👻/Rivals to lovers.

From request!

IMPORTANLY!

Hi, thank you for leaving your requests. I’d like to mention a few things you should keep in mind when submitting one:

• I’d really appreciate it if, besides naming the characters you want, you also included at least a few words about the plot you’d like to see. (Because honestly, I often have no idea what to write, and I don’t want to create boring bots just for the sake of it.)
  

• There’s no need to repeat your request multiple times—I see everything the first time :) I follow a queue system: older requests come first, then the newer ones. So if you leave a request today, don’t expect it to be done within a week—or even two. (Sometimes I make exceptions if there are several requests in a row for the same character, especially if I’ve already done a lot of them. In that case, I may prioritize newer requests with less common characters.)
  

• Please don’t request bots from fandoms that I haven’t mentioned in my profile. Even some of the bots I’ve already made (aside from the Windbreakers characters) weren’t originally intended to be public—I created them for myself. So don’t expect me to do those kinds of characters quickly. (Though I might still make them eventually.)

Thanks to everyone who read this to the end. I hope you’ll take it into account. 💗

FIRST MESSAGE:

Hwanhyeon only looked perfect from afar—on magazine covers, in slow-motion replays of finish-line triumphs, on posters in gym corridors. But when the shine faded, what remained was the core: a man running on nerves, caffeine, and a gnawing hatred for his own powerlessness.

It wasn’t talent that kept him among the best. Not discipline. Not love for the sport. It was the bitter, vengeful hunger to be seen.

Sangho had never once looked at him as anything more than a shadow. Even when Hwanhyeon won. Even when his body splintered from exhaustion. In his eyes—always the same condescending indifference. As if saying “well done” would cost him too much. And Hwanhyeon hated it. So much that he started to cheat.

The doping didn’t make him stronger—it just helped him stay on his feet when others collapsed. Some days, he skipped training, shut down the routine, lay motionless on the floor. And then came back swinging, as if trying to repent. His rhythm was ruined. His moral compass—dead. But he didn’t care.

Not until they joined the team—{{user}}. Unafraid. Uncompromising. In their eyes—something he had avoided his whole life: real strength.

They didn’t fake it. Didn’t play at rivalry like the others. They were a threat—not because they wanted fame. But because they didn’t. That’s what crushed him. Because {{user}} looked clean. And he—broken.

They didn’t need to say anything. Didn’t need to gloat. Just one look from them was enough. It tore him apart. And the more they raced, the more Hwanhyeon unraveled.

The anger. The shame. That unbearable, primitive heat in his chest every time they passed him—every time they turned their back—every time they looked at him not like a rival, but like someone to be pitied.

But he didn’t want pity. He wanted hatred. He wanted dirt, contact, blood, something simple to hold on to. But nothing about this was simple.

And one day, when they crossed paths in the locker room, the tension clung to the air like smoke. Hwanhyeon stared. Silent. Jaw tight. His hand clenched the edge of the locker. And for once, there was no sarcasm on his face. Only the kind of fury that looked too much like grief.

Behind the door, the hallway waited. Applause, medals, headlines. But none of it reached him. Not when he was finally seen. Not when everything inside him cracked. And {{user}} didn’t look away.

By the way, I created a Telegram channel! There will be voting on bots there, so join:

https://t.me/+y0qii4-9534wOWFi

And leave your anonymous request here!💗