady, “do you think Ferrari has what it takes to challenge for the win this weekend?”

Charles tilts his head, considering the question, his gaze still fixed on you with that easy, confident charm. “I think we’re in a good place. The team has been working hard, and we’re going to give it everything we’ve got. But we’ll have to see how things play out on track.”

Jenson’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches Charles, the way the younger driver’s attention never wavers from you, the way he seems so comfortable, so at ease. There’s no mistaking the attraction there, the subtle undercurrent of flirtation in every word, every glance.

And Jenson can’t help himself. He taps the screen again, the movement almost automatic, dialing up the intensity just a bit more.

This time, the reaction is immediate. You gasp softly, your eyes widening as the sensation overwhelms you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The microphone slips in your hand, your grip faltering as you struggle to keep control.

Charles notices the change, his brows knitting together in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, his voice softer, more intimate now.

You nod quickly, trying to brush it off, but the effort it takes to speak, to form coherent sentences, is almost too much. “I’m — yes, just a bit … distracted. But I’m fine.”

Jenson’s smirk deepens, satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you fight to maintain your composure. He knows how hard it is for you right now, knows exactly what you’re feeling, and it drives him wild with a mix of possessiveness and desire.

But he’s not cruel — not really. He gives you a reprieve, lowering the intensity just enough to let you catch your breath, to finish the interview without completely unraveling on live television.

You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control as you wrap up the interview. “Thank you, Charles, and good luck tomorrow,” you manage, your voice only slightly breathless.

Charles smiles, still concerned but letting it go as he nods. “Thank you. And take care of yourself, okay?”

You nod, offering a strained smile in return as you turn away, your heart pounding in your chest, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of sensation. You can barely focus, barely think, as you make your way off camera, the weight of Jenson’s control heavy on your mind.

Jenson watches you go, his heart pounding with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He knows what’s coming next, knows that you’ll find him the moment you’re out of sight, knows the confrontation that’s brewing just beneath the surface.

But for now, he’s content to watch, to wait, to let the anticipation build as you navigate the pit lane, trying to keep your cool while knowing that he’s the one pulling the strings.

You make it to a quiet corner of the paddock, out of sight of the cameras, and lean heavily against the wall, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. You know he’s watching, know he’s aware of every reaction, every tremor in your body.

And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers, already knowing who it’s from. The message is simple, just one word: Mine.

You swallow hard, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest — desire, frustration, love, and something darker, more intense. You know you’re his, there’s no question about that, but the way he reminds you, the way he exerts his control over you, leaves you breathless, craving more.

Before you can respond, you hear footsteps approaching, and you look up to see Jenson walking towards you, his expression calm and collected, but with that same spark of intensity in his eyes that you saw this morning.

“Jenson,” you start, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “You did well,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with pride. “But you know this isn’t over yet.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the promise of what’s to come making your pulse quicken. You nod, unable to find the words, but he sees the understanding in your eyes, the acceptance of what he’s done, and what he’s going to do.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

With that, he pulls back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t need to say anything else — you know what’s coming, and the anticipation is enough to make your knees weak.

“Let’s go,” he says finally, his voice firm but gentle as he takes your hand, leading you away from the paddock. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the quiet hum of the facility around you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to, and the silence between you is thick with anticipation. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, each step forward amplifying the tension that’s been building all day.

He stops in front of a bathroom door, glancing around to ensure you’re alone before pushing it open and guiding you inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the lock sliding into place with a finality that makes your pulse quicken.

The room is small, sterile, with white tiles and a large mirror above the sink. The only light comes from the overhead fluorescent bulb, casting sharp shadows on the walls. Jenson doesn’t waste any time — he turns you around, hands gripping your hips as he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter.

You gasp as the cool surface meets your skin, the contrast with the heat radiating from your body almost too much to bear. He stands between your legs, his presence overwhelming as he leans in close, his breath hot against your neck.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “So eager, so ready for me.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands trail down your thighs, fingers brushing against the edge of your skirt before pushing it up, exposing the thin fabric of your underwear.

He pulls out his phone, the app already open, and you can see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he turns up the intensity again. The toy inside you comes to life with a sudden, powerful vibration that has you gasping, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

“Jenson-” you manage to breathe out, but the words are lost as the sensations overwhelm you. Your legs tremble, your body straining against the relentless stimulation, but he doesn’t relent. Instead, he steps back slightly, his hands on your knees, gently but firmly pushing your legs apart.

He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, as you struggle to keep yourself together. The toy pulses inside you, every nerve ending on fire as you fight to stay on the edge, to hold on just a little longer. But it’s too much — everything is too much — and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, the pleasure building until it’s all-consuming.

“Don’t hold back,” Jenson murmurs, his voice calm but commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”

Your head tilts back, your mouth falling open as a moan escapes you, loud and desperate. You’re so close, teetering on the brink, and when he presses just a bit harder on your legs, holding you open and exposed, you finally lose control.

The orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your entire body trembling as you cry out, unable to stop yourself. You fall off the edge, utterly consumed by the sensations coursing through you, and Jenson watches every second of it, his gaze locked on you, unblinking, taking in every reaction, every shudder, every gasp.

When you finally come down, your body weak and spent, he steps closer again. His hand trails up your thigh, fingers hooking around the edge of your underwear before gently pulling it aside. The toy slips out easily, still buzzing faintly, coated in the evidence of your pleasure.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings it to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness that lingers on it. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat, the intimacy of the act making your breath catch in your throat.

“Delicious,” he whispers, the word sending another shiver down your spine as he licks the toy clean, his eyes never leaving yours. When he’s satisfied, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before sliding the toy back inside you.

The sensation is different now, your body still sensitive, and you gasp softly as he adjusts it, making sure it’s nestled perfectly against you. He steps back, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he looks at you with a mixture of pride and desire.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “You’re ready for the rest of the day now, aren’t you?”

You nod, your breath still coming in short gasps as you try to regain some semblance of composure. But it’s hard, especially when he’s looking at you like that, his eyes filled with the promise of more to come.

He helps you off the counter, your legs still shaky, but his hold is steady, grounding you as you smooth down your skirt and try to collect yourself. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle now, almost tender.

“This is just the beginning,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine.”

And as he leads you out of the bathroom, back into the world, you know that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, and he’ll always be yours.

569 notes · View notes

faithshouseofchaos · 6 days ago

Text

Home between worlds — Jenson Button x plus size!fem!reader

Word count— 29.k

Fluff with a side of angst I wrote this with McLaren Jenson in mind.

Jenson pulled his car to the side of the dusty North Carolina road, frowning as the engine sputtered and died. The sleek lines and polished chrome were now a frustrating sight, and he slumped back in the seat, realizing he had no idea how to fix this sort of thing. He glanced around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The nearest house was a charming, white clapboard home with a wide front porch draped in flowering vines.

After a long moment, he grabbed his phone and gave it a half-hearted glance. No signal. Of course. With a resigned sigh, he stepped out and walked up to the house, hoping someone there could helpâ€”or at least point him in the direction of the nearest mechanic.

He climbed the porch steps, suddenly aware of how out of place he looked here in his designer clothes and polished loafers. He lifted his hand and knocked, then took a small step back, trying not to look too desperate.

The door opened, and there she was: a woman with soft curls framing her face, warm, curious eyes, and an apron dusted with what looked like flour. She glanced at him with raised brows, assessing him in a way that made him feel both awkward and oddly grounded.

“Can I help you?” she asked, Southern drawl curling around her words.

Jenson cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you. My car broke down just up the road, and, uh, I don’t really know what to do with it.” He flashed a small smile, hoping his charm would bridge the gap.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if she could see right through the smile. “Ain’t from around here, are you?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, giving a little shrug. “Just passing through. I don’t suppose you know if there’s a mechanic nearby?”

“Nearest one’s in town, but they close early on Fridays,” she replied, her voice calm and thoughtful. “Though if you’re desperate, I can give ‘em a call. Or you can stay here tonight and get it looked at in the morning.”

Jenson blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. He opened his mouth to politely declineâ€”he wasn’t sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it. Yet as he looked into her eyes, something made him hesitate. He found himself nodding. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that, actually.”

She stepped back, holding the door open. “Name’s Y/N, by the way,” she said, offering a slight smile.

“Jenson.” He reached out to shake her hand, and when she took it, he felt a warm, steady strength in her grip. He could sense he’d just entered a place where things moved at their own rhythm, where his usual tricks wouldn’t get him far.

As he stepped inside, a sense of calm washed over him, blending with the quiet sense of mystery she seemed to carry. This was going to be a new experience, and, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to expect next.

I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! Let’s continue, with Jenson settling in for the night and the two of them beginning to connect, just a little.

The inside of her house was as charming as the outside, with worn wood floors, a cozy fireplace, and a mix of vintage furniture that gave it character. He took it all in, feeling oddly at home. As Y/N led him to the guest room, he caught the faint scent of something freshly baked.

“Hope you’re not picky,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve got some leftovers if you’re hungry.”

Jenson’s stomach growled in response, and he let out a small chuckle. “Guess that answers that.”

She showed him to the guest room, a small but comfortable space with a soft quilt draped over the bed. He dropped his bag by the door and followed her back to the kitchen, where she handed him a plate piled with homemade biscuits, a little dish of honey, and a bowl of stew.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely touched. “I didn’t expectâ€”well, all of this.”

She gave him a slight smile as she poured herself a cup of tea, then sat across the table. “We don’t get many strangers around here, so I guess it’s only right to treat ‘em well. Besides, you look like you could use a break.”

Jenson felt himself relax, her warmth and directness a refreshing change from the usual small talk he was used to. They ate in a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of spoons and the occasional creak of the old house settling around them. She didn’t seem fazed by his silence, filling the quiet with small comments about the town or the farm she worked on down the road.

As he finished his plate, she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “So, Mr. Jenson, what brings you all the way out here?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Long story short, I wanted a break fromâ€¦well, everything. I Need to clear my head, I guess.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a bit. “Big city type, huh? You look at it, with those clothes and that fancy car.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, smirking a little. “I spend most of my time racing around the world. It’s been my whole life, honestly. But sometimesâ€¦well, you can lose track of yourself.”

She studied him for a moment, as if reading between the lines. “What happened to you?”

Jenson didn’t answer immediately. He was used to people asking him about the glamorous side of his lifeâ€”the wins, the parties, the fame. But no one had asked about the toll it took, and he found himself unable to brush it off as easily as he would with a stranger.

“Something like that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/N gave a slight nod, her gaze understanding. “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Just know this isn’t the kind of town that changes for anyone.” She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You’ll be the one doing the adjusting here.”

He chuckled, something warm stirring in him. “I think I can handle that.”

After they cleaned up, Jenson found himself lingering in the cozy living room, where she’d lit a fire. He noticed the way she moved around the space, comfortable and confident, filling it with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. She handed him a blanket without a word, then sat down in her own chair, tucking her feet under herself.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” he asked, half-joking.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she replied, smiling mysteriously. “It’s not exactly the life you’re used to, butâ€¦sometimes the simple things are better.”

Jenson looked at her, intrigued. She didn’t seem impressed by his fame, and that only made her more fascinating. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real conversation like this, and, as he settled in for the night, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

The next morning, Jenson woke to the smell of coffee and something sweet drifting through the air. He lay there for a moment, the morning sunlight casting a soft glow through the thin curtains. It was quietâ€”no cars, no city sounds. Just birds singing and the soft hum of activity somewhere in the house. For the first time in a while, he felt rested.

When he made his way to the kitchen, Y/N was there, moving about with easy familiarity, a steaming pot of coffee and a plate of fresh muffins on the table. She glanced up and gave him a half-smile.

“Hope you like blueberries,” she said, pushing the plate toward him. “We get a lot of fresh berries around here this time of year.”

Jenson took a muffin and bit into it, his eyes widening. “This is incredible,” he said, barely waiting to swallow before taking another bite.

“Guess they don’t teach cooking like that where you’re from, huh?” she teased, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“Definitely not,” he replied, chuckling. “You know, it’s been a long time since anyone’s made me breakfast. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

Y/N shrugged, looking out the window. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I figured you’d need something hearty if you’re sticking around long enough to get that car of yours sorted.”

They spent the morning together, mostly in silence, with Y/N occasionally breaking it with a story about the town or a memory from her childhood. Jenson found himself listening intently, surprised at how much he enjoyed her quiet presence. She had a way of drawing him in, making him feel grounded.

As the day went on, she showed him around the small town, introducing him to the local shops and friendly faces. It wasn’t long before he realized everyone knew everyone hereâ€”and now, they all seemed to know him too.

The grocer, a wiry older man with a thick Southern drawl, gave Jenson a once-over, smirking. “So, you’re the one Y/N’s got staying with her, huh? Bet you’re not used to these parts.”

Jenson chuckled, trying to play it cool. “I’m learning,” he replied, glancing at Y/N, who was pretending to look at the produce but hiding a smile.

The grocer laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, don’t go causin’ too much trouble, y’hear?”

They continued on, Y/N’s cheeks tinged with a bit of color. “Don’t mind him. Folks around here like to keep tabs on one another.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand that,” Jenson replied, grinning. “Good thing I have you as my guide, or they’d probably run me out of town.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile growing softer. “Don’t worry, Mr. Button. You’ll blend in sooner than you think.”

By the end of the day, they found themselves back at her place, both a little worn from walking and chatting with neighbors. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the fields.

Jenson helped her with dinner, laughing as he struggled to peel potatoes without taking half of the potato with it. Y/N watched, amused, occasionally guiding his hands until he finally got the hang of it.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever worked this hard on dinner in my life,” he said, mock-sighing as he handed her the last peeled potato.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ll live. And besides, you’ll appreciate it more when you have to work for it.”

She took the potatoes and set them in a pot on the stove, glancing over her shoulder at him. He noticed the way her eyes softened as she looked at him, just a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there before. In that moment, he felt a pullâ€”a realization that he was starting to care about more than just the novelty of this little town.

They ate by the fireplace that night, sharing stories about their lives as the flames crackled softly. Jenson told her about his racing days, glossing over the glamorous bits and focusing on the rush of it, the way he felt most alive on the track. She listened intently, nodding along, though he could tell she didn’t quite understand that world.

And then she shared a little more about herself. She’d grown up here, working on her family’s farm, a life far different from the one Jenson had known. She spoke of long summer days in the fields, community gatherings, and the sense of responsibility she felt to take care of the land. Her voice grew softer, thoughtful, as she talked about her hopes of expanding the farm, making it a sustainable place that could serve the town for generations.

For the first time in years, Jenson found himself captivated, not by the thrill of the fast lane, but by the quiet strength she radiated.

As the evening wore on, they both grew quiet, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. Jenson looked over at her, feeling something shift inside him. He didn’t want to leave just yet; he wanted to stay in this world she’d let him glimpse, to understand her better.

But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. There were things she wasn’t saying, barriers she’d put up without him even realizing it. And for the first time, he wanted to break through themâ€”not with his usual charm or easy smiles, but with patience, with honesty.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For letting me stay. Forâ€¦everything.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening again as she nodded. “You’re welcome, Jenson.”

And in that quiet, fire-lit room, they both sat, caught in a moment that felt like the start of something neither of them could quite name.

It had been a few days since Jenson’s car was fixed, and the two of them had settled into a rhythm of shared meals, late-night talks, and quiet moments in the living room. Despite his initial intentions to leave as soon as possible, Jenson found himself staying a little longer each day, drawn to the warmth and comfort of the homeâ€”her home.

One afternoon, Y/N was in the kitchen preparing lunch. The soft sound of a knife chopping vegetables was the only noise in the otherwise still house, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the distant murmur of a car passing outside. Jenson leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Need any help?” he asked, watching her move with easy efficiency, a quiet grace that belied the busyness of the task at hand.

“I’ve got it,” she replied, glancing up at him with a smile. “But if you’re looking for something to do, there’s a gallon of sweet tea in the fridge. You could pour me a glass.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow. “Sweet tea?”

She nodded, continuing to chop the vegetables. “Yeah. You’ve probably heard of it, right? Big Southern thing.”

Jenson chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I’ve heard of it. Just not sure I understand the appeal. Seems like it’s justâ€¦ tea with an insane amount of sugar, right?”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be surprised how good it is. But you’re rightâ€”it’s basically a glass of sugar with a hint of tea.”

“Right,” he said with a smirk. “That soundsâ€¦ incredibly healthy.”

Y/N shook her head with a chuckle, turning to face him. “It’s an acquired taste, for sure. You’ve got to really pour it in just right, though. Too little sugar and it’s just weak tea, too much, and it’s just syrup.”

Jenson tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So what’s the ‘right’ amount?”

She grinned. “Well, if you want to drink it the way I do, you need at least an inch of sugar in there. Anything less and it’s not really sweet tea. Might as well be iced tea.”

Jenson blinked at her for a second, his lips curling into a playful smile. “An inch of sugar? That’s, uhâ€¦ excessive.”

“It’s perfect,” Y/N said, a proud tone in her voice. “Trust me.”

Jenson eyed her warily but couldn’t resist the curiosity. “Alright, alright. I’ll give it a go. But I’m warning you, if it’s too sweet, I’m never drinking this stuff again.”

He opened the fridge, pulling out the large container of sweet tea, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. As he poured, Y/N watched him, trying not to laugh at the way he was so carefully measuring the sugar level.

He returned to the counter, handed her the glass, and with a little grin, took a sip from his own.

She watched his expression change as the sweetness hit him, and she couldn’t hold back her laugh this time. “So? What do you think?”

Jenson blinked rapidly, a little caught off guard by the overwhelming sweetness. He slowly set the glass down on the counter, clearing his throat. “Wellâ€¦ I think I might’ve just had a sugar high,” he said, his voice teasing. “It’sâ€¦ definitely sweet.”

Y/N laughed so hard she had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “Told you! It’s a real shock to the system if you’re not used to it.”

Jenson grinned, looking over at her with a playful glint in his eyes. “I might need a few more tries before I’m convinced. But for now, I’ll justâ€¦ try not to get a sugar coma.”

“Good idea,” she said, taking a sip from her own glass. “But you’re going to need to learn how to drink it properly if you’re going to live down here. It’s a staple.”

Jenson leaned against the counter, studying her, an almost unnoticeable softness in his eyes as he observed how at home she looked here, in her element. There was something undeniably endearing about herâ€”about the way she didn’t just accept Southern culture, but embraced it fully.

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice a little softer than usual.

Y/N looked up at him, a small, genuine smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, I do. It’s my home, Jenson. It might not be as fancy or as exciting as your life, but it’s mine. It’s where I belong.”

There was a brief pause between them, and Jenson felt something stir in him, a strange, unexpected feeling. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was definitely something more than just admiration.

He took another sip of his sweet tea, his eyes still lingering on her. “Well, I think you’re doing a damn good job of making it seem exciting,” he said with a grin.

Her eyes softened, and the smile on her face lingered a little longer than usual. There was a quiet intimacy in the way their gazes held each other, and Jenson felt a flicker of something he hadn’t quite expected when he first arrived. Something more than just a passing curiosity. Somethingâ€¦ real.

As the days went by, their interactions became increasingly natural. Jenson had gotten used to the calm rhythm of life in North Carolina, a pace far different from the constant whirlwind of F1 circuits and the bustling life he’d grown accustomed to. In the evenings, he would sit with Y/N in the living room, watching TV or simply talking about the mundane details of life. They fell into a comfortable routineâ€”quiet, easy, and without expectation.

One afternoon, Y/N was busy working on some paperwork for her job, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. Jenson had wandered into the kitchen to grab a snack, a bag of chips in one hand, when he noticed her distractedly tapping her pen on the table. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she glanced between papers, occasionally shaking her head.

“Need help with that?” Jenson asked casually, leaning against the doorframe, still holding his snack.

Y/N looked up, a bit surprised by the offer. “I could probably use a second opinion. Justâ€¦ numbers and stuff. Nothing exciting.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow and walked over, sitting down across from her. “You’d be surprised what’s exciting if you’ve got the right perspective.”

Y/N smirked, tapping the pen against her lip. “Right. Well, it’s not really that thrilling.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Alright, what’s the issue?”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, then sighed, pushing the papers toward him. “Just a couple of budget reports for the town’s community projects. Nothing too complicated, but it’s giving me a headache. Could you take a look?”

Jenson, always quick to analyze things, scanned the numbers, his mind working through the calculations with ease. As he did, he noticed Y/N watching him quietly, a small smile playing at her lips.

“What?” Jenson asked, glancing up with a teasing look.

“Nothing,” she replied, her voice soft. “Just never thought I’d have a Brit helping me with budget reports. You’re more useful than I gave you credit for.”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I do have more talents than just driving a race car, you know.”

She laughed, the sound light and easy. The tension from before, the one that had made their interactions feel slightly strained, seemed to be melting away. It was just themâ€”two people who had never expected to cross paths but now found themselves sharing moments in a way that felt natural, as if it had always been meant to happen.

Later that evening, after dinner, they found themselves outside again, watching the stars. The chill of the night air had settled in, but neither of them seemed to mind. They’d walked outside in silence, the sound of the grass crunching beneath their feet, the sky above them dotted with stars.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t rush through everything,” Jenson said softly, breaking the quiet.

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, his voice low, almost like he was thinking out loud. “Everyone I know is always running somewhere, always thinking about the next thing. But youâ€¦ you seem to take it slow. Like you can just be here, in the moment.”

Y/N turned her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, contemplative. There was something in the way he was looking at her, a quiet admiration that made her heart beat a little faster.

“Well,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, “sometimes the next thing can wait. Life’s too short to be in a rush all the time.”

Jenson nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I wish I could slow down sometimes.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. It was like he was revealing something about himself that he didn’t say aloud oftenâ€”how he was always on the go, always under pressure, always performing.

“You know,” she said gently, “you don’t always have to be going a hundred miles an hour. Maybe there’s something good in justâ€¦ being still.”

Jenson met her gaze again, his expression shifting to something deeper. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just took in the way her words seemed to settle in his mind. He hadn’t realized how much he longed for that stillnessâ€”until now.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most peaceful silence he’d felt in a long time. He took a deep breath, the air cold against his lungs, and looked up at the stars. “Maybe I’ll learn to appreciate that,” he said quietly.

Y/N didn’t say anything for a moment. She simply let the quiet settle between them, the stars above them, the soft hum of the world around them. And in that moment, despite the tension, despite everything unspoken, it felt like they were more connected than ever.

As the week drew to a close, their connection seemed to shift even further, though neither of them would openly acknowledge it. They began sharing more moments of quiet closenessâ€”Jenson offering her his jacket when they went out for walks, their fingers brushing as they passed each other in the hallway, the soft hum of their conversations lingering even when no words were spoken.

But there was always a lingering distance between them, one neither of them was willing to cross, yet both were painfully aware of.

One evening, as they prepared for bed, Jenson paused in the doorway of her room. There was a hesitation in his movement, something almost uncertain in the way he lingered.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve really appreciated thisâ€”being here. With you.”

Y/N’s heart gave a small jolt at his words. She turned from where she was getting ready for bed, meeting his gaze. His eyes weren’t playful anymore, not teasing. There was something real thereâ€”something that made her chest tighten.

“I’ve appreciated it too,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the flutter in her stomach. “More than you know.”

Jenson nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. And just before he left the room, he hesitated for a brief moment, almost as if he was about to say something more. Instead, he simply offered a small smile, a look that seemed to speak volumes without a single word.

And as he closed the door behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart racing. Despite everything she told herself, despite the walls she’d built up around her heart, she couldn’t ignore the fact that there was something between themâ€”something undeniable, even if neither of them was ready to face it just yet.

As the days turned into a week, Y/N found herself becoming more aware of the subtle shifts in their relationship. It was in the small thingsâ€”like the way Jenson would give her a small, unspoken smile when they passed each other in the hallway, the way his presence in the house no longer felt like a surprise but a comfort.

One afternoon, while Jenson was lounging on the porch, scrolling through his phone, Y/N found herself sitting on the steps, watching the way the sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the ground. The air was warmer now, the last traces of winter fading away, and she felt a calm peace she hadn’t realized she was missing.

Jenson’s voice broke the stillness. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “About how different things are here. Not just the pace, but the people. You. This place.”

She raised an eyebrow, curious now. “What about it?”

“Wellâ€¦” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. “I’ve been a bit of aâ€¦ well, a mess, honestly. Always rushing around, focused on the next thing. And now, hereâ€¦ with you, I can’t help but think maybe I’ve been missing out on something important.”

Y/N studied him, unsure how to respond to his vulnerability. It wasn’t often that Jenson let his guard down, and even now, it seemed like he was unsure of how much to reveal. The realization struck herâ€”he was more than just the cocky, confident driver people saw on TV. There was more beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way for her to let him in.

“You don’t have to rush everything, you know,” she said softly, the words coming out more gently than she expected. “Sometimes it’s okay to justâ€¦ be. And it’s okay to not have all the answers.”

Jenson’s eyes softened as he met her gaze. “Yeah, I’ve figured that out the hard way.”

The air between them grew a little heavier, charged with something unsaid, but not uncomfortable. For once, it wasn’t about racing or the F1 world he inhabited; it was justâ€¦ them. Two people, sitting quietly on the porch, letting the world spin around them.

Later that evening, the two of them were sitting on the couch in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the space. They were watching a movieâ€”some silly romantic comedy that neither of them really cared about, but neither seemed to mind the quiet company.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her, while Jenson sat next to her, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. Every now and then, his fingers brushed against her shoulder, a small, inadvertent contact that sent a strange, electric feeling through her skin. He didn’t seem to notice, but she did.

It was these moments that made everything feelâ€¦ complicated. Her heart would beat a little faster, a little heavier, every time his proximity became a little closer, his presence just a little more real.

At one point, Jenson chuckled at a scene in the movie, the sound of his laughter low and warm. Y/N smiled faintly, the sound soothing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re weird,” she teased, not looking at him but knowing his smirk was there.

He tilted his head toward her, his voice teasing. “You love it.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her smile that betrayed her. “Don’t get cocky, Button.”

He chuckled again, this time a little louder, and his arm shifted just slightly, brushing her shoulder with a warmth that sent a spark down her spine.

For a brief moment, the world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, and it was just them. No F1, no past relationships, no looming goodbyes. Justâ€¦ them.

The moment lingered, stretching on in quiet understanding. Y/N, for the first time, allowed herself to feel the tension between them, the growing pull that had been there from the beginning but was now more palpable. She had always prided herself on keeping a safe distance from people, especially men like Jenson. But now, she was unsure how much longer she could keep pushing him awayâ€”how much longer she could ignore the feelings blooming inside her.

Jenson, on the other hand, seemed to sense her hesitation. He didn’t push. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any bold moves. He just let the silence hang there, comfortable, yet pregnant with possibility. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet with words or gestures. They were simply thereâ€”together.

Over the next few days, Jenson settled into a rhythm he never thought he’d enjoy. Mornings were for coffee and breakfast with Y/N, the quiet stretch of sunlight streaming through her kitchen as they traded stories and gentle, teasing remarks. Sometimes she’d take him along on her errands or introduce him to neighbors who’d wave him over with the same easy charm. He began to lose track of time, falling into the town’s slower paceâ€”and catching himself looking forward to seeing Y/N each morning.

They were out by the small garden behind her house one afternoon, her hands deep in the earth as she tended to her plants. Jenson watched, a small smile tugging at his lips, realizing he’d never seen anyone so content in their element.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the fence with an amused grin, “you’re the hardest-working person I’ve ever met. I think I’d last five minutes doing what you do.”

She looked up, wiping a hand across her brow, smudging a bit of dirt. “I’d pay to see that,” she replied with a laugh, eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. “You’d quit as soon as you chipped a nail.”

“Hey, I’m not that soft,” he retorted, feigning offense. He took a step closer, peering over her shoulder at the bed of vegetables she was planting. “I could help, you know. Give me a task and I’ll prove it.”

She glanced at him skeptically, then handed him a small trowel. “All right, fancy man. Think you can handle planting a few tomatoes?”

Jenson crouched down beside her, a little too close, his shoulder brushing against hers. He felt her stiffen, just for a second, before she relaxed again. He knew he shouldn’t have noticedâ€”but he couldn’t help it. That small, shy reaction of hers was something he’d come to recognize, like a barrier she was always aware of but tried not to show.

They worked side by side, and he caught himself stealing glances at her, watching the way her hands moved expertly through the soil, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, a loose curl falling across her cheek as she concentrated. She didn’t fit the image he’d grown used to in his world, but she had a beauty that felt real and unpolished, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

When she caught him staring, he quickly looked away, focusing too hard on the tomatoes. Her chuckle was soft, but it sent warmth through him, a sensation that was becoming far too familiar.

After they finished, she sat back, brushing dirt from her hands. “Not bad, Button,” she teased. “Didn’t expect you to get through it without complaining.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” he replied, a hint of flirtation slipping into his tone. But she didn’t react the way he expected. Instead, she looked away, her smile fading slightly as she fiddled with her sleeve.

He cleared his throat, feeling a pang of regret. He wanted to keep things light, but every time he leaned into his usual charm, he could feel her pulling back, as if she was reminding herself of who he was. A playboy, someone who didn’t take rootsâ€”someone she couldn’t risk trusting too much.

A couple more days passed in much the same way, each night ending by the fire, with the two of them sitting across from each other in a comfortable silence. Jenson could tell she was starting to let her guard down, her laughter coming a little more easily, her gaze meeting his for a moment longer. But every time he thought he’d inched closer, she’d turn away, and he’d be left feeling an ache he couldn’t quite name.

One evening, as they sat watching the stars from her front porch, she spoke, her voice soft. “You ever think about slowing down?”

He looked over, surprised by the question. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed on the night sky, but he could tell she was curious, genuinely wanting to know.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, feeling a strange vulnerability in the admission. “There’s a rush to it allâ€”the speed, the fame. It’s exciting, butâ€¦sometimes it feels like I’m chasing something that’s always just out of reach.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think you just need to figure out what you’re really looking for.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, the quiet truth in them resonating with something deep inside. He glanced over, his gaze tracing the soft curve of her face in the moonlight, and for a second, he wanted to reach out, to touch her hand and tell her he was tired of running, that maybe he was starting to find what he needed here.

But he held back, settling instead for a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, charged with something neither of them acknowledged. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze still on the stars, her expression guarded.

When she finally spoke, her tone was soft, almost hesitant. “I know what people think of me. I know I don’t fit the picture.” She paused, swallowing. “It’s just that people like youâ€¦you don’t stick around for long.”

Jenson’s heart twisted at her words, and he forced himself to look away, guilt creeping up his spine. He hadn’t meant to make her feel that way, hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to see him differently. But he knew she was right, knew she had every reason to be wary.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud. The words hung between them, fragile and raw, a confession he hadn’t expected to make.

