seen from Kazakhstan
seen from China
seen from Guatemala
seen from China
seen from Netherlands
seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia
seen from T1
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
Jenson Button
Kinks & Curves ~ @velvetsainz
207 (Jenson's Section) / SMUT
My Honeybee, Come Get This Pollen ~ @23victoria
125 (Jenson's Section) / Suggestive
Do I Wanna Know? ~ @formulafics
736 + Social Media / Fluff
How The Current F1 Grid Would React Coming Home From A Race To Find You’d Fallen Asleep On The Sofa Waiting For Them To Come Home ~ @vinvantae
155 (Jenson's Section) / Fluff
Can I request Jenson and dad’s best friend? Love your work btw
Title: Older - Jenson Button Words: 1,145 Blurb Request Prompt(s): Dad’s Best Friend Note(s)/Warning(s): Age Difference, Reader is Mark Webber’s daughter, Reader is twenty-five, Jenson is forty-five. I do bring up Mark’s relationship with Ann (his partner) up in this fic, but she is not reader’s mom. Also I do not know any details about Mark and Ann’s relationship other than what is public, but fiction means I could mess around with it a little bit.
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She laughs along at her aunt’s joke, ignoring the way tears are stinging at her eyes and how embarrassed she feels. She wants to leave, not just this small group of people but the house, the get together her dad had decided to hold. She wants to be back in her apartment or better, Jenson’s house, in his arms and his bed.
She can’t leave it, but after a few minutes, she excuses herself from the small group, and looking around, she can’t see anyone looking at her, she darts upstairs to her old bedroom.
As soon as the door closes behind her, tears start to fall. It makes her sniffle, head tilting back, fingers pressing under her eyes, trying not to have tear tracks on her face. Shuddering breaths leaving her as she tries to calm down.
The sound of the door opening startles her, hands falling back to her side, and she clears her throat.
“I’m okay.” She means to say but the words are stolen from her when familiar arms are wrapping around her before gently turning her in their grip. She practically collapses into his arms, face burying itself in his chest as a quiet sob leaves her.
His hand rubs up and down her back, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “What happened sweetheart?”
“My aunt, it’s stupid.”
He makes a noise at that and she presses closer to him, blood rushing to her face.
“She made a joke about how stupid I was for going to college, for getting a business degree of all things. Wasting money and time.”
Jenson scoffs, “it’s not a waste at all or stupid. I reckon she’s just jealous. You got all the brains and beauty. And you’re already successful, running your own business, you're just setting yourself up for more success.”
“Everyone laughed when she said it, nodded.”
That’s the part that really gets her. The way everyone had laughed and seemed to agree. That she was being stupid, that she's wasting money and time deciding to get a degree.
“Well, I’ve never particularly liked any of them.”
She laughs, head pulling back to look at him.
“You’ve gotten drinks with Bob before.”
“I was invited to get drinks with your dad, Bob was just there.” He corrects.
She shakes her head, smiling at him, and she watches as his face turns fond, smile gentle, eyes filled with love.
She nearly whines when his arms leave her but his hands are cupping her face, thumbs gently moving under her eyes, catching the tears that had gathered.
“Beautiful girl.” He murmurs, staring at her.
She sways closer to him at his words, head tilting a bit, and he gives her a gentle kiss. Lips fitting together perfectly and she can’t help but sigh into it, hands coming up to rest on his chest.
It ends far too soon for her liking but his hands move again, pulling her back into him, holding her, she easily goes.
Breathing him in, settles her, and she still doesn’t want to stay, would much rather leave, she doesn’t feel like if she sees everyone downstairs again she’ll cry.
“Thank you.” She murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.
“Of course. I saw you come up here, figured something happened.”
She hums, not wanting to leave his arms and with how he squeezes her tighter, lips again pressing to her head, she reckons he feels the same.
But the sound of a throat clearing startles them both. Her eyes flying open and they widen seeing her dad.
“Dad.” She breathes.
Jenson stiffens a little, but he doesn’t pull away from her, he just slowly moves until he still has one arm around her, but he’s also facing her dad. “Mark.”
He looks at them both before his eyes just settle on her. “I didn’t see you anywhere downstairs. Figured you were up here.”
She doesn’t know what to say to him, how to respond, and he steps into her room, no longer just standing in the doorway, and her heart starts to pound when he closes it.
“When did this start?”
“Five months ago.” Her voice is quiet and Jenson’s hand tightens on her waist at her response. But now isn’t the time for them to playfully fight about how long they’ve been together and she doesn’t think her dad would like hearing the words over a year ago right now.
He takes a deep breath through his nose. “Five months.”
She nods.
