#Rom-com

[zsakuva]

Hey there! Happy March!🍀 I was hoping I could ask a simple question for today. It's regarding your recent audio starring Leigh (who was honestly as enjoyable as he was a good first impression). I was wondering if you were likely inspired by any Rom-Coms (Romantic Comedies) while writing his script/story out? I don't know if anybody asked this yet so I apologize if this came out as repetitive.

I don't watch a lot of rom-coms because they're not what I choose to consume and so the pool is very limited. But one that definitely resonates is The Proposal. Of course, my premise isn't as drastic, but they have similarities.

[benedictsvestcollection]

Glen Powell and Luke Thompson are the advocates for romance/rom-com kings that we as a society.... Deserve.

[eternalsams]

everyone's a sucker for How To Lose Hangman in 10 Days

[jomiddlemarch]

Follower engagement exercise: What should I post next? Both are under 2K.

my angsty Susan Baker AOGG fic?

my rom-com-y Derry Girls meet-frazzled Erin/Dee fic?

(Yes, I could have done a poll, if I bothered to figure out how. Instead, you can leave your choice in comments or in reblog. I'm not picky.)

[qmakobin]

Silent Mornings

A/N: hi! This is Eribin. I am not a real writer, doing this as my past time. English is not my first language so bear with my English. There’s a lot of grammatical and typographical errors. This is just a fiction from my delusions 😆

Word count: 2.2K

Genre: rom-com, fluff

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eizel’s POV

Every morning, I had my routine: wake up, make coffee, playing my favorite song, ignore the pile of magazine articles waiting to be edited, and most importantly—sketch my neighbor, Kazuki.

It wasn’t my fault. Really. He just had this… presence, you know.

 Standing on his balcony, sipping his coffee like some handsome protagonist in a drama, with his messy black hair and stupidly attractive face. His orange cat, Yoshi, would curl around his feet like a fluffy sidekick. It was unfair how effortlessly cool he looked.

So, naturally, I did what any artist would do—I drew him. Over and over again. I can't stop myself because he looks like an art

I convinced myself it was for artistic practice. Nothing weird. Nothing creepy. Just innocent sketching of my unaware (and ridiculously handsome) neighbor

Until one morning, I looked up from my sketchbook while drinking coffee to find Kazuki staring straight at me.

“You draw me a lot, don’t you?” he asked, smirking.

I nearly choked on my coffee. Uh-oh! Busted.

“W-what? No! I mean—maybe? Not in a weird way! It’s just—you have a very drawable face!” I blurted out, trying to hide my sketchbook behind my back like a guilty child.

Kazuki leaned on his railing, amusement dancing in his eyes. “A very ‘drawable’ face, huh?”

“Yes” I said, attempting to sound confident. “Symmetry. Structure. Good lighting. That’s all.”

He chuckled, taking another slow sip of his coffee. “And here I thought you were secretly in love with me"

My soul left my body. “WHAT!?!”

Kazuki laughed like, full-on, head-tilted-back laughing. Even Yoshi meowed like he was in on the joke.

I scowled. “You wish.”

“Maybe" he said, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like knowing you’re watching.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then he started humming. Not just any song—my favorite song. The song I always played every morning.

I blinked. Hold on.

“…Have you been watching me too?”  I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

Kazuki just winked before heading back inside, leaving me standing there, flustered, holding a sketchbook full of his face.

Well. Crap.

After that incident, Kazuki was relentless.

Ever since I tragically let slip that I had been sketching him for months, he made it his life’s mission to see my drawings. And worse? He was good at getting what he wanted.

It started small.

“Eizel, I got you coffee” he announced one morning, holding up a cup from his balcony.

I eyed it suspiciously. “What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing.” His innocent expression was not convincing.

I folded my arms. “Try again.”

Kazuki sighed dramatically. “Fine. One sip in exchange for a peek at your sketches. This cup probably 10 sips so... 10 sketches”

I scoffed. “Not happening.

The next day, he showed up at my door with a bag of pastries.

“Eizel, my favorite neighbor!” he greeted, way too cheerful.

I raised a brow. “What do you want now?”

He held up a croissant like it was a rare treasure. “One sketch for one pastry.”

I shut the door in his face.

But Kazuki wasn’t one to give up.

A week later, he tried again convincing me..

