Hey Nina!! I hope your summer and visit with family is going well!! In honour of our favourite duo finally bring on the podium again this weekend, I have decided to re-send an ask I sent just over a week ago for whenever you have time 🫰🏼
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Cold, mildly aggressive, Football(not soccer) scholarship student Max finds overworked/super bunt out architecture student Charles hiding under the bleachers trying to not have a panic attack because mean upper class men wrecked his project that's due in less than a week and Max immediately thinks 'baby deer. Must protect'
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Basically, university au with a brooding Max that's football and finds it boring and would rather do mechanics under Professor Rosberg, but his father would kill him meets a self-sacrificing Charles who is mostly doing architecture to follow in the family business, but it's slowly draining him completely and he's debating whether to just suffer or face the possible disappointment from his family and switch to historical arts taught by Professor Hamilton.
This could also work well as A/B/O. (And yes, that's cheeky background Brocedes 😏)
Hi @theseusmoon 🌙
Big, tough football player Max stumbling upon teary-eyed Charles Leclerc curled up under the bleachers and instantly going into Protective Mode??
I love every bit of this AU/scenario!! 🏈🏛️
I’m picturing Max getting down under the bleachers to sit beside Charles and ask him what’s wrong. It’s out of character—Max is either at practice, at the gym, or attending as many mechanical engineering classes as he can.
His own little form of rebellion.
His circle is small but the few people that Max calls his friends are the only ones he truly trusts. He doesn’t go out of his way to meet new people…and yet here he is, sitting beside a sobbing freshman (Max can’t imagine he’s older than 18), who looks like his world has just collapsed.
The heartbroken brunet sniffles and then shows Max photos of a once beautiful diagram that’s now been hopelessly wrecked. He lets out a small, choked cry as he says “they” ruined his final project right in front of his eyes.
And dared Charles to tell someone because:
“Who would believe you?” Mazepin sneered.
Max’s eyes narrow. Nikita Mazepin. The little weasel who continuously thought he could get away with shit because his Russian oligarch father practically built the entire architectural design department.
“Fucking snake.” Max mutters under his breath. “That lazy, untalented fucker was jealous as hell that you could create something like this while he can barely stack two Legos on top of each other.”
A small bit of color returns to the freshman’s pale, tear-stained cheeks. A small gust of wind blows their way and Max watches as the pretty boy’s thin frame shivers.
He’s shrugging off his own zip-up hoodie before he even realizes what he’s doing. “Here.” Max offers it to him.
The brunet just stares, wide-eyed and frozen.
Max scrambles to think of something to say before the poor freshman catches hypothermia. “You’re not from around here are you?”
His head snaps up, body still trembling from the late autumn chill. “N-no.”
Max can’t help it.
He smiles—just a tiny bit. “Figures. Autumn in New York can be brutal if you’re not used it. Actually,” he moves a little closer, “it’s pretty rough even if you grew up here.”
Max leans over and the soft fleece of the hoodie brushes the freshman’s tanned skin. “Come on. You need to get warmed up and I know a bakery that’s open late.”
“But…” He trails off, phone still clutched to his chest.
The upperclassmen’s eyes darken. “Fuck Mazepin.” His voice comes out in a low rumble, similar to a lion’s growl. “He won’t get away with this. Little fucker thinks he’s untouchable but Arrivabene won’t care how rich he is—he’ll put his ass on probation for ruining another student’s final project.”
Emeralds eyes, brighter and clearer than the night sky, widen. “The Head of the Architectural Department?” He whispers. “It’ll take weeks to get a meeting with him and my project’s due in 3 days—”
“It won’t, I promise. I know Arrivabene—or, my mom does. Did him a favor years ago and I’m calling it in now.” Max glances at the petit brunet for a moment and smiles. “Alright, let’s get out of here before someone mistakes you for a rookie recruit.”
He watches with no small amount of amusement as the freshman lets out a little meep! of shock at what he’s wearing.
“Sneaky!” He accuses with a pout. Still, he puts both arms through Max’s hoodie—the same hoodie he’d draped over the freshman while he was distracted by Max’s explanation.
Max chuckles. “Weird way of saying thank you.”
“…Thank you.” He manages begrudgingly, wrapping his arms around his midsection. “It’s very warm.” He adds.
This time, when Max turns, he sees a dimpled smile and lips curved in the sweetest smile.
“I’m Charles.” He adds. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
The freshman—Charles—tries to hold out one hand but the sleeve of Max’s hoodie completely swamps his arm, wrist, and fingers.
Charles lets out a little huff, cheeks puffing up in exasperation.
Max tells himself it’s not cute.
It’s not.
But his chest feels warm and his eyes are locked on the other boy, all thoughts of football and Jos gone from his mind.
He doesn’t know Charles—not really, anyway—but some part of Max is screaming at him to protect, protect, protect.
Charles tries to stand up but his legs must be numb from crouching for so long.
He topples, ready to hit the grass—
Before Max reaches out and catches him.
