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shaarlslec · 1 year

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me and the devil

words: 3564

introduction/part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

warnings/notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to enemies to lovers?, mentions of alcohol, language;

inspired by: Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil, The Neighborhood - Afraid, The Academic - Why Can’t We Be Friends?, lovelytheband - i like the way, The Wombats - Turn , Wallows - Pleaser

masterlist

Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.

You avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Glances were exchanged. Time-consuming and penetrating ones. Charles’ eyes on you when he engaged in chit-chat at the bar while you were dancing and having fun with somebody else within the team or not, and yours on Charles when he will get approached by any of his fans (mostly girls, mostly pretty).

It has not always been exactly like this in between the two of you, except maybe for the unexpressed jealousy only through eyes but never through words. And yet, you two avoiding talking back in the days when you were not teammates nor on each other’s throats was out of the question.

As mentioned, you followed him everywhere and he made time (all the time) to watch over you before your F2 races and to congratulate you after any of your wins.

“You have to be smart.” Charles intoned as you were walking side-by-side on an empty Emilia Romagna circuit at the dusk of sun two days before what was the time and place of your first F2 driver championship catch, “You have the same car as anyone else, therefore you have to be smart about the way you use your tires here, especially when taking turns.” He added, vrooming through the apex as if he was a racing car and you were a mere spectator.

You laughed, back then what Leclerc managed to do to you was only laughter and not hard feelings. He caught your laugh and then warned you with a finger to cut the giggles and to pay attention to him and only him as he was explaining to you the best kind of a set-up you could use for the race.

You closed your mouth shut mimicking a closed zip, being the one to cause the laughter to Charles as he watched you tossing your imaginary key far away from the place you have now stopped.

“Understood?” He then inquired, watching you watch him back with whopping googly eyes and hope flickering in the irises of your eyes partly thinking about the win, mostly thinking about him and how attractive having him advising you was.

If you were to be in school and Charles Leclerc were to be your teacher – you would have been most definitely a teacher’s pet. The thought of that scenario made your blood boil, and the way you looked while picturing that made Charles’ spine shiver in pleasure while your body heated underneath his look.

“If you want to make a pass here, you have to be careful to—” He hesitated, heavily breathing in the process.

“What?” You stopped, watching Leclerc’s words being cut short as well as his steps slowing.

You slowed yours too, wondering what was going in the back of your mentor’s mind with a slight hope that your thoughts were the same. They indeed were, and oh how much anticipation was there for them the become real and not just fantasies hidden in the corners of your minds and extremities of your fingers.

“Nothing.” Charles anxiously gulped, his eyes being fixed anywhere else on the track but not on yours that were examining him attentively, “You just —“ He then stopped again, arms close to his chest almost as if he was frightened of the thought that you might see it lifting up in a sorrowful sigh, “You are looking at me like that again.” He explained, arms falling around him helplessly, fingers snapping his knuckles in nervousness.

You let out a giggle, pretending not to know what he was speaking about. When in all trueness, you knew even since then that looks played a major role into your relationship no matter the status of it.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, proceeding in walking away from him so that he will be the one to follow now — which he refused.

With a hold of your wrist, Charles’ fingers wrapped against your skin. Your eyes widened, there have been little to no chances of him daring to touch you. You looked down for a short while, and then up again meeting his gaze.

“I have a girlfriend, Y/N.” He then suddenly spoke, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

Charles had Charlotte at that time, and you knew for the better not to ask details about their relationships. You saw them in the paddock often, and each time you would say “hello” to them while passing by the two holding hands for the photographers to capture, you would have wished for nothing but the Earth to swallow you whole.

Retracting your wrist from Charles, you adjusted your voice with a short grunt, “I am aware of that.” You muttered before a short smile, “You have to question yourself why you had to reminder me that just now.” You added, stepping away from him while your chest was aching still by that mere touch of barely hands, “I was just listening to what you were saying and I—”

“Looked at me like you never do at any other driver, Y/N.” Charles dared to say with a shake of tone, the shakiness progressively getting softer as he spoke your name, “We need to keep this professional.” He continued, enforcing the truth for himself rather than for you just as mentioning his girlfriend before.