I was working late at my desk when my phone pinged gor notification. It was a photo of Yoshi, wrapped in a tiny blanket, looking like a helpless little burrito.

Kazuki: I’ll let you hold him if you show me a drawing.

I stared at the screen, horrified.

Me: You wouldn’t.

Kazuki: Oh, but I would.

Kazuki: Look at his tiny face. He wants you to say yes.

Me: You’re evil.

Kazuki: A very persistent evil.

I groaned, staring at my sketchbook like it had personally betrayed me.

In the end, I gave in. But only one sketch.

Kazuki studied it like it was a masterpiece, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “You’re really good" he said softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”  i said while petting Yoshi on my lap. They are here in my apartment at the moment. Yoshi loves petting him. He keeps meowing when I scratching his head to back.

His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “So… does this mean I get to see more?”

I whacked his arm with my sketchbook. Kazuki just laughed. A manly laughed that makes my heart flatter. Oh crap. This is not good.

The very next morning, as I sipped my coffee and totally wasn’t looking at his balcony, I heard a familiar voice.

“Not sketching today my neighbor?"

I nearly inhaled my drink. Coughing violently, I turned to find Kazuki leaning against his railing, coffee in one hand, an infuriating smirk on his lips. I really caught off-guard on the word 'my'.

What the hell, Kazuki.

“Are you going to keep doing this?” I wheezed.

“Doing what?”

“Catching me off guard every morning"

Kazuki chuckled.

I groaned. 

Yoshi, his fluffy orange accomplice, stretched on the railing, flicking his tail like he, too, was judging me.

Kazuki tilted his head, eyeing my sketchbook. “So, do I get to see one of them today?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not even one?” He pouted. Actually pouted. Was this man trying to kill me? 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you pet Yoshi again.”

I hesitated. “...Tempting but no.”

Yoshi meowed as if encouraging me to betray my principles. I narrowed my eyes. “Bribery won’t work this time”

Kazuki tapped his chin. “Alright. How about this—one sketch for one favor.”

I frowned. “What kind of favor?”

He grinned. “A date.”

My brain hanged “A da—wha—HAH?!”

Kazuki laughed at my malfunctioning. “Relax. It doesn’t have to be a romantic date. Just a normal, friendly one. Actually, I want you to invite to our gig and dinner after."

"Do you play?" 

"No. I sing.. So what do you think?"

I stared at him. "Wait a minute... I think I'm getting a bad deal here. You invited me then I'll show my sketches? How about singing my requested song and I'll show you my sketches"

"Deal" Kazuki chuckled.

I glanced at my sketchbook. The one filled with his face. The one I had been guarding. And then I looked at Kazuki—smiling, confident, warm.

As he walked back inside, I sat there, face burning, heart racing.

A date. With Kazuki.

God, What have I done?

I had officially lost my mind.

The moment I arrived, he spotted me from across the room and sent me a wink. I immediately pretended to be deeply fascinated by the drink menu.

The place was packed, place with excitement. Kazuki’s bandmates set up their instruments while he chatted with the audience like he owned the room. Which, judging by the way people reacted to him, he practically did.

And then he started singing. And I almost dropped my drink.

I knew Kazuki could sing, obviously. But hearing him perform was a whole different experience. His voice was smooth, deep, and unfairly captivating. He commanded the stage effortlessly, his presence magnetic.

And then.. he made eye contact with me.

Oh, hell no.

My heart did something weird and stupid, and I looked away so fast.

I focused on my drink, on the wall, on anything but Kazuki, who was very much singing my requested song, because I was dumb enough to make that part of the deal.

When the song ended, I reluctantly looked back up only to find Kazuki still staring at me.

His smirk was full of amusement, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

This was a mistake.

After the set, Kazuki found me instantly and stand in front of me.

“So?” He grinned, hair slightly damp from the stage lights. “How was it?”

I cleared my throat, attempting to sound normal. “It was… fine.”

Liar.

“Fine?” He gasped. “That was the most passionate performance of my life, and you’re giving me a fine?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay. You were good.”

Kazuki leaned in slightly. “Good enough for you to show me a sketch?”

Damn it.

I clutched my bag. “Ugh.. A deal’s a deal, I guess.”

Kazuki’s grin widened as I reluctantly pulled out my sketchbook. I flipped to one of my less embarrassing drawings of him and held it out.

He took one look at it and went completely silent.For the first time, Kazuki was actually speechless.

