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you’re so vain | jenson button
through the decades masterlist
California 1972
The day you met Jenson Button was the day you swore you would never fall in love with, but of course his charming smile had convinced you. But then came the worst part, he had become someone else. If you looked up the definition of vain in the dictionary, a picture of Jenson would be there. Ever since he became the world champion, it was all he could talk about.
“Hey, lovely, why don’t you put down the pen and paper and let’s go drive around? I know the perfect place for you and me. Remember how you used to love driving with me?” Jenson said over the phone one day.
“I would rather die than ever go on a date with you again, Jenson Button.” And you ended the call. You weren’t sure how he even got your number in the first place, but one thing was for sure, you would never go on a date with him.
After dismissing your call with Jenson, you walked back to your recording booth where your band was. You had a melody stuck in your head for the past couple of days and you desperately wanted to write down lyrics for it, but nothing came up.
“Hey, Y/n! Some Button guy keeps calling the landline, says he wants to take you out to dinner.” The drummer of your band said as he entered the room.
“For fucks sake.” You sighed. “Tell him I’m not here, that I left the country or something.”
“Okay . . . ” The drummer, Brad, said confused but went with it. He walked back to the phone.
“Button guy? What’s that about?” The guitarist, Dave, asked.
“He’s a formula one driver, but he’s so egotistical! This one time we went to a party and he walks in like he’s on a yacht! I can’t believe I even went out with him. . .” You sighed.
“Aren’t all formula one drivers a little bit egotistical? Or this Button guy worse?” Brad came back. “He asked if you were writing a song about him and I hung up. Can’t believe you dated him.”
“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “What’s worse is that we’re supposed to perform at his boss’s birthday party this weekend. He’s definitely going to be there.”
When you were with Jenson, his boss had asked you to perform at his birthday party and you being the kind person, you said yes. Now there was no way of getting out of it.
Brad then spoke. “Well if he wants a song written about him. . . I say you write one and you perform it at the party.”
It didn’t take you long to grab your journal and pen and start writing down lyrics. You had your new song finished it about three hours and spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a melody with the band. Soon, Jenson Button would hear his song in front of thousands of people.
—
Jenson had arrived to the party as if he owned the place. He had a pretty woman by his side and a beer in his hand. He spotted his friends and greeted them.
“This beauty right here is . . .” Jenson truly couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Sarah? Linda? “Tell them your name, love, it sounds better when you say it cause of your accent. Music to my ears!”
“Amara, nice to meet you.” The woman said with a lovely Italian accent.
“How’d you meet each other?” Jenson’s friend asked.
“Met her in Saratoga.” Jenson replied. In reality, that was all he remembered. What was he doing in Saratoga? Who knows. . .
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” The host of the party and Jenson’s boss announced on the microphone. He stood on the stage with a bright smile. “First off, thank you for joining me and my family this evening. We’ve had a very successful year, thanks to our world champion, Jenson Button!”
A bright light shined on Jenson, who waved to the crowd, clearly loving the attention. Soon enough, Jenson wouldn’t like it at all.
“Now, for the main event, miss y/n l/n!”
You walked to the stage with total confidence. You wore your best dress and heels, ready to sing your heart out. The crowd cheered for you and the band, all but one. Jenson.
“Isn’t that the chick you were dating?” A friend whispered to him.
“Her name is y/n.” Jenson corrected.
“Well hello! You all look very lovely tonight. We are very happy to be here and I hope we all have a great time. So our first song is a new one, but feel free to dance.” You smiled at the crowd as your band started playing.
You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye Your scarf it was apricot
Jenson watched as you sang beautifully. He had seen you perform many times before but this one felt different. Even his date was loving the new song. Amara bopped her head as you sang.
It wasn’t until the chorus that Jenson started to realize what was going on.
“You're so vain! You probably think this song is about you!” You sang as you looked at Jenson.
Of course she would do this, thought Jenson. He looked around and saw the crowd living the song. How could they enjoy it?
“I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?”
As you continue singing, Jenson remembered the phone call he made several days ago.
“Is she writing a song about me? Oh, poor lovesick y/n can’t get over me.”
This was his song. Fuck.
Suddenly, the confident Jenson was nowhere to be seen. You took that confidence and stomped on it with your pretty little heels. For once in his life, Jenson hated being your muse.
London Heathrow. Terminal 3, Gate 4. The 37th most influential man in Britain under 40 bounds over, all teeth and freckles. “You gotta see this,” he enthuses, waving a recent issue of Esquire. “They reckon I’m the 37th most influential man in Britain under 40!” “Seriously?” I say, wondering who ‘they’ are. “Yeah! Look!” He flourishes the pages. “How mad is that?”
