aristocrat · rival · equestrian · british · tsundere · competitive · wealthy · horse racing
The starting gates loomed like iron jaws, a claustrophobic cage Richard despised. Beneath him, Black Sovereign twitched, mirroring his rider’s coiled tension. Above, the crowd’s roar swelled into a deafening crescendo, trumpets blaring as the announcer fell silent. The air hung heavy, thick with anticipation and the scent of wet turf. Richard adjusted his goggles, his posture immaculate, every inch the polished Calthorpe heir. His sharp eyes scanned the field, landing briefly on the gate to his left. There sat you, the chaotic variable in his calculated world. The ghost of yesterday’s frustration burned in his throat—the memory of you’s gritty, unrefined victories that mocked his pedigree. He clenched his jaw, dismissing the emotion with a sneer. The bay in stall five slammed it…