“He,” Mark cuts himself off, shaking his head.
“Mark,” Jenson starts and he’s cut off.
“No. You're one of my closest friends. One of the few people from that fucking circus I got close with and your, your with my daughter? My twenty-five-year-old? She’s twenty years younger than you. She’s a fucking kid.”
She makes a noise at that, protesting. “I am not. You don’t get to say I am a kid, dad. I am your kid, your child, but I am an adult and have been for seven years now. I even own my business, run it and everything. I’m putting myself through college. You don’t get to act like I’m a child.”
He looks at her surprised.
“We didn’t mean for this to happen.” Jenson says, taking advantage of Mark’s silence. “Honest. We both just felt something and now,” he stops himself, rethinking his next words. “It’s serious, Mark.”
“Bug,” She does a sharp inhale at the nickname, at the blatant attempt at pulling at her, “He’s so much older. Just think about it.”
“What was it you said to nana and papa, I don’t know what to say, she’s just perfect. We fell in love.” The blood drains from his face at her words. “You can’t tell me he’s much too old, not when I’m an adult and you weren’t even eighteen yet when everything with Ann actually happened.”
“Ann was thirteen years older than me.”
“That is not the argument you think it is. Ann was your manager and you were underage, I don’t give a shit. You and her might’ve sold a nice story about not meeting until you were eighteen, and that’s when everything happened, but nana and papa told me the truth.”
He manages to pale further at her words.
“Jenson might be twenty years older than me, but I am twenty-five, twenty-four when everything with us started. Things are very different.”
Silence fills the room, her dad still looks at her shocked, and she’s happy that his attention is fully focused on her. She can’t imagine Jenson would have been able to express surprise or shock at information he already knew.
“Okay.” He finally manages to say. “I-, just give me some time, to think, to get used to it.”
She gives a small nod. “Okay.”
He gives a nod, not even looking at Jenson before leaving the room.
Ok but jenson and sugar daddy au and secret relationship? Cause I feel like that would SLAP
Title: Pout - Jenson Button Words: 682 Blurb Request Prompt(s): Sugar Daddy AU, Secret Relationship Note(s)/Warning(s): Age Difference, Reader is graduating from college, I was picturing the Folie des Prés necklace by Van Cleef when writing this, but feel free to picture a different one! (also you are right, these prompts together more than slapped, holy fuck)
Masterlist | Support Me!
She can’t help but pout in the mirror as she takes off her new necklace. Absolutely gorgeous, a statement piece, sparkling, it was her favorite thing and she hated that she couldn’t wear it all the time.
“Don’t pout.” A voice chides.
Her pout deepens, and she twists in her vanity chair to look at the man resting against her headboard. “You would pout too if you couldn’t wear your Van Cleef necklace.”
Jenson’s eyes soften as he looks at her, “You like it that much.”
She nods quickly, “Jenson… it’s beautiful really. My only complaint is that I can’t wear it anywhere. Maybe we should talk again about budgets.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not buying you jewelry that costs less than a hundred pounds, a thousand pounds, it’s not happening. Why would I ever buy you something that is less than what I paid previously for an hour of your time?”
Blood rushes to her face as she remembers how falsely confident she had been in requesting only two hundred an hour for her time, and of course that Jenson pay for everything for their dates, only for him to nearly laugh in her face, his large hand capturing her hand, his voice low as he told her she was worth far more than that.
It’s no wonder why she hadn’t been able to stick to their arrangement.
His words then strike her and she turns to look at the necklace he had so lovingly given her for their three month anniversary of officially being together. He had told her it was Van Cleef and besides knowing it was a luxury brand, she didn’t actually know how much it cost.
“Jenson,” she starts, slowly turning back to face him.
“Yes, darling?” He doesn’t even have the nerve to look intimidated by her narrowed eyes and serious expression.
“Do I want to know how much this necklace costs?”
“No.” He answers.
She stares at him, unable to blink for a moment, and slowly her hand moves towards her phone and in a blur of motion that she’ll hold over him later when he tries to say something about being old, he’s out of her bed and dragging her and himself back into it.
“Jenson!” She protests.
“I told you no!” He laughs, getting between her legs, one of his hands wrapping around both of her wrists, pulling them above her head, when she tries to wriggle away. “You’ll have a heart attack if you see the price.”
“That is not what you should tell me.” She laughs, staring up at him.
He looks back at her, unbelievably fond, and she tilts her head a little, and his grin turns to a smile and he presses closer to her, kissing her.
“If you really wanted to wear your necklace out, you could.”
She throws him an unamused look, his grip on her wrists loosening as he turns serious and she pulls them away, unable to cross her arms with him on top of her, she settles for laying them on her stomach. “Not yet, Jenson.”
