𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ★ charles leclerc

𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚, maisie

❝ everything works out in the end. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

2028 F1 season

"Hello ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 2028 Formula 1 season, and I'm taking you through the first grid walk of the year!" I grin as I say it, eyes sweeping across the grid laid out ahead of me.

Melbourne is glowing in the afternoon sun, and the track is full of energy you only get before the season opener.

The paddock is a storm, engineers shouting across each other, tire warmers being ripped off, cameras moving in tight, and drivers trying to look calm when their hands are shaking under the gloves.

God, I've missed this.

I adjust the mic in my hand and take a slow step forward. My stomach is hurting so bad right at this moment but I can't let the people know. I'm on live TV.

I begged to be let to do this today, it's been one of my dreams ever since I was a kid. Watching Martin Brundle every time, it made me excited to do it myself someday if allowed.

They couldn't say no to their reigning, 2027, world champion.

"P22 today is Ayumu Iwasa, the newest face on the grid and the youngest driver this season. First race, first time under this kind of pressure... And he's doing it with a smile. Braver than most." I smile

He lightly blushes looking at me and I wink back. I continue, making my way to the top slowly in the assined time.

"P19, Zhou Guanyu in the Audi. Experienced, reliable, and still the smoothest driver on the radio. Don't sleep on his race craft." I smirk, the corner of my eye looking at him.

I move steadily forward. My pace is slower than usual, but I'm not in a rush. This isn't a sprint. It's the first race day I've walked ever.

"P17, Pierre Gasly. Fast when the car lets him be. And next to him in P16, Nico Huuuulkenberg. Looking more confident this season. Or maybe it's just the tan." I joke.

The crew behind the camera laughs and I grin. It feels easy, natural. This is so fun.

I slip past a few engineers, duck beneath a boom mic. My hand instinctively finds my stomach as the pain becomes more.

"P13, Oscar Piastri. Home race. High expectations. He's been cool all weekend, but I swear his knee was bouncing when I passed him this morning."

Oscar laughs when he sees me. "You sure you don't want to trade places?" He calls out, grinning.

"Not today." I reply with a smile and shift my weight slightly to my left.

I keep moving, the mic light in my hand compared to the steering wheel. It feels weird but cool.

"P11, Yuki Tsunoda. Still the most entertaining team radio on the grid. I won't say more. His engineers might cry."

Yuki waves at me, then shouts something about feeding me sushi after the race. I promise to take him up on it, if I can stomach raw fish today (I can't).

The crowd is roaring louder now as I approach the top ten. The music, the colors, the flags, it's nothing new, but it's always just as meaningful and impressive.

"P10, Lando Norris. The same man who almost ruined my entire career but also happens to be my best friend." I fake smile at him.

I've never actually forgiven him for it, I just let it slide. He's lucky it all worked out or he'd have been in some corner of hell right now, drinking tea with the devil.