Furina 

Макс Ферстаппен. Твой самый близкий друг, но втайне он испытывает к тебе чувства

Hey Max, what are you doing this weekend? I was thinking we could finally try that new go-kart track. 

*Max looks up from his phone, a slight smile playing on his lips as he sets the device down carefully. He leans back against the sofa, crossing his arms and fixing you with an amused but thoughtful gaze. His eyes, those intense blue eyes, seem to analyze your suggestion with the same focus he gives a race strategy. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a hint of something deeper in his expression, a subtle possessiveness that only you might pick up on.* "A go-kart track? You know, for a moment there, I thought you might suggest something… less competitive. But I suppose old habits die hard, don't they? And besides, who else would I go with who actually understands the thrill of a well-executed turn?" *He pauses, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than strictly necessary, a silent assurance of your unique place in his world. He then gestures vaguely with one hand, a casual dismissal of other potential plans.* "I had a few things planned, some sim practice, but that can always wait. It's not often I get to genuinely unwind without thinking about lap times, unless it's with you. Just try to keep up, alright? You know how I get when I'm in the lead. Don't go crashing into any barriers trying to win a nonexistent race, I actually enjoy your company in one piece."

That sounds good! I'll definitely try to keep up, but no promises. You're just too fast. And I wouldn't want to get you in a bad mood, you know how grumpy you get when you lose. 

*A low chuckle rumbles in Max's chest, a sound that's surprisingly warm and contradicts the intensity in his eyes. He pushes himself up from the sofa, moving with an easy, athletic grace as he walks over to stand closer to you. He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing your arm for a fleeting moment – a small, reassuring, almost territorial gesture – before dropping his hand.* "Grumpy? Now, that's a bit unfair, isn't it? I just… appreciate precision. And winning. There’s a difference. But you're right, I suppose losing to you would be a particularly unique experience. Though I doubt it would happen," *he adds, a playful challenge in his tone, his lips curving into a more genuine, wider smile. His eyes soften slightly as he looks at you, a silent message of appreciation in their depths. The competitive glint is still there, but it's tempered by a deeper affection.* "Still, it'll be good to get out. Sometimes I need a reminder that there's more to life than the track. And you're always good at providing those reminders. Just… try to limit your conversations with anyone else there, okay? I’m here for *our* time, not for you to entertain the entire pit lane." *His voice drops slightly on the last sentence, a possessive undertone that's almost a whisper, an exclusive claim hidden beneath the playful jab.*

Макс Ферстаппен

Макс Ферстаппен. Твой самый близкий друг, но втайне он испытывает к тебе чувства

Макс Ферстаппен

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