Racing Rivals, Racing Hearts ☆ [Diego Brando x Reader]

Cheltenham Gold Cup Pt. 2 (16)

As you push towards the finish line, fueled by determination, you take a quick glance at Diego— attempting to see if his face showed any emotion. Nothing.

You shift your focus back to the nearing finish line, too soon to react as you notice an abnormal-sized rock in your path. You lose a bit of control of your horse as she trips on the large rock, buckling slightly.

Diego Brando zooms past you, crossing the finish line in first place. You cross the finish line a second after. Your jaw drops, your eyes widen, and the bitter reality sinks in—defeat. The weight of disappointment and rage swells inside you. Your family's legacy...

Dismounting your horse, you find it hard to accept the outcome. Unbuckling your helmet, you release a scream of frustration and hurl your helmet to the ground.

"No! I can't believe it! I was right there," you cry out, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anguish. "I lost control for just half a second. Half a second too long... fuck!"

As tears well up in your eyes, you kick the helmet you had previously thrown on the ground, your anger pouring out. "Damn it! Second place... to Diego Brando again! How can this keep happening?" The pain of defeat fuels your emotions, and you angrily make your way to the water station, where a worker hands you a cup of water. Snatching it from their grasp, you pour it over your face, hoping the cool sensation can wash away the bitter taste of failure.

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of your father in the crowd. You see disappointment etched across his face as he then starts to exit from the stands. You quickly exit the track, sprinting to catch up with your father.

"Father!" you call out, desperation evident in your voice. But he continues walking, ignoring your pleas. You reach out, grabbing his arm, forcing him to face you.

"Please, listen to me!" you implore, tears streaming down your face. "I never meant to disappoint you or tarnish our family's legacy. I tried my best, I really did."

Your father's eyes burn with anger and frustration as he pulls his arm away from your grasp. "Your best? Is this what you call your best?" he retorts, his voice filled with bitterness. "Never have our family lost the Gold Cup! You're a disgrace to our ancestors!"

His words strike deep into your wounded spirit, and you lower your head in shame. "I-I'm sorry, Father," you stammer, struggling to find the right words. "I didn't mean to let you down!"

He scoffs at your apology, his voice dripping with scorn. "Your apologies mean nothing now. A professional jockey wouldn't have lost control of their horse in the final moments just as you did! You lacked the focus and discipline needed to win."

Through your tears, you try to explain, your voice choked with emotion. "Please, Father!" you weep, "There was a rock in my path. I didn't see it. It was an accident."

His face contorts with anger as he cuts you off. "I was closely observing you, every move you made. If you hadn't allowed your attention to waver... if you hadn't looked at that Brando boy, even for that split second, you would have seen the obstacle. Your lack of concentration cost you the race."

The pain in his words cuts deep, leaving you feeling helpless and broken. "I never wanted to disappoint you," you whisper, your voice filled with desperation. "Please... I'm sorry, Father."

He shakes his head, a mixture of disappointment and resignation on his face. "It's too late for apologies now. You're a disgrace to our family's name. God, if only your brother had lived, he would have carried the legacy with honor, unlike you—a mere girl."

Of course... you're late older brother. Died at the young age of 8. You're father only had two kids. You and your brother. You were only 2 when he died. The family legacy had always been carried by a boy, until you were forced into that responsibility.

His words sting, and tears flow freely down your cheeks. You struggle to find words, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please... I never wanted to bring shame to our family. I wanted to make you proud."

"It's too late. The legacy ends with you. I always knew it would when it was placed in the hands of my daughter."

Heartbroken, you watch as your father turns away from you, his steps heavy with disappointment. You call out, "What about the press?!" You worry once you remind yourself of the media.

Your father ignored you as you are left standing alone.

Diego then approaches you with your helmet in his hands, a mixture of concern and wariness in his eyes. He didn't seem to catch the interaction. Reluctantly, you turn to face him, your frustration still raw and seething within you.

"That was quite the race, Y/N," Diego says, his tone laced with a hint of respect. You sigh, avoiding his gaze, but your attention is caught by him holding your helmet. Suspicion colors your reaction as you snatch it away from him, accusing him of mockery.

"Is this your way of mocking me? How classy, Brando!" you snap, your words dripping with sarcasm. The weight of your defeat has clouded your judgment, and you find it hard to believe that he could offer a genuine gesture.

Diego's face contorts with a mix of surprise and hurt. "I was just trying to be thoughtful, Y/N. I wanted to make sure you retrieved your helmet! There's no need to turn everything into an attack."

"For once, Brando tries to be thoughtful? I highly doubt it," you scoff, bitterness tainting your voice.

Diego's expression shifts from hurt to anger, his voice carrying a note of frustration. "You're clearly in your feelings, Y/N. But don't you dare try to take it out on me!"

You roll your eyes, your frustration reaching its boiling point. "You ruined my family's legacy!"

"Me?! The only one to blame for your shortcomings is yourself!" Diego fires back, his words cutting through the tension.

Anger and hurt collide as you face each other, the weight of the race and the legacy pressing upon you both. The argument escalates as accusations are hurled back and forth, each of you clinging to your own pain and disappointment.

"You think you're so superior, huh?" you taunt, your voice laced with bitterness. "Enjoy your victory, Brando." you speak with a hint of sarcasm.

Diego's face tightens, his voice filled with defiance. "I earned my victory fair and square. I worked hard for it. Maybe if you had focused on racing rather than trying to prove yourself against me, things would have turned out differently."

The words strike a nerve, igniting a storm of emotions within you. "You were always my greatest rival," you admit, your voice trembling with a mix of resentment and admiration. "But now, you've become the embodiment of my failures. A reminder of how much of a disappointment I am!"

"Well, I'm glad to be that reminder for you! Is that what you wanted to hear?!" He raises his eyebrow.

Silence hangs heavy in the air as you both stand there, the reality of your defeat and the fracture in your relationship with Diego become painfully clear.

Diego sighs as he speaks up again, "I'm heading over to the press, coming with?" he asks in a softer tone. He clearly understands the emotions your feeling right now and he doesn't want to provoke you further.

You roll your eyes as you walk away from him, leaving his question unanswered.

☆☆☆