“I’m not rushing you, I know what timeline we’re working with. I’m just saying you could wear them.”
“And if someone recognizes what they are?”
He gives a small shrug, “Tell them, you’ve got a very loving, doting, boyfriend.”
“Jenson.” Her voice is quiet and she’s grateful when he just nods, nothing but acceptance on his face for her to see and the sight of it, the understanding of it, has her taking a deep breath and she doesn’t let herself think about it, because she knows she’ll spiral, she just says it.
“Finals are a month away, a week after that is commencement, I want you there.”
“Darling,” He breathes, eyes wide. “Are you,”
“Sure?” She laughs and her arms move, looping around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers. “Yes. It’s a split decision, not what we talked about before, but I want you there.”
He brushes their lips together, the contact so soft, she can barely feel it. “Then I’ll be there.”
Walk with me here…Logan/jenson/reader and possessiveness??
Title: Our Girl - Jenson Button/Reader/Logan Sargeant Words: 247 Blurb Request Prompt(s): Possessiveness
Masterlist | Support Me!
They had all agreed to not go public. Not yet, not when Jenson had just announced retirement and Ford had announced Logan as a driver. There were a lot of eyes on them. They didn’t need to add eyes to their private lives.
But now Logan and Jenson are wondering what the hell they were thinking, why both didn’t post her on their first date.
Because fucking Colapinto has just called her my girl with a wink and instead of seeing the playful nature of it, the clear tease, the knowledge that she’d rather stab herself before even touching him, they both are seething.
“My girl.” Jenson scoffs, mocking. “She’s our girl. Always has been.”
“Thinks he can have everything.” Logan mutters, arms crossing over his chest as he glares at the tv.
Jenson reaches over, patting him on the thigh, giving it a squeeze before leaving it there to rest. “There, there, darling. We’ll just have to let him know,”
“Let everyone know.”
“Yes, everyone. That she’s ours, no one else's. I think a few photos, perhaps a video, and maybe a tattoo if we can convince our girl will suffice, don’t you?”
Logan nods, before looking over at him. “Maybe we think about moving that week away.”
“Excellent idea. I’ll talk to Tim tomorrow about it. Should be something open for next month.”
“Our girl.” Logan sighs, eyes drifting back to the tv and catching a quick glimpse of her side profile. “Our fucking girl.”
jenson button master list
- One New Voicemail (Jenson's Version)
we need more 2000/2010 f1 fanfics, look at these stunning men
if anyone has any good rbr!sebastian vettel or fernando alonso fic recs, pleasee send them my way. same for kimi raikkonen too
Hey hey! 👋
I don’t know if you take requests, so ignore this if you don’t haha 😝 but I love you stories and thought about this one:
Driver!reader who makes her debut around the same time as Seb. And she falls in love with Jenson (maybe little age gap). Anyways a story about how reader grows in f1, from start to retirement. (Maybe, first win, first outing as couple, him defending her with sexist interviewers, Jenson interviewing her when he retired but she stills races, grill the grid moments) 😬
Hope to read more of your stories xxx
RACING THROUGH TIME| J.BUTTON
Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!f1 driver!reader
Summary: Yours and Jenson’s life throughout the years in formula one and after.
Warnings: sexist comments, swearing
F1 Master List
2008
You could hardly process this strange reality that you were currently living, your entire life had been filled with the hard, gruelling effort and training, all working towards this very moment.
You could feel your heart pounding mercilessly in your chest as you walked through the doors of the Honda Racing headquarters.
For the last two years, you had been the reserve driver for McLaren and whilst you were grateful for the opportunity you had received the impression that they weren’t actually serious about you or your future.
Now, Rubens Barrichello was retiring and this was your chance to break through the door and Ross Brawn was taking a chance on you.
It was pretty much set in stone, negotiations had happened, expectations were spoken, handshakes had been shared, all that was left to do now was sign the contract.
Your soon to be new team principal was already waiting for you, a welcoming smile on his face. "Nervous?" He asked, as you both walked through the building towards his office.
"Terrified," you admitted honestly.
Ross laughed in understanding, "Well it’s a big moment, not just for you but for us as well, try not to worry too much about it."
You appreciated the slight comfort that his words brought you, if you were being honest, you think you really lucked out, Ross Brawn was possibly the kindest person you could have as a team principal and to have him guiding you in your rookie season was probably the best for you.
Entering his office you both went straight for either side of the table, not wanting to waste any time, he reached for a stack of paper and handed it to you.
"It’s quite simple from this point onwards, once you sign the contract, you’re officially a formula one driver and we’ll immediately get your seat and suit fitted and then the media stuff starts."
