˗ˏˋ ★ ― state of grace ˎˊ-

PAIRING: prince!caleb x fem!reader GENRE: medieval au, forbidden romance, slight angst WARNINGS: non-canon lore, brief discussion of class differences, somewhat heavy religious symbolism, kissing, suggestive romantic tension WORD COUNT: 2252 SYNOPSIS: prince caleb was never supposed to fall for you, especially not someone the kingdom would never accept. but somewhere between stolen glances and secret meetings, the line between duty and desire starts to blur. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is a completely non-canon royal au and is not intended to align with the events or lore of love and deepspace. this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long, and i simply wanted to explore the idea of a forbidden romance through caleb's character in a different way. it's really just a little writing exercise lol. i hope you enjoy.

Kingdoms have fallen and wars have begun over the things people were never meant to possess. Yet perhaps the greatest battles are not fought on fields of blood, but within the quiet chambers of one’s own heart. For desire is a dangerous thing — especially when it takes the shape of something beautiful, something innocent, something that makes you question every vow you have ever made. The heart does not care for rules or titles or the consequences that await; it only knows what it wants, even when wanting it means risking everything.

For Prince Caleb, the forbidden fruit did not come in the form of an inanimate object or a pursuit of something grander than he was, but rather a person. You were Caleb’s dark temptation. An aching, forbidden beauty that enticed every fiber of his being, and it was up to him to decide if he’d be foolish enough to succumb to it, whether he would have the self-control to not let this forbidden feeling consume every bit of his soul.

GENRE: heavy angst, unrequited love, the tiniest bit of fluff cause jaemin is a sweetie, childhood friends!au WARNINGS: none but be prepared for heartbreak ig WORD COUNT: 578 AUTHOR'S NOTE: for the longest time this used to be my favourite piece of writing from my old blog so im bringing it back !!! enjoy

"I'll promise you this - if we are both single by the time we are 25, I'll date you."

Jaemin feels as if he is physically here, but his mind is elsewhere - floating, drifting, further away from where he is right now; the words of your promise replacing all the other thoughts echoing through his head. The burning tension caught in his throat intensifies when he watches the tender smile adorning Renjun's face stretch from one side to the other, dipping his entire visage in unadulterated affection as he gently takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your hand fondly.

The world around Jaemin stands eerily still for a fleeting moment. Everything seems to move in slow-motion when he catches a glimpse of the flowery smile painting your features when Renjun leans in to whisper something in your ear; the same goddamn smile he had fallen in love with when you were both on the edge of turning thirteen.

Jaemin is suddenly hit with the spitting image of thirteen year old you, the creases of your forehead deepening with concern and anger at his heartbroken state, curling your pinky around his own, promising to date him when you're older because silly Kim Jisoo from the year above didn't realise she just lost the best thing she's ever had.

He remembers how it felt, to feel a fondness so violently gentle in nature that he cannot remember a time when his heart didn't pick up its pace at the sight of you.

Back then, he passed off his budding feelings for you as a side-effect of his teenage debauchery, just a phase he would overcome with time. That promise was silly - he told himself - a harmless pact that was only created to make him feel better.

But ever since then, Jaemin began noticing every little thing about you. He began noticing how you always poke your tongue out when you're too focused on a task; he began noticing how that one baby hair near your ear always curls more than the rest of your hair; he began noticing how you always snort when you laugh a little too hard. Jaemin noticed all of it and more.

The promise made him realise that there has always something about you, something about your warmth that made Jaemin feel like you could pull the planets together just with the force of your smile alone.

Even now, at 25, Jaemin still feels it - that familiar fondness in his chest tingling the tips of his toes when he sees you, and he suddenly feels thirteen again, falling for the first time.

He realises then, at that very moment, the reason why he has never dared to look at anybody else. The reason why he has waited for so long, hoping to finally meet you in the middle; the reason why his mind only pictures your lopsided smile beaming at him when someone asks him if he's ever fallen in love.