With a smirk crossing your lips, you teased even further as you replied, “You pay attention on how I look like at any other driver?” You inquired with a sly smile hid within the tone of your voice, “My plan is not to steal you from Charlotte, Charles.” You assured him, knowing that scooping through the man’s relationship was the last thing on your to-do list when it came to Charles, “My plan is to steal your knowledge, and one day to beat you at your own game on the track.” You proudly declared, managing to shake the uneasiness on Charles’ face for it to be replaced with the humbled proudness you were used back then.

“Oh,” He mouthed, “I would like to see you try.” Charles mocked in a sarcastic tone, “Just don’t be disappointed if that never happens, tough.” He then cockily continued, clapping both his hands together before you went back to the circuit’s tour and racing advice – both pretending that the talk outside the two never took place.

Fools, fools, fools – both of you. You, for teasing him that much during your mentorship era and him for accepting and playing along, toying not only with your emotions but his too. Two days ahead of your little evening escapade on the track, you won your first major championship and Charles’ arms were fast to grab you into a warm hug once you were on the way of getting back to your garage with the trophy tightly squeezed in between your hands.

“That was amazing, Y/N!” Charles shouted within your ears as your bodies entangled for a short yet intense while, “Taking the turns exactly how I told you they are supposed to be taken, amazing!”

You laughed as you two departed, “Taking all the credits, I see.” You joked with a huge smile spread on your face, “I think I did a great job at executing them.” You proudly spoke for a minute before your smile faded as you switched glare from Leclerc to Charlotte who was standing behind him.

Greeting her shortly with a shy “hello”, your hands fully departed from Charles’ forearms as you picked the trophy back from the ground where you first tossed it for the man to have a full access on you.

“Good luck on your race too.” You spoke, the enthusiasm in your voice slowly fading as well as Charlotte’s hand grabbed back Charles, both on their way to the Ferrari garage for Charles to get ready for what was coming that afternoon.

“Ah yes, yes, yes, thank you.” Charles still frenetic spoke looking at Charlotte before taking another one good look at you and your rosy cheeks, “Send me the details to your party for tonight! You must celebrate!” He added, patting your shoulder in passing as they were hurrying on their way.

You nodded yet said nothing. Of course, there was going to be a party, but would you risk it for him to show with Charlotte as he always had done in the past and ruin your winning mood just because she had something you so foolishly desired at the age of eighteen? No, the answer was no.

You had not texted Charles that evening, although every bone within your body wanted for your mentor to attend the celebrations. Selfish mood driven by an even selfish heart, one that Charles was very much aware of and yet one that he wanted to understand without having to lose in the process. And yet, as young as reckless as you both were – mistakes were made in the form of him showing up at your hotel’s door at midnight without Charlotte or anyone else knowing.

A knock into your door as you were ready to go to sleep startled you. Your scared steps carried your body at the door to slowly open it. Yes, you would have lied if you were not to admit that you wanted for the person behind it to be Charles.

Then, seeing him standing upright with a bottle of champagne in one hands and flowers in the other – your heart sunk even deeper, and you knew that him being this close to you and at that hour will not do go to neither of you.

“I waited.” Charles begun with the same type of shakiness into his tone as the one back at the track, “I know from Carlos that you had your party.” He added, eyes all over you as you almost hid behind the door, “Did I do something wrong?” Charles then pleaded, and you had to restrain all your urges to not invite him into the room.

You declined with a nod, “No, it is just that I –” You gulped, “It was just a small party with people from the Prema Racing team, and some of my non-racing friends.” You almost whispered with a smile, “No big F1 drivers were invited, no huge fuss nor cameras, no drinks nor dances, no fun actually – really.”

You lied stumbling at your own words, avoiding Charles’ look as much as humanely imaginable until your eyes laid on the man’s slowly trembling fingers. You made that; you made him shiver even when your intentions were not to do so.

Charles guzzled as well, “I understand then, yeah – sounds like a boring one.” He then laughed, handing you what was waiting into his hands, “I came here actually wanting to celebrate with you alone, but I think that –”

You nodded even before he stopped his words, taking the bottle and the flowers into your own hands, “I think it is a good idea too.” You added, for you to leave. There was no need for one of you to utter the words, as both of you were tragically thinking the same. “Thank you for stopping by, and thanks for the flowers.” You spoke, sniffing the scent of what were your only and favorite type of flowers that you perhaps mentioned once or twice during some of your interviews but never to him, never to any boy really. And yet, Charles knew – he had documented this moment, the very first time when he bought you flowers.

“Goodnight then.” Charles shyly verbalized, grabbing the back of his neck for you to not notice any further the trembles of his fingers, “You did a great job today, Y/N.” He then added with a soft short smile, “You will do just great in F1.” Charles continued, watching you giving him one last shy smile and a glimpse of your rosy cheeks in the dim lights of the hallway before closing your door once he turned to leave and go back into his hotel room, one in which Charlotte was most definitely soundingly sleeping.

You glued your back to the door once he left, the words “keep it professional” resounded in the back of your mind. With an aching chest, you placed the flowers in one of the random vases that the hotel room had to offer but not before noticing a hand-written note enveloped on the top of the bouquet.

You have one of the best talents I have ever witnessed in this sport and not only, do not waste it – and I cannot wait for us to fight together. I would like to see you try, younger and much ruthless me.

Charles was right back then with quite a few words; you were one of the most talented drivers he had ever seen – one of the most talented drivers everybody ever seen. And yes, you were the younger and much ruthless version of him. But now, oh – Charles Leclerc was not that keen on fighting with you together on the track exactly for those three reasons alone, and for the fact that you were on to get him and slow his process of being the best that there ever was on racing circuits.

The now two-times world champion was watching you leave your own party earlier than everyone else. You wanted some time for yourself the night after your scandalous win against him, therefore you took a car straight to the hotel to ease a little. You were not eighteen anymore, and you found yourself a little too much of an alcohol enthusiast now (although you were bad at holding your liquor).

With your head ponding too much after many of Norris’ gross shots, you quickly get rid of your cloths and showered before limping to the bed. You need to get a good night sleep before tomorrow arrived when you had to take an early flight back home – three weeks without Formula 1 were ahead, and you would have never thought that you wanted a break from it more than you did now during your most successful season so far. You were almost dreaming about time spend with your non-racing friends far away from all the craziness, when a knock into your door blasted you awake.

“What are you doing here?” You awed spoke once you wide opened it, expecting for the knock to come from one of the hotel’s employees or your manager who drove you back to the hotel.

And yet, there someone else stood – the one you opened your door two more than six years ago with nervousness, thrill, and anticipation, “Leclerc, it is past midnight for God’s sake. What are you doing here?” You intoned with the annoyance of repeating the same question after receiving no answers at first try while inviting him in without giving it a second thought as you made him room to pass by you.

Charles was without a girlfriend now, and the idea of you two being in the same room late at night seemed more bearable now knowing that you despised each other rather than being attracted to the other.

Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.

“I saw you leaving.” Charles added, giving you a quick glance from head to toes, “Cute PJs.” Your teammate mockingly spoke, leaning against the wall in front of you as you closed the door, “I told you we need to talk – I am not leaving until we talk.” He demanded as you looked down at your pink and white PJs sprinkled with smiley yet creepy faces that you drunkenly ordered online one time.

“I very much like my PJs, thank you.” You spoke, eyes up now watching Charles crossing his arms at his chest.

Fuck, the training in the past years did its job. You could not help yourself but notice his biceps through the white plain loose t-shirt and the way his clothes fitted on what was now a very sculpted body. And yet, you sighed to act uninterested and even more annoyed that you were by the fact that Charles showed up without letting you know ahead, “I told you that we have nothing to talk about.” You added, glare catching his now.

You were not the only one who pretended within the room, of course not. Charles has been looking at you for the entire night, and he has seen how your body moved close to guys that were not him – and he reminded himself of all the moments he shallowed his urges whole to touch you, to caress the back of your hand with his, to glue his body on top or under yours. Yes, the view he had upon you was very much different than the one he had when you were eighteen or in the years that followed since then and yet, the shivers were the same.

That was the main reason why Charles held his hands so closely gripped to his chest even now, for you to not notice his nervousness around you anymore and for him to tame the pleadings inside of his mind as much as he could. Your dominance over Charles was turning him on more than he had ever guessed, and no one made him feel like this before – that was the trick.

“You need to slow down.” Charles intoned, the words were again spoken more for him to hear rather than for you to listen – and it was very much not about racing anymore. Leclerc’s mind was all over the place, and it has been like that since he decided to knock at your door with no plan whatsoever but just to warn you about your next steps, “This will get quite ugly in the future if you keep acting like this.” He added, eyes never away from yours.

You nervously chuckled, mimicking’s Charles’ body pose now. Younger and much reckless me, “I’ve slowed down for you in the past two years, mate.” You intoned with a very much sarcastic tone, “Are you that scared?”

“Are you that fearless?” Charles added, two steps now made towards you with both arms clasped at his back, “You went through a lot to get your seat next to me – are you planning on losing that?” Leclerc threated with a cunning smile; head titled to the right in trying to intimidate you as inches of the hallway divided in between your bodies.

“You taught me that.” You argued, the slug into your threat toughening as you parted your back from the wall and faced Charles closer, “How to be fearless,” You counted slowly, “How to fight for my seat.” You added, your fingers going up Charles’ cheek just to feel the burning inside his untouched skin, being the one between the two of you to first dare touching the other risking for the walls of your caged unspoken tormenting urges to crack, “Are you really threating me now?” You wondered, watching’s Charles’ eyelids sliding shut as you placed your whole palm on his cheek and part of his neck.

Charles took you in – you and your scent, you and your touch and all that he had been craving even more fervently now than six years ago since the first knock at your door.

And yet, winning seemed to be more important.

“If needed, I will.” Leclerc spoke with his eyes still closed to let himself enjoy the moment of one of your hands on him – although he would have enjoyed for both on him and every single part of his body, “Just a warning for now Y/N, do not stand in my way.” Charles added, stepping back and thus privatizing you of touching his skin no longer.

“What happened to you, Charles?” You breathed slowly as you watched him stating back at you now with one hand on the lock of the door, “You used to be so sweet.” You spoke, eyes on the handle.

“Sweet does not get you championships, darling.”

“So, you do care.” You highlighted, how the others call me, “Sweet might not get you championship, but neither being a dick.” You harshly spoke, placing your hand above him on the handle to stop him from clicking it down, “Look, I get it –” You paused to tame whatever was going inside that aching chest of yours, “You changed, but so did I. You want to win, but so do I.” You enunciated while your fingers gripped his, “Let’s see who wins – fair and square. No games, no threats.”

Charles chuckled, “Does not sound like us.” He spoke, hand hardly pressing the handle down for him to leave, not bearing anymore for you to touch him like that, “What’s the fun in fairness when it comes to us?” Leclerc then added, retracting his hand from underneath yours now that the door has opened, “Goodnight then, see you after the break.” Your teammate spoke, and you have never heard him speaking in such a grave alerting tone before – see you after the break was not a greeting, you had to take it as what Charles was intended for that to be: a warning.

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stromblessed · 5 months

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Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1: