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somejazzinthemorning · 1 year ago

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singapore 23

carlos sainz x reader; [warnings: unprotected sex because why not and yeah, that's just it. it's late and i didn't have time to reread this a lot of times (so it has typos, probably) and no one read this yet so it could not be good, ok?] word count: 1.5K

your boyfriend just won the singapore grand prix.

i did a sad one for spa, it's only fair i do a spicy one for Singapore

"you did great"

carlos’ hands are cupping your cheeks. lips hovering over yours. he’s still panting. you feel his pulse on his digits. still fast. so fucking fast.

"i know"

"you stink"

he chuckles, lips travelling down your jawline, the tip of his nose touching your cheek as he does so. the sweet sound reaches your ears. it’s rich and full, a bit husky.

"i know"

this time, he speaks deeper, like your minds are in sync and he can’t hear your thoughts. you run your hands through his hair, damped in champagne and sweat. you are unaware of what that mixture is doing to you. you only notice it when you feel the flame running through your veins. pride, desire and lust run hand in hand, intoxicating your senses.

perhaps he can hear how fast your heart beats because as he locks his gaze with yours, he simply smirks. you don’t even need to say anything or act on your will.

"cariño, we don't have much time"

no.

“we’ll have just enough time”

you utter. he pulls you closer, impatient and needy and you kiss him deeply. and god. god. it tasted like love itself. the sweet nectar of victory. divine and intoxicating, just like him. and it feels like him. the fizz of the champagne is now getting to your tongue, enlightening everything you were gushing inside. you keep picturing him on the podium. his portrait. the epitome of pride and strength. the image burned into your thoughts. you unzip his suit, until the zipper is hanging down and you can act on getting what you want.

it doesn’t take much until you’re being pressed against the wall. you hiss.

“love, i’ll need you to be really silent”

there is no roof. between you and the world, there’s just a barrier of a few walls and a door you’re not even sure it’s locked. and against all instincts, that makes you want it more. his lips are on your neck, and your hands are roaming his back, along his muscular back, feeling the bulges and contours of his body beneath the nomex. you want to rip it off.

"silent, okay, baby?"

he repeats. each time he speaks, his voice gets lower.

"yes"

his muscles taut under your digits as you explore the fabric in search of the hem. with a desperate tug, you pull it up, revealing his chest. he’s glistening under the lights. a heady mix of sweat. and champagne. and the essence of triumph. that’s all in your mind—how victory drips like gold all over his chest.

god. you’re aching. you need him.

"you looked so good on the podium"

"yeah?"

his hands are pulling your dress up, keeping it around your waist. his lips are sucking on your collarbones and you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark there.

“hmhm”

you bite your lips as he pulls on the lacy fabric of our panties, ever so slightly, just enough to create the right amount of pressure. he’s adoring you. eyes deep and dark trailing your features as he teases you.

“you looked beautiful from there, too. but not as beautiful as you are now”

you moan as you feel his teeth on your shoulder, hands moving lower down, now touching you. you’re wet and you hadn’t realized how much. the bulge in his race suit is hard to ignore. it grows harder against your tight. he wants it as much as you do.

“i’m so proud of you. i love you”

you breathe out.

and then there’s the sound of velcro ripping apart, and the sensation of his fingers tracing an electric path down over your wet panties. a single tug later, he’s inside you—he thrusts himself inside you in one sudden motion. and you have to bite your lip to contain a shuddering moan that escapes your lips anyway. he acts with an animalistic intensity, with the remaining adrenaline in his blood. there's no barrier, there shouldn't be, but if there were, you're not sure you would care. because the feeling of him inside you, the feeling of his warmth, the feeling of his whole body crashing against yours, it’s almost like it's almost like your souls intertwine in perfect harmony—like you're finally coming home.

“say it again”

“i love you. i’m proud of you”

it's merciless, it's rough. it's fucking perfect.

his touch burns you. his mouth leaves a trail of fire wherever he kisses and sucks and licks. he moves his fingers on your clit and your head falls back; your eyes close. you don't need to see him to know he's there. everywhere he touches makes you ache for more.

you're going to explode. it's so good it hurts, so intense it's almost unbearable. and he knows it. and he’s basking on it. he could come just from looking at you. you don't have to say a word for him to understand.

"i love seeing you like this"

he says. you part your lips, a soft moan escaping them. carlos takes his hands from between your legs and pushes two fingers into your mouth. your tongue touches the ridges and curves of his fingers and you can taste yourself in them.

on the other side of the wall, life keeps happening. it’s loud and noisy. the laughter and conversations bounce off of the walls of the hallway, but it sounds distant to you. you hope you’re not making yourself heard, too.

he picks you up and carries you to the massage table in the room. you close your eyes as he sets you down on the edge of the table, your breathing heavy and uneven; you feel like you’re floating above the world.

he looks down at you. some strands of hair falling over his forehead, small droplets of what could be sweat or water or champagne dripping down his temples. he’s divine. chiselled to glory.

you look down, your hands reaching for him. and you see him again standing tall on the podium. pride and vanity eating away at your mind and decorum. he's god. your god. you could pray to him, every day, any day.

"you looked like a god"

you say, gaze locked with his. your hand is around him, sliding up and down as you speak. you can feel it pulsating against your palm. your juices and pre-cump clamping down around him. carlos brings his hand to the back of your neck, wrapping your hair in his hand and holding it as he pulls you against his mouth.

“again”

he orders, against your lips.

“you looked like a god."

there's a pause. a brief moment of silence until you speak again.

"fuck me like one”

he doesn’t need more of an invitation. he positions himself at your entrance and thrusts himself inside you in one fierce motion. your lips part and you let out a moan as he pulls out and slams back in. your muscles clench around him, embracing the feeling, taking it all in.

you moan against his mouth, your hands holding onto him, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. he’s holding your tights, keeping your legs open as he moves faster, deeper.

your hands are grabbing the edge of the table, drowning in the foam and you're forcing your mouth closed. but you don't need words to express how good you feel. he can read you like a map. you exhale sharply, your own hand now over your mouth trying to muffle the noises. he holds you tighter, driving himself deeper inside you. he’s a painfully good execution of perfect.

it feels so fucking good. you can't control yourself.

he's breathing hard, grunting with every thrust, his chest expanding with every breath. you can hear the sounds of your bodies colliding underneath you. he's not even trying to be quiet about it anymore.

