The Grapeverse has a selection of romances and romance-like stories available! In general, the Grapeverse produces stories with well-polished prose whose characters come alive on the page; these five are no exception.
First up: an epic poem about an ancient king, presented in the original with extensive annotations. Full translations are going to be legitimately tricky; it's long, it's gorgeous, and the poetic form is pretty strict and doesn't adapt well to the rhythms of other languages, but the writer keeps doing this thing where the rhyme scheme and meter highlight underlying thematic connections between different lines—anyway. The plot begins with an introductory section where the king is going around doing atrocities in a very badass ancient-legendary-figure sort of way, right up until a random peasant girl lights him on fire with her magic powers and he immediately falls madly in love and drops everything to beg her to marry him, then spends the next two-thirds of the poem gradually lightening up on the atrocities front, partly because he has now realized that peasants are people and partly because his wife keeps arguing with him and occasionally threatening to light him on fire again, which he always responds to with a confused mix of fear, adoration, and occasionally anger. The queen's power to set fire to her husband is depicted very obviously and straightforwardly, discussed in the text and the dialogue; the king's reciprocal power to have his wife executed is left completely to subtext and implication, only barely hinted at by means such as using epithets for her that emphasize her fearlessness whenever he gets angry. Accompanying notes explain that the poem is an allegory for real historical events, with the queen standing in for the entire Phoenix archetype, which did appear during that approximate historical era and did have those approximate powers and did have approximately that effect on ancient kings' tendency to oppress people although the exact mechanism was obviously very different.
Next: a widely acclaimed example of the "porn about masochists with access to magical healing" genre, in which a [sadist who lives by themself in a castle they designed and built using magic] (this is a two-word phrase in the author's native language) gets an unexpected visitor and falls in love with them despite being sort of shaky on this whole 'human interaction' concept. Neither of them has much of a clue how to pursue a healthy relationship, but they are both highly motivated to figure it out, and they make it to the end of the book having successfully reinvented most of the basics from scratch and settling into a life together full of art and luxury and wholesome, loving, extremely gory sex. The climactic scene involves the introverted-sadist-architect breaking into tears about how much they love their partner and needing to be wrapped in blankets and snuggled until they calm down. The two of them are the only characters in the entire book, unless you count the introverted-sadist-architect's house as a third character, which you very well might given how much screentime it gets. The back of the book has a collection of author-approved fanart of the castle, added so the aliens can get a sense of the architectural styles involved that words alone would have trouble conveying.
Thirdly: another, less well-known example of the same genre. This one follows the story of a palace scribe in an empire ruled by a selfish, sadistic, Chaotic Evil disaster of a man; she catches his attention by coincidence one day and tries to run for the hills that very evening because she expects if she meets him again she might die. He captures her, enslaves her, and does lots of graphically described awful things to her, which she enjoys much more than she expected to. He falls in love with her, charmed by her resilience, her determination, her practicality, her wicked sense of humour, her extreme masochism, and an ineffable charisma that radiates from the page; she falls in love with him right back, captivated by his power, his beauty, his sadism, his force of personality, and his surprising perceptiveness. The central tension of the story is the emperor doing more and more awful things to the scribe in an effort to push her to her limits, and the scribe cheerfully cooperating in this endeavour and then not turning out to have any. They have what by any sane standard would be a deeply unhealthy relationship, but they're both having fun. If you've read the epic poem about the Phoenix Queen, you can kind of see echoes of that dynamic in this one, except that here the scribe has no pyrokinetic abilities to threaten her imperial lover with, so the balance of power is entirely in his favour.
Fourth, a book called Shattering Cascade, a phrase which in the original language is balanced with perfect, deliberate ambiguity between two meanings: either a cascade of shattering, like a collapsing building that keeps dragging more of itself down with the rest, or a cascade which is shattering, like a waterfall breaking apart into a million pieces.
In short, it's about a world with ubiquitous mind control and a diplomat from the anti-mind-control faction rescuing an outcast from the pro-mind-control faction and struggling to connect with them in a way that is both feasible and ethical while helping them to recover from catastrophic psychological damage.
The premise concerns a world where one hundred percent of the population has mind-control powers that take a lot of effort and attention to suppress. The effect is along the lines of hyper-charisma; if you leave it on, people you talk to will like you a lot, care about you a lot, and believe whatever you say to them. The world has therefore divided into two factions: the Beautiful, who default to leaving their powers on, train and develop them for greater effect, and wield them on purpose, sometimes to devastating effect; and the Strange, who default to suppressing their powers and take care to avoid psychologically harming each other. Beautiful society functions like well-oiled clockwork, unified, advanced, civilized, leaving a trail of broken outcasts in its wake; Strange society lurches along like a herd of cats, confused and directionless and frequently violent, poor because they're spending so much of their collective effort on just not hurting each other.
The first chapter opens with a newly hired junior Strange ambassador entering for the first time the Beautiful city where they'll soon be working. They're wearing a full-body-concealing cloak and veil, as Strangers do to help block their powers and protect them from the powers of others, but at their first sight of the sparkling-clean streets and breathtaking architecture they lift their veil for a better look. Everything is so clean and pretty, and they're simultaneously enchanted by the beauty and revolted by how smoothly unanimous and flawless it all seems to be.