Jenson Button for F1 Racing Magazine (2005)
werewolf Jenson button x reader
@embrosegraves
Jenson was a werewolf and you were a human with the werewolf gene. The two of you never thought much about it until you had your first daughter. You were folding laundry while Jenson played with your daughter, she was a daddy’s girl from the moment she was born. It was no secret that your daughter loved and took after her father literally down to looks, behavior and the werewolf gene.
“Baby come here quick!” You heard Jenson yelling out for you.
Rushing out of the laundry to the living room you saw that Jenson had his back towards you.
“Jenson, what is it?” You asked
Jenson slowly turned around to show you that he was holding a white wolf pup not just any wolf pup your daughter.
“Oh my god is that— that our daughter she’s so adorable” you gushed at the sight of your daughter gnawing on her father’s fingers.
“I know right she takes after her father.”
You rolled your eyes at your husband.
“Let’s have another one”
“Jenson!”
“What come on a house full of pups come on it’ll be adorable”
“You are hard to keep track of enough now we have baby let’s give it some time before we decide to bring another wolf pup into the mix”
“I’m not that difficult”
“Yes yes you are and territorial”
“Don’t listen to mommy pup she’s just jealous” Jenson says kissing the top of your daughter's head.
“Don’t listen to daddy he’s an delirious old man”
“I’m not old”
“Whatever you say Jenson” you say walking back to finish the laundry.
“Daddy's not old is he?”
Your daughter looks at her father giving a little yappy bark.
“That’s right I’m not old if anyone’s old it’s your mother”
“I heard that!”
" so it's a good time to go to Danica Patrick-" WRONG! it's never a good time to go to Danica Patrick
when you get a two-race ban because your team was caught cheating but it's the monaco grand prix so you simply have to show up as the most fuckable driver part-time commentator in the paddock
Jenson Button practices the driver switch ahead of the 24 Hours of Le Mans
Jenson Button and Mark Webber (British GP - July 8, 2023) 📷 Kym Illman
Hey guys!
So I've been trying to get into writing again after taking a break for a while during university, and I've been so inspired by so much of the work that is on this F1 space. This is a snippet from an ongoing word document and university au that I've been using as stress relief while studying, and is just a bit of fluff with Nico and Jenson.
As I've said, this is a draft and I have taken a long break from writing so I do not make any promises that is anything decent and please don't hold back from any criticism! It is absolutely out of character for them and my only defence is that they are both very tired postgraduate students and I may be projecting as a very tired postgraduate student.
Words: 1831
It was quiet between them, the weight of feelings unsaid for six years heavy between them. Nico could barely breathe, afraid that he would ruin this once again. Jenson seemed as tentative as him, blue eyes flicking back and forth to him, for once not running his mouth at the slightest hint of a silence. They both held onto the rail in front of them, hands gripping on from fear.
Fear of what, Nico wondered. The worst had already happened for both of them. He still had nightmares of that night at the pier, and each and every time he had woken up to Jenson beside him, pulling him out of the water all over again. He had spent too long being afraid of what could happen, he had become a passive participant in his own life, letting himself get used to pain and distance. His Dad had always laughed and called him demanding as a child, an only natural occurrence when you are brought up in his wealth. When had he stopped that? When had he stopped expecting the best for himself and started accepting the worst? Where had that stubborn, blond haired boy been when Alex had hit him the first time, where had been the certainty that he was loved enough for it to matter? When did he start to believe that he was no longer worth the care and love he had taken for granted as a child? Why did he believe that he was so incapable of being treated with devotion that he had stopped loving himself?
He couldn’t answer that, nor could he go back.
He could only forgive the twenty-year-old he had been, the young man heartbroken enough at losing one of his best friends from his own stupidity that he had forgotten he was deserving of every devotion and more. The boy so lost and confused that he had run head first into the pain and hurt Alex had disguised as affection. The terrified student lost in the waves until his best friends had been there to drag him back to land.
He could forgive himself. And he knew the best way.
Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand over Jenson’s.
The light from inside the apartment fell perfectly onto their joint hands, illuminating them against the darkness. Jenson shuddered and turned his hand over, taking Nico’s back and bringing it to his mouth. The touch of his lips to the freckles on his knuckles felt holy.
Nico wanted him so badly it hurt. It ached within him, a six-year-old wound being soothed by the gentle kiss of a man who had seen him at his worst and stayed.
Jenson kept a hold of his hand, keeping his eyes locked with Nico’s, his blue mirroring the love he was sure was present in his. They were searching for something Nico didn’t have words for. What else could he do but nod.
Jenson reached down, arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close as Nico’s found their way around his neck, one hand cupping his face.
“Is this okay?” Jenson whispered, close enough now that Nico could trace his freckles under his stubble. He nodded, a smile breaking on his face as easy as a wave on the shore.
“It’s okay.”