The next twenty or so minutes were spent in pretty much silence as you read through the contract thoroughly, the only time the silence was interrupted was the moment you picked up the pen and scribbled your signature on the last page.
Ross Brawn looked at you with a hearty smile, "Welcome to the world of formula one."
A couple of months later
The past couple of months had been a whirlwind, between photo shoots, fittings, interviews and race weekends there was hardly time for you to sit down and breathe.
It was different than what you had expected it to be, it was still the beginning of the 2008 race season and whilst your days have been filled with crowds of people, you had felt more alone than ever.
You weren’t disrespected like at McLaren, not really, you weren’t really interacted with at all to be honest. Your team were nice enough, they didn’t ignore you when you spoke, they relayed everything to you that they should but outside of that they didn’t really interact with you whatsoever.
Ross Brawn was still the nice guy you had interacted with leading up to your contract signing, he still laughed and joked with you, he hadn’t changed one bit, maybe it was just stupid of you to believe the entire team would behave like him.
It’s not even like you were performing badly, it was your first formula one season and you were doing really well, as well as you could with the car you had at least.
You had finished each race with no real issues, even scraping for points a couple of times, it wasn’t great but your teammate wasn’t doing great either because of the car.
Jenson Button, you hadn’t really exchanged more than hellos, goodbyes, respectful smiles and subtle nods of the head, he wasn’t rude and he wasn’t mean and he was always respectful to you. In photoshoots he didn’t get closer than he needed to, his hands never lingered more than necessary on your back but he was always distant.
You didn’t really know what to think of him.
You didn’t really know until that one day.
The press conference room was filled with chatter and cameras when you walked up to the stage with a table were Sebastian and Mark were already sitting, you took a seat beside Sebastian who have you a bright smile in greeting before giving Jenson, who was following closely behind you the same welcoming.
Your teammate took the seat on the other side of you as the four of you sat forward in your seats and adjusted the microphones as you prepared for the questions.
“Mark, you managed to get to P4 today, do you think there’s any chance of a podium next week or anywhere in the near future?” A journalist started the conference off.
It was pretty boring for a while, not many questions were asked to you or Jenson which was expected considering the two other drivers were actually scoring points, Mark in P4, Sebastian in P5.
“And for the Honda drivers, the last couple of races you’ve seemingly had a lot of struggles with the car and getting it up into the points, is there any hope for improvement?”
A typical question to be asked, nothing special. You glanced over at Jenson who gestured for you to start off, you leaning forward into the mic. "There’s constantly work going on behind the scenes to see if there’s way for improvements to be made, the team is working really hard on the car and as drivers it’s our jobs to push it to its limits every weekend and get the most out of it."
There wasn’t really much else you could or should say, Jenson sat straighter as he leaned forward to expand on your answer as much as he could.
You never really liked the questions that were aimed towards you alone, sometimes they were okay.
What did the car feel like you to out there? Is there anything you could have done to improve? How is the team going to manage this going forward?
Those questions were fine, but it was the other ones that bothered you.
What extra steps are you having to do to stand a chance against the men? Do you think you’re a liability to the team?
And the worst one yet.
“What is it that you wear underneath your race suit?”
The sound of the conference room had faded completely from your ears as that question was asked because why was that important?
The worst part about it wasn’t even the men who ask questions like that, it’s the women who believe that those style of questions are any less offensive because they’re the ones who are asking and it couldn’t possibly come from a negative place because they’re women.
Wrong.
The three drivers around you stilled as the words left the reporters mouth. Silent. Speechless. Disbelief.
A hand found itself on your shoulder, comforting. Sebastian.
But the man on your right, he was raging.
“Are you taking the piss?” Jenson scoffed. “What sort of fucking question is that?”
The reporter stuttered in surprise.
Jenson cocked a brow at the lack of response. “What? You just go around asking everyone what they wear under their clothes? No you fucking don’t so I don’t know why she’s any different, you ask about the car, you ask about the team and you asked about the drive, that’s it.”
He got up from his seat, putting an immediate end to the conference, he pressed a light hand to your shoulder, indicating you to get up too before leading you out of the room.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you spoke quietly after a couple minutes of silence.
He didn’t reply immediately, the silence dwelled between the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable, eventually it broke, not with some grand gesture or words of heroism, simply understanding. “I know.”
And that was it, he didn’t have to do it, he chose to because you deserved a whole lot more than being violated like that by ignorant journalists for the entire world to see.
That moment seemed to have changed everything for you, it wasn’t all at once, it was gradual and subtle but polite nods and smiles began to grow into hellos which grew into small conversations and somewhere along the way those small conversations were catalyst to your entire future.