"So, what do you say?"

Renjun's question and waving hand snaps him out of nostalgic reverie, painfully reminding Jaemin that he's supposed to be answering a question.

Jaemin swallows thickly when he notices the silver ring adorning your left-hand, his tongue suddenly feeling much too heavy for him to form even the simplest of sentences.

PAIRING: female servant!reader x prince!mingyu (ft. lord wonwoo) GENRE: royal au, forbidden love with a steaming side of angst and light smut WARNINGS: explicit sexual content - mdni (fingering, heavy petting), strong language, emotional manipulation if you squint and power imbalance, mentions of arranged marriage WORD COUNT: 1353 AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by tswifts illicit affairs (angry version). this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long and it is way too similar to something that i have already written and posted but enjoy the flop anyway <33

“I need to talk to you.”

“Your Highness, I am rather preoccupied at the moment,” you reply through gritted teeth, barely moving your lips in case of any lip readers amidst the kitchen staff. You cut a quick glance at the raven-haired prince as you force the rolling pin away from you to flatten the dough for the umpteenth time.

“The matter at hand is of great importance,” Prince Mingyu declares, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes. You resist the urge to roll your own, irritated by the way he still manages to appear at the most inconvenient moments.

But now, covered in treacly batter and baking powder, Zayne reconsiders whether it was truly a good idea to make you a homemade picnic from scratch. He blames Caleb for this mess, for even bringing up the suggestion that it was the most romantic in the world to make your significant other their favourite baked goods. He knows he’s being dramatic, but if Caleb hadn’t put the thought in his head in the first place, then he wouldn’t be standing here, covered head-to-toe in a sticky concoction that is supposed to be mini chocolate chip cookies.

Zayne‘s meant to be ready for the date in half an hour, and judging by the mess he’s in, there’s no way he’s going to make it in time.

The panic settles in once he checks the time again, realising that he’s spent four godforsaken hours in the kitchen, and he rushes to take a shower, almost slipping on the melted chocolate on the floor in the process.

Zayne is almost an hour late by the time he finishes, his fringe half-wet from how sweaty he is from running in the torrid heat of the afternoon. Honestly, he doesn’t even care how he looks right now—he’s just glad he hasn’t managed to drop the entire basket of food on the way here because of how clumsy he is. He still feels guilty though, and apologises to you at least ten times before he’s satisfied that you know how bad he feels about being late.

“Wait—you’re telling me you made this? All of it?” you ask in awe.

Zayne nervously scratches the back of his head before replying, “Yeah, I don’t really know how to bake but I wanted to try for you.” He lets the lie slip past his lips before he can stop it. “It was nothing really.”

Yeah, nothing but four hours of pain and tears, he thinks to himself.

You peek into the basket, the sight of the baked goods awakening your excitement.

“Oh my god, Zayne! This is so cute!” you gasp when your eyes land on the mini chocolate chip cookies and the other delicious baked goods neatly packed inside.

“You even made the snowman heart-shaped!” you exclaim as you hold one of them in your hands, your heart swelling when you think about how much effort he had to put into making all of this. Sure, it’s pretty obvious they weren’t made by a professional, but still—it’s the thought that counts.

You’re too busy gawking at the various baked treats to even notice Zayne staring at you, smiling to himself at how adorable all of your reactions are to every one of the treats he’s baked. He knows they suck, but God, seeing your reaction makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. The smile that adorns your face is enough to rival the sunshine of the afternoon, and Zayne doesn’t think he will ever get tired of seeing you look this bright and giddy.

Just when Zayne thinks this day cannot get any better, you take a second to pry your eyes away from the food, leaning up to place a delicate kiss on the apple of his cheek.

“Thank you so much, Zayne. No one has ever done something like this for me before—I love it.”

Zayne swears he can feel his skin tingle even when you remove your lips from his cheek, his heart pounding in his ears as you smile innocently back at him. Just the mere action itself makes all of the hassle worth it.