Like a prayer, their lips met. Nico gasped at the feeling of the other’s against his own, his hand falling and flying into Jenson’s hair, a touch he had committed to his most shameful nights since that fateful day in second year. This time, he could have it.
He had it.
“I have you,” he realised, breathless in the gap that opened between them as their chests heaved. Jenson’s face split into a grin, one of his hands coming up to cup Nico’s face and wipe away the tears he didn’t even realise had fallen.
“You have me.”
The dam was broken, and they came back together, Nico not even bothering to hide his delighted giggle at the thought. He was light, he was sensation itself, he was his lips on Jenson’s, his ribs between his hands, his hands locked into the blond mop of the other man, his eyes burning now with tears of a love realised.
He was Jenson’s. He was free.
He didn’t know how long they had been out there until a resounding bunch of cheers came from the open window by the fire escape. He collapsed back into Jenson’s arms, laughing in their shared delight and trusting Jenson enough to catch him again. Jenson was laughing too, pressing his lips into his hair and holding him close enough to pull him into his ribcage should he so wish.
Nico would let him at this point.
Mark and Lewis were hanging out the window, hollering and seemingly uncaring of the weight of Sebastian and Fernando on top of them.
“Fucking finally!” Mark yelled, the street light catching the glee in his eyes as he hoisted a cheering Sebastian higher on his back.
“Only took you six years!” Lewis screamed, and Nico was so full of love for him, for them all, for holding onto him when he started to get lost. The thought wasn’t accompanied by guilt for once, just a bone- deep affection for the men he was lucky enough to call his friends.
“Go away!” Jenson cackled, spinning them around so he could see them all better, “I’m getting my boy here!”
Nico couldn’t stop laughing, half- heartedly hitting him on the shoulder but delighting in the sentiment. He reached up, pulling Jenson back down and kissing him again because he could, because he could now, and barley noticed the ensuing hollers from the window. Jenson reciprocated as eagerly, pushing deeper and deeper with his mouth as if he wanted nothing more than to lay claim to Nico, lay claim to every inch of his mouth and his whole body. He didn’t even hear the others going back inside, only registering the quiet broken only by their shuddering gasps and the muffled sound of music from indoors. He held onto Jenson, burrowing into that wide chest and letting his arms pull him even closer.
“Just in case it wasn’t clear,” Jenson murmured, dropping his nose into his hair and speaking the words into the top of his head, “I love you.”
Nico could only let out a shuddering breath, clinging even tighter to Jenson. The ache in his soul disappeared, soothed by the very words he had longed for.
“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing the patch of skin where Jenson had left a shirt button unopened and enjoying the shudder that ran through the older man. “I’ve loved you for six years.”
Jenson huffed out a laugh at that, pulling Nico back and cupping his face with nothing but tenderness and care.
“I can’t believe you waited,” he choked, tears beginning to pool in his own eyes. It was Nico’s turn to wipe them away.
“You were worth it,” Nico could only get out, his own tears spilling over again. Jenson smiled at him again, thumbs brushing gently across his cheekbones. He choked a bit, gathering himself in a way Nico had only seen before he did presentations or spoke to students.
“I doubt that, but Nico I-”
“No don’t do that-”
“No, let me speak, let me be brave Nico, please, you’ve been so brave already darling.”
Nico couldn’t hide his grin at the pet name, but nodded for him to continue.
“Nico, I have been an idiot. I liked you from the minute you walked into the kitchen with your, I don’t know, your Chanel luggage in first year. I was so scared, not just because you were a boy but because you were, well, you. You were so put together Nico, it was terrifying. I wanted you in a way I didn’t know how to say, but I was an idiot. I was so scared of you not wanting me back and of you seeing me for the mess I am, it was easier to shove it down. It was easy to keep dating and sleeping with girls, and I kept trying to find you in them. And then you kissed me that night, and it felt so right, that for a minute I nearly let myself have it. Then I woke up, and I felt awful for taking advantage of you when you were drunk, and it was the easy option to call Jessica.”
He paused, gulping for air. Nico reached up and kissed his cheek, gently tracing the line of stubble and waited for him to continue. He knew this next bit enough to know it would hurt.
“And then you met Alex, and we stopped talking, and it felt like the worst year of my life. I was so worried for you, we all were, and I was so jealous of him I couldn’t see how much you were hurting until it was nearly too late. God, Nico, I’ll never forget that night, you know? I thought you were dead for a minute when Mark brought you up and it was the most terrifying minute I’ve ever gone through. And I was so proud of you when you broke it off and when you went to therapy, you have no idea how proud I was. I just accepted then, that I was in love with you, but I promised to wait until you were ready.”
Tears were cascading down Nico’s face now. Jenson was staring down softly at him now, matching tear tracks on his own face.
“I love you, Nico,” he whispered, bringing him back in again.