"ah-ah, love, don't make that face. i know you want to come. you know how much i want you to come. but hold on, baby, hold on."

your heart is beating faster. you're so close now. his hand is on your clit again, rubbing it in quick circles, and you're so close that the sound of laughter outside the door sounds like a muffle. you're going to come. you're going to fucking come. he growls and his pace quickens. and your body is trembling with every thrust. your gaze is focused on his face, and he knows how damn hard you’re holding to his commands.

"i'm going to break you, won't i?"

you nod repeatedly, eyes wide, biting on your lip. your mind is blank. he leans in and kisses you deeply, his hands pulling your hair harder, sliding in and out of you. you gasp against his lips, your fingers clinging to his shoulders and upper back; you want to bury your head in the crook of his neck, but his gaze keeps you hostage.

and looking into his eyes and facing heaven and hell at the same time.

he owns you in a way you can't even explain. it's like a rope has been thrown around you and you're being pulled deeply towards him and you know you’re incapable of leaving. and you know he will never leave either.

"go ahead, baby. i won't be greedy. i already came first once today"

he plunges deeper into you, banging against your g-spot. you can feel your lips quiver, your back arching. and you know you can’t cry out his name. you feel yourself drown, and then being brought back to the surface. there's a flare. and then the crescendo. and you’re breaking in front of him. and he holds you. still fucking you. cherishing you.

he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of the dress you’re still wearing. you bury your head in the crook of his neck, moaning and crying against his skin, and within seconds he pushes himself deeper inside you, groaning as he comes.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you.”

he says, still holding you. you’re panting, shaking, drunk on his scent and the love only he can make you feel. carlos kisses your head and caresses your hair. slowly, you look up to him.

“i'm so proud of you. i love you"

as always, all feedback is appreciated. hope you enjoyed it! love you all.

#carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #f1 fanfic #singapore gp 2023 #singapore gp

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vicsy · 1 month ago

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"So," Daniel says and his voice doesn't wobble. He had to pull himself together for a minute or two, thumb hovering over Max's name on his phone screen while he stuffed a year's worth of bottled up emotions temporarily back into their bottle, now cracked along the sides. Small mercies, smaller victories. "Anything I want, huh?"

Not the best attempt at keeping his tone firmly in the joking territory but Max's answer is a short, bumpy giggle. He does this, always, in that private way that many others seem undeserving of but Daniel's a worthy exception, eight years and counting. He recalls Max face mid-laugh, the crinkle in his eyes. Daniel should have just texted; should have done it face-to-face instead.

"Of course," Max speaks up, finally, filling the anxious silence. Daniel hangs onto his voice like an non-believer would to a merciful god on a crashing plane. The irony of it kicks Daniel in the heart like a mule. On the other side of the line he hears the sound of a zipper, then a heavy thud. "It was insane fastest lap, mate. Thanks, it was nice of you. I can of course get you whatever you want now, you can make a list. You have ideas already, no?"

Max keeps saying something else. Daniel knows he's still talking because the claws tearing his insides apart retract and he doesn't have to fend to himself anymore, fight for his life in the pit of hungry lions. Max's voice lulls the part of him that always chooses flight – quiet literally – instead of fight. He just listens. A stewardess offers Daniel a glass of something, he takes it; he's not really on the plane and definitely not in the paddock anymore. The weird limbo surrounding him twists into pictures, visions, memories. Max talks about making time together so he can hand-deliver Daniel his impromptu gift, whatever it is, and maybe they can play padel again. Daniel thinks he should have made time to be bolder. Should have, could have, would have.

All Daniel stood for amounts to a single lap around the track in Singapore, suffocating heat, expectations crushed into dust and empty promises flung at him like knives but his hands aren't clutching the wheel anymore.

There is a pause, then, Max's raspy voice cutting off, letting the plane ambiance filter through. Daniel thinks it over again and not like he's drowning in options, pushing himself further back into the stiff business class seat, hoping he'd fuse his body with it. His hearts aches. Whatever he wants. And Daniel's on the run again, short end of a stick in hand and no one to pass it to.

Maybe at the end of the finish line Daniel's wishes are selfish and pretty simple.

"And what if it's you?"

In a short, gratifying moment where his stomach swoops like it's taking a ride on a rollercoaster and Max's breath catches audibly, Daniel thinks he pulled off a nice little trick and caught Max off guard. He could write it off as a joke with no problem but, fuck, Daniel missed having an upper hand, even if it's something he's never stopped wanting. Yet want was detrimental. Want led him to ruin but there was Max, oh, and Max he only wanted from a safe distance. And it's been growing smaller ever since.

Max lets out another raspy, little giggle tinged with something similar to relief, reserved only for Daniel, and with that any advantage is gone, up in flames but they don't scorch what's left of his ego. Daniel's left flailing with bitter uncertainty. He scrambles for a way out but Max beats him to it:

"I thought you would never ask," he says, easy, without mirth; warm, like he's been waiting for this, waiting to be asked to follow whenever Daniel chose to leave. He knows Max isn't fucking with him. Probably the most cruel part of it all is Max's clear-cut loyalty and unabashed kindness. Daniel struggles to go for a joke or full send it. Max carries on: "Did you leave? Maybe I can get to you in thirty minutes and–"

And then Daniel maybe feels his tattered soul stitching itself back together as he stares at the dark screen on the passenger seat in front of him, his phone pressed so, so firmly to his ear. His ribs might break under the stampede of his heart. Daniel rips his cap off his head, throws it on the seat next to him. Max's determination is a rug pulled beneath Daniel's feet, a stinging in the corner of his eyes blurring his vision anew. He swallows around a lump in his throat.

"I'm on the flight home," it sounds like an excuse but the scenery behind the illuminator moves and changes, taking Daniel further away from the chunk of his former self. He's the one always fucking leaving. "Kinda taking off in, uh. Five-ish?"

He called Max only when there was no chance left for him to bounce out of the plane dramatically. Now he's just some manic guy clutching a phone to the side of his face.

"Well, then it'll be a little bit more than thirty minutes," there is no pause before Max's statement lands heavy like a gavel. Daniel startles and above him the seat belt sign chimes once, twice.

"Max–"

"Have a safe flight home, Daniel."