2009
Jenson was thriving, he had won every race so far this season and though you never voiced it you just had this feeling that this would be the year he became world champion. You had every bit of faith in him.
It was safe to say that this season had ignited a lot more excitement within yourself and the team than last season, the celebrations and the trophies were arguably addicting and a reward that none would tire of soon.
Your own improvement was astronomical, from scraping at points last year to scraping at podiums this year, the change was immense but welcome nonetheless.
One thing you tried not to focus on was the way things felt between you and Jenson; it wasn’t anything drastic but it was hard to ignore the unspoken tension that seemed to lie thickly between the two of you.
The way he had defended you last year had not wavered and it hadn’t been isolated to just that one moment either. Neither of you spoke of it; the way he always cut in before a journalist or someone else could even finish asking anything inappropriate or say anything insulting towards you.
He defended you, you thanked him, that was it.
Because Jenson did not defend you for your thanks, he didn’t defend you for his image or for any internal longing he had for people to see him as a gentleman.
He did it because it was right and because it was what he believed.
He didn’t even have to think about it. He just did it.
It wasn’t simply a teammate relationship between the two of you, it wasn’t just a friendship or a simple respect. It felt more than that, none of those things seemed to live up to the extent of what was between you both.
It didn’t feel as though there were suitable words to describe it.
So it remained unspoken.
For now.
A few months later
Gods you knew he could do it, you had no doubt in your mind that this season was his.
Jenson was the 2009 formula one world champion.
You, yourself had done well for your second season, managing to secure the P3 spot, right behind Sebastian.
You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you clambered out of your car, the cheering from the Abu Dhabi crowd a deafening roar throughout the circuit.
Hands thudding against your back from your celebrating team members, yet your focus was on him, standing atop of his car with his hand clenched into a fist at his side as though having to restrain himself from showing too much emotion.
You hated that.
He did not have to hold back.
Not now.
He achieved what every driver dreams of, becoming world champion.
He’s focused and trained so hard the entire season, he deserved to let loose and celebrate.
And as though he felt your presence, heard your thoughts. With his helmet still on his head, Jenson turned his body in your direction, looking down at where you stood next to your own car. Whilst you couldn’t see the expression on his face and he could not see yours, it still somehow managed to feel like time had paused. Maybe the face behind the helmet beheld the same expression yours did, an undying longing that neither of you had wished or had the bravery to acknowledge.
But it seemed Jenson did not fear anything today, not with the adrenaline of success running through his veins. He jumped down from his car, with as much grace as one can have when they’re so overwhelmed with emotion and the urge to get to you.
That’s what he did, everything else had cleaved from his mind as he ran to you. Your teammate. He crossed the pits between you in seconds, crashed into you and wrapped his arms around you in utter bliss. He lifted you off the ground as he held you to him, spinning the pair of you around in celebration. You clutched his shoulders in surprise, a laugh bubbling out of your chest just as he set you back down.
“You did it!” Your voice was muffled through your helmet, but he heard you, you could tell. “Congratulations, world champion.”
His hands rose to clutch either side of your helmet. Jenson bent down to press your helmets together. “Thank you,” he muttered. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He always said things so plainly, as though his words didn’t ignite a thousand feelings within you. As though he wasn’t grasping your heart each time he defended you or said things like that.
He did not say things with the expectation of anything else in return but each time he did, he unknowingly gained a piece of your heart.
And when you stood on the podium and felt his hand slip around your waist for a photograph, he gripped you just a little tighter than normal and ever so subtly, you leaned into him.
2010
The next year felt different for you, Jenson was at McLaren, you were now driving for Mercedes. It was strange, it felt as though things between the two of you could possibly lead somewhere but then you both headed into different directions.
You didn’t want it to increase a gap between the two of you that was just starting to close, maybe it didn’t have to but you couldn’t deny the instinct you felt to pull away and the thoughts of things being doomed to end before they’d even started.
How could anything possibly happen when you were in two different places?
When you didn’t have a reason to be near each other anymore.
Well, Jenson had decided that he didn’t need a reason.
His name lit up on your phone, you were three races into the f1 season and you both hadn’t spoken much at all.
Jenson: Is it wrong to say that I miss you?
You smiled down at your phone screen, relieved and glad that it wasn’t just you that felt that way.
You: Only if it’s wrong to say that I miss you too.
Jenson: Being on two different teams doesn’t mean you need to avoid me
You: I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it meant now that we had no reason to interact with each other.
Jenson: I didn’t know we ever needed a reason to
You: I guess we didn’t.
Jenson: So, you’ll have dinner with me?
You: I’d love too.