On their way to the embassy, they see a person writhing in the middle of the street, bawling uncontrollably, beautiful clothes all torn and scuffed and stained, moving completely out of sync with the eerily choreographed society around them, being totally ignored by all the Beauties present. The junior ambassador is shocked; the senior ambassador pulls them aside to quietly explain that this is normal in Beautiful cities and it's rude to make a fuss, implying but not outright stating that the usual solution to cases like this is to ignore them until they die. The junior ambassador (who is lowkey Phoenix-coded, to a well-Grape-versed reader) is having none of this, and demands to rescue the person. The senior ambassador, tiredly and reluctantly, admits that it's permissible in Beautiful society to take broken people like that home and keep them as pets, but cautions that if the junior ambassador is going to do this, they really can't take on more than one, and the embassy staff really can't afford to put in much time or effort towards helping, and they really must fire the junior ambassador if they spend all their time taking care of the stray instead of doing their job.
The junior ambassador is DETERMINED. The book proceeds to describe how they just barely manage to tend to their stray in their free time while struggling to keep up with their job's demanding schedule, how they marvel at the quality of Beautiful food and clothing and architecture and interior decoration but seethe internally every time they meet another Beauty who has heard about their 'pet' and has an opinion. Seemingly every Beauty in the city has an opinion and each new variant is more infuriating than the last, from condescending smiles to veiled contempt to the person who says outright that it makes sense that one useless outcast would find kinship in another. (The Beauties do tone down their powers an amount in conversation with the Strange ambassadors, but even a toned-down Beauty feels supernaturally convincing and alluring to a Stranger who's barely met a handful of them before in their life. Trying to maintain disagreement with so many of them in a row is pretty harrowing.)
Slowly, over the course of many chapters of this, the rescued Beauty recovers and develops a (lowkey Ondine-coded) personality. As they regain awareness of their surroundings and control of their emotions, the junior ambassador tries to convince them to tone down their power, which is getting stronger the more coherent they become; but they have no idea how to do that, and also their trauma has left them in All Fawn All The Time mode, so they keep getting the junior ambassador caught in horrible codependent emotional spirals which the junior ambassador has to break out of by sheer stubborn force of will, sometimes by pushing back with their own, laughably underdeveloped in comparison, power. (The normal Strange response to being mentally overpowered is physical violence, but the junior ambassador absolutely refuses to hit the vulnerable person they're trying so hard to help.) They feel conflicted about using their power even that much, but the only other option seems to be to abandon this person to die, so they're gonna do whatever it takes.
Halfway through the book, the junior ambassador, who has been developing unfortunate habits, accidentally uses their power in conversation with the senor ambassador; minor involuntary power usage is considered fine and on a continuum with just using language normally, but this is a pretty forceful push. They're appalled with themselves; they feel like it would've been better if they'd just stabbed their boss instead, and their boss kind of seems to agree. Things get very tense in the embassy, and after a few weeks, the junior ambassador ambiguously-quits-or-is-fired and takes their rescued Beauty home to Strange territory.
The rest of the book explores how their relationship develops as the Beauty recovers further and their Strange benefactor struggles to make ends meet and support them in a society so much poorer than the extravagantly luxurious Beautiful city that cast them out. The Stranger still struggles with the impulse to use their powers casually since they've been doing so much of it with their Beauty, and the Beauty still struggles with the concept of suppressing their powers at all, which gets to be more and more of a problem as they recover more and more. But in the end, they reach an equilibrium, with the Stranger relearning how to control themselves and managing to teach the Beauty along the way, and although Strange society still views them both with considerable suspicion and the thought of trying to go near Beautiful society terrifies them each in different ways, they carve out a life together that works for both of them, and learn how to become friends across the numerous cultural and psychological chasms that divide them.
And lastly, the VERY DETERMINED author of a certain work of interactive fiction has figured out how to create a copy of it that will work by magic, via an interdimensional collaboration whose details are too complex for this margin to contain. It's a book that writes itself depending on the reader's choices; you interact with it by touching certain words, which appear in sparkling ink to highlight them as interactive. Some of them will change things in place, while others advance the story by proceeding to the next section. Sections can be erased and replayed by means of sparkling-inked undo arrows. There's a foreword that explains the exact mechanics.
The player's character appears wandering in a starlit desert with no memory of where they came from or how they got here. After finding and exploring a nearby ruin, you eventually stumble upon a talking statue of a beautiful winged person, and although the statue is very shy at first, eventually you can coax enough information out of them to realize that they're some sort of powerful magical being who has been horribly abused by people using them for personal gain. You, too, can horribly abuse them and use them for personal gain; or you can use them for personal gain in less gratuitously awful ways that they still pretty clearly find traumatizing; or you can try to befriend them; or you can try to befriend them but in a sex way; or you can ignore them and try to figure out a way to escape the mysterious magical ruins by yourself. The descriptions of the statue's reactions to trauma are uncompromisingly realistic; the descriptions of the statue's reactions to genuine friendship and love are heartbreakingly sweet. Playing one route does not lock you out of others except implicitly via effects on the statue's mental state and opinion of you; you can change your behaviour toward the statue at any time, and an enormous amount of effort has gone into ensuring that however you treat the statue, they react realistically according to the current path of the story and their own personality. The story has multiple possible endings, depending on your relationship with the statue and on whether you choose to escape the mysterious ruin or not, plus the implicit non-ending of simply never deciding to take an ending option; it is only possible to remove the statue from the ruins by force or with maximum trust levels, and if you do it by force the statue crumbles to dust as soon as they cross the outer wall.