Instead, Daniel marinates in what ifs.

Home is home but Daniel has a hard time remembering the last time he was in Perth without a semblance of a plan for the future. The idea sucks, big time, and simultaneously the unknown is awfully freeing. With his mom's hands around him, Daniel allows for the perpetual weight on his shoulders to be caught in a loving embrace. His dad sheds a few tears and even if Daniel's always been mama's boy, he cries, too. Through a smile, though, because he's home now, where nobody could ever hurt him; where his wounds would mend despite the quiet anger.

Sleep is as elusive as his chances used to be. Daniel's gittery on the inside, can't shake the feeling that he's missing something — a limb, a soul, some closure. A draft of the announcement feels like a noose tied around his throat and he could never have enough neck strength to make it snap before it drags him to the bottom of the ocean.

He thinks of Max. Of the few messages he didn't have the guts to send, of his own selfishness; of the record lap set in Singapore spelled with his name but Max's is written there, too, somewhere underneath where only Daniel can see. And he keeps thinking of Max and the great things unsaid, keeps existing on the farm in a comforting loop, keeps playing with his niece and nephew who he loves to death, loves more than the world can ever hate him. Nobody asks him to driver fast, nobody asks him for a miracle. Daniel's fresh out of those.

The message catches him counting invisible sheep and counting minutes down to when the post makes its way though the web. Daniel entertained sleep for a hot minute but he's wide awake, staring at his screen. 15 minutes. It's Max.

Walking out barefoot on the front porch, the sun just shy on the horizon, Daniel shivers. It's eerily quiet and he's left his phone in the bedroom. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. The only road leading to the farm remains empty but Daniel can swear he hears an engine running in the distance. Hope, stupidly, slithers under his skin and makes a home there.

There is an uncanny quality to it — watching a rental pull up in the driveway and then Max stumbling out of it, his eyes finding Daniel's in a fraction of a second. He walks up the steps of the front porch and Daniel knows he might actually wake up any minute now. Any second. He needs to cherish this moment.

"I told you it will take a little more than thirty minutes," Max says, casually. Daniel smiles and his lips wobble but it's a good thing. He looks down at his hands, counts all ten fingers, then looks up at Max's clean-shaven face, at the lovely mole on his lip.

It's not a dream. Sure as hell not a nightmare.

"Max, I didn't think you'd actually, uh. Wow," Daniel stumbles over his words. He's freaked out, giddy, perhaps properly insane. His announcement should be up by now but who gives a shit when Max is standing in front of him, light-blue t-shirt hugging his frame enticingly, and Daniel can practically see the sincere radiance of his heart through it. "Just because I said–"

"Wait!" Max says, stumbling back, then digs into the pocket of his criminally tight jeans. Daniel forces his mouth to close. He's surely not hallucinating from lack of sleep. Max is real, so real, fishing out a pink bow out of his pocket. He smiles, full faced and it reaches his eyes the same way Daniel wants to reach out for him but he's still paralysed, rooted in place, compartmentalising years worth of everything he denied himself. "I borrowed it from P. So it's a proper gift."

He sticks the bow to his forehead, still beaming, and looks at Daniel as if he hasn't walked through hell and high water to escape from this. Like Daniel's hasn't jumped through hoops to justify never acting on his impulses, every fibre of his being telling him to do otherwise. He searches Max's face for an answer he can only ever find elsewhere.

Then Daniel carefully cups Max's face and leverages himself forward.

The answer, he finds it — in the awkward press of his lips to Max's, in the mismatched way he clings to Max and Max doubles down, enveloping Daniel with almost his entire body, his entire soul. It's not a proper kiss by all means but it's everything else and more; more than Daniel though he could ask for but Max did say he can ask for whatever and Daniel's done being noble.

Max's bow falls off his forehead and ends up trapped between their lips. Daniel spits it out of his mouth, thrown out of whack and Max laughs loudly, all but bending in half, but his hold on Daniel remains solid. It's not even that funny but who fucking cares.

"So," Daniel chuckles nervously. Swipes his thumb across Max's lower lip, still in disbelief. "About my gift. Um."

"When the season ends," Max says, a bit breathless. Daniel knows a careful meaning behind those words. He knows. Sees it in Max's eyes, clear blue, and they look like his future. "We can do it properly. The gift. I'll bring a better bow."

Daniel shakes his head and his chest cracks open all the way. Bow or no bow, he'd rather have Max over anything, everything. Even with his life's work hanging in the balance; even if they try to erase Daniel altogether.

"Actually I think this one's perfect. Pink's your color, Maxy," he says. His voice betrays him halfway, so Max squeezes his hands. Daniel feels his skin buzz underneath the touch. He shivers again and cranes his neck towards the house behind him. "Breakfast? I mean, think my parents would love to see you dropped by. I'd love to, well. Ya know. Or you have to jet back to Monaco?"

Max makes a face.

"I won't leave," he answers. Daniel smiles back at him, grabbing Max by the wrist, and thinks – you never do.

This time, incandescent in the serene shine of an Australian sunrise, they both get to stay.

#vicsy writes #maxiel #hello hello please excuse me while I cope the only way I seem to know how #daniel/max #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #333 #maxiel fic #vicsy? fluff? unheard of i must say #dr3 #mv1

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fangirl-dot-com · 9 months ago

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Chapter 25 - Release the Ice Bath Thirst Traps

Ok guys! here we go!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED (sorry for those who have asked)

For the very end of the chapter, there's something I made up for Singapore (this fact is made up just for the story)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, inbox messages, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

The moment you stepped out of the cool, airconditioned car, your team shirt suddenly clung to you. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead as you made your way through the paddock. Max had warned you that Singapore and Qatar would be impossibly hot: you just didn’t think it’d be this bad.

All you wanted to do now was go back to the hotel where it was ice cold. You wiped your brow with your forearm as you got closer to the garage. Giant fans welcomed you with air. It wasn’t freezing cold, but it would do. You were already on your third water today, smartly forgoing the Red Bull that was bound to make you dehydrated.

You stood next to Max as the team had a quick debrief. The heat was definitely getting to you, as you really couldn’t remember a word that anyone said. You blink your eyes as they were burning with sweat. Your older teammate could only offer you a remorseful smile.