Y/N glanced over, her eyes softening just a little, but she didn’t respond, didn’t reassure him. Instead, she offered him a small, understanding smile before turning back to the stars.

In that quiet moment, he realized just how deeply she was affecting himâ€”and how much it would mean to break through her walls. But he also understood that this was her choice, not his, and he’d have to be patient, no matter how much it hurt to hold back.

As he sat there, his heart heavy and uncertain, he knew this wasn’t going to be easy. It would take time, a slow burn he hadn’t experienced before, and he’d have to earn every small piece of her trust. And for the first time, he didn’t mind the wait.

Days turned into weeks, and Jenson was still there, still making himself useful around the house, still sharing quiet dinners and lazy evenings on the porch with Y/N. He found himself enjoying the small routines, even catching himself looking forward to the little thingsâ€”her laughter, the way she’d pause when she caught him staring, or the way she’d turn away when he said something that flustered her.

One warm afternoon, Y/N asked him to help fix the old barn door, which had started to creak and jam. They spent hours wrestling with the stubborn hinges, dust and dirt clinging to their clothes as they struggled with bolts and screws. Jenson had grease on his hands and a splinter in his finger, but he didn’t careâ€”he found himself laughing with her, the kind of laugh that came easily, without thought.

“Alright, let’s give it another try,” she said, leaning her weight into the door as he adjusted the latch. When it finally swung open smoothly, she let out a triumphant whoop, her eyes shining with accomplishment.

“See?” he said, grinning. “I’m not totally useless.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Maybe not. You’re a little better than I expected, city boy.”

He took a step closer, still smiling, and their eyes met. For a long, charged moment, they stood there, the barn around them filled with dust and sunlight, and he felt a strange, urgent longing to close the distance between them. He wanted to brush a thumb over the smudge on her cheek, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But as he reached out, she turned away, breaking the spell. She busied herself with packing up the tools, her shoulders tense, and Jenson felt the familiar ache return, sharper this time. She was pulling back again, and he could feel her putting up her guard.

Later that evening, as they sat by the fire, he found himself glancing over at her, watching as she sipped her tea. She was quieter than usual, her gaze distant, lost in thought.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She looked up, startled, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice a little too light. “Justâ€¦thinking.”

“About?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression open, inviting her to share.

She hesitated, glancing down at her mug. “I don’t know. I guess it’s justâ€¦sometimes it’s hard to believe this is real. You being here, us getting along. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you toâ€¦to get bored and leave.”

Her words struck him, and he felt a pang of frustrationâ€”mostly at himself. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was here for her, but he knew words wouldn’t mean much right now. She’d heard them all before from people who hadn’t stayed.

Instead, he took a slow breath. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I’m here, Y/N. For as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, and he saw the faintest glimmer of hope there, mixed with hesitation. She wanted to believe himâ€”he could see it. But there was a shadow of fear, a wall he’d have to keep chipping away at, piece by agonizing piece.

That night, as he lay awake on the couch, he found himself thinking about her, about the way she kept him at arm’s length, always on the verge of letting him in but never quite taking that final step. He wanted to earn her trust, to prove that he was different. But he also knew he’d have to be patient, even if it meant waiting in that fragile, uncertain space between friendship and something more.

The next morning, he decided to surprise her by making breakfast. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d learned a few basics over the years, and he figured he could manage something simple. He found a recipe for pancakes and set to work, determined to make it perfect.

By the time she came downstairs, the kitchen was a messâ€”flour dusting the counters, a few burnt attempts stacked on the plate, and Jenson himself looking more than a little frazzled.

She stopped in the doorway, her mouth twitching with amusement. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Breakfast,” he said, holding up a slightly misshapen pancake. “I thought I’d return the favor.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she came over to inspect his work. “Well, I’ll give you points for effort.”

They sat down together, and despite the mess and a few burnt edges, she ate every bite, teasing him lightly the whole time. But there was something warm in her gaze, a softness he hadn’t seen before, and he found himself grinning like an idiot.

They spent the rest of the morning cleaning up, her laughter filling the air as she teased him about his cooking skills, and he felt closer to her in that moment than he had before. It wasn’t a grand gesture, wasn’t a sweeping declaration of loveâ€”but it was real, and it felt like a step forward.

And slowly, day by day, he found himself falling for her more deeply than he’d thought possible. She was a mystery, a quiet strength, and he found himself wanting to learn every part of her, to earn her trust in the only way that matteredâ€”by staying.

The days seemed to blur together after that. Morning after morning, they fell into a comfortable routine. Jenson had started to feel more at home in her worldâ€”more at peace with the slower pace of life in her small town. He found himself looking forward to the simple things: their walks by the lake, her teasing remarks about his cooking, and the way she would linger on the porch at dusk, lost in her thoughts as the sky turned soft pink and purple.

But despite all the little moments they shared, Y/N still kept him at arm’s length. There were nights when she would let him in a little, her walls lowering just enough for him to see the woman beneath the guarded exterior. And then there were nights when she would retreat, her smile polite but distant, as if she was reminding herself that he didn’t belong hereâ€”not really.

Jenson was starting to get frustrated. He knew he had to be patient, but every time he saw her pull away, his chest tightened with a familiar ache. She was so close, yet so far out of reach.

One evening, they sat on the front porch after dinner, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples. He’d caught her looking at him a few times, her gaze flicking away the moment their eyes met, but she didn’t say anything. She was quiet tonightâ€”too quiet.

“Y/N,” he said softly, trying to break the silence between them. “What are you really afraid of?”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she exhaled slowly, looking out over the yard.

“I’m afraid of getting hurt,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of letting someone in again, only for them to leave. Or worse, of them not really caring.” Her gaze turned inward, and he could tell she was fighting the emotions rising within her.

Jenson’s heart sank. He had known it was coming, but hearing it from her made it feel all the more real. She had been burned beforeâ€”maybe more than onceâ€”and now she was afraid to take another chance.

“You think I’m just going to leave?” he asked, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes, though. “You really think I’m like the others?”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to his, but she didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, heavy between them.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t know if I can trust that you won’t. I know you’re not like the others, but I’ve been down that road before, Jenson. I’ve let someone in and watched them walk away, and itâ€¦ it’s not something I can just forget.”

Her words hit him like a blow to the chest. The vulnerability she was showingâ€”something so raw, so openâ€”tore at him. He wanted to hold her, to tell her he wouldn’t hurt her, that he’d never hurt her. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough, not when the scars of her past were so deep.

Instead, he shifted closer, just enough to be near her, but not so close that it felt like he was pushing her. “I’m not asking for you to forget,” he said gently. “I’m just asking for you to trust me. And I know that’s not easy. But I want to be here, Y/N. For you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She met his gaze then, her eyes searching his face for any sign of insincerity. He held her stare, hoping she could see that he meant every word.

She took a shaky breath, looking away as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Jenson’s heart ached for her. He didn’t know the full story of her past, but he knew enough to understand that it had shaped her into someone who had learned to protect herself at all costs. And he didn’t blame her for it. But it didn’t make the distance between them any easier to bear.

He stayed silent, giving her the space she needed, but his mind raced with the desire to prove to her that he wasn’t like the others. He had no idea how long it would takeâ€”how much more patience it would requireâ€”but he was willing to wait for her.

As the night settled in, Y/N stood up slowly, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “I should get some rest,” she said, her voice barely audible. She gave him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Thanks for dinner. Andâ€¦ for helping with the barn.”

Jenson nodded, standing as well. “Anytime,” he said, his voice soft.

She gave him a brief nod before turning and heading inside, her footsteps fading into the house.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the porch where she had just been. He wanted to go after her, to say something more, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Not tonight.

The next morning, Jenson woke to find a cup of coffee waiting for him on the kitchen counter, the warm aroma filling the house. He didn’t hear Y/N moving aroundâ€”she was always an early riserâ€”but he knew she’d been up long before him. She was always busy, always moving.

He sipped the coffee, his mind lingering on their conversation from the night before. Her fear was so clear to him now. He couldn’t erase it, couldn’t make her forget her past, but he could show her, little by little, that he was here to stay.

After finishing his coffee, he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside, determined to help out with whatever needed doing today. As he wandered through the yard, he spotted her in the garden, once again tending to the plants, her movements slow and deliberate.

He stood back, watching her for a moment. The sun was high in the sky now, the warmth of the day beginning to settle around them. There was something beautiful in the way she cared for this little piece of the worldâ€”something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Need some help with that?”

Y/N turned at the sound of his voice, and for a moment, their gazes locked. The connection was almost tangible, and Jenson felt a rush of hope stir inside him. She didn’t pull away, didn’t look away in that familiar way. Instead, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

“Sure,” she said softly, handing him a small trowel. “You might actually be getting the hang of this.”

Jenson smiled, accepting the tool from her, but this time, it felt different. She wasn’t retreating; she wasn’t holding back. It was only a small thing, but it was progress. And for the first time in days, he felt like maybe, just maybe, they were moving closer.

The last week of winter break had arrived faster than either of them had expected. The crisp air of early January carried a weight to it, a sense of finality that both Jenson and Y/N had been avoiding for weeks.

Jenson tried not to think about it. The thought of leaving this small corner of North Carolina, leaving her, gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. The trip back to the UK for F1 was looming, and with it came the reminder of the life he had been running fromâ€”a life full of obligations, expectations, and a thousand distractions.

But it wasn’t just the thought of the race season that hung over him. It was Y/N.

He had told himself to keep his distance, to avoid getting too attached. But the truth was, he couldn’t help it. She had gotten under his skin in ways he didn’t know were possible. The soft way she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her little corner of the world, the way she pushed him away without ever meaning toâ€”he was falling for her, hard and fast.

And now, with the end of winter break creeping closer, he could feel her pulling away in return. She had grown quieter, more withdrawn, as the inevitable departure drew nearer. Every conversation seemed to carry a hint of finality now, every touch a little more hesitant. It was like she was preparing herself for him to leave, and he hated it.

That evening, they were sitting on the porch again, the last of the light from the setting sun disappearing behind the trees. The cold air had them wrapped in their jackets, but there was no escaping the chill between them.

“You’ve been awfully quiet the past few days,” Jenson said, his voice betraying the nervousness that had been building in him all week.

Y/N didn’t meet his eyes immediately. Instead, she stared out at the darkening horizon, her fingers playing absently with the hem of her sweater. “I’ve just been thinking,” she said, her voice distant. “Aboutâ€¦ everything.”

Jenson felt a tight knot in his chest. “About what?” he pressed gently.

She let out a quiet breath, the tension in the air thickening. “About you leaving,” she finally said, her voice small. “And what happens after that.”

He swallowed hard. The weight of her words hit him like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest.

“Y/Nâ€¦” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I know how this works, Jenson. You’ll go back to the UK, to your life, and I’ll stay here. Thisâ€”whatever this isâ€”it’s not real. You know that, right?”

Jenson felt something crack inside of him. He had known it was coming, but hearing her say it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. “Is that really what you think?” he asked, his voice rough. “You think thisâ€”this time we’ve spent togetherâ€”isn’t real?”

Her eyes flicked to him, but she quickly looked away again, her jaw tightening. “I can’t do this,” she said, her words almost a whisper. “I can’t let myself get too close, Jenson. I can’t let you in because I know it’s just going to hurt when you leave.”

The rawness in her voice cut through him like a knife. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would find a way to make it work, but the truth was, he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to make her believe him, how to convince her that he was different.

“I’m not like the others, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want this to end.”

But even as he said the words, he knew they sounded hollow. She didn’t believe himâ€”not yet.

“Why would you want to stay?” she asked, her voice bitter, though it was clear she was trying to hold back tears. “You’re Jenson Button. You could be with anyone you want. You don’t need someone like me. I’m justâ€¦”

“Stop,” he cut her off, standing up suddenly, his frustration boiling over. “Don’t say that. You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re everything I’ve wanted these past few weeks.”

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “You’re leaving, Jenson. You’ll forget all about me when you’re back in the UK. And I won’t be left here, holding onto something that isn’t real.”

The words stung, more than he had expected, and he felt the weight of her fears crash down on him. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make her understand that he didn’t want this to end. But there was a part of him, deep down, that feared she was right.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the trees and the distant sound of a dog barking somewhere in the town. Jenson stayed where he was, his eyes trained on her, but she refused to look up at him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Y/N stood up, the movement sharp and final. “I think I need some space,” she said, her voice tight. “I’llâ€¦ I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before he could say anything, she turned and walked inside, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that left Jenson feeling like he had been struck.

That night, Jenson lay awake, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, his mind racing. Every part of him wanted to fix this, to find a way to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but he knew that, right now, words weren’t enough. He had to prove it.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual in the silence, and Jenson found himself counting the minutes until he would have to leave, feeling the weight of his departure heavier with every passing second. And he wondered, with a sinking feeling in his chest, if he would leave without ever getting the chance to show Y/N that what they hadâ€”what he felt for herâ€”was real.

The days leading up to Jenson’s departure were filled with a quiet intensity, a blend of unspoken words and lingering touches. Jenson had given Y/N the space she had asked for, but it wasn’t the distance she had anticipated. Instead, he remained just close enough, a presence she couldn’t escape, even when she tried to retreat into her own thoughts.

They fell into a rhythm that was both familiar and new. Jenson would spend the morning doing his final prep work for his trip back to the UK, while Y/N would keep herself busy with small tasks around the house, always within proximity of him but never quite meeting his gaze for too long.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. Every time Jenson caught her looking at himâ€”just a momentary glanceâ€”he felt the pull of something unspoken. But she would look away quickly, as though trying to outrun whatever it was that was beginning to grow between them.

It was the evening before he was set to leave, and they had fallen into the habit of taking long walks in the nearby woods as the sun set, allowing the space to breathe between them, even if the silence was still thick.

Tonight, though, something felt different. There was an unease in the air, something heavier than before. Neither of them spoke much as they walked, the only sound being the crunch of the snow beneath their boots. The golden-orange light of the setting sun was fading fast, casting long shadows across the trees.

Jenson noticed that Y/N’s hands were shoved deep in her pockets, her shoulders hunched against the cold. She was quiet, almost too quiet, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something neither of them was ready for.

He stopped walking, and after a moment, Y/N stopped too, her eyes flicking toward him as she stood a few feet away, waiting.

“Y/N,” Jenson began, his voice softer than before, almost tentative. “You know that I’m going to miss you, right?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her breath came out in a puff of white vapor, and her eyes were on the ground, her lips pressed together tightly. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t the words he had expected.

“Do you really think you’ll miss me once you’re back in the UK?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite read.

Jenson frowned, taking a step closer to her. “Of course I will,” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away, Y/N. I’m here, right now, and I’m not asking for anything more thanâ€¦ than what we have.”

Y/N looked at him then, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability in her eyesâ€”raw and unguarded. “But that’s the problem, Jenson,” she said quietly, her voice breaking the stillness between them. “You say that now, but I don’t know what’s going to happen when you’re gone. You don’t get it. Iâ€¦ I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m just another place for you to stop on your way to something else. And I’m tired of being like that.”

Jenson’s heart twisted in his chest, the words hitting him harder than he expected. He had no idea that this was how she had been feeling all alongâ€”that she felt like she was just temporary to him.