GENRE: tooth-rotting fluff, nothing but good ol' domestic boyfriend!mingyu WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, being drunk and partying, lots of kisses, pet names (just baby), mingyu's love language clearly being physical touch and acts of service lol WORD COUNT: 675

In all the years Kim Mingyu has known you—five, to be exact—he has never seen you this hammered.

He always knew you were a lightweight, which was why you were usually so careful with your alcohol intake whenever you went out with friends. But tonight was different. And honestly, if there were ever a night to let loose, your best friend’s bachelorette party was a worthy occasion.

“Partied hard, huh?” he teases, glancing up at you from where he’s crouched on the marble-tiled floor, carefully undoing the clasps of your glittery heels. You let out a dramatic moan as he frees your feet from the torture devices you had optimistically called “elegant,” pouting at your gentle giant of a boyfriend.

“I only had three drinks,” you hiccup, trying your best to sound convincing. Mingyu quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused at your confession. He is not convinced, not after seeing the chaotic stream of videos you had sent him throughout the night to update him on all the shenanigans you and your friend group were up to.

“Okay, maybe seven.”

“Seven? Baby, that’s a new record,” He laughs, the sound warm and boyish, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

You try to stand, but your legs wobble beneath you. Mingyu immediately moves to steady you, his hands gentle but firm as you groan and lean heavily into his support.

“I swear I’m never doing this again,” you mutter, swaying involuntarily. You try not to think about the killer hangover waiting for you in the morning. “I still have to take my makeup off.”

Mingyu scoffs dramatically, pretending to be offended at your remark.

“You think I’m going to let the love of my life take their own makeup off when they’re this tired? What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

Without waiting for a response, he scoops you up effortlessly in his arms and carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the countertop like something precious. He moves with quiet efficiency, pulling out the makeup wipes and various other paraphernalia from the drawer and getting straight to work.

Mingyu’s touch is feather-light, gently wiping away the trades of makeup as if you were made of fine glass. Most of it has already faded—except for the smudged eyeliner, stubborn glitter and lashes that are still valiantly clinging to life. He’s so focused on the task that it makes you want to giggle, and when you do, he glances up, scrunching his nose at you in playful suspicion.

“Stop giggling, I am trying to focus,” Mingyu replies, booping the tip of your nose with a q-tip.

After each area he wipes clean, he presses a gentle kiss to the newly bare skin—your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose. And despite the buzz still humming through your system, your heart swells with a different kind of warmth.

Perhaps it’s the copious amounts of alcohol currently swimming through your system, but you swear Mingyu has never looked this ethereal. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and soft plaid pajama bottoms, he resembles something otherworldly—angelic, almost. The soft, mellow lighting in your shared apartment’s bathroom casts a golden glow over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the brown in his eyes.

You think you have fallen in love with your boyfriend all over again.

Overwhelmed by the sight of your beautiful boyfriend and the way his hands move to touch you, you can’t help but reach out and squish the sides of his cheeks, forcing his lips into a pout.

“I’m sorry you have to do this,” you mumble, the guilt slipping through your drunken haze.

He smiles, removing your hands from his face and interlocking it with his. He presses a kiss on the back of each hand, crouching slightly to level his eyes with yours.

“Baby, you do not have to be sorry at all,” he says simply, the softness in his voice never wavering.

GENRE: high school au (they both attend a prestigious school), enemies to lovers (if you squint), badboy!jaemin x overarchiver!reader WARNINGS: kissing/making out, very heavy tension, suggestive themes, jaemin being a shamless flirt as usual, mentions of academic pressures. WORD COUNT: 610

You knew the second you were awarded a full-ride scholarship to South Korea’s most prestigious high school that nothing about this chapter of your life would be easy.