Max could see that the heat wasn’t going too well with you. You had told him beforehand that some females, including you, just couldn’t regulate their temperatures as well as males could. Women often gave off more body heat than men did as well. This caused the Dutchman to send out a group text, warning the other drivers to look out for you.

You groaned as you tried to put on your fireproofs and race suit. The more you moved around, the more you seemed to sweat. You kept your suit tied around your waist. You definitely wouldn’t be putting it on until you had to be in the car.

Max was already zipped up by the time you returned.

“Here.” He handed you another ice cold water bottle.

“Thank you Max,” you croaked out, making the Dutchman look a little weary at you. You just smiled back.

“Once we qualify, we can go to the ice baths.”

Max would have thought that you would hate the idea since you always showered with the water at a boiling temperature. Yet, he could see that you were slightly “warming up” to the idea of a bath full of ice (pun intended).

From the corner, Mitch watched as you poured the remainder of your water on your head. She had requested a few ice packs to be ready for you when you arrived, but sadly they weren’t completely frozen. She’d make sure that you’d have them for tomorrow.

Surprisingly, your laps were great with you qualifying in P3, behind Charles once again. Halfway through, you had opened your visor, trying to get some air through your sweaty helmet. Your water pouch had to be refilled multiple times between sessions. Yet, your trainer advised you to try not to drink so much during the race, as they wouldn’t be able to refill.

Mitch had come over to your car as soon as you were back in. You gave her a big smile as you started to get out of the car.

“How are you doing kid?”

You took a moment to look at her outfit. Where a pantsuit should have been, there was a Red Bull Tank top and some very loose pants. You were jealous that she got to wear those while you were stuck with skin tight clothes.

You gasped a bit for some cooler air once your helmet was off.

“I’m good. Max said something about an ice bath?”

Your eyes were faintly glimmering with hope for something to cool you down. Mitch smiled at you.

“Yep. I put a change of clothes on your bed, but I think you need some help?”

You nodded at her question before heading to your room. You didn’t want to waste any time getting out of your suit.

The zipper came off smoothly. Mitch definitely saw that you had sweated through your fireproofs and felt terrible. Surely, there was something that the team could do.

You giggled. “I’ve probably already lost a few pounds.”

Mitch rolled her eyes at the terrible joke. If anything, there was truth in that statement. She had seen the numbers after you got weighed and you had lost a lot.

“Well, there will be lots of food for you to fill up on.”

“I hope we’re not going to go over the catering budget again.”

Mitch let out a snort as she helped you out of the sticky fire proofs. She pulled out a bag and handed it to you. You grinned at the sight of the limited clothes in the bag.

“I didn’t think that you’d want to go out in full bikini, so there’s a sports bra and some spandex shorts. I’ll wait for you by your door and will walk you to the back.”

Once Mitch left, you quickly peeled the rest of your clothes off. The sports bra and spandex were all black, and covered everything that needed to be. You said a quick thank you to her in your mind as you got dressed. Your skin was definitely cooler with no clothes to stick to, but you were still sweating.

You swung the door open.

“Ready to go?” you asked, giving her the bag back with your other clothes. They would definitely need to be washed by tomorrow.

You followed the woman to the back, going through multiple doors. Once she opened the door to the little outside area, your eyes landed on Max, who was already soaking. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back on the tub.

Yours was a bit more like a giant trough, filled to the brim with ice.

Mitch spoke as you got closer. “We thought that you’d need more ice, hence why yours is bigger. It’s also more insulated with the metal than the plastic. Do not stay in more than 15 minutes. We don’t need your temperature dropping too much.”

You tossed your foot over and gingerly place a toe in, just to get a feel for it. The temperature was perfect and you found yourself sinking into the ice.

“You think it’s ok if I dunk my head?” you asked Max.

He didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

“Go for it kid.”

You held your breath as you sunk below the ice layer. Your brain went a bit fuzzy as the freezing water went over your scalp. You let your eyes open under the water, just to feel the cold and relieve the stinging.

Once you came up gasping for air, Max finally looked over.

“Had fun?” He laughed a bit.

You lovingly flipped him off. Your hands came and brushed your hair back. You looked over at Max’s plastic pool, and saw ducks in his. You pouted once you realized that you didn’t have any.

“What’s wrong kid?” the Dutchman asked at the sight of your pout.

You murmured, “I didn’t get any ducks.”

Max rolled his eyes before gently throwing one of his ducks into your pool. Your eyes immediately lit up as you began to play with it. Max just watched as you found so much joy in something so little. You felt his gaze and you guessed that you needed to say something.

“I never had a rubber duck growing up. It’s so cute.”

You held the little yellow thing in your hands, right in front of your face. Max had a sad smile as he watched.

“You have plans for after the race?”

You sighed as you let the duck rest on the water, not breaking the surface tension.

“Logan, Oscar, and Lando wanted to go see the city and I said I’d join them. Something about needing a good drive around Singapore.”

Max snorted. Of course the group of three would want to invite you. The door opened, which had the two of you whip your heads to it.

“Oh, hey David,” you greeted the photographer. You sank back into the ice, still enjoying the cold. Max groaned when he realized what David was there for.

You smirked as you looked over at your teammate. “Ready to do some thirst traps Max?”

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Let’s leave that for Ferrari and Lando.”

You giggled at the statement. “Yeah, I would rather not show much on screen. Taken woman and all.”

That time, Max laughed.

David looked apologetic. “Just need to get some pictures. Trust me, this isn’t my favorite.”

He took some pictures while you and Max tried to look as non-sexy as possibly. You definitely tried to sneak some goofy facial expressions in. You kept your whole body submerged and thankfully the ice kept anyone from seeing much below your neck. David quickly thanked the two of you for your time before leaving.

“Instagram is going to have a field with those.”

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing splish, splash - racers in the ice baths

liked by arthur_leclerc, y/n.nation, rookie&maxie, landonorris, and 846,294 others

redbullfan what the heck is this?? this was not the thirst traps we wanted

maximillian he's giving "moto-moto likes you"

y/n.nation everyone is focused on the lack of thirst-traps, I'm just focused on the amount of ducks that Red Bull has

oscarpiastri what are your duck's names?

landonorris probably can't top cold, as, and fuck y/n.89 max's is James Pond and mine is Duck Norris landonorris my son?? y/n.89 no - something american so you won't understand logansargeant DUCK NORRIS RAWWRRRRR

rookie&co BOOOOOO TOMATOES TOMATOES TOMATOES

f1fan I know admin is hiding the thirst traps

charles_leclerc no thirst traps?

maxverstappen1 we leave that to you and the Spaniard y/n.89 I mean, I could be sexy if I wanted carlossainz55 sure chica, sure y/n.89 who is single? and who is taken maxverstappen1 HA

iamred_iamyellow ducks, ducks, ducks, ducks

You snorted at the Dutchman’s bluntness.

