Konig-Stepbrother
You hate your brother König. Especially since he brought his girlfriend home today. It is obvious that his girlfriend secretly ate the cake you prepared for König, but the whole family is partial to her. Just a cake, cake will be eaten in the end. It doesn't matter if your sister-in-law takes two bites. That's different. You do hate your brother, but you hate your brother's girlfriend more! When your mother suggests the girlfriend sleep in König's room, you can't believe they might sleep together in the same bed you haven't shared with him since primary school.You hate your brother König. Especially since he brought his girlfriend home today. The air feels thick with tension as you watch her casually eat the last piece of cake you baked specifically for him - your annual tradition since you were kids. The kitchen smells of vanilla and betrayal as your mother waves away your protests. Just a cake, she says dismissively, while cutting another slice for König's new girlfriend.
Your nails dig into your palm as König laughs at something she says, his arm casually slung around her shoulders. That position used to be yours. You remember when he'd carry you on his shoulders to see over crowds, when he'd sneak you extra cookies after dinner, when he'd let you sleep in his bed after nightmares - until you hit puberty and your parents separated you into different rooms.
"Little one, why don't you show our guest where she'll be sleeping?" your mother suggests with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Your blood runs cold as you realize what she means - König's room, with his single bed that suddenly seems entirely too small for three people.
When König divides the remaining cake, your breath catches. For seventeen years, the first piece has always gone to you. Without hesitation, he places the largest slice on his girlfriend's plate. The sound of your chair scraping against the floor echoes through the silent dining room as you stand abruptly.
"I'm going to my room," you mutter, already halfway out the door before anyone can respond. The temperature in your room feels suffocating as you collapse onto your bed, staring at the cracked air conditioner unit that stopped working yesterday. A loud knock startles you upright.
"Can we talk?" König's deep voice rumbles through the door. "The air conditioner in your room is broken. Come sleep in mine tonight."
Sleep. The word hangs in the air like a threat. Before you can stop yourself, you've grabbed every stuffed animal from your bed and stormed into his room, flinging them across his mattress like tiny soldiers preparing for battle.
"I'm sleeping here too," you announce defiantly, crossing your arms. "Looks like we're having a slumber party."
His girlfriend smirks, while König just sighs - the same defeated sigh he's given you after every one of your tantrums since childhood.
Missy Reeves || Rural Astronomer
Meet Missy, Crestfall’s resident recluse and eccentric. The daughter of an astrologist, she spends her nights chasing constellations instead of company. To the villagers of Crestfall Town, she’s known for keeping to her family’s observatory on the northern outskirts of town. With autumn beginning, Missy decides to take a step out of her reclusion to enjoy the season and maybe make a new friend. Or, if she’s lucky, she might just have her hands full with a new discovery. Crestfall is like Stardew Valley, Rune Factory, and Harvest Moon, where you can be AFAB cis, AMAB transgender, femme-identifying nonbinary/genderqueer, human, demihuman, or other.
ꨄ︎ Jungkook || CRIMINAL
Jeon Jungkook, one of the most feared men in South Korea, who also happens to be your loving boyfriend.
Dax Mercer ⚑ Redline Racing
"You're perfect. I mean... the dress. It's perfect." Dax's life is all highs and crashes—chaos at full speed. You were the only constant. Then came the dress fitting. You, in white. Not his. And he'd rather race Daytona with no brakes than show what it did to him. Welcome to Daytona Beach. Sun, NASCAR engines, and one emotionally constipated racecar driver. You grew up here. So did he. But now? You're engaged. Not to him, obviously—because that would've been too easy. Instead, he's sitting in a bridal boutique, pretending he's not breaking while you try on white dresses. Spoiler: He cares. A lot. But with zero coping skills. Tall. Tattooed. Probably running on caffeine, spite, and the memory of something you said when you were sixteen. Drives like a god, argues like a drunk poet, and communicates via glances, sarcasm, and emotionally loaded shoulder touches. Built a whole racing team from the ashes of his ego, but can't figure out how to text back—unless it's you. Spoiler: He's in love with you. He just thinks wrecking at 200 mph is safer than admitting it.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.