It ended up being more than just one dinner. One dinner turned into weekly and then it was no longer just dinners, it was coffee shop dates, relaxing in each others hotel rooms, him bringing an extra coffee to media day for you to stop you from falling asleep mid interview.
And he never stopped defending you either.
He showed up, always. Never once did you have to question how important this was to him, how much he wanted you because he never failed to show you.
But god did he make you wait for it.
Two months in and every time he was a perfect gentleman, he walked you back to your hotel room, made sure you knew how much he enjoyed spending time with you, he’d wish you a good night and slowly let his fingers slip from yours before leaving.
He did not kiss you.
You were going insane.
You refused to wait any longer.
One particular night, after he had thoroughly wine and dined you, he walked you back to your room but this time, after he had completed his ritual, you did not let him slip his fingers from yours. Instead, you held on tight.
He titled his head to look down at you, that soft furrow of his brow whenever he was slightly confused.
“When are you going to kiss me?” You asked him, letting the frustration of the last two months slip into your words slightly.
His lips parted, slightly in surprise, mostly in want. His face drew together like a man in pain. “I wanted to do it properly, I wanted you to know how serious I am about you. This is real for me, I want to know you. All your likes and your dislikes. I don’t want to know you just from your body.”
You looked up at him and god it looked like the stars were shining in those eyes of his. “This is real for me too. I never doubted that for a second but please don’t make me wait any longer.”
How could he ever deny you that?
His right hand cradled the side of your face so gently as he finally, finally lowered his lips to yours. You could not hold the sigh of relief that came from you as you finally felt his lips on yours, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.
His left hand braced against the wall behind you, right next to your head as he closed in on you.
You felt every pent up feeling of his flood into you from the depth of his kiss. It was everything and more.
He pulled back slightly, not enough for you to truly miss his touch, just enough for him to whisper against you. “You’re amazing.”
You smiled at his words, mind hazy but entirely focused on him alone. “You’re everything,” you muttered back.
2012
And he truly was everything.
Life was a blur from then on. Things between you and Jenson only got better from that night.
He made you wait another entire month after that kiss in the hotel hallway before he asked you to be his girlfriend during the summer break and what made you love him more was how much this man cared for you, your reputation and your career. It was him, who told you that if you wanted your relationship to be hidden then it would be, if you wanted it public then that was okay too. He was okay with any decision that you chose because he understood what the stakes were for you.
And so it had remained hidden.
Not from family and not from friends but hidden from the fans and the formula one dynasty itself and he never let you feel guilty about it, he ever felt like a ‘dirty little secret’ because he knew and he understood. The love between the two of you was enough for him, he didn’t need the world to know about your relationship to know that it was real because you showed him you loved him in every other way that mattered.
He still defended you, that part of him would never change. The pair of you still ran to each other first after a win, you didn’t go out of your way to hide or avoid, you simply didn’t announce anything.
Until now.
Because Sebastian Vettel had been a pain in your arse this season, the championship title had swayed back and forth between the two of you all season but by the gods you had fought with every last inch of your talent and it had paid off.
2012 formula one world champion.
You dragged yourself out of your car with the little body strength you had left, tears streaming down your face beneath your helmet. You did not care about your team in that moment, or the crowds, the only thing you cared about in that moment was him.
Jenson.
Jenson, who had held you in your hotel room after every race, who had rubbed every ache out of your sore body, who had reminded you to eat and make sure you got sufficient sleep.
He was standing a couple of feet away, already waiting, utter pride on his face as he took you in.
In that moment, you didn’t care about secrets or reputation, you just wanted him.
You borderline ripped your helmet from your head as you ran to him, and whilst he held out his arms, expecting a hug, you dropped your helmet to the ground without care and crashed into him, hands gripping his face and hauled him down to your level, crashing your lips against his. He grunted in surprise, body tense but he soon relaxed, hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer.
The startled gasps from the crowds and the teams around you all felt so distant as you lost yourself in him but eventually he had to pull away, gasping for air. He looked at you in utter bewilderment, so much joy and pride in his face but also a ridiculous amount of confusion. “I thought we agreed not to?” He questioned, not at all caring about the thousands of people around you both.
You smiled so brightly at him, filled with adrenaline, tears still running down your face as you shook your head. “I don’t care, I don’t care about any of it. I love you! I don’t want it to be a secret anymore, I want everyone to know that I love you!”
“You’re mad!” He laughed, shaking his head at you. He wiped the tear stains from your face, shook his head at you once more before pulling you into another kiss.
2015
Toto Wolff did not fire you, in his own words ‘I’d need to get my head checked If i was to fire a driver that just won me a championship.’