You were prepared for the long nights, the rigorous expectations, the subtle stares from students whose tuition was paid in full by generational wealth and who wore designer clothing from head to toe. You were ready to be ten steps ahead—always—just to be seen as their equal.

What you weren’t prepared for was Na Jaemin.

Na Jaemin, with his lazy smirk and sharp tongue. Na Jaemin, who always strolled into class five minutes late (or, more often than not, didn’t show up at all), looking like he owned the world and couldn’t care less if he failed it. The same Na Jaemin who managed to worm his way under your skin and stay there—smug, infuriating, and entirely too pretty for your peace of mind.

You almost considered yourself lucky for successfully avoiding him.

Until now.

“If you’re not going to listen, then what’s the point of me tutoring you?”

“I am listening,” Jaemin replies, his tone coquettish and unbothered as he leans back in his chair. The sharp lines of his face catch in the silver-diffused moonlight spilling through the classroom windows. For a moment, you’re distracted—his piercings shimmer in the light, his lips twitch with amusement, and you almost forget why you’re here.

Almost.

“I am listening,” he repeats, grin widening. “You’re just too pretty and distracting for me to focus.”

You close your eyes, desperate to summon an ounce of patience. You seriously begin questioning whether the extra credit is worth it—worth him. Because this is Jaemin, the same Jaemin who doesn’t care if he fails every subject as long as he gets to watch you struggle to keep your cool. He knows someone like you—an overachiever with something to prove—won’t pass up the extra credit, even if it means being tethered to him for two hours after school.

"Seriously, do you even know how to use your mouth for anything other than to talk back to me?" you burst, growing visibly frustrated by his antics. You stare at each other for a while, the air becoming tense and thick. It isn't until Jaemin's lips twist into a full-blown smirk that you realise that there could be a different interpretation behind your words, but unfortunately for you - it's too late.

"What else would I use it for?" Jaemin murmurs, his dark eyes dancing back and forth between your features like he is memorising every single detail, trying to imprint this flustered image of you on the back of his eyelids.

"To do this?" he questions, his tone now husky and low as he lets his lips brush against the side of your neck, slowly dragging it upwards towards your jaw.

"Or this?" His lips are now on the line of your jaw as he increases the frequency of the wet kisses he peppers across your skin, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast against the coldness of the night. You close your eyes as a reflex, the action making Jaemin smile against your skin, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” he whispers, lips now barely ghosting over yours.

You don’t say a word. Just tug him forward by the drawstrings of his hoodie, closing the space between you.

And that’s when he laughs softly against your lips. A warm, wicked sound that curls right into your chest.

GENRE: slice of life, romance (i.e., a whole lot fluff), boyfriend!sunghoon x gn!reader

WARNINGS: lots of touching and kissing (non-explicit), references to past and future lives

WORD COUNT: 518

AUTHOR’S NOTE: yes this is inspired by that one clip of sunghoon reading out the comment about his moles. something about moles being markers of where you have been kissed is SO cute to me so i had to write this okay hope yall enjoy bye <333

When you were growing up, you used to dread Sundays. Not because anything particularly bad ever happened—but because they marked the end of the weekend, always arriving with the quiet warning that Monday morning and school were just around the corner.

But now, in your twenties, Sundays have become your favourite.

Because Sundays are specially reserved just for you and your boyfriend.

The hazy skyline of Seoul flickers in the far-off distance, painting every corner of your small apartment in warm, opalescent gold. The air feels lighter this morning—but different, too. Charged with something softer. Quieter. It’s one of those rare mornings when the rest of the city hasn’t quite woken up yet, and it feels like you and Sunghoon are the only two people left in the world.

You study the boy in front of you in the comfortable silence. Eyes trailing over every curve, every line, every quiet detail that softens his sleeping face. Like a painter studying their muse, you commit each feature to memory, as if trying to hold onto him in some eternal, wordless way.

Seeing him like this— here, in your bed — makes your chest swell with something you still can’t name. You’re sure it’s not just love. Not the kind you read about, anyway. Love feels too small a word to contain everything that stirs inside you when you look at him. This is deeper. Constant. All-consuming. Like a wound that aches and aches, but never fully heals.

“There’s this saying,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, “that moles show where your past lover kissed you the most.”

Sunghoon stirs slightly, meeting your gaze through the heavy blanket of his lashes. You reach up and gently trace the one on his cheek with the pad of your thumb. He doesn’t look away—just watches you with that gaze he reserves only for you: warm, unguarded, quietly fond. Sunghoon has always had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person on Earth worth looking at.

“Your past lover must’ve really adored you,” you tease, lips tugging into a sleepy smile. “You’ve got one on nearly every part of your body.”

He hums, amused. “You have them too. Two on your stomach. One on your right thumb.”

You pout, mock-offended. “That’s nothing compared to yours. I don’t think mine loved me as much as yours did.”

A brief silence settles between you. Then Sunghoon shifts closer, mattress dipping under his weight.

“I don’t know about past lovers, but…” he trails off.

And then his lips are on your skin.

First, the base of your throat—slow, careful. Then your jaw. Your temple. Your shoulder. Your stomach.

Each kiss lands with a little more intention than the last, like he’s trying to etch something into you. His mouth never lingers long in one place, instead trailing heat across your skin like he’s painting you with nothing but his lips.

You exhale shakily, a lump rising in your throat.

GENRE: angsty romance (?), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, badboy!jeno x softhearted!reader WARNINGS: kissing, heavy tension, a lil suggestive, mention of physical violence, jeno is briefly described as being a player, somewhat superficial descriptions of visible injuries (bruises, cuts, blood). WORD COUNT: 475

Come to think of it, it wasn't a rare occurrence to see Lee Jeno show up at your doorstep at ungodly hours of the night, his skin sporting fresh bruises and cuts from all the fights he was often involved in on a day-to-day basis.

You had grown quite accustomed to it, actually.

You don't know why he always came to you for help, but you never complained; you almost enjoyed his company a little too much at times.

You thought you had already seen the worst of it, but apparently you were wrong. You barely recognised the boy sitting in front of you now, face half swollen as he continues to pretend like he is perfectly fine.

"Doesn't it hurt, Jeno?" you crouch down in front of him, eyes focused on the red and blue bruises that adorned his skin.

Yeah, it had never been this bad before.

"I'm fine," Jeno breathes, though he winces when your fingertips run over a darkening bruise. You involuntarily mirror his reaction, clenching your jaw at his battered state. It killed you to see the boy you loved tear himself apart in such a brutal way. You wished you could tell him how much it hurts you to see him like this, but you thought it was perhaps better that Jeno wasn't made aware of your growing feelings for him—partly because of his long history with girls.

You weren’t naïve. You’d heard the rumors. About his temper. His past. His ties to people you were probably better off avoiding. But you’d always believed in making up your own mind.

And that’s how you ended up here—in the quiet of your apartment, nursing the wounds of a boy the world had already decided was too far gone.

"Don't worry about me,” he says, dark pupils flickering from your worried eyes to your pouted lips. You shiver under his curious gaze, fighting against your ever racing thoughts to keep your composure.

You curse quietly when he flinches at your touch again, an apology quickly slipping from your mouth. You don't know what came over you, but you suddenly felt a boost of confidence when you let your fingers trail over Jeno's skin, rubbing each and every mark softly.

Before you even know it, you find yourself kissing the bruises and cuts embellishing Jeno's face and neck, cautiously, so as to not worsen the pain he was already experiencing.

"It hurts now," he murmurs faintly, his eyes closed as he exhales deeply from his mouth.

"Where?" you ask, hand resting on his jaw as his half-opened eyes now pierce through yours. It's quiet for a moment, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

"Here," he whispers back just as your lips trace over the curve of his lips, "It hurts right here," he repeats again.