The timer on the wall signaled that it was time to get out. You let out a giant groan as you stood and climbed over.

Mitch came in with two big towels. One for you and one for Max. Your skin was finally covered with goosebumps instead of sweat. You quickly had an idea as you walked back to put normal clothes on.

“You think I could dunk my head in before I get in the car? I think my wet hair will keep my head cooler if I do. It’s something about heat escaping through your scalp when you overheat. If it’s covered by my balaclava and my helmet, it can’t escape.”

Mitch finished your thought process.

“So if you wet your hair, your scalp can be cooler longer.”

You nodded before heading into your room.

“Ah, Max wanted me to hand this to you.”

It was a normal Red Bull polo, which made your brows pinch in confusion. But, you shrugged and took it anyways.

However, once you started changing you realized that the shirt was almost three sizes too big. Yet, you grinned as you put it on. Since it was oversized, it wasn’t sticking to your skin as you started to sweat a little.

The crew laughed a bit at the sight of the giant shirt almost swallowing you. But, you didn’t care about that. You were significantly cooler and you could follow the last debrief of the day.

Sunday night came and went super-fast, and you were thankful this time around. You were definitely more cool that you had been for qualifying. Mitch had sent the ice vest to you early, so you didn’t start off too warm. With your hair being dunked in ice water, your head was cooler during the race. The little bit of breeze that you got helped as well.

That bit really helped you stay focused as you gained another podium. Surprisingly, this was Max’s first time winning in Singapore. Adrian really made sure that the car could keep up with the street race and not end it like 2023. Charles came in a very close second.

Charles and Max poured their champagne bottles onto your overheating body. Halfway through you needed to sit down. Your body was slowly becoming even more dehydrated and hot as the minutes passed by. You were kind of held by Max as the three of you left the podium.

The Dutchman had a worried grip on your bicep as he held you upright. He needed to get you some water, quickly. You thankfully weren’t on the verge of passing out, but he knew you were thirsty. He heard your radio toward the end where you were just begging for a drink. Max couldn’t imagine being without water, but he normally didn’t drink as much while racing.

He gently set you on a seat in the garage, before turning away to get some things. Your eyes were closed as you sat right under a fan. Max soon returned with a cooling towel and three bottles of water.

The cold of the towel made your eyes open as he put it on your neck. Your race suit was tied around your waist and your fireproof shift had been swapped for a thin, random oversized shirt. Max gently cooed as you leaned into the cold water bottle on your face.

“There you go,” he whispered as you finally were able to take big gulps of water. He unscrewed one of the other bottles before he lightly tipped it over your head. Streams of water ran down your face as you finished off the water bottle.

The team was glancing at the two of you. In the back of their minds, they were worried about how you’d react to Qatar, which was way worse. However, they held on to some hope that it would be cooler than last year due to it being moved later on the race calendar.

Your water bottle was on in moments. You flashed a smile at your worried teammate.

“Thanks,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath after guzzling.

Mitch came from the back with another woman who was holding a device. Mitch kneeled next to Max and put her hand on your knee.

“Hey kid, we just want to make sure that you’re okay. Brianna here is going to take your blood pressure and other vitals just to be safe.”

You only nodded and leaned your head against the wall. The medic made quick work and started to strap the device on. Max stood up and walked a bit away, just to give everyone some space. His eyes caught glimpses of orange, red, and blue and he could only guess who it was. He took one more glance at the situation before walking out of the garage.

Logan, Charles, Lando, and Oscar were waiting patiently by the opening. They all looked up once they heard Max walk out, but deflated when they realized it wasn’t the Red Bull driver they were looking for.

“Is she doing okay?” Charles asked first, concerning the other three boys.

Lando put his arms out, stopping any conversation.

“What does he mean by ‘is she doing ok?’ Where’s Y/n?” the Brits voice going more high pitched the more he started to panic.

Max sighed. “She’s just having a hard time with the heat. She got super dehydrated this weekend and really couldn’t get over it.”

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

“They’re just checking vitals I think, to make sure everything is ok.”

Logan sighed loudly in concern. He definitely knew what it was like, getting memories from Qatar 2023.

The American asked, “Is she going to race in Qatar?”

Max blinked slowly before answering. “She wants to. The team is really hoping that it’s going to be significantly cooler than last year. And they know to get her started on hydration much earlier. I talked to her physio and she thinks that Y/n’s diet also wasn’t right.”

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “Diet?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. She was apparently eating foods that might dehydrate the body, like lots of salt. Her physio said that she’ll start her on more fruits and water heavy foods way in advance. And drinks as well, more electrolytes.”

Lando nodded in agreement. “I remember when I had to do that. They took away my chips for like….months.”

They had been so into talking that they didn’t notice that you had walked out, now changed into shorter shorts and a bigger top (one that Charles strangely recognized as one of his brother’s shirts).

“Are we ready to go?” you asked, getting closer. “Lando is driving because I am done for today.”

The boys looked a bit guilty at your tired face.

Oscar spoke up first. “We don’t have to go driving if you don’t want to. We know you’re probably tired.”

You waved your hands and made a sound. “Nope, I’m good. Nothing will ever beat the one time I spent an entire summer on a farm in the middle of Texas.”

You pretended to shiver at the thought, making the group laugh.

Charles suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place (well, second because he was worried about you after the podium). He handed you a small bag. Opening it up, you saw a bright colored water bottle. You raised your eyebrow in question.

The Monegasque smirked. “From you know how.”

Your face practically melted at the loving gesture as you looked at it. Lando, Oscar, and Logan suddenly got the memo.

Logan wrapped an arm around you first. “Aww such a sweet little boyfriend.”

Oscar looked at Lando.

“Where’s my water bottle?” he mocked whined, batting his eyelashes at the Brit. Your rolled your eyes.

Lando put his arms around the Aussie. “Don’t worry love, it’s in the car.”

The Brit puckered his lips before pretending to lean in. You just watched with an annoyed grin on your face. You looked at Max and Charles and winked, the Dutchman and Monegasque getting what you were about to do. You shrugged Logan’s arm off before taking a step toward your teammate.

But, you purposefully made your knees buckle and fell into Max and Charles’s waiting arms. Lando and Oscar shut up quickly, before yelling that you needed help. Except that they heard your giggles as Max put you back on your feet.

“I was just kidding.”

The trio huffed.

Logan murmured, “That was not funny.”

Charles snorted. “Oh but it was. Should have seen your faces.”

Your giggled died out before you asked, “Are we ready to go? I think I’ll melt if I stand out here for any longer.”

Lando flicked your forehead. “We were just waiting on you.”

The four of you said your goodbyes to Max and Charles before heading to the parking lot. Somehow, Logan got his hands on a Jeep to take the four of you somewhere. And, he was even able to get the top off. And because he claimed it was an all American brand, Logan begged Lando to let him drive it. Lando reluctantly handed over the keys.

You claimed earlier that you needed shotgun, because “men can’t be passenger princesses.” Oscar and Lando tried to disagree.

The breeze from outside in addition to the cool air-conditioning from the car was perfect. You let everyone have their turn with the aux, praying that they wouldn’t pick anything too embarrassing.

Oscar ripped the phone out of your hands when Logan tried to request Free Bird again.

The Aussie sighed as the American whined.

“We are not having another shirt ripped or a speeding ticket.”

You laughed as Logan tried to hit Oscar in the back. At an empty road, Lando grabbed his camera.

“Bug, put your head out the window real fast.”

You did as suggested and smiled toward the camera that Lando was holding.

Immediately you had a sense of déjà vu. Except this time, it was actual friends in the car and not just your manager. You thought back to how far you’ve come since the night before going to Milton.

Lando laughed as he looked at the camera.

He spoke, “This reminds me about the time that me and my friends were driving around and then this car pulled up next to ours. They were blasting What Makes You Beautiful and there was this girl in the front seat.”

Your cheeks were becoming warm as Lando kept telling the story: that was definitely about you. Lando kept blabbing about the night.

“And then the next morning, I got out of my hotel elevator and I think the same girl literally bulldozed me over. Didn’t say sorry or anything. I just thought it was funny, she seemed like she was in a rush.”

Logan was laughing at the story, but got concerned at your flushed appearance and sudden quietness.

“You alright champ? Do we need to get you some more water?”

At the sound of the question, Lando and Oscar were leaning up, trying to look to see if you were going to actually pass out. Lando was already on his phone, trying to bring up Max’s contact to call just in case.

However, you started laughing, making the trio at ease. You tried to cover your giggles with your mouth. You had this bright look in your eyes.

“That was actually me Lando. Sorry about that.”

Lando’s jaw dropped at the reveal.

You gave a half shrug. “Arthur was waiting for me in my hotel room and I was excited to see him.”

Logan’s and Oscar’s shoulders were shaking as they kept laughing at Lando’s facial expressions. The Brit huffed and crossed his arms, mouth formed into a pout.

“You owe me a race win now.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me.”

“Uh, guys?” Logan asked, but you and Lando ignored him.

“Get your own race win. You’ve done it before.”

“Cause Max crashed out.”

“That’s not true.”

“Guys?” Oscar’s voice also sounded, worry in his tone.

“Lando, it’s really not that hard. You just go around him.”

“It’s a tractor versus a rocket ship. One cannot simply just go around.”

“GUYS!”

“What?” you and Lando yelled at the same time. Once the car was silent, you finally noticed that it had stopped moving.

“Logan why aren’t you driving?”

You looked at the American, who was slightly shaking while looking in the rearview mirror. Your eyes glanced at it, blue and red lights reflecting through the glass. You looked behind you and saw the source.

“Ah shit.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Alexa, play free bird by lynard skynard

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, redbullrocket, and 725,028 others

box_box_express oh thank goodness she's out

y/n.nation you think she jailbreaked?

georgerussell63 good to see that I don't need to pull up any power point presentations on why you four shouldn't go to jail

y/n.89 good to know that you have one ready? landonorris you think that we'd actually get arrested?? logansargeant oh yee of little faith oscarpiastri it was already ready???????

change_ur_f-car BAHAHAHAHAH I'M DEAD - ARRESTED RACE CAR DRIVERS FOR BEING IN A CAR

formulalala_delulu this whole race/day was a fever dream

christianhorner good to see you not in cuffs kid

y/n.89 good to not be in cuffs maxverstappen1 rookie arrest before I was y/n.89 HA I BEAT MAX VERSTAPPEN IN EQUAL MACHINERY landonorris oh that's not...ok

lestappenlove your honor I love them

Race Results

Max Verstappen - 25 points

Charles Leclerc - 18 points

Y/n L/n - 16 points (fastest lap)

Carlos Sainz - 12 points

Oscar Piastri - 10 points

Alex Albon - 8 points

Lando Norris - 6 points

Logan Sargeant - 4 points

Pierre Galsy - 2 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 1 point

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen - 334 points

Charles Leclerc - 304 points

Y/n L/n - 223 points

Lando Norris - 196 points

Carlos Sainz - 157 points

Oscar Piastri - 140 points

Lewis Hamilton - 113 points

Alex Albon - 70 points

George Russell - 65 points

Fernando Alonso - 45 points

Logan Sargeant - 44 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 26 points

Lance Stroll - 17 points

Pierre Gasly - 14 points

Valtteri Bottas - 13 points

Yuki Tusnuoda - 9 points

Zhou Guanyu - 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull - 557 points

Ferrari - 461 points

McLaren - 336 points

Mercedes - 178 points

Williams - 114 points

Aston Martin - 62 points

Alpha Tauri - 35 point

Alpha Romeo - 14 points

Alpine - 14 points

Haas - 0 points

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fabbyf1 · 26 days ago

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May we be blessed with some smut snippet? 🙏🏻❤️

🤠🤠🤠

i'm gonna save the smut for when i post the chapter, but i can give you a snippet of the car ride home from the club when Charles is being a menace.

(sorta nsfw-ish, if you work at a church or something) snippet under the cut!

happy friday, besties! i hope you've had a great week.

Charles squeezed his thigh, and Max clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t say anything.

He was touching Max so casually, as if this was something they did all the time. It was making him feel crazy. He wanted to grab Charles’ hand and drag it higher, grind his cock against it, and get the relief he so desperately needed. It was dark in the SUV, and the driver was busy, so he could definitely get away with it.

Charles moved his hand a bit higher, and his pinky practically touched his zipper.

Max had to bite back a moan.

“Have you been thinking about it often?” Charles asked, dragging him out of his thoughts.

Max blinked at him. “Thinking about what?”

Charles looked over at him and smirked, squeezing his thigh again. “Singapore.”

Jesus, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He should play it cool and make Charles work for it a bit more. He liked having the upper hand in a relationship, and that didn’t seem to happen very often with Charles. He shouldn't miss out on an opportunity to make him beg for Max to tell him instead of just offering it up, but who the fuck was he to deny Charles Leclerc anything when he looked like that?

“Yeah.”

Charles giggled. “What have you been thinking about?”

Max spared a glance at the driver before looking over at Charles. “What you looked like.”

“Hmm.” Charles hummed, moving his hand higher on Max’s thigh. “And what did I look like?”

Max wasn’t going to fucking whine about it, especially when the driver was most likely listening to them, but he sure had the urge to. He shifted in his seat, inadvertently moving Charles’ hand closer to his cock and making him gasp. Charles’ eyes lit up with delight, biting back on his smile as he squeezed his thigh again.

“You looked, uhh...” Max trailed off. “Good.”

Charles snorted. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Max said, nodding his head. “Really good.”

“You have such a way with words, Max."

“Shut up,” Max huffed, flexing his thigh under Charles’ hand.

“I’ve been thinking about that night, too,” Charles said casually, moving his hand from Max’s thigh to his forearm. He turned Max’s arm over in his hand, tracing the veins along his forearm until he reached his wrist. Charles wrapped his fingers around Max’s wrist and tried to touch his middle finger to his thumb but couldn’t reach it.

It did something really fucking weird to Max’s cock.

“What have you been thinking?” Max asked, begging himself to be fucking cool.

Charles leaned in to speak directly in his ear, maybe so the driver couldn’t hear him, but probably just to torture him. His breath sent goosebumps down his spine as he whispered, “How nice your pretty cock would feel inside me.”

#mastermind fic #fic snippet

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dognonsense · 1 year ago

Note

Can patch pants be sweatpants, or do they have to be a certain material? I'm disabled and it's so much easier to wear sweatpants or stretchy pants than any other material

patch pants can definitely be sweatpants!

My first three pairs of patch pants were all jeggings, they weren't even denim. Fucking leggings. 2 didn't even have a zipper to pull up it was just an elastic waist with the whole zipper crotch zipper it was just decor, it was legging but styled to look like jeans. I lived in singapore and it was too fucking hot to wear jeans. My school uniform was black pants so i patched them all.

but yeah make sure to post what u make and send it to me so i can reblog it! I cant wait to see what u make!

#im fucking stoned #punk #diy #patches #diy patches #patch pants #crust punk #crust pants #crustpants #sks #asks #me

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luckyluan · 6 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 3.1: THE STAKE OUT

They dashed around the debris and the two of them reconvened at the back door. Maxim was dressed in all black. He wore a turtleneck, jeans, boots, and gloves. Antwan hiked the lengthy black zipper of a khaki jumpsuit up to his chin.

“That’s what you’re wearing? In the field?” Maxim admonished.

“It was my anniversary before it became a mission, Max, and I think you should think about what is under this jumpsuit...” Antwan teased.

“Twenty pounds of Kevlar and an armory of razors and knives, I’d wager.” Maxim chortled.

“Damn right.” Antwan confirmed. “Let’s go.”

They did not bother to secure the gaping hole in their dining room. Antwan, instead, trailed a vial of copper blood onto the burgundy rug under the table and knocked over a few vases in the den. Maxim turned up the volume of the downstairs television up to an obnoxious level. Antwan lifted the window over the kitchen sink and launched himself to the ground. He landed with ag runt while Maxim, noiselessly, lifted his body over the sink. He lowered himself on to the ground and signaled his husband to follow him.

Antwan nodded and the two of them set off at a jog. Maxim pointed to a sizable light fixture fastened to the corner of their transitional style home and Antwan understood. They kept low to the ground and cut wide arcs in their manicured lawn. He unlatched a concealed lock—obscured by a colorful birdhouse—and Antwan pushed a small section of the wooden fence aside. Maxim allowed the barrel of his gun to lead the way into the passage as he and Antwan slunk into the woods beyond their suburban alcove.

“Head for the Honeymooners.” Antwan said. “They’re on vacay until next month.”

“Cliff and Eden are on vacation again?! What are we doing wrong?” Maxim whispered.

Antwan gave him a nudge and the pair trudged through the murky woods in silence. Maxim did not question his husband when he stared off into the towering trees. He simply let him gaze until he whispered an order.

“Left.” Antwan whispered. “No... other way...”

“How do you know where we’re going?” Maxim called.

“I marked the trees with Radiant Squid Ink.” Antwan explained. “Eagle did a biology project on bioluminescence last month. I took advantage. Keep up, old man.”

Antwan pinched his cheek and Maxim squinted after him as he sauntered off into the winding shadows. A high stone wall came into view and Antwand handed Maxim his picnic basket as they approached. Maxim dropped to bended knee and Antwan climbed up on his leg. He launched himself onto the wall and straddled the stones. He held out his hand and Maxim offered him the picnic basket before he bounded up the rough stone wall. He dropped into the neighboring yard with Antwan beside him and his husband aimed a middle finger at him.

“You never accept my help.” he pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Maxim conceded. “You’re right. I could lean on you a little more. May we continue?”

“Get the cameras.” Antwan growled.

Maxim busied himself with the fuse box after Antwan disappeared through a narrow window and the electricity of the luxurious house faltered when Maxim used his copper blade to slice through a blue wire.

“Get in here, negro!”

Antwan’s gloved hand dangled out the window. Maxim threw a leg over the low windowsill and crawled into a well-organized laundry room which smelled of clean linen. Maxim steeled his nerves as he drank in the refreshing scent.

“This won’t be like Singapore.” he said.

“Agreed.” Antwan said. “Secure the perimeter.”