And two more championships you had won.
It had been a crazy five years since that first kiss you and Jenson had shared but the best five years of your life. After the very public hard launch right after winning your first world championship and the relief of not having to hide how much you loved each other, you had both bought a house in between the Mercedes and McLaren factories and it was the best decision either of you had ever made.
Currently, Jenson was vibrating with nerves as he stood in the living room of that house, waiting for you to get home. The large sofa and coffee table had been pushed as far away as possible; the floor littered with the dried flower petals you had kept from every bouquet he had given you, lights turned off and candles lit on every nearby surface. His fist closed around the box in his hand, maybe this was all too much now that he thought about it.
Should he have done something a little more subtle?
It was too late now.
You stepped through the front door, immediately throwing your bags on the floor. “Baby, you’ll never believe the day I’ve had, I’ve spent all day sat across from-” the words died in your throat as you looked up at Jenson standing there surrounded by candles and flowers, looking as though he was debating throwing up or launching himself out the nearest window.
“What’s all this?” You asked, although you had a very good idea what all this was. Your own heart beating faster in your chest as you approached him.
“Come here,” he beckoned, holding out his hand, ignoring your question.
You listened, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you into him, your hands ending up resting on his chest as you looked up at him.
Jenson swallowed the lump in his throat before he spoke. “You know, those two years that we were teammates, before I plucked up the courage to make something of us, I fought with myself every damn day to not feel something for you, i tried so hard to feel nothing for you but it was so fucking useless because I was drowning every time i looked at you. I didn’t want to admit that you intimidated me because you were so head strong and so focused but I couldn’t help but feel for you, especially when i got so angry every time the light in your eyes dimmed when you were asked some dumb question from some nobody. Then you went to Mercedes and I missed you so much i didn’t know what to do with myself, I thought I lost my chance but getting to know you know in those small moments we stole afterwards, those were the best parts of my week and god, after your championship when you stormed right over and kissed me with no care in the world, i knew then that I wanted to marry you and every day since has just solidified that decision.”
The raw look on his face broke something within you because you loved him so much and you knew that nobody could ever see you the way he saw you. He took a deep breath and knelt down on one knee, opening and presenting the box that you hadn’t even realised he was holding. “Will you marry me?” He asked.
“Yes,” your response was immediate. “Yes,” you nodded, tears gathering in your eyes as you looked down at him, you didn’t even care what the ring looked like, you just wanted him, forever.
Just like that day three years ago, when you won your first world title, you launched yourself at him. The two of you went tumbling to the ground into flower petals, his arms wrapping around you as he took the impact. You both laughed, you holding yourself up on his chest as you pressed kisses all over his face causing him to laugh even more. “I would love nothing more than to marry you.” You whispered against his lips.
2020
You and Jenson married the year after, it was a small celebration on your land around your home, consisting of just your friends and family but it was the most perfect day.
The year after that, Jenson had made the decision to retire, as upsetting as it was you fully supported him. The good news was that Sky Sports F1 had immediately picked him up afterwards so he was there for every race to celebrate every win with you. Your schedules differed slightly so you didn’t travel together all of the time but it was a blessing when you could, mainly for you when you could use him as a foot rest on your flights.
You walked into the dingy room that the social media team filmed their ‘grill the grid’ videos in, you greeted the small crew as they clip the mic onto you, listening to their quick debrief as they started the camera. You were so focused on practicing your lines that you didn’t notice your husband sneaking in and retrieving the questions from the camera guy.
As soon as you got a thumbs up you started speaking. “Hi, I’m Y/N Button, I’m a formula one driver for Mercedes AMG Petronas f1 team and my f1 knowledge is about to be tested.”
“Okay, first question,” your head immediately snapped up at the sound of your husband’s familiar voice, looking at his cheeky smile in utter shock. “Jenson!? What are you doing here?”
The crew, along with your husband all laughed at the utter bewilderment on your face. “They asked me and I would never pass up on the opportunity to interrogate my wife.” He said, a smirk growing on his face as the mock panic grew on yours.
“Oh god, okay, what are these questions?”
“First question,” Jenson began, a massive smirk on his face. “Who is the most handsome driver on the current F1 grid?”
“Jenson!” You gasped, mouth dropping open in shock. “That is not written down on there!”
The crew in the room all laughed at your reaction as Jenson raised his hands in mock surrender, feigning innocence. “The people want to know what they want to know.”
You gave him a deadpanned look. “That is not a serious question and besides I wouldn’t answer it anyways because I am a very taken woman.”
“Absolutely right, you are,” Jenson waved a finger at her before settling down. “Okay, real questions now. By how many points did you win the 2012 championship against Sebastian Vettel?”
“Oh god,” you muttered, very much aware you’re not going to do a good job with this quiz.
2022
How Jenson has managed to restrain himself for this long has been a wonder to not only the fans but to even himself.
The entire formula one and Sky Sports dynasty was well aware of the dislike Jenson Button held towards Danica Patrick, not only was she not at all knowledgable enough to be providing insights on the sport but she was also just plain annoying.
Whilst he hasn’t done a great job in controlling his facial expressions around the woman whilst he was presenting, he had managed to control his mouth.
Until today at least.
After all, he was just a man.
Jenson, Danica Patrick and Simon Lazenby were currently doing a segment summarising the events of the last race and what they could possibly predict happening this race weekend.
“And we’ve got Y/N on pole again this weekend!” Simon enthused to the camera. “That’s every single race so far this season, she’s managed to claim that P1 spot in qualifying, do we think she’ll be able to continue that streak this weekend?”
Jenson smiled, clear pride in his eyes even though he always ensured his words were unbiased. “Well, the Mercedes have really built a brilliant car this season, they’re performing really well and Lewis is managing to qualify for some higher positions as well so I think it wouldn’t be surprising if either of them manage to qualify P1 this-”
Danica cut him off, “Speaking of the Mercedes car this season, I’ve been wondering, is it the actual car that’s good or is it just a result of reckless driving? The highest Lewis has qualified is P3 and that’s only happened one, his race results have been at the middle of the points every single race-”
“What are you insinuating?” Simon asked, casting a confused glance between Jenson and the rolling camera.
“That Y/N is getting quite risky with her moves on the track, it’s borderline dangerous at this point. I mean, look at what happened in Australia at the start of the season. Her and Max with that gruesome battle, it ended up with them both out of the race-”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Jenson butted in, an unimpressed look on his face. “Everyone, including both Max and Y/N said that it was neither of their faults. Max’s car understeered, Y/N’s breaks were locked up, both cars had faults.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s constantly being reckless, she’s pushed drivers off the track countless times, caused so many accidents, you know I think there is good reason as to why we haven’t seen women in formula one-”
“And this is where I’m going to stop you from talking,” Jenson looked down at the woman with a sharp glare. “I’d like to remind you that Y/N is a five time world champion who knows exactly how to handle a car and I really don’t think you should be providing advice on a sport that you’ve had zero participation in and as a woman yourself you should know how much she’s worked and gave to get to where she is today. I’d also like to remind you that that’s my wife you’re insulting so I’d choose your next words wisely.”
Danica stood there with a dumbfounded look on her face, very much aware that the live camera has captured every second of Jenson’s confrontation.
Simon bit back a laugh and turned to the camera with wide eyes. “I think we’re about to hear from Martin who’s managed to speak to a couple of the drivers before qualifying.”
Later that day.
You entered your shared hotel room with Jenson, a bounce in your step and a very delighted smile on your face as you saw him sprawled out on the bed.
He looked up from his laptop when he heard your footsteps, shooting you a confused look. “What’s that smile for?”
Your smile only grew as you threw yourself down next to him, mirth shining in your eyes. “A little PR manager told me, that you caused quite the stir today.”
A faux innocent look immediately took over your husband’s face that you did not believe for a second. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
You hummed in response. “So you’re telling me that you didn’t finally put Danica Patrick in her place on live tv because she insulted me?”
“Do you really think that’s something I would do?” Jenson asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.
You pulled a thinking face. “You mean, my husband who has spent the better part of 14 years defending me to brainless journalists and presenters? Yes I do think that’s something you would do.”
Jenson tilted his head back against the headboard of the bed. “Not only will I never let anybody insult my wife in front of me but she was wrong about your driving and I’m not saying that from the perspective of your husband. I’m saying that as a racing driver myself, you are not reckless and you are not dangerous. You’ve earned every win you’ve ever had and I’m not going to let her stand and say you’re not meant to be part of this sport.”
He defended you the way he had all of those years ago, the way he always had, as though it was nothing.
Your heart swelled with love and warmth at how lucky you were to have him.
You loved this crazy journey you were taking together.
You loved being his wife.
FORMULA 1
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masterlist.
SEBASTIAN VETTEL
Infatuation
JENSON BUTTON
nothing yet...
LANDO NORRIS
nothing yet...
OSCAR PIASTRI
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KIMI ANTONELLI
nothing yet...
GEORGE RUSSELL
nothing yet...
CHARLES LECLERC
nothing yet...
LEWIS HAMILTON
nothing yet...
OLLIE BEARMAN
nothing yet...
CARLOS SAINZ
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ALEX ALBON
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OTHER
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