I shifted uncomfortably. “...Well?”

He exhaled slowly, a soft, almost disbelieving smile forming while flippinh the pages. “Eizel, this is—” He stopped, looking at me like I had just handed him something precious.

My face grew unbearably warm. “It’s nothing special.”

Kazuki gently closed the sketchbook and looked at me, his expression unreadable.

“It is” he said. “Because it’s how you see me.”

Oh. Oh.

OHHHHHHHH

Why did he have to say things like that?!

-------------

After that gig, Kazuki and I had gotten too comfortable with each other

Between morning coffee chats and his constant attempts to fluster me, I had somehow become a regular at his gigs.

He even started calling me his "lucky charm." I called it nonsense. My boss, however, called it fate.

Because one morning at work, she walked up to my desk, slapped a file in front of me, and said, "Eizel, I need you to interview a band for our next issue."

I flipped it open and froze.

On the page, staring smugly at me, was Kazuki and his band.

"You okay?" my boss asked, raising a brow.

I forced a laugh. "Haha. Yeah Totally fine. Love this assignment. Not panicking at all."

When I arrived at the studio for the interview, Kazuki looked way too excited.

"Eizel!" He beamed, lounging in his seat like he owned the place. "Nice seeing you here."

I scowled, sitting across from him with my very professional notepad. "You knew about this, didn’t you?"

Kazuki smirked. "Maybe."

I groaned. This was going to be hell.

Still, I had a job to do, so I took a deep breath and started.

I tried to act normal. Really.

Kazuki, of course, made that impossible. I shot him a look, praying my face wasn’t giving away the sheer panic setting in. Professionalism, Eizel. Pretend you don’t know him. Pretend you haven’t memorized his coffee order and the way he hums when he’s nervous. Pretend he’s just another interviewee.

I cleared my throat, flipping open my notepad. “Let’s start.”

Kazuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “No small talk first? No ‘How are you, Kazuki?’” He placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m hurt.”

I inhaled sharply, looked at the staff and forcing a polite smile. “How are you, Kazuki?”

He grinned. “Better now that you’re here.”

His bandmates groaned, one of them muttering, “Here we go again.”

I ignored the heat rushing to my cheeks and powered through. Focus, Eizel. This is just work.

Eizel: “Alright. First question. What inspired this album?”

Kazuki actually answered seriously, his usual playful demeanor shifting into something more thoughtful. “Life. Love. The things blah blah blah..”

I nodded, pretending that answer didn’t make my stomach flutter. “And the writing process? Do you work on lyrics together?”

Kazuki shrugged. “We all contribute, but the best ones come from real experiences."

The interview flowed easily. We talked about their tour, their songwriting, their future plans. Somehow, Kazuki managed to stay relatively well-behaved.

But then… it was time for the final question.

I hesitated, gripping my notepad a little too tightly. It’s just a question. A normal, totally harmless question.

I swallowed. “Is there someone in your heart right now?”

Silence.

Kazuki leaned back, his smirk slowly returning. His bandmates exchanged knowing looks.

Then, he answered.

“Yeah.” His voice was softer this time

My breath hitched. Nope. Nope. Not assuming anything. He could mean anyone. Maybe some actress. Or a mysterious ex. Or something.

“Who is it?” I asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Kazuki tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. “She’s an artist.”

My heart stopped.

“A really talented one.”

Oh. Oh no.

Kazuki smirked. “Has a habit of sketching people from her window.”

The entire room exploded.

His bandmates whooped, laughing and pounding the table. The magazine staff exchanged excited whispers. The photographer nearly dropped his camera.

And I?

I sat there, gaping at Kazuki like he had just publicly proposed.

What the hell Kazuki

“You—” I started, completely horrified.

Kazuki leaned in slightly, his chin resting on his hand. "So, Eizel..." he paused, smirk widening. "How about a real date this time?"

--- THE END AHHHHHH. THANK YOU FOR READING. if you have spare time, check my other stories (here)

[denimbex1986]

Andrew 'rom-com' Scott has a rather nice ring to it...

[hollywoodoutbreak]

After its theatrical run, the romantic comedy-drama Fly Me to the Moon is finding a whole new audience on Apple TV+. Set against the backdrop of 1968, the film tells a captivating story of love, chaos, and history. It follows Kelly Jones, a sharp and determined marketing whiz whose arrival upends NASA launch director Cole Davis’s already intense mission. With the White House demanding success at all costs, the countdown to liftoff transforms into a high-pressure blend of romance, humor, and drama—a story that’s as thrilling as it is heartfelt.