“Set up for a long night.” Maxim finished.

They crept into the shadowy hall and Maxim signaled Antwan to sweep the first level before he set off up the stairs. A few moments later, he called down to his husband.

“Upstairs is clear.”

“Down here too.” answered Antwan.

Maxim loped down the right of the imperial staircase and swiped a stubborn patch of dust off the black banister.

“Anything?” Maxim asked.

Antwan sat cross-legged on a plush cream blanket while he carefully laid out his guns. He straightened his weapons as he counted. Maxim observed the assortment of right facing hilts. Guns, cartridges, machines, and knives littered the wicker picnic basket and Antwan jammed his hand into its depths for more bullets.

“Nope. Don’t see anything, but I had a thought. You don’t just attack people like us. You surveil them. Whomever attacked us was watching us.”

“You think it's someone from The Order?” Maxim gulped.

“Yes, dear.” Antwan rolled his eyes. “I believe it was another one of The Order who took the same oath to never fire on family. No, ding dong. I think it was something Abnormal though. They attacked us at night. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Most of us use nightfall. That’s training. I don’t think it’s a coincidence, but I also don’t think it’s significant.” Maxim challenged.

“If you said what I just said it would’ve been gospel.” Antwan unleashed.

“True, but I’ve been doing this longer.” Maxim winked.

‘Anyway, I think I’m right.” Antwan continued.

“Of course you do.” said Maxim. “But I am inclined to agree. This attack is not random and coming in the night was not just strategy. It was necessity.”

“Vampires.” They groaned in tandem.

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in-the-key-of-f-major · 2 years ago

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I love being a nonbinary transmasculine person in Singapore because I just ordered myself a zipper binder from Peecock Products and I selected the pick-up option so that my family will not see the package arrive in the mail

#rey talks #trans #nonbinary

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zipper-and-ribbon-printing · 3 months ago

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shcksingapore · 2 years ago

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thatpaintedpony · 2 years ago

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It’s Christmas day so you know what that means . . . year in review time! And whooo boy what a year it has been.

In February, I took Sky to the DNSW competition at SIEC for what was “supposed” to be our last real hurrah at Prelim level before we started looking to make the move to Novice. She went incredibly well, scoring a 71% in one test and a 72% in the other. Competing at SIEC was basically a walk in the park by this point, but I was absolutely thrilled by how well she went. I also had a ridden photoshoot with my best bitch Lexi and we got some absolutely stunning photos with Sky (both of us incredibly sweaty – don’t miss that about the Hawkesbury).

In May, Sky and I had our first crack at Novice in an unofficial competition with the Murrumbateman Adult Riding club. Despite barely warming up because my boot zipper broke right before my test, she put in a really solid effort. Our leg yields weren’t great and she was a little unbalanced in some of the 10m circles, but we definitely didn’t embarrass ourselves. Unfortunately, we’d already entered the ACTDA comp a couple of weeks later at Prelim, thinking we weren’t quite ready for Official novice. Turns out we definitely could have done it!

The ACTDA day was not, unfortunately, our day however. I think she was still holding some stiffness from the fence incident and she was very very tense, against the bridle and stiff. I made two errors of course in one of my tests and was a bit disappointed with it overall. Even so, we got 62 and 68% in our two tests and placed third in both, proving we were well and truly ready for the move up to Novice.

With the inaugural Hawkesbury Dressage Festival fast approaching, with us entered in both Prelim and Novice tests, and our first ever freestyle . . . I fell over and broke my hand like a knob two weeks before the festival. I’ve never been so absolutely gutted. It wasn’t even a fun story. I just slipped on some ice, and that was it.

Still, since a certain someone had pestered me into joining the committee, I had to go anyway. My amazing friends kept me from feeling too down that I couldn’t ride and put together a gorgeous birthday celebration to keep my spirits up. It was a massive undertaking over the span of 9 days and I had a lot of fun.

I did, however, catch Covid at the festival and had the worst week ever (covid sucks yall).

Once I got over the old ‘rona, I started lunging Sky again in preparation for when I might be able to ride again (she was spicy) and then in mid July at long last I was back in the saddle again. Only to get flooded, almost immediately.

I had, for some insane reason, entered NSW State Dressage Championships at the start of September, and between the INCESSANT rain, covid and my broken hand, we really did not have the most ideal lead up. We did what we could to make it work, doing walk work when it was too wet to trot, trotting when we could, but MAN. It was not the best. We spent most of our time slopping around in fetlock deep mud and it was just truly putrid. And then I had the bright idea to got to Singapore the week before the comp! Because I am well prepared. And sensible.

Anyway, Singapore was awesome, though humid, and we did make it to states, despite our massive lack of preparation. And, of course, Sky was absolutely incredible. Despite not being ridden in the leadup to the comp, she put in two lovely tests and we placed 7th and 4th which, for our first ever states was just so exciting.

The weather remained incredibly shit. Through October, we had 3 floods and nearly constant rain. Fucking La nina, I tell you.

Anyway, at the end of October, we had entered AOR Nationals and while she didn’t give me the best feel on the day, she was an absolute trooper and we still came away with a 5th place ribbon. She floated up amazing, was great in the stable, and just really was awesome. November brought, at LONG last, Equitana! 18 months after we first planned our Equitana trip, at long last we made it to Melbourne for 4 days of non-stop horsey goodness. We met up with our online horsey friends and had an incredible time just living and breathing horses.

Despite a successful competition year, we never managed to get our official Novice start. After scratching from the Festival, we tried to enter two other ACTDA comps at Novice, both cancelled due to rain. We then entered the Canberra Classic in November aaaand she pulled up lame with a horrible case of seedy toe.

And that was pretty much it. She was lame for nearly two months with the seedy toe, and we’ve just been walking a lot to try and keep her brain occupied and her muscles working while we wait for it to grow out. December is apparently not our month. So. It’s been a massive year. We went to our first State Championship, our first National Championship. Cracked 70% at Prelim, did our first (Unofficial) Novice and moved halfway across the state. On the whole, it has been a stressful, up and down sort of year. But I have sworn never to enter another Prelim on this horse and I have high hopes for Novice this year! Fingers crossed for no more disasters!

#horsblr #horses of tumblr #equestrian #equestrians of tumblr #dressage #dressage horse #my horse #my posts #sky

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