Imagines

If you want an imagine about you, just write the details in the comments. Your hair, eyes, personality, etc. Also, whether you want it with a member of One Direction, all of them, or a horse. I might do dogs, too. You don't need to like, favourite, or fan, just give details in the comments. Also, put where you want it to be. For example; first competition with your horse. :)

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 First cross country for 'I Love Slipknot...'

 "Number 125," your friend, Kayla, yells, running over. Your gelding, Rocking Horse, throws his head up, and runs back a few steps.

 "Easy boy," you coo, holding onto his lead rope and stroking his face. "How many times have I told you not to shout and run around horses?" I growl. I apologise to a few riders whose horses spooked a little.

 "Sorry, I always forget..." Kayla mumbles, her head down.

 "I'm sorry, too. I'm just nervous. It's my first cross country competition with him."

 "You'll be fine. Just remember; loads of leg at the water."

 "Since when have you known what 'loads of leg' means?"

 "I listened to your instructor..."

 You tighten to girth of your light brown cross country saddle. The bridle and martingale match in colour. Rocky snorts as you bend down to tie his leg bandages. The white stands out beautifully against his dark brown legs. The numnah is the same, and he looks stunning.

 You didn't plait his mane. So you have something to hold onto if you lose your balance. Kayla gives you a leg up. It seems that's the only thing she can do properly as you trot away.

 Your red hair is tied neatly under your skull cap. After popping over the warm up fences, you wait your turn at the start box.

 "Remember, loads of leg at the water. Look at me, Sorcha," Kayla says. She stares deep into your blue eyes. "Do not, whatever you do, stop riding. Don't think he'll jump without your encouragement. And... Be safe." You smile down at her. Her brown eyes are filled with worry as she runs a hand through her honey blonde hair. "Good luck."

 "Number 125 to the starting box now, please!"

 "Sorcha on Rocking Horse?" the man asks. You nod, patting his dark neck. "This your first cross country? He's lovely. What breed?"

 "Yep. First competition with him. He's mixed," you say, turning the gelding in a circle. "He's Thoroughbred and Connemara."

 "The white looks lovely on him. Your tack is nice. Sorry about the delay, there's been a fall. The rider's broken her leg." Your face pales. "The horse is fine. Oh, don't worry, her horse just slipped. Could've happened to anyone." Something comes out from his walkie-talkie, making Rocky jump again. "Okay. Three... Two... One... Go!"

 Rocky shoots out from the start box and towards the stone wall. By the time you're at the water, which is the fifteenth jump, Rocky's settled into a steady gallop. You slow him to a steady canter, knowing he's going to stumble if he goes too fast.

 He pops over the hedge, tripping as he hits the water. You pull his head up to stop him from toppling and canter him towards the next jump. Glancing at your stop watch, you realise that you're three whole seconds behind the time.

 The last jump; a simple log looms ahead. You push Rocky faster, knowing that you're well behind. He flattens out, his long stride eating up the ground. A few strides before the fence, you slow him to a canter. He pops over the wooden fence as if it's not even there. You're pushing him on from the moment he lands.

 "Number 125. One time fault." You mentally kick yourself for not asking him to go faster earlier. He's fit enough to go at a flat gallop around.

 Ah, well, you think, dismounting and giving him a huge, slappy pat on his sweaty neck. "Good boy," you mummer, giving him a hug, despite the fact that his coat is sticky.

 Kayla's straight up wit his cooler. You strip his saddle off and she throws his blanket over his back. You walk him around for fifteen minutes, until the results are called.

 "In fourth place is Alison on Cherry Red. Third place goes to Sorcha on Rocking horse..." You gasp in delight, throwing your arms around Rocky's neck.

 He snuffles your face and you lead him to get your rosette. The man from the box presents it to you. "Brilliant result for your first competition," he smiles warmly. "You two could go to the top."

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