“Y/N, you’re not just another stop for me,” he said urgently, his voice almost a plea. “You’re not a place to pass through. I’m not going back to the UK and pretending like this never happened. Youâ€¦ you mean more to me than that.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. “You say that now, but I can’t keep letting myself believe it. I can’t keep letting myself hope that you’ll stay, that this isn’t just a fleeting thing for you. Because I’m not going to be the one who’s left heartbroken in the end. I won’t be the one who’s hurt when you walk away.”

Her words were like a slap, and Jenson flinched, his chest tightening with frustration and guilt. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping forward, though still hesitant to close the distance between them. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. But I need you to trust me. I need you to believe me when I say that I’m not leaving you behind.”

She wiped her cheek quickly, avoiding his eyes as she took a small step back, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. “I don’t know if I can, Jenson. I really don’t. And I hate that I feel like this. I want to believe you. God, I really do. But I’m justâ€¦ I’m scared.”

Jenson stepped forward again, slower this time, as if moving too fast might break whatever fragile hold they still had on each other. He reached for her hands, gently taking them in his, feeling the coldness in her fingers and the tremor in her touch.

“Then let me show you,” he said softly. “Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not asking for you to trust me completely overnight. I justâ€¦ I just want a chance.”

Her eyes searched his face, torn between the part of her that wanted to believe him and the part that couldn’t let go of the fear of getting hurt again. After a long pause, she sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping in resignation.

“I can’t make you any promises, Jenson,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “I can’t give you what you want right now.”

He nodded slowly, understanding that this wasn’t something he could rush, that pushing her would only push her away.

“But I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” he repeated. “And I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

She looked down at their intertwined hands for a moment, the cold air swirling around them. Then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. “Okay. But you’d better keep your word.”

Jenson smiled slightly, relief flooding through him. “I’ll keep it. I swear.”

And for the first time since he’d arrived in North Carolina, it felt like a small part of the weight had been lifted. There was still so much uncertainty between them, but there was also a flicker of hope, a willingness to let things unfold at their own pace.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

It was the morning that Y/N had been dreading for days. The house felt different, quieterâ€”emptier. She had done her best to pretend that it was just another normal morning, but every little thing reminded her that this was the end of the chapter. Jenson was leaving.

He was in the kitchen, brewing coffee, his movements almost mechanical, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check, too. She watched him from the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, her heart heavy.

“I’ve got to hit the road soon,” he said, not looking at her, his voice low and almost apologetic.

Y/N nodded but didn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, like there was a lump lodged in there, too big to swallow. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let the sadness overwhelm her, but now that the moment was here, it was hard to keep the tears at bay.

Jenson turned to look at her, his gaze softer than usual. “You okay?”

“No,” she whispered, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “No, I’m not okay.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his steps measured, cautious, as if he, too, was fighting the urge to let the moment slip into something more than just a goodbye.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. The words slipped out before she could stop them, and once they were out, she couldn’t take them back. She felt her pulse quicken, and the weight of what she was saying hit her all at once.

Jenson’s expression softened even further, and he reached for her, his hand resting gently on her arm. His touch was warm, grounding. “I don’t want to go either,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “But I have to. I’ve got to get back. Work calls, and Iâ€¦ I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to hold back the wave of sadness that threatened to crash over her. She had known this day was coming. She had prepared for it. Or at least, she thought she had.

“Is that all this was to you, Jenson?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a stray tear that had managed to escape. “Just a summer fling?”

His eyes widened, and he took a step closer to her, his hand brushing against her cheek. “No,” he said firmly, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s never been like that. You mean more to me than just some passing fling.”

“Then why does it feel like it was all justâ€¦ temporary?” she whispered, her voice so small she barely recognized it. “Like I was just some distraction?”

“Because I’m leaving,” he replied, his words almost strained. “And that’s the hard part. You’re right. It’s temporary. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.”

There was a long silence between them, both of them standing there, the weight of the unsaid things hanging heavy in the air.

“I don’t know what happens next,” Jenson said after a moment, his voice softer now, as if he, too, was grappling with the reality of the situation. “I don’t know what the future holds, butâ€¦ I don’t want to say goodbye to you like this. Not without you knowing that I care. A lot.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes searching his, looking for the sincerity she needed to hear.

“I care too,” she said quietly, her words almost a confession, though she had been keeping her feelings hidden for so long. “But I’m scared, Jenson. I don’t know how to make this work when you’re so far away.”

Jenson nodded, the sadness in his eyes matching the ache in her chest. “I’m scared, too. But maybeâ€¦ maybe we can figure it out. One day at a time.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. What could she say? That would make it easier? That would make it feel less like her heart was being torn in two?

Instead, she stepped closer to him, her hand finding his, intertwining their fingers. “One day at a time,” she repeated, her voice steady now. She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want this to end. But the reality was, it had to.

A few hours later, they were standing by his car, the engine running, the sun slowly rising in the distance, painting the sky with soft hues of orange and pink. Jenson had his bags packed, the trunk open, and Y/N stood there, watching him with a heavy heart.

“Guess this is it,” he said, his voice quieter now, the weight of the moment settling in.

Y/N nodded but couldn’t find the words. It felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs, and all she could do was stand there and look at him. Look at him like he was about to disappear forever.

“I’ll miss you,” she said finally, her voice small but clear. The words felt foreign on her lips, but they were the truth. She would miss him more than she could bear to admit.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied, his gaze softening. He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I know,” she whispered, her breath shaky. “But you have to.”

Jenson leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. It was a gentle touch, one that spoke volumes of everything they hadn’t said yet.

“I’ll call you,” he promised quietly. “I’ll stay in touch. I’llâ€¦ I’ll come back, if I can.”

She nodded, her heart aching. “You better,” she replied, a small, bittersweet smile on her lips.

He paused for a moment, looking at her one last time, his eyes full of everything he couldn’t say. Then, without another word, he climbed into his car, started the engine, and drove away.

Y/N stood there, watching him disappear down the road, her heart heavy but full of something she couldn’t quite name. Something that wasn’t just goodbye.

It was hope. A hope that this wasn’t the end.

The days following Jenson’s departure felt like they moved in slow motion. Y/N found herself waking up in the mornings with a lingering ache in her chest, the absence of his warmth beside her a constant reminder of everything that had changed.

The house felt bigger now, emptier. She could still smell him in the air, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the corners of the rooms. She tried to go about her usual routineâ€”work, errands, and even spending time with friendsâ€”but everything felt off. Every little thing reminded her of him.

The space where he had once been seemed too large to fill, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Maybe she had pushed him away too soon. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough to make it work. But the truth was, she was terrified. Terrified of getting hurt, terrified of opening herself up completely to someone who might not be able to stay. She had always been afraid of that. Of letting someone in, only to have them leave.

One afternoon, while sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jenson.

Jenson:

Hey you. Just wanted to check in. I miss you.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before responding. The weight of his words settled deep within her, and she felt the familiar tug of longing she had been trying to ignore.

Y/N:

I miss you too.

How’s everything?

The reply came quickly.

Jenson:

It’s been tough. Getting back into the swing of things here. But I’m thinking about you a lot.

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she leaned back in her chair, staring out at the quiet street. She had thought about him constantly, but it was hard to know where to go from here. What could she say? Could they really make this work from a distance?

Y/N:

I’m trying to adjust too. It’s just different here without you.

She paused before hitting send, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that she wished he hadn’t left. That she wished they could figure this out, but she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. She wasn’t sure if he was just saying these things because it was easy or if he genuinely meant them.

Finally, she typed:

Y/N:

Are you sure you want this? Me and you, I mean?

I don’t know if I can handle it if it’s just going to be temporary again.

It wasn’t a question she had intended to ask, but it had slipped out before she could stop it. She hit send before she could rethink it.

A few minutes passed. Then the phone buzzed again.

Jenson:

I don’t want anything temporary with you. I don’t. But I don’t know what the future holds either. I know I should’ve been clearer with you about that.

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, her chest tightening with the weight of his words. He hadn’t been clear with her. He had left with so many things unsaid, so many things she still wasn’t sure about. But now, here they were, trying to figure it out over a screen, when all she wanted was to be there with him, feeling his presence instead of this aching distance.

Y/N:

I’m scared, Jenson. I’m scared of getting hurt. I thought I could handle this, but I’m not sure I can.

I don’t know if I’m ready for something long distance.

Another pause. The message she received back was a little slower, as though he were taking time to consider her words.

Jenson:

I get it, Y/N. I do. It’s not easy, and it won’t be. But I care about you. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.

Y/N let out a shaky breath as she read his words. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. Not really. But how could she let him in when she was so afraid of losing him?

She typed, her fingers trembling a little as she shared her truth.

Y/N:

I don’t want you to go anywhere. I just don’t know how to do thisâ€¦ how to make it work, when everything about this feels like it’s going to end before it even starts.

It was a raw, vulnerable moment. Her fears were laid out in front of him, and now, there was no taking them back.

Jenson:

I can’t promise you everything will be perfect, because I know it won’t be. But I can promise I’m not giving up on us. I don’t care how hard it is.

For a long time, Y/N just stared at the message. A wave of emotion surged within her, a mixture of relief and fear, of hope and uncertainty. Jenson wasn’t asking her to be perfect. He wasn’t asking her to make a decision right now. He was simply offering his heart, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe she could let herself believe in something.

Y/N:

I’m scared, Jensonâ€¦ but maybe we can try. One day at a time.

It was a fragile start, one full of uncertainty, but it was also a beginning. And for the first time, Y/N felt like maybe the future wasn’t as terrifying as she had once thought.

A week later, Y/N was sitting on the porch, looking out at the same view that had felt so empty when Jenson first left. But this time, the silence felt different. Not so heavy. She had stopped feeling so completely alone. They were still figuring it outâ€”still working through the distance, still taking it one day at a time.

Her phone buzzed again, and when she looked down, it was a video call request from Jenson.

She smiled, pressing the green button.

“Hey,” she said softly when his face filled the screen. “How’s the UK?”

“It’s cold,” he replied with a grin. “But not as cold as you were when I left.”

Y/N chuckled, a warmth spreading in her chest. “Well, I had my reasons.”

“Yeah,” Jenson said, his eyes softening. “But I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, and for the first time in a while, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this would work.

As the days stretched into weeks and weeks into months, Y/N and Jenson’s relationship morphed into something that neither of them had anticipated. The distance between themâ€”measured in time zones, countries, and the miles that separated themâ€”felt both impossible and manageable, depending on the day.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Both of them were adjusting to the new normal, trying to maintain their connection despite the obvious gaps. Y/N went back to her routine, but it was missing somethingâ€”someoneâ€”and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of loneliness that came with being apart from him. Jenson, on the other hand, threw himself back into his busy F1 schedule, but every press conference, every race weekend, felt hollow without her there to share it with him.

But they were trying. One message, one call at a time.

At first, they spoke every dayâ€”short messages during the day, quick video calls late at night, sometimes even while they were both in the middle of something. Y/N would share her day with him, telling him about the little thingsâ€”like how she found a new coffee shop that she thought he would love or how she managed to finish a project at work she had been putting off. Jenson would send her little updates from the paddock or from his travels, sending pictures of his hotel view or the team car, hoping to make her feel like she was there with him.

They had started to get into a rhythm. Texts at breakfast, calls during his downtime, long goodnight texts when the day was over. But the time difference made it harder to maintain the closeness they once shared when everything was in the same time zone.

One evening, after a late call, Y/N leaned back against her couch, her phone still in her hand. Jenson had just sent his usual “Sweet dreams, love. I’ll call you tomorrow.” But it didn’t feel the same. The goodbye wasn’t the same. She wished she could curl up next to him, resting her head on his chest like they used to.

The honeymoon phase of their long-distance relationship didn’t last long. There were moments of frustrationâ€”when the time zones made it impossible to find a time to talk, or when one of them had a bad day and didn’t know how to navigate the emotional distance. Sometimes, a small argument would spark over something insignificant. Y/N would feel like she was missing him more than she could express, and Jenson would struggle with the guilt of not being able to be there for her in the way he wanted.

It was late one night when Y/N sent him a message that was different from their usual texts.

Y/N:

I miss you more than I can handle sometimes. I know it’s hard, and I know it’s not your fault. But it doesn’t make it easier. I just want to be with you, Jenson.

Jenson’s response was immediate, and this time, there was a heaviness to his words that Y/N had never felt before.

Jenson:

I feel the same way. I hate that this is the reality we’re dealing with. I don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own, because you’re not. But it’s hard for me too. So much harder than I thought it would be.

Her heart twisted at his words. She wanted to reach through the screen, hold him, tell him it was all going to be okay. But the distance between them felt so insurmountable at that moment.

Y/N:

I know. I justâ€¦ I don’t want to lose what we had. You mean so much to me, Jenson. But sometimes it feels like we’re just two people, trying to keep it together over a phone screen.

Jenson took a long time to respond. Y/N sat there, staring at her screen, her chest tight with the heaviness of the unspoken things that hung in the air.

Finally, his words came through.

Jenson:

I’m not going anywhere. I can’t promise it’s going to be easy, but I’m not giving up on this. On us.

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief at the words. He wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t either, but sometimes it felt like they were living in two different worlds.

The days blurred together after that conversation, but they started to find their rhythm again, even if it wasn’t always perfect. They had their routineâ€”good mornings, late-night calls, texts sent in between work and races. Jenson would surprise her with little gifts or messages that reminded her he was thinking of her, and she would do the same, whether it was sending him something she knew would make him smile or leaving him voicemails filled with silly little things from her day.

Still, they both felt the longing. Jenson was often on the road, and the endless airports, hotels, and race weekends left little room for anything outside of the job. For a while, that was the hardest part for Y/N. He was always so busy, and the guilt he felt for not being able to be there with her was evident every time they spoke.

But even amidst the chaos, there were moments where it felt like they were right there with each other. Moments like when they’d be video chatting, and Jenson would pick up his guitar, playing a soft tune for her, or when Y/N would text him a picture of the sunset from her front porch and he’d send one right back from wherever he was in the world.

Their bond was growing in ways neither of them had expected. They weren’t just a couple anymore. They were a teamâ€”fighting the distance and the frustrations, but also finding ways to make it work. The connection was there, even if the miles weren’t.

But the tough times were never far away. There were days when the silence after a call felt deafening. Days when Y/N couldn’t help but feel that ache in her chest, wondering if Jenson was truly as committed to this as he said. There were days when Jenson would be so consumed by his schedule that he’d forget to reply to a message, and Y/N would be left questioning if he was starting to drift away.

It was during one of those tough stretches that Y/N finally asked him the question that had been lingering in her mind for weeks.

Y/N:

Do you think we can really do this? Can we make it through the distance?

Jenson’s response came slowly, but when it did, his words were exactly what Y/N needed to hear.

Jenson:

I think we can. I think we have to. Because I don’t want anyone else. I want you. And I’m not giving up on that.

Her heart fluttered at the honesty in his words. It wasn’t going to be easy, and she knew that. But maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. The uncertainty, the doubts, the longingâ€”they were all part of the journey now. And Y/N realized that if they could make it through this, they could make it through anything.

As the months wore on, Y/N and Jenson found their way through the chaos of their long-distance relationship. Each day brought a new challenge, but also a new discovery about the strength of their bond. Even though they hadn’t yet admitted the depth of their feelings for each other, it was becoming clearer every day that something was shifting. They were both too stubborn to let go, too connected to truly walk away.

The rhythm of their relationship became a steady pulse in the background of their busy lives. It was simple, yet comforting. Jenson would wake up to a message from Y/N, wishing him luck for the day ahead. Even if he was halfway across the world, that little message made the miles feel a little less daunting.

Y/N began sending him more pictures of her day-to-day lifeâ€”images of the bakery she’d stumbled across, photos of her hiking in the Appalachian Mountains, or her cozy nights with her friends, showing off her small town life in a way that made Jenson feel like he was part of it, even from a distance.

And Jenson, always thoughtful, would send her little surprises. It wasn’t always materialâ€”sometimes it was a funny meme or an inside joke that reminded her of the times they’d shared. Other times, it was more personal, like the text he sent one morning while waiting for his flight:

Jenson:

I can’t wait to get back to you. I’m counting down the days.

It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic, but it was enough. Enough for Y/N to know he was thinking of her, even in the rush of his high-speed life.

But even as they found a rhythm, there was still an undercurrent of tension. The kind that didn’t make things difficult, but made everything feel like it was building up to something. It was in the way they texted each other, the way the conversations grew more intimate, and the way the silences between them didn’t feel awkward but meaningful.

One night, after a late-night phone call where they’d shared more than usual about their lives, Jenson lingered on the line for a moment longer than usual.

Jenson:

Hey, Y/Nâ€¦ I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.

Y/N’s heart skipped. It was a simple statement, but it carried weight. She hadn’t quite processed the magnitude of what he said, but it felt like it had shifted something in her chest.

Y/N:

I don’t mind. I justâ€¦ I feel the same. It’s weird, right? Being so far away from each other but still feeling thisâ€¦ close?

Jenson chuckled softly, and she could hear the tiredness in his voice.

Jenson:

Yeah, it’s crazy. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Y/N smiled to herself, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty flowing through her. She didn’t know what to do with the words they were exchanging, but she knew she didn’t want them to stop.

One evening, Y/N had just finished dinner when she received a message from Jenson. The time difference made it impossible for them to chat during the evening sometimes, so she tried to soak in the brief moments they could have together. But tonight, something was different.

Jenson:

You look amazing in your photos. I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough, but I think about you every single day.

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, her chest tight. It was rare for Jenson to be this open with his feelings, and though he wasn’t professing undying love, the sentiment felt significant. It hit her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Y/N:

I know it’s crazy, but I think about you every day too. And I can’t wait for you to come back. We still have a lot of things to figure out, but we’re getting there, right?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to express the anxiety she felt. Their connection was growing, but the distance still felt like a wall, a barrier they were constantly pushing against. It was difficult to keep pretending that everything was fine, that everything would just work out.

Jenson:

We are getting there. And when I come backâ€¦ we’ll have time to talk about everything. No more running away from it.

Y/N felt a small knot form in her stomach. There it wasâ€”he was hinting at it. The conversation that had been building for months. But she wasn’t ready to have it. Not yet.

As the weeks turned into months, the little things continued to add up. Y/N started to see a change in Jensenâ€”less the carefree playboy he had been when they first met, and more of the person he was when he was with her. More thoughtful. More present. It was subtle, but it was there.

Sometimes, when he was back in the UK, he’d call her in the middle of the night just to hear her voice. He’d send her pictures of the places he visited, like an old pub or a quiet little street that reminded him of her town. He would even text her to tell her about the music he was listening to, asking her if she knew the band, a way to feel closer to her even when they were on opposite sides of the world.

And Y/N found herself doing the sameâ€”sending him songs that reminded her of their time together, asking him about the races and his life in the paddock. She made an effort to learn more about his world, even if she couldn’t be physically present in it.

One day, after a particularly long day for both of them, Y/N sat on her porch, sipping a glass of sweet tea, watching the stars flicker above. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Jenson. She smiled softly at the screen. It wasn’t much, just a “How’s your day, love?” but it hit her at that momentâ€”she wanted him here. Not just for the convenience or the comfort, but because he was her person.

Maybe they hadn’t said the words out loud yet, but it was becoming more and more obvious that they were both waiting for the other to take the first step. Neither of them wanted to risk putting their feelings on the line, but it was only a matter of time before they had to face the truth about what they were.

But for now, they were content to continue in this quiet, unspoken dance. For the first time, Y/N wasn’t afraid of where this would go. She just needed to be sure he felt the same way.

The days began to blur together in a comfortable, familiar rhythm. With each passing message, each late-night call, the invisible threads connecting Y/N and Jenson grew stronger. They were learning to trust each other from a distance, and in their own way, they were starting to reveal more than just the surface-level pleasantries. The laughter, the playful banter, and the occasional deep conversations about life and their hopes for the future became the foundation of something undeniably real.

Jenson’s race schedule was relentless, but whenever he could, he’d make time for her. Sometimes, it was a quick message in between meetings, or a call while he was relaxing at the hotel after a race. He was always the first to check in, even if it was just a brief, “How’s my favorite girl?” He knew it would make her smile, and that small action seemed to mean more than words could express.

Y/N, for her part, found herself looking forward to those messages more than she cared to admit. The day was never truly complete until she’d heard from him. She’d often find herself re-reading his texts, savoring his words, even if they seemed simple.

It wasn’t just the big gesturesâ€”like when Jenson would surprise her with a gift, or when he would insist on calling her even though it was early morning where he was. It was the little things: the way he’d text her first thing in the morning, even if it was just a single word, something casual. “Good morning,” he’d say. “Hope you slept well.” A sentiment so small, yet it carried with it so much warmth.

The hardest part was being so far apart. Y/N often thought about how different things might be if she could just hold his hand, feel his presence beside her. There was a yearning, an ache, that grew in her chest. She had tried so many times to convince herself that she was fine with the distance, that the space between them didn’t change how she felt. But the more they spoke, the clearer it became that what she felt for him was more than she had ever intended.

She missed him in ways she didn’t know how to put into words. Not just his presence, but the ease with which they spoke to each other, the way their conversations flowed naturally, as if they had known each other for years. It felt like something more was there, like something deep inside her was waking up, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.

It was a weekend at the end of the season when things shifted, at least in Y/N’s heart. Jenson had just wrapped up his final race of the year, and although it had been a successful one, he was tired. His voice on the phone that evening was laced with exhaustion.

Jenson:

I’m glad it’s over. I love racing, but I’m so ready for a break.

I can’t believe how much I miss home, especiallyâ€¦

â€¦especially you.

Y/N smiled softly at his words, even though a slight ache lingered. He missed her, he said it often enough, but was it just the novelty of being back home after the season? Or was it something more?

Y/N:

I miss you too. You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about what I’d do if you were here right nowâ€¦

Probably make you eat all the fried chicken in town.

Jenson let out a laugh, and for a brief moment, Y/N could hear the weariness lifting from his voice.

Jenson:

I could be convinced to do that. But only if you promise me some sweet tea on the side.

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine, filling the empty space between them.

Y/N:

Deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on youâ€”our chicken is some of the best in the world.

The conversation moved on, the banter easy and light, but as the night stretched on and the silence fell after the laughter, it was clear that both of them were holding back. There was an unspoken tension hanging in the air, something neither of them was willing to address fully.

Over the following weeks, the tension between them continued to grow, stretching tighter and tighter until it became almost unbearable. Their conversations deepened, the awkward silences between texts becoming fewer as they began to trust each other more and more. Jenson started to talk about things he hadn’t mentioned before, sharing more about his life outside of racingâ€”the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world. The vulnerable side of him was slowly creeping into their conversations, and Y/N couldn’t help but find herself opening up in return.

She told him about the things she hadn’t shared with anyone elseâ€”the quiet insecurities she kept hidden behind her confident smile, the fear that she wasn’t enough. The fear that someone like Jenson, someone who had so many options, could never truly care about her the way she wanted him to.

Y/N:

Do you ever feel likeâ€¦ you’re not enough? Like no matter what you do, it’s just never good enough for the people around you?

Jenson paused for a long moment, and Y/N could almost feel the weight of his thoughts on the other side of the line.

Jenson:

All the time. Especially in this world, with all the expectations. But it’s not about being enough for other people. It’s about being enough for yourselfâ€¦ and the people who matter.

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words, the warmth of them settling over her like a soft blanket.

Y/N:

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m enough. Not forâ€¦

Not for someone like you.

There was a beat of silence. Jenson’s voice came back, quieter, more serious.

Jenson:

Stop. You’re more than enough. You don’t have to be anything other than who you are for me to care about you. I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.

Y/N’s heart skipped, a flutter of hope and disbelief. His wordsâ€”simple, but heavy with meaningâ€”felt like a balm to the insecurities she had kept locked away.

Y/N:

Jenson, Iâ€¦

But she couldn’t finish her sentence. There was too much she wanted to say, too much that was left unsaid, swirling in her chest. Yet, for the first time, she realized something important: she didn’t have to say it all right now. Not yet.

But someday she will.

The airport was bustling, voices and footsteps echoing off the tiled floors as travelers rushed by with suitcases and backpacks. Y/N stood near the arrival gate, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her palms damp despite the cool air-conditioned breeze. She glanced at the screen above, her heart skipping when the words “Arrived” flashed next to Jenson’s flight.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and straightened her posture, her nerves working overtime. It wasn’t the first time they were meeting in personâ€”not even closeâ€”but something about this moment felt different. More important.

When Jenson finally stepped through the doors, her breath caught in her throat. His figure was unmistakable, even from a distanceâ€”tall, lean, effortlessly confident, with that slight tousle of blond hair she’d come to associate with his charm. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, but he looked every bit the celebrity she’d only seen on magazine covers before she knew him.

But then he saw her, and his whole face lit up. That cocky, F1-driver persona melted away in an instant, replaced with something softer, something just for her.

Jenson’s grin widened as he made his way through the crowd, and Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. He moved with purpose, his strides long and confident, until he was standing right in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and warm, as though they hadn’t spoken just hours ago on the phone.

Y/N smiled back, her lips trembling slightly. “Hi.”

And then, before she could think of what to do next, he pulled her into his arms.

It wasn’t a hesitant hug or an awkward side squeeze. It was a Jenson hugâ€”all-encompassing, firm, and grounding. His arms wrapped securely around her shoulders, and his chin rested against the top of her head. He smelled of something familiarâ€”faint cologne and the faint scent of jet fuel clinging to his clothes.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N closed her eyes, sinking into the embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I missed you, too,” she admitted, the words coming easier than she expected.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands resting on her arms. “You look good,” he said, his eyes scanning her face with an intensity that made her cheeks heat.

“Liar,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been up since five, and I spilled coffee on my shirt this morning.”

Jenson laughed, his grin crooked and charming. “Still beautiful,” he said simply, shrugging off her protests.

Her heart skipped at the sincerity in his tone, but she quickly waved him off, reaching for his carry-on bag instead. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you. You’ve been in the States for five minutes, and I’m not in the mood to play bodyguard.”

Jenson chuckled, grabbing the handle before she could take it. “You know I’d love to see you in action, protecting me from my adoring fans,” he said, but he let her lead the way toward the parking lot.

They fell into an easy rhythm as they walked, their footsteps echoing side by side. Y/N felt her nerves settle the more they talked, their banter as natural in person as it had been over the phone.

By the time they reached her truck, Jenson whistled low. “Still driving this thing, huh?” he teased, eyeing the old Chevy with mock skepticism.

“Don’t start,” Y/N said, shoving his shoulder playfully. “She runs just fine, and I don’t want to hear about your fancy cars. I don’t need a Ferrari to get to the grocery store.”

Jenson smirked as he tossed his bag into the back seat. “Fair enough. But if you ever want to take one for a spin, you know who to call.”

They climbed into the cab, and as Y/N started the engine, she caught him watching her from the passenger seat. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Jenson said quickly, but his grin gave him away. “I’m just glad to be here. With you.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she focused on the road ahead as she pulled out of the parking lot, the weight of his gaze lingering on her profile.

The drive back to her place was filled with easy conversation, Jenson recounting stories from the season and Y/N filling him in on life in her small town. But beneath the lighthearted exchange, there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken.

When they finally pulled into her driveway, the sun was beginning to set, casting the house in a warm, golden glow. Y/N killed the engine and glanced over at him.

“Welcome back,” she said softly, her voice carrying more meaning than the words themselves.

Jenson smiled, his eyes warm. “It’s good to be back.”

They lingered for a moment longer, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions. But then Y/N shook her head, breaking the spell.

“Come on,” she said, pushing open her door. “You’ve got bags to unpack, and I’ve got dinner to make. Let’s go.”

Jenson followed her inside, but as he stepped through the threshold, he couldn’t help but think that this little house, this small-town life, already felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever been.

Jenson sat at the kitchen table, his long legs stretched out in front of him, as Y/N bustled around the kitchen. The scent of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan filled the air, mingling with the faint citrus of her dish soap and the cozy warmth of the house.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her as she moved. She wasn’t graceful in a conventional senseâ€”she wasn’t a whirlwind of elegance or perfect precision. But there was something about the way she worked, the confidence in her movements, the small, absentminded hum she let out as she stirred the pan, that felt utterly captivating.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, catching him staring. “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

Jenson grinned, unbothered by being caught. “Just thinking,” he said casually.

“About what?”

He shrugged, his smile widening. “About how I forgot how good your cooking smells. I think I’ve been spoiled by too many bland European hotel breakfasts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a smirk. “Flattery won’t get you seconds,” she quipped, turning back to her work.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he shot back.

But as he watched her, his grin softened into something quieter. For months, he’d been living out of suitcases, rushing from one race to the next, surrounded by glamor and chaos. And yet, sitting here in her kitchen, with mismatched chairs and a wobbly table, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

Dinner was a simple affairâ€”pan-seared chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beansâ€”but it tasted like comfort. Jenson made a show of piling his plate high, earning a fond eye roll from Y/N.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything and nothing, from his races to the latest town gossip. Y/N told him about how Mrs. Abernathy’s cat had gone missing for a week and turned up in the church rafters during Sunday service, and Jenson nearly choked on his water laughing at the mental image.

“I can’t believe you left that out of your texts,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to an F1 driver laugh about Mrs. Abernathy’s cat,” she shot back, her eyes sparkling.

Jenson leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Hey, just because I drive fast cars doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a good small-town scandal.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. The quiet stretched between them, comfortable and warm, but heavy with something unsaid.

After dinner, Jenson insisted on helping with the dishes despite Y/N’s protests.

“You’re a guest,” she argued, snatching the dishrag from his hand.

“And you’re a terrible host for letting me sit here while you do all the work,” he shot back, grabbing it right back.

They ended up working side by side, water splashing onto their shirts as they bicker over who was better at drying. At one point, Jenson flicked a few droplets at her, and Y/N retaliated by smearing a soapy hand across his forearm.

“Truce!” he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Thought so,” she said smugly, though her cheeks were flushed, and her smile lingered.

Later that evening, they found themselves on the porch, a blanket draped over their laps as they sipped sweet tea and listened to the cicadas.

Jenson tilted his head back, looking up at the stars. “You can’t see this in London,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Too much light pollution?”

He nodded. “Too much of everything, really.”

Y/N glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His profile was relaxed, his features soft in the dim porch light. He looked far removed from the fast-paced world he usually inhabited.

“You ever think about slowing down?” she asked, her voice tentative.

He turned to her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Slowing down?”

“You knowâ€¦ finding somewhere quieter. Somewhere like this.” She gestured vaguely to the dark expanse of trees and open sky.

Jenson was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled faintly. “I think about it sometimes. But I don’t know if I’m ready to leave it all behind yet. Racing’s been my whole life for so longâ€¦ it’s hard to imagine anything else.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening at his words. She wasn’t surprisedâ€”it wasn’t like she’d expected him to suddenly declare he was done with F1. But still, the thought of him leaving again, of this fragile little bubble they’d built bursting, made her stomach twist.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like being here, though,” he added, his voice softer now. “With you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away quickly, her fingers tightening around her glass. “You better,” she said lightly, forcing a teasing tone. “You’ve got a bed and a home-cooked meal, after all.”

Jenson chuckled, but he didn’t press the moment. Instead, they sat in silence, the night stretching around them, their unspoken feelings hanging in the air like the stars above.

It started as a small moment, barely noticeable at first.

Jenson was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone as Y/N fussed in the kitchen. He had just returned from a jog, and his hair was damp, sticking to his forehead. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, and he was still catching his breath.

“Do you want sweet tea or water?” she called from the kitchen, her voice distracted.

“Water’s fine,” he replied, not looking up.

A minute later, she appeared in the doorway, a glass in each hand. “Here,” she said, holding out the water, but her brow furrowed when she took in his flushed face.

“Jenson, you look like you’ve been running in a sauna. Did you even bring water with you?”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, setting the glasses down on the coffee table. Then she grabbed a small hand towel off the counter and tossed it to him.

“Wipe your face before you sweat all over my couch,” she said, but her tone was soft, bordering on affectionate.

Jenson caught the towel with one hand, grinning as he dabbed at his forehead. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in line,” she retorted, crossing her arms.

That was when it hit him.

He didn’t know if it was the way her lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, or the way she tilted her head, her hair falling over one shoulder. Maybe it was the warmth in her voice, the way it always softened just for him, no matter how much she pretended to be exasperated.

Jenson stared at her for a moment, something tightening in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how beautiful she wasâ€”not in the conventional, polished way he was used to seeing in the F1 paddock, but in a way that was uniquely hers. Her curves, her freckles, the way she moved through life with an easy confidence that didn’t try to impress anyone.

She wasn’t trying to impress him, either. She never had. And that made her all the more magnetic.

“You’re staring,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

He blinked, jolting out of his thoughts. “Am I?”

“Yes, and it’s creepy,” she said, but her cheeks flushed, and she turned away quickly.

Jenson chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Justâ€¦ got lost in my thoughts.”

“Maybe get lost in them somewhere else,” she muttered, busying herself with the dish towel hanging off the oven handle.

But as she turned back toward the kitchen, Jenson’s smile faded, replaced by a quieter, more serious expression.

Oh no, he thought, leaning back against the couch.

It was a fleeting realization, but it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

He liked her.

Noâ€”not liked her. He cared about her. Deeply.

The thought sent a jolt of panic through him, and he leaned forward, running a hand through his hair. He’d spent years carefully compartmentalizing his life, keeping emotions at arm’s length to stay focused on racing. But thisâ€¦ this was different. She was different.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Y/N was trying very hard not to think about the way Jenson had been looking at her.

She scrubbed at the counter, even though it was already clean, her mind racing. There had been something in his gaze, something that made her feelâ€¦ seen.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the microwave and frowned. She wasn’t the kind of woman who turned heads, especially not for someone like him. Jenson Button was out of her league in every possible wayâ€”internationally famous, absurdly good-looking, and charming enough to make a stone blush.

And yet, sometimes, he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

She shook her head, scolding herself silently. She couldn’t afford to read into things that weren’t there. Jenson was kind, sure, and maybe he enjoyed her company. But that didn’t mean he saw her the way she sometimes caught herself seeing him.

Still, as she placed the glasses in the sink, she couldn’t stop the small flicker of warmth that lingered in her chest.

Jenson lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling in the guest room. His thoughts were a tangled mess, looping back to Y/N no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else.

He hadn’t planned for this. He never planned for anything outside of racing. His world was fast cars, constant travel, and shallow connections that didn’t ask for too much of him.

But Y/N wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met.

She was steady, grounded in a way that made him feel like he could slow down without losing himself. And that scared him.

He turned onto his side, running a hand through his hair. “Get a grip, Button,” he muttered to himself, but the words felt hollow.

Because no matter how hard he tried to push it down, he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. He wasn’t just fond of her. He wasn’t just enjoying the time they spent together. He was starting to feel something deeperâ€”something that terrified him almost as much as it thrilled him.

In the kitchen, Y/N leaned against the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She stared out the window at the dark yard, the faint reflection of herself staring back at her.

Jenson had been actingâ€¦ strange. Or maybe she was imagining it.

She thought about the way he’d been looking at her earlier, the quiet intensity in his gaze that had made her heart race. But noâ€”she was reading too much into it. She always did this, always let her imagination run away with her.

He was Jenson Button, for crying out loud. Handsome, charming, and so far out of her league it was laughable. She was just a small-town girl with a soft middle and a life that wasn’t half as exciting as his.

“Get it together,” she murmured to herself, taking a sip of tea.

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought of his smile, the way his voice softened when he talked to her, or how he’d spent hours fixing her porch railing last week without being asked.

Her chest ached at the thought. She wanted to believe there was something there, something real. But she was terrified of letting herself hope, only to have it all come crashing down.

The next morning, Jenson was up early, standing on the porch with a cup of coffee in hand. The sun was just starting to rise, casting the yard in shades of gold and pink.

Y/N stepped outside, pulling her cardigan tight around her shoulders. She paused when she saw him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Morning,” she said softly.

“Morning,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, leaning against the porch railing.

Jenson nodded, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. “Me neither.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the air cool and still around them.

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes tracing the line of his profile. He looked thoughtful, almost vulnerable in the early morning light.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked quietly.

Jenson hesitated, his fingers tightening around his mug. “Justâ€¦ thinking about how nice it is here,” he said finally.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

He chuckled, a soft, almost nervous sound. “Maybe it’s because I don’t have to rush off somewhere for once. Feelsâ€¦ different.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He turned to look at her, his blue eyes catching hers. “Really good.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed under his gaze, and she looked away quickly. “Well, don’t get too used to it. Small-town life isn’t for everyone.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I think some parts of it suit me.”

She glanced at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her. For a moment, it felt like he was about to say something else, something important.

But then the moment passed, and Jenson took a sip of his coffee, turning his gaze back to the horizon.

The days that followed were full of small moments that seemed to hum with unspoken words. Every interaction between Jenson and Y/N felt charged, as if they were both walking a tightrope and too afraid to look down.

It started one afternoon when Y/N needed to pick up some supplies from the hardware store.

“You’re coming with me,” she declared, handing Jenson the keys to her beat-up pickup truck.

“Am I driving?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I want to see if you’re as good on four wheels without the sponsorships.”

Jenson smirked, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You might regret this, you know.”

The ride started off lighthearted, with her teasing him about his overly cautious turns and him joking about the truck’s distinct lack of horsepower. But as they drove along the backroads, the conversation quieted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate silence.

Y/N rested her elbow on the open window, the breeze tugging at her hair. Jenson glanced at her, taking in the way the sunlight caught the soft curves of her face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“You look happy,” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. You justâ€¦ seem at ease out here.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat, and she looked away, focusing on the road ahead. “Guess I like the simple things,” she said softly.

Jenson nodded, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Me too,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Later that evening, they were in the kitchen again, preparing dinner together. It had become a routine of sortsâ€”Jenson insisting on helping, even if it meant burning himself on the stove or mismeasuring spices.

“Careful with that,” Y/N said as he reached for a hot pan.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but the moment he touched it, he yelped, pulling his hand back.

Y/N grabbed his wrist instinctively, tugging him toward the sink. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, running cool water over his hand.

Jenson winced but didn’t pull away. “And yet, you keep me around.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, focusing on his hand instead. Her fingers were gentle as they brushed against his, and the warmth of her touch sent a jolt through him.

He looked down at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly.

She glanced up at him, her lips parting as if she was about to say something. But then she froze, her gaze flickering to his, and the air between them shifted.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Her hand was still cradling his, and he could feel the faint tremor in her fingers.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

But she stepped back quickly, releasing his hand as if it had burned her. “You’re fine,” she said, her tone brisk. “Just be more careful next time.”

Jenson swallowed hard, his heart pounding. “Right,” he said, forcing a smile. “More careful.”

That night, Jenson couldn’t sleep again. He found himself wandering onto the porch, his thoughts racing. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this upâ€”skirting around his, pretending she didn’t affect him the way she did.

He was leaning against the railing when Y/N stepped outside, her cardigan wrapped tightly around her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at her. “You either?”

She shook her head, joining him by the railing. “Too much on my mind.”

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool and crisp around them.

“Can I ask you something?” Jenson said finally, his voice hesitant.

“Sure,” she said, turning to look at him.

“Why’d you let me stay here? When my car broke down?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Because you needed help,” she said simply. “Andâ€¦ I don’t know. You seemed nice.”

Jenson chuckled softly. “Nice, huh? Don’t hear that one often.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” she teased, but her smile faltered as she caught the serious look in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, leaning against the railing. “Iâ€¦ I don’t think I’ve ever felt as at home anywhere as I do here.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Jenson, you don’t have toâ€””

“I mean it,” he interrupted. “You’ve got this way of making people feelâ€¦ like they matter. Like they’re enough.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her grip tightening on the railing. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she said softly.

“I do mean it,” he said, his voice firm.

She shook her head, her throat tightening. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll leave, andâ€””

“And what?” he asked, stepping closer. “And it won’t matter? Because it does, Y/N. It matters.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

The tension hung heavy between them, the weight of their unspoken feelings pressing down like a storm about to break.

The words Jenson had spoken lingered long after the conversation ended. Y/N felt them settling into her chest like a weight she didn’t know how to carry. She avoided him the next day, busying herself with errands and tasks that didn’t need doing, her heart racing every time she thought about the way he’d looked at her.

Jenson noticed her retreat immediately. She wasn’t as chatty over breakfast and didn’t tease him about forgetting to add sugar to his coffee. He’d catch her looking at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, but the moment their eyes met, she’d turn away, busying herself with something trivial.

He gave her space, though it gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to spook her, but he knew her well enough now to recognize the walls going up.

That evening, Jenson found her in the garden, kneeling in the dirt as she pulled at weeds with a stubborn determination. The golden light of sunset framed her in a soft glow, and for a moment, he just stood there, watching her.

“Need any help?” he asked finally, his voice breaking the silence.

She looked up, startled, and then shook her head. “No, I’ve got it.”

He crouched down beside her anyway, picking at a stubborn root. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said casually.

Y/N froze for a moment, her fingers pausing in the dirt before she resumed her task. “No, I haven’t.”

“You have,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “Did I say something wrong?”

She sighed, sitting back on her heels and wiping her hands on her jeans. “It’s not you, Jenson. I justâ€¦ I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” he asked gently.

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “You’ll leave soon,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “And everything will go back to normal.”

Jenson frowned, his chest tightening at her words. “Is that what you want? For things to go back to normal?”

Y/N didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on the dirt. “Doesn’t matter what I want,” she said softly. “That’s how it is.”

A few days later, a storm rolled in, heavy rain pounding against the roof and windows. The power flickered out just after dinner, leaving the house dimly lit by candles and the occasional flash of lightning.

Jenson found Y/N in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was staring out the window, her expression distant.

“Mind some company?” he asked, holding up two mugs of tea.

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Sure.”

He sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The warmth of him seeped through the blanket, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken.

“Storms like this always remind me of home,” he said after a while, his voice soft.

“Really?”

He nodded. “We don’t get them as often in England, but when we do, they’reâ€¦ peaceful, in a way. Everything slows down.”

Y/N hummed in agreement, her gaze still fixed on the rain. “I like them too. Makes me feel cozy.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the storm filling the space between them.

After a while, Jenson turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Do you ever think about leaving this place?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s home. It’sâ€¦ safe.”

“But doesn’t it feel small sometimes?” he pressed gently.

“Not small,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Justâ€¦ enough. For me, at least.”

Jenson leaned back against the couch, his eyes scanning her face in the soft, flickering candlelight. “You deserve more than enough, Y/N,” he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed, and she turned to look at him, confusion flickering in her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you shouldn’t settle,” he said, his voice steady but low. “You’re smart, kind, and you’ve got this way of making everything around you feelâ€¦ brighter. You could do anything, be anywhere. Why stay in one place?”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “But I think you’re brave enough to figure it out if you wanted to.”

Her smile faded slightly, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Not everyone wants the same things, Jenson. I’m happy here.”

Jenson opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that happiness didn’t have to mean staying still, but something in her tone stopped him. Instead, he sighed, nodding. “If you’re happy, that’s what matters,” he said, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.

They sat in silence after that, the storm continuing to rage outside. But the quiet between them wasn’t peaceful anymoreâ€”it was thick with the tension of things unsaid, the unspoken questions hovering just out of reach.

Later that night, Jenson found himself unable to sleep again. The storm had passed, leaving the house eerily quiet. He wandered into the kitchen, expecting to find solitude, but instead, he saw Y/N sitting at the table, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

“You too, huh?” he said softly, stepping inside.

She looked up, startled, and then smiled faintly. “Guess we’ve got the same curse.”

He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching her. The candle she’d lit on the table cast a soft glow, illuminating the thoughtful expression on her face.

“You seemedâ€¦ upset earlier,” he said after a moment.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I wasn’t upset,” she said carefully. “Justâ€¦ thinking.”

“About what?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “About what happens when you leave,” she admitted. “And howâ€¦ empty it’s going to feel around here.”

Jenson’s heart clenched at her words. He wanted to tell her he felt the same, that the thought of leaving made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. But he couldn’t bring himself to say itâ€”not yet.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” he said instead, his voice quiet.

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we don’t have to justâ€¦ disappear from each other’s lives,” he said, his gaze steady. “We can stay in touch. Call, writeâ€”whatever you want.”

She smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not the same, Jenson.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, taking a step closer. “But I don’t want to lose this. Whatever this is.”

Y/N looked at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, she thought about reaching out, about bridging the gap between them and admitting that she felt it tooâ€”this pull, this connection she couldn’t quite explain.

But instead, she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late. We should both get some sleep.”

Jenson nodded slowly, though his heart ached as he watched her stand and disappear down the hall.

Neither of them said it, but they both knew: the growing tension between them was becoming impossible to ignore. And sooner or later, something would have to give.

The morning after their late-night conversation, Y/N moved through the house as though nothing had happened. She greeted Jenson with her usual smile, poured him a cup of coffee, and busied herself with her day. But there was a new carefulness to her movements, as if she was trying to tiptoe around the growing weight between them.

Jenson, however, couldn’t stop watching her. Every glance lingered longer than it should have. He started noticing all the little things about her he hadn’t beforeâ€”how her laughter was soft but always genuine, how she hummed while doing dishes, or how she twirled the ends of her hair when lost in thought.

It hit him all at once that he was in trouble.

He’d told himself he was only passing through, that this was just a temporary reprieve from the chaos of his life. But Y/N had snuck up on him, wrapping herself around his thoughts and making it harder to imagine leaving than he cared to admit.

A few days later, Y/N suggested they visit the local Sunday market. “You can’t leave without at least seeing it once,” she said as they pulled into the gravel parking lot.

The market was a lively sprawl of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to handmade crafts. Y/N weaved through the crowd like she’d been doing it her whole life, and Jenson followed close behind, his gaze drawn more to her than to the stalls around them.

At one point, she stopped at a booth selling jars of homemade jam, chatting easily with the older woman behind the table. Jenson stood a step back, hands in his pockets, watching the way Y/N’s smile lit up her whole face.

“You’ve got yourself a good one there,” the vendor said, nodding toward Jenson with a knowing smile.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, we’re notâ€””

“Not yet,” Jenson cut in smoothly, stepping forward.

Y/N turned to him, her wide eyes narrowing in a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Don’t start.”

He grinned at her, his tone teasing. “I’m just saying, the lady has a point.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart stuttered at the way he looked at herâ€”like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

That evening, after the market, they sat on the porch watching the sun dip below the horizon. Jenson leaned back in the creaky rocking chair, a glass of sweet tea in his hand, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the porch swing.

“Today was fun,” he said, breaking the silence.

She smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. You didn’t have to come along, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, his voice soft.

Y/N glanced at him, her smile fading slightly as their eyes met. There was something in his gazeâ€”something warm and steady that made her heart skip.

“Jensonâ€¦” she started, but her words faltered.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is it?”

She hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the swing. “You’reâ€¦ different than I expected,” she said finally.

“Good or bad?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

“Good,” she said quickly. “It’s justâ€¦ I didn’t think someone like you wouldâ€¦ fit here.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “And yet, here I am.”

Y/N’s breath caught as his words hung in the air. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

But just as quickly, she looked away, standing abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should head in.”

Jenson watched her retreat, his chest tightening. He didn’t stop her, though every part of him wanted to.

The tension between them was growing unbearable, but neither of them was ready to take the first stepâ€”not yet.

The tension from that night lingered, casting a shadow over their days. Y/N kept herself busyâ€”working on her garden, running errands, reorganizing the kitchen cabinetsâ€”anything to avoid sitting still long enough to dwell on the way Jenson had looked at her.

Jenson, on the other hand, was quieter than usual. He still cracked jokes, still offered to help with chores, but there was a thoughtfulness to him now, a weight behind his smiles. Every so often, Y/N would catch him watching her, and her stomach would do a nervous flip.

One evening, Jenson found her in the backyard, sitting on the porch steps and staring out at the darkening sky. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped outside, letting the screen door creak behind him.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not at all.”

He sat beside her, their shoulders brushing. For a while, they didn’t say anything, just watching as the first stars began to appear.

“You’ve been distant,” he said finally, his tone gentle.

Y/N sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I don’t mean to be.”

“Is it because of me?”

She turned to him, startled by the vulnerability in his voice. “No, it’s not you, Jenson. I justâ€¦ I’m trying to figure some things out.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Y/N looked at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, she thought about telling himâ€”about admitting how hard it was to keep pretending that she didn’t care about him more than she should.

But instead, she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s justâ€¦ hard, knowing you’ll leave soon.”

Jenson felt his heart twist at her words. He’d been thinking about it tooâ€”about how his time here was running out and how the thought of leaving her behind felt more unbearable with each passing day.

But he didn’t know how to tell her that. Didn’t know how to admit that somewhere along the way, he’d stopped thinking of this as a temporary stop and started thinking of it as home.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing hers lightly. “I don’t want to make this harder for you,” he said quietly.

“You’re not,” she said quickly, her voice thick with emotion.

But the look in her eyes said otherwise.

That night, as Y/N lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in her head. She thought about the way Jenson had looked at her, the way his voice had softened when he said he didn’t want to make things harder.

It was at that moment that she realized the truth: she cared about him. More than she should. More than she’d ever wanted to.

But what scared her most wasn’t her feelingsâ€”it was the thought of what would happen when he left.

Because she knew that no matter how much she cared about him, she wasn’t sure she could survive another heartbreak.

In his own room, Jenson stared out the window, his mind racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Y/N had looked at him on the porchâ€”like she was holding something back, something she was afraid to say.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to fall for her. He’d promised himself that this was just a temporary escape, nothing more.

But as he sat there, the truth finally hit him: he was already too far gone.

And now, he didn’t know how to tell her without risking everything they’d built.

The clock on the nightstand glowed with faint light, reading just past 2:00 AM. Y/N had been tossing and turning for hours, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles. She stared at the ceiling, willing herself to sleep, but her mind refused to cooperate.

She was startled by the soft sound of a knock on her door. Sitting up, she hesitated, her heart racing. “Come in,” she said quietly, her voice carrying across the still room.

The door creaked open, revealing Jenson. He was barefoot, dressed in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled like he’d been trying to sleep but had given up. He leaned against the doorframe, looking sheepish.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping at the sight of him. “You too?”

He nodded, stepping inside. “Yeah. Kept thinking aboutâ€¦ things.”

She scooted over, patting the empty space on her bed before she could second-guess herself. “You can stay here. If you want.”

Jenson hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign of reluctance, but all he found was quiet warmth. With a small smile, he crossed the room and slipped under the blanket beside her.

They lay side by side, neither saying a word at first. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, and the space between them felt like it was charged with unspoken words.

Y/N turned her head slightly, glancing at him in the dim light. “What’s keeping you up?” she asked softly.

Jenson hesitated, staring up at the ceiling. “You,” he finally admitted.

Her breath hitched, and she froze. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, turning his head to meet her gaze. “You’ve been on my mind, Y/N. A lot. More than I know how to deal with.”

Her heart raced, and she looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re leaving soon, Jenson. You shouldn’t be thinking about me like that.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “But I can’t help it.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension, and Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she shifted closer, resting her head on the pillow just inches from his.

“You’re too good at saying things that make me feel vulnerable,” she said finally, her tone light but her words heavy with meaning.

Jenson chuckled softly, his smile faint. “Only because you do the same to me.”

She shook her head, her lips curving into a small smile. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I’d rather be a mess with you than have it all together with someone else.”

Her breath caught, and she stared at him, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in his eyes. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him that she felt the same.

Instead, she whispered, “Goodnight, Jenson.”

He smiled, his voice low as he replied, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

As the night stretched on, they stayed close, their breathing eventually evening out. Neither of them slept much, though, their hearts too full and their thoughts too tangled to find rest.

The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N stirred first, blinking awake, her head still resting on the pillow beside Jenson. For a moment, she simply lay there, trying to steady her breath, and letting the warmth of the moment soak in.

Jenson’s presence next to her felt both comforting and confusing, like she couldn’t decide whether it was something that should feel natural or something that had crossed a line. She was painfully aware of the way his body was close to hersâ€”how his warmth seemed to draw her in, as if they were tethered by something unspoken.

As she shifted slightly, trying to not wake him, she noticed he was already awake, his blue eyes quietly watching her. His gaze was softer than usual, unguarded, and it made her stomach flip in ways she wasn’t sure how to handle.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice rough from sleep.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a way that made her heart skip. “Morning, love,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection that felt both unfamiliar and incredibly familiar at the same time.

Y/N sat up, immediately regretting the distance she’d put between them. She ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to act casual, but the air felt thick with everything they hadn’t yet said.

“Sleep well?” she asked, trying to break the tension but feeling like she was only adding to it.

Jenson stretched, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. “I did,” he replied, voice quiet. “It was nice. Having someone here.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she felt that same ache she’d been trying to ignore. She quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep muchâ€¦ but it’s okay.”

He glanced at her, noticing the way her hands fidgeted in her lap. “You sure about that?”

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes meeting him for the briefest of moments before looking away again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Justâ€¦ thinking.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her tone, the way she seemed to retreat into herself whenever the conversation ventured into deeper territory. “Thinking about what?” he asked softly.

She hesitated, unsure of how to explain it without it sounding like she was overthinkingâ€”like she was pushing him away before he could do it to her.

“Aboutâ€¦ us,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible.

The words hung in the air between them, and Jenson’s breath caught. He wanted to reach out to her, wanted to pull her back from the wall she was building around herself. But he stayed still, waiting for her to speak again.

“I think,” Y/N began, her voice wavering slightly, “I think we’re both pretending that this doesn’t mean anything.”

The vulnerability in her voice hit him like a wave, and without thinking, Jenson leaned toward her. “It means something to me, Y/N. More than I know how to say.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she looked at him then, her gaze intense and searching. “I don’t want to get hurt,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Jenson’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to promise her that it wouldn’t happen, that he wouldn’t hurt her, but those kinds of promises were harder to make than he ever imagined.

Instead, he simply reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I swear.”

Her eyes softened at the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, it felt like the distance between them vanished. It was just the two of them in that quiet room, no walls, no fearsâ€”just the weight of unspoken feelings they both tried so hard to ignore.

But as the moment lingered, she pulled her hand away gently, the vulnerability in her eyes replaced by that familiar wall she built to protect herself. “I need to get ready,” she said, her tone suddenly distant again.

Jenson nodded, a sense of longing sweeping through him as he watched her stand. He didn’t want to push her, but he couldn’t help the way he wanted moreâ€”more of this closeness, more of her trust.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with words unsaid.

As she left the room to get dressed, Jenson lay back, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure about what to do next.

The day unfolded with a quiet tension that neither of them acknowledged, but it lingered in the way they moved around each other. They kept busy with small tasks, the kind of mundane things that allowed them to avoid talking about the emotions that seemed to hang between them like an unspoken truth.

Y/N tried to distract herself by cleaning the kitchen, her hands moving mechanically as she wiped down counters and put away dishes. Jenson, on the other hand, was working on his laptop in the living room, but his focus seemed to shift between the screen and her. Every time she moved, every time she let out a small sigh, his gaze would wander to her, studying her with a mix of longing and uncertainty.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. The need to break the silence between them was overwhelming, and he stood up from the couch, moving toward the kitchen where she stood, her back turned as she stacked plates.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

She froze for a moment before turning around slowly, her eyes meeting his with a guarded expression. “What is it?”

Jenson stepped closer, hands shoved in his pockets as he regarded her carefully. “I can’t just keep pretending like nothing’s going on between us.”

Y/N swallowed, the ache in her chest intensifying. “Jenson, Iâ€””

He interrupted her gently, his voice low but firm. “No. I need to say this. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I can’t keep ignoring it.”

A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, before Y/N finally spoke, her voice small. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know what this is, Jenson. I don’t know how toâ€¦ how to make it work.”

The uncertainty in her eyes was like a punch to his gut, and he wanted to reach out, to pull her closer and promise that they could figure it out. But he didn’t want to pressure her, didn’t want to force something that might break them apart before they even tried.

He stepped even closer, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing hers. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Y/N. I don’t know what this means, but I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

Her chest tightened, and she glanced down at their hands, the warmth of his touch seeping into her. “You’re leaving soon,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m not asking you to make any promises. Justâ€¦ don’t shut me out.”

She met his gaze, her walls slowly beginning to crumble under the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m scared, Jenson.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “I’m scared too.”

For a moment, they simply stood there, their hands brushing, their hearts beating faster than they could control. And in that moment, everything else seemed to fade awayâ€”the uncertainty, the fear, the walls they’d built.

Finally, Y/N exhaled, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she took a small step closer to him. “I don’t know how to do thisâ€¦ but I want to try. Justâ€¦ don’t break my heart, okay?”

Jenson’s heart skipped, and without thinking, he pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I won’t. I promise.”

And as they stood there in the quiet kitchen, the weight of unspoken feelings between them seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. Neither of them had the answers, but they both knew one thing: they were willing to take the next stepâ€”together.

The next few days passed in a haze of shared momentsâ€”quiet mornings over coffee, brief smiles across rooms, and a tension that neither one of them was willing to address fully, but both of them felt. Jenson and Y/N had reached a silent agreement that they would take things slow, not rushing into anything, but not letting the opportunity slip by either.

They hadn’t kissed yetâ€”not that either of them hadn’t thought about it a hundred timesâ€”but the thought of crossing that line felt like it would change everything between them. It would no longer be something soft and simple. No, a kiss would make it real.

And neither of them was quite ready for that.

One evening, they found themselves sitting on the porch as the sun set, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange. They hadn’t said much, simply enjoyed the peace of each other’s company. Y/N had leaned back against the old wooden railing, her legs pulled up beneath her, and Jenson sat beside her, his arm brushing against hers but not quite touching. The silence felt comfortable, for once.

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes soft as she watched the last bit of light fade over the horizon. “You leave in a few days,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual, like she was acknowledging something she didn’t quite want to face.

Jenson nodded, not looking at her, but the slight crease between his brows was enough to tell her that he was thinking the same thing. “Yeah. I guess I should get used to it.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You don’t have to get used to it.”

His eyes met hers then, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, just sat there, the space between them charged with a thousand unspoken words. Finally, Jenson spoke, his voice steady but unsure. “I don’t want to leave things like this, Y/N. I don’t want to walk away fromâ€¦ whatever this is. Not without knowing we tried.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she found herself holding her breath. The honesty in his voice, the vulnerability, was something she didn’t know how to handle but was also drawn to more than she was willing to admit.

“I don’t know if I can do long-distance,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the worn wood of the porch. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

Jenson reached over, his fingers grazing her hand lightly, and she stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. His hand lingered, just enough to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to try.”

She turned to him, her heart pounding. “You really want to try? Even with everything you know?”

Jenson’s lips quirked up into that familiar, almost unreadable smile. “You think I’d come this far without knowing what I’m getting into?”

Y/N shook her head with a small laugh, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know what to say, or if there was even anything that could be said. What could they do? What would happen when the distance between them was real? When their time together was a memory, and she was left trying to hold on to something she wasn’t sure was real?

But Jenson didn’t seem to care about the distance.

“I don’t have all the answers, Y/N,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t promise that this will be easy, or that we’ll always know what comes next. But I can promise that I’m willing to try. I want to try with you.”

Her breath caught again, and she found herself giving him a soft, hesitant smile. “I don’t know what that looks like,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Butâ€¦ I’m willing to see where it goes.”

He smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes, and Y/N felt her walls cracking just a little more. She let out a shaky breath, her hand reaching over to touch his, letting the warmth of his skin seep into hers.

“Me too,” she said, voice steady now. “I’m scared, Jenson. But I’ll try. I’ll try if you will.”

And for the first time in days, the tension between them shiftedâ€”subtle, but there. There was still uncertainty, still a lot of things they hadn’t said, hadn’t done. But for now, this was enough.

They didn’t need to have it all figured out. They just needed to try.

The following days were a whirlwind. They spent as much time together as they couldâ€”sometimes talking, sometimes just sharing the quiet moments they both seemed to crave. And when the day of his departure finally came, there was an unspoken agreement between them that they’d take the time they had left and make the most of it.

At the airport, as Jenson stood with his suitcase, ready to board, Y/N stood in front of him, her hands clasped together nervously. She had no words, no promises, no expectations. Just the raw emotion of everything they hadn’t yet said.

He smiled at her, stepping forward to pull her into a brief, yet lingering hug. “I’ll text you when I land,” he said softly, his voice low.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, Jenson turned to leave, but not without glancing back over his shoulder once more. He caught her eye, a look of quiet certainty in his gaze, before he disappeared through the security gates.

Y/N stood there, watching him go, knowing that this wasn’t the end. It wasn’t even the beginning yet.

It was just the next step.

And for the first time, she was willing to take it.

The days after Jenson left were a blur of work and small, fleeting moments of quiet reflection. Y/N found herself in a familiar routineâ€”waking up early, going to work, taking care of things around the house. But there was an emptiness in the space where Jenson’s presence used to linger. The subtle weight of his absence hung heavy, but she didn’t let it consume her. Not yet.

Every evening, without fail, her phone would buzz with a message from him. It started with a simple “Hey, how’s your day?” and progressed to longer conversations as the days went by. They talked about everything: the weather, his travels, her work, and sometimes, the little things that made them smile.

But the real conversations, the ones that truly bridged the distance between them, happened late at night, when they shared their thoughts, fears, and frustrationsâ€”those moments when they felt like they were both on the same side of the world, despite the miles between them.

One evening, after a particularly long shift at work, Y/N found herself sitting on her couch, her phone clutched in her hands. She had been texting Jenson all day, and now, there was a new message waiting for her.

Jenson:

“I miss you. You have no idea how much.”

Y/N’s heart did a little flip, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Y/N:

“I miss you too. It’s been weird here without you.”

There was a pause before Jenson replied, and when he did, his message felt heavier, more earnest.

Jenson:

“I don’t think I realized how much I’d get used to having you around.”

Her chest tightened at the words. She had been avoiding admitting how much she’d gotten used to him tooâ€”how his presence had become so much a part of her life that even the quiet felt different without him there.

Y/N:

“I thought I’d be fine, you know? I’ve done long-distance before, but with you, it’s different.”

She paused, biting her lip. It was true. This was different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she knew it had something to do with how easily they’d fallen into each other’s lives. How natural it all felt.

There was another pause before Jenson’s reply came through.

Jenson:

“What do you think we’re doing, Y/N? Because I don’t want to play it safe anymore. I don’t want to keep this thing hanging in the balance. I want to know what we areâ€”if we’re something.”

Her heart skipped a beat. That was the question she’d been afraid to ask herself, the one she had danced around with every text, every conversation. What were they? What did this mean?

But the truth was, she already knew.

Y/N:

“I think we’re something, Jenson. I just need to figure out what that looks like.”

Jenson:

“Then let’s figure it out together.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she smiled softly at the screen, even though he wasn’t there to see it. Maybe they didn’t need all the answers yet. Maybe they didn’t need a plan right now. What mattered was that they were both willing to try.

As the conversation continued, Y/N found herself slowly allowing her heart to soften, to let the distance between them feel a little less vast. They were building somethingâ€”something realâ€”and that was enough for her, for now.

The next weekend, Y/N had a quiet Saturday planned. She was about to start making breakfast when her phone rang. The caller ID made her pauseâ€”Jenson Buttonâ€”and she immediately smiled, the warmth of his voice already filling the space between them.

“Hey,” she answered, keeping her tone casual, though her heart was racing. “How’s the UK?”

“Cold,” he said with a slight chuckle. “But I’m getting through it. Missing the sun though.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “I bet you are.”

There was a pause, a beat that stretched between them, as if neither of them were quite sure how to start this conversation, but they both knew it had to happen.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jenson said after a moment. “About us. About how this long-distance thing is going to work. And honestly, I think it’s going to be hard. But I don’t want us to just survive itâ€”I want us to thrive, even with the miles between us.”

Y/N felt her heart swell at his words. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she needed to hear thatâ€”to know that he wasn’t just going through the motions, but actually cared enough to make this work.

“I think it can work too,” she replied, her voice steady but warm. “It’s going to take time, butâ€¦ I’m willing to put in the effort. I want to see where this goes.”

“Then we’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together.” His voice softened, a tenderness that made her feel like he was right there beside her. “No matter how many miles are between us.”

Her heart fluttered. “I think I’d like that.”

Over the next few weeks, their relationship continued to grow. The calls and messages didn’t stop, and they found themselves sharing more of their lives than they had when they were physically together. Y/N would send him pictures of the flowers blooming in her garden, and Jenson would send videos of his training sessions or his quiet moments in the UK.

There was a rhythm to it nowâ€”an unspoken understanding that, even though they were far apart, they were still a part of each other’s lives. Slowly, that distance felt less like a barrier and more like something they could overcome, one message at a time.

One night, as they both sat in their respective spaces, looking at the same moon from different corners of the world, Jenson sent a message that made Y/N’s heart flutter even more than before.

Jenson:

“I can’t wait to see you again. I’m counting down the days until I’m back in the States.”

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of her phone screen.

Y/N:

“Me too. I think about that a lot.”

Jenson:

“And when I get back, I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Her chest tightened at his words. This was real. Thisâ€”what they hadâ€”was something worth fighting for, worth waiting for.

And she realized, with a small, content smile on her face, that she wasn’t just waiting anymore. She was ready to see where this would take them.

It was a Tuesday evening when the news broke. Y/N was sitting on her couch, laptop open in front of her, doing a bit of work, when the notification popped up on her screen.

Jenson Button Announces Retirement from Formula 1

She blinked, her hand frozen mid-air as she processed the headline. Her heart skipped a beat. The news felt surreal. She clicked on the link, reading the article carefully, absorbing every word as it sank in. Jenson had made the decision to retire from Formula 1 after an illustrious career, and while the news wasn’t exactly shocking given the whispers that had been floating around, it still hit her like a punch to the gut.

Before she could really process it, her phone buzzed. It was from Jenson.

Jenson:

“You saw the news, huh?”

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, the weight of his decision hanging heavily in the air between them. She took a deep breath before typing out her reply.

Y/N:

“Yeah, I just saw. Are you okay?”

There was a long pause before his response came through. The little dots on her screen blinked in anticipation, but it wasn’t like him to take so long to reply.

Jenson:

“I’mâ€¦ fine. It’s been coming for a while, but it still feels strange to say it out loud. To really know it’s over.”

Y/N’s heart went out to him. She knew this wasn’t just a career choice for himâ€”it was a part of who he was. The thought of him stepping away from something that had shaped his entire life made her feel a mix of sadness and empathy. But more than that, she knew he had to be feeling conflicted, and she hated that he was carrying this weight alone, even if they were hundreds of miles apart.

Y/N:

“I can’t imagine how it must feel. But I’m proud of you for making this decision, Jenson.”

She waited for his response, hoping it would help him feel a little less alone.

Jenson:

“Thanks. It means a lot, more than you know. I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s next. About how I’ll adjust, you know?”

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could feel the weight of his words, the uncertainty in them.

Y/N:

“You’ve always known what’s next, Jenson. But this time, it’s about finding a new path. And I’m sure you’ll find it.”

There was another pause, and when he replied, it was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him be.

Jenson:

“I hope so. But I can’t lieâ€¦ it’s scary. It’s hard to let go of something that’s been such a big part of who I am.”

Y/N exhaled deeply, setting her laptop aside. She grabbed her phone and dialed his number without hesitation. It only rang twice before he picked up, his voice low and tired.

“Hey,” he said, sounding like he’d been waiting for her call.

“Hey, Jenson,” she replied softly. “I know this is a big deal. You’ve been part of F1 for so long, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. Butâ€¦ I just want you to know, I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

Jenson’s voice was quiet on the other end, the usual cocky confidence gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I don’t want to lose that feeling, you know? The excitement of racing, the adrenaline, the focus. It’s all I’ve known.”

“I get that,” Y/N said, feeling a lump form in her throat. “But you’ll find a new kind of excitement. It’s just going to take time. You’ve always been driven, and you’ll find something else that makes you feel alive. I know you will.”

There was a long silence between them, and Y/N could almost feel the weight of his emotions as he processed her words.

“You really think that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I do,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me, Jenson. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Iâ€¦ I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I know I’ve said this before, but I really don’t.”

Y/N closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “You don’t have to deserve me, Jenson. You just have to be yourself.”

There was a long pause before Jenson finally spoke again, his voice quieter than before. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a vulnerability there she hadn’t expected, a rawness that made her chest tighten.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said softly. “So much.”

Over the next few days, Jenson’s retirement began to dominate the headlines. It was hard for Y/N to escape the constant media coverage. She could hear the discussions among her colleagues, the murmurs about Jenson’s decision and what it meant for his career, but every time someone brought it up, her mind went back to the conversation she’d had with him.

She wasn’t just supporting him as a fan anymore; she was supporting him as something more. And that meant a lot, both to her and to him.

Despite the emotional heaviness of it all, their connection only seemed to deepen. They spoke even more than usual, and each conversation felt more intimate, more real. She found herself sharing more of her own fears and dreams, feeling like she could be open with him in a way she hadn’t before.

He, too, seemed more willing to open up. He shared memories of his racing daysâ€”the highs, the lows, the moments of doubt and exhilaration. And with each shared story, Y/N felt closer to him. He wasn’t just Jenson Button, the Formula 1 driver. He was Jenson, the man who had become such a central part of her life.

They didn’t have all the answers. They still didn’t know what the future held. But for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like they were moving forward together, even if the road ahead was uncertain.

The uncertainty didn’t scare her anymore. Not when she knew they had each other.

After Jenson’s announcement, everything seemed to shift. They spoke daily, not just in the evening like before, but throughout the dayâ€”texts, voice messages, and long calls that stretched late into the night. There was something more between them now, a closeness that wasn’t just built on shared moments or chemistry, but on understanding.

Jenson had a lot to work through after his retirement. There was uncertainty in his voice sometimes, but it was clear that his life was about to change in ways he hadn’t prepared for. But Y/N was there, offering him more than just words of comfortâ€”she was there to listen, to share in his anxiety, and to help him process it all.

One evening, after another long call, Jenson said something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while.

“I don’t want to go back to the UK just yet,” he admitted, sounding like he was finally letting go of something. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I justâ€¦ don’t want to be alone with all of this. I don’t want to face it all without you.”

The vulnerability in his voice made Y/N’s heart race. She couldn’t deny that a part of her had been hoping for this, hoping for him to need her as much as she needed him. And yet, hearing it out loud made her feel both nervous and relieved at the same time.

“I can’t leave you hanging, not after everything we’ve shared,” Jenson continued. “I’ve spent too much time on the other side of the world, and now that I’m not racing, I don’t want to miss out onâ€¦ us.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She’d known that things had been changing between them, but hearing him say it so openly left her reeling. She hadn’t been ready for thisâ€”didn’t know how to process it all. But in the same breath, she felt something warm spread through her chest. There was a spark between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Iâ€¦ I’m not going anywhere either,” she managed to say, her words filled with a mix of confidence and fear. “I just want you to be happy, Jenson. That’s all I want.”

His voice softened. “You make me happy, Y/N. I thinkâ€¦ I think you’ve been the one thing that’s made sense in all this chaos.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. There was no more denying itâ€”this wasn’t just friendship. They were building something deeper, something that neither of them had expected but both were starting to embrace.

A couple of weeks later, Jenson did something that had Y/N’s heart racing once againâ€”he booked a flight to visit her. He’d managed to clear some space in his schedule and, instead of heading back to the UK, he chose to come to North Carolina.

The days leading up to his arrival were filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been so long since they’d spent time together in person, and now, they were about to be in the same place again after everything that had happened.

When he arrived at her place, the moment their eyes met felt like the world had shifted. He looked the sameâ€”handsome, his familiar smile that made her heart raceâ€”but there was something different in the way he looked at her. He was no longer just the guy she admired from afar. He was the man who had shared his fears with her, who had made her feel seen and heard in ways no one else had.

They stood there, facing each other, unsure of how to bridge the distance that had grown between them, despite the fact that it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” Jenson started, his voice a little nervous. “This is different, huh?”

Y/N chuckled softly, her hands tucked into her pockets. “Yeah, it is. But it’s good.”

There was an awkwardness in the air, the kind that came from both excitement and a little uncertainty. It was the tension of two people who were finally giving in to something they’d both been avoiding for too long.

Jenson took a step closer to her, the space between them closing in a way that felt intentional, as if they were both moving in the same direction without fully acknowledging it.

When he reached her, his hand gently brushed against hers, a soft, tentative contact. She looked up at him, eyes meeting his, and in that moment, it all felt right.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Jenson replied, his voice low but filled with meaning.

Without saying another word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t passionate, but it was full of tendernessâ€”an unspoken promise that this, whatever this was, was real.

For a few moments, they stood like thatâ€”just the two of them in the quiet of the room, both of them holding on to something that was growing stronger by the minute.

They didn’t rush things. They didn’t need to. This was a new beginning, one they would take step by step, together.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, they both felt like they were on the same page, with no more doubts to hold them back.

Over the next few days, things between Y/N and Jenson unfolded slowly but steadily. There was an ease in their interactions that had been absent before, but also a deeper connection that they hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The tension that had once been palpable was still there, but it felt like the space between them had narrowed, each touch, each glance, pulling them closer together.

Jenson was learning how to be present, really present, in a way he hadn’t been able to before. With racing behind him, he was now navigating the quieter moments of life, and Y/N was right beside him, offering him the kind of peace he hadn’t known he needed.

They spent mornings together, sitting at her kitchen table, sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing all at once. It was casual, unassuming, and yet every conversation felt like a step closer to something more. Every shared laugh, every lingering touch, was a quiet testament to the bond they were building.

But even in the midst of all of this, neither one of them dared to vocalize what they were feeling. They didn’t need to, not yet. There was still time. And time, they realized, could be their ally.

One night, a week into Jenson’s visit, they decided to take a walk through the nearby park. The moon was full, casting a silvery light over the trail as they walked side by side, the only sound being their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves.

There was something about the stillness of the night that made everything feel more intimate, more fragile. Jenson’s hand brushed against Y/N’s, and this time, neither of them pulled away. It was subtle, a quiet exchange, but it felt like the world had shifted again.

They stopped at a small wooden bench, sitting down next to each other. The air was crisp, and Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her jacket closer to her body. Jenson looked over at her, his gaze lingering, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way to the surface.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night,” Jenson began, his voice quieter than usual, as though choosing his words carefully. “About howâ€¦ you didn’t want to rush into things.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her breath catching slightly. She wasn’t sure where this was going, but she was almost afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m not rushing anything,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “I just want to make sureâ€¦ that this is real. That we’re both ready for whatever comes next.”

Jenson’s expression softened, his hand reaching out slowly to touch hers again. This time, the gesture wasn’t tentative. It was deliberate.

“I get that,” he said quietly. “And I thinkâ€¦ I think I’ve been scared, too. Not just about us, but about everything changing so quickly.”

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart swell with understanding. She had been scared, too. Scared of what might happen if they gave into this undeniable pull between them. Scared of the inevitable complications, the vulnerabilities that came with caring for someone so deeply.

“I think I’m ready, Jenson,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but filled with the truth of everything she’d been holding inside. “I’m ready to see where this goes.”

Jenson’s heart gave a little leap at her words, and he squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation hanging between them like a spark waiting to ignite.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

And that was itâ€”the moment everything shifted. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just the quiet certainty that whatever was coming next, they would face it together.

The next evening, after a quiet dinner at her apartment, Jenson found himself standing in front of her once again, this time with a different kind of look in his eyes. The playful teasing from before had been replaced with something deeper, more honest.

He took a slow step closer to her, his gaze never leaving hers. She could feel the pull between them, the magnetic force that had been building over the last few days. This time, there were no distractions, no worries about the future, just the two of them at this moment.

“You’re not scared anymore?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of meaning.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head slowly, his smile soft and genuine. “I’m justâ€¦ grateful. That I’m here with you.”

And with that, he leaned in, brushing his lips softly against hers. It was a kiss that was gentle, tender, but full of everything they hadn’t said out loud yet. It was the beginning of something new, something neither of them could have predicted.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were left breathless, caught in the quiet aftermath. But the lingering feeling wasn’t uncertaintyâ€”it was peace. The kind of peace that came from knowing that despite everything, they were exactly where they needed to be.

As the days passed, their connection grew stronger, more natural. They spent the rest of his visit exploring, laughing, and just being together. And every time they looked at each other, it felt like the world outside their little bubble didn’t matter. There were only two of them, and that was enough for now.

No one knew what the future held, but they knew that, for once, it didn’t matter. They had each otherâ€”and that was a start.