“I love you too, Jenson,” he breathed, letting him. When they kissed this time, it didn’t feel like a triumph,
It felt like coming home.
They parted again, Nico shivering at the slick sound of their lips parting. Jenson seemed to feel it too, swallowing and gripping even tighter if that was possible. He could only blame that for the idiotic sentence that came from him.
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
Jenson let out one of his signature barking laughs, kissing the pout on Nico’s face that followed the outburst.
“I think that’s a given, darling.”
“Jenson-”
Another quick kiss shut him up and left him boneless.
“Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.”
The pout tipped upwards into another grin.
“I have to wine and dine you properly now, don’t I?”
“I expect nothing but the best.”
“And you deserve it Nico. You deserve the best.”
“You’re the best.”
A fond smile. Another kiss. Nico’s thoughts had shattered into fragments by now.
“And you’re my best. My love.”
He didn’t know what to say in the face of such devotion given wholeheartedly to him. All he could do was steal another kiss from Jenson’s red, bitten lips. Jenson was only too happy to let him, dipping him back and kissing through the grins on both their faces.
“My Nico.”
A short Nico/Jenson ficlet for @penaltyboxboxbox's girlcedes ballet AU... the last image made me insane...
Afterwards, he always asks about Lewis. The sweat on Nico’s back hasn’t even begun to dry, and her knees ache from riding his cock, and her back aches from practice, and he flops on his back, slides one of his disgusting cigs from the crumpled pack on his dresser and asks about her, absently scratching the scruffy hair on his chest.
“She’s fine,” says Nico. Today, Toto announced that Lewis had made prima after stringing them both along for weeks. Everyone knew he would pick Lewis in the end, just like everyone knew that Lewis really was prima material, even with her tattoos and her piercings and her muscled quads and thick torso.
Jenson sucks on his cigarette for a moment and then turns his head to the side to exhale in the direction of the window. Nico wishes he would blow smoke in her face, if only so that she could have something to yell at him for.
“She still remember me?” says Jenson, wrapping his lips around the cigarette for another drag. “Wouldn’t kill her to come around…”
Nico rolls her eyes and climbs off of Jenson’s lap to hunt around for her panties. Jenson must have tossed them somewhere in his pigsty of a room sometime after he stuck his hand down her jeans. Eventually, she finds them dangling from the bedpost, beside Jenson’s foot. She tugs them on only to discover that they’ve ripped along the seam where elastic meets delicate lace. Monstrous, soul-sucking rage swells in her chest and bursts like a party balloon before it can become anything real. Instead of ripping her own hair out of her head, she locates Jenson’s boxers and lobs them at his face.
“What would you even do?” Nico says.
“Huh?” says Jenson, lighting another cigarette. He cups his hand around the end to shield the flame from the draught gusting in through the window.
“If she came around. What would you do?” Nico crosses her arms, but it only serves to draw Jenson’s attention to her tits. When his eyes widen, she swallows and purses her lips to keep the bile down.
“Dunno,” says Jenson, folding one wiry arm behind his head. “There used to be a band. We were Mick Laren. You, know like the—”
“I know,” says Nico.
“Then we were Downforce. And then Lewis and the Mechanics.” Jenson chortles. Nico is going to be sick. She scoops one of Jenson’s dirty shirts off the floor—an embarrassing band tee going threadbare at the collar—and pulls it on over her head. She tiptoes back to Jenson’s bed and slides back in beside him because she has nowhere else to go, really. Jenson folds his arm around her and pulls her into his chest. At least he’s good for keeping her warm. Nico slides her leg over his while he puffs on his cigarette.
“Give me that,” Nico snaps. Jenson hands her the cigarette obligingly, and Nico plucks it from his hand with two fingers. It’s too short to hold onto properly, but it feels good on the way down, stinging her throat and curling poisonously inside her lungs. Toto would fucking kill her if he saw. She hands the butt back to Jenson, and he squishes it out on the nightstand.
“You can’t even fucking sing,” Nico sighs.
“Sure I can,” says Jenson, pinching her in the side. “You wanna hear what I’m working on?”
“No,” says Nico, into his chest.
“Some girlfriend you are,” says Jenson.
“Not your girlfriend,” says Nico.
Jenson snorts. “Tell that to the panty collection in my underwear drawer.”
“They’re probably not even mine,” says Nico. “Slag.”
Jenson kisses the top of her head and tosses the sheet over her body. She might as well stay the night, now. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 2 AM in forbidding analog digits. Waking up to whatever shit breakfast Jenson cooks up is marginally better than waiting pantless on the street corner for a cab. God only knows where her jeans ended up.
“Sweet dreams, princess,” says Jenson. Nico squeezes her eyes shut tight.
you know what we as a community don't talk about enough? this
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