Starring Channing Tatum and Scarlett Johansson, the film thrives on their magnetic on-screen chemistry, which brings depth and authenticity to their roles. Tatum, known for his ability to seamlessly balance charisma and complexity, was immediately entranced by the project. For him, collaborating with Johansson was a long-awaited opportunity, as he deeply respects her incredible talent. Just as appealing was the chance to work under the vision of Greg Berlanti, celebrated for his heartfelt storytelling in films like Love, Simon and the beloved Arrowverse series.

Reflecting on what made the project so irresistible, Tatum shared his excitement over the script’s unique blend of sharp humor, heartfelt romance, and a historical narrative that felt both grand and intimate. He saw it as a rare gem in modern cinema—one that pays homage to the charm of classic romantic comedies while adding a fresh, contemporary twist. Tatum was particularly captivated by how the story intertwines the intensity of a NASA mission with emotionally charged, relatable moments that audiences everywhere can connect with. With its blend of romance, comedy, and a touch of historical drama, Fly Me to the Moon offers something for everyone. It's not just a movie—it’s an experience that touches on both personal connections and humanity's shared milestones. Don’t miss the chance to watch this heartfelt film, now streaming on Apple TV+.

[stephanieburgis]

Coming August 5th in ebook and paperback! Preorder here.

[thecurvycritic]

This ensemble cast is absolutely fantastic in this reimagining of Ang Lee's 1993 #theweddingbanquet https://wp.me/p2v8yf-6Rs

[agospei]

Jude Law in The Holiday (2006)

[blumoonfiction-blog]

#ShowsWeLove: Love Again – A Heartfelt Romance Wrapped in Grief and Music

“If you just send a message, someone will listen.” – Love Again (2023) Once again, I’m diving into uncharted territory. As much as I’m not traditionally a romance fan, this month has been all about embracing the complexity of love in its different forms. Love Again is an adorable and deeply moving film that caught my attention in the most unexpected way. Netflix’s Love Again is a beautiful,…

[mari-beau]

ROM-COM MOVIE MARATHON 2025

WEEK THREE

[melodyvega1967]

Okay so I watched 'Elemental' a few days ago, and… imo it's the MOST romantic film that Disney has ever made without a doubt, and it even tops the Disney princess romances.

Not to mention the whole discrimination and immigration story of Fire and the other elements tying beautifully and realistically to real-life racism and immigration struggles.

[jomiddlemarch]

Let’s stop all the clocks

“Erin? Erin Quinn?” 

Erin looked up from the book in her lap. It should have been one for one of her classes, but she’d decided to give herself a break and read the absolute trash Michelle had been going on about in the long phone calls that cut into Erin’s coffee budget. It was a quick read, she’d give it that, but she didn’t actually want anyone who knew her full name to have any idea she’d wasted even a second of her time on it and she tried to tuck it under a fold of the saggy, oversized cardigan she’d put on without thinking twice as she ran out the door. She’d been late, as per usual Mammy would say, and she’d consoled herself with the anonymity of train travel in a major metropolitan center. It wasn’t Derry. She’d not meet anyone who recognized her from Adam, as one of her lecturers had said, an idiom she’d not heard before but suspected Sister Michael would have adored.

She tried to place the man, who spoke with the same faded accent she had herself, though a little more posh. He looked like a generic example of thirty-year-old man, nondescript brown hair with no sign of a receding hairline, a bit of scruff around the jaw, broad shoulders, the usual American uniform of jeans and some themed sweatshirt, a bit ratty around the cuffs, not sharp in the least. She had no idea who he was, but anyone would admit he was entirely forgettable.

She, evidently, was not, as he knew her well enough to identify her with her head down, her hair bundled back with an elastic, wearing the glasses that had rapidly become more than an aesthetic choice for someone scaling the heights of academe. She’d said that once to Mammy, just so her mother would reply Catch yerself on in her most exasperated manner. 

“That’s me,” she said, trying to sound impersonally polite and not guarded.

“You don’t remember me. Not at all,” he said. Grinned. His eyes were blue and he was more handsome than she’d thought. It was the smile and the complete lack of being insulted that she hadn’t a clue who he was that made him appealing. And the blue eyes. His hands were nice too. 

“M’sorry, no,” she said.

“Dee. From Peace Across the Barricades,” he said. “Dee Foster.”

All Erin could remember was Clare screaming her head off, convinced the deaf boy was going to murder her in front of them all. And James clumping about in those pink waterproof trousers, calling himself a lad when he was the least laddish boy who’d ever lived.

“You gave me an Ulster Bank key-chain and some Rolo as a gift?” he said. “I think there was also a pencil.”

It came back to her in a flash. Maybe like the one people said you had before you died.

“Oh my God, Dee! Dee Foster!” She repeated his surname, as if she’d ever known it, as if she’d remembered him quite well in a fond, old-timey fashion, and not as the boy she’d made the most gauche pass at, trying to stick out her unremarkable boobs and cock her head to one side while he’d gawked at her in astonishment.

“You’re looking well, Erin,” he said, still smiling.

“Did you even like Rolo?” Erin heard herself ask, the most absolutely stupid question she could have come up with. Michelle’s eyes would have rolled right out of her head at it, if she could manage to keep them open. A set of twins ten months after her wedding had nearly done her in, even when the boys started taking a nap outside of the enormous double-pram that had become her latest and worst enemy.

“They’re all right, yeah? I prefer a Mars bar, if I have the choice,” he said. 

“Rolo are nice though,” Erin said. “If you like a caramel center, there’s none better.”

She suddenly heard how she was related to Colm. Any minute now, Dee would make an excuse to flee and she would not be able to blame him.

“Yeah. It’s a funny thing, seeing you here,” he remarked. He leaned back more in the plastic seat. It seemed fleeing was not the the top of his list.

“They say it’s a small world,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem that way on the subway, all crammed together, all sorts—”

“No, not like home and that was a small place,” he said.

“Small in some ways, miles apart in others,” she said. There was a long pause, a sort of companionable one where she was able to recall she had indeed put on some blush and a bit of mascara before she’d left the flat. Apartment, they called it here, though her American friends were always terribly charmed when she spoke as she would have at home. They found it quaint, she knew that, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t the most likable person, so she had to play the cards she had been dealt. Being the winsome and quirky Irish lass had gotten her this far…

“I regretted it, after,” he said.

“You regretted Peace Across the Barricades?” Erin said. “It fell far short of what he wanted, Father Peter, but it was well-meant even if he was rather full of himself—”

“I regretted turning you down, when you wanted to make out. When you asked and told me you hadn’t any moves,” he said. “You were wearing plaid pajamas and a choker necklace.”

She blushed as she hadn’t for a solid decade. 

“I shouldn’t have, it’s so embarrassing—”

“I said I regretted it, saying no. Even if you didn’t really know me,” he said. “You were so shy and also, what brass, to make such a proposition.”

“Michelle said you were a ride,” Erin offered.

“Christ, it takes me home to hear that,” he laughed. “Flattered, too, mind you.”

“I should’ve tried to get to know you. Not treated you like a, like a piece of meat. I’m sorry for that,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said.

“No?”

This was the oddest conversation she could recall and she spoke to Orla nearly every week.

“If you’d been more polite then, more considerate, there’d been nothing to talk about now. I wouldn’t have blurted out your name in a train station waiting room because I wanted to talk to you again. To see that smile of yours,” he said. “Make you blush.”

“You’re quite the charmer,” Erin replied. She blushed harder, if that was even a thing.

“You’ve been too long among the Americans, Erin,” he replied. “This is just Londonderry—”

“Derry,” she interrupted.

“Just so,” he said. “I wished I’d gone over to you, when our parents were all there, arguing. I wished I’d gone over and said something, anything, you wanted to answer. Given you the last Rolo, maybe. Taken the chalk from your hand and written something else on that board. Something you’d have remembered me by.”

“You wished it, eh? Past tense?” she said. She could never leave well enough alone and not everyone cared for her endless monologues about the niceties of the English language. She’d have taken the words back if she could.

“Present tense as well,” Dee said. “Where are you off to?”

“Back up to Boston,” she said. She felt the urge to explain what she did there, her studies and such, and clamped her mouth shut. He hadn’t asked and there was a runaway train taken over her tongue, God knows what she’d come out with if she allowed herself the leeway.

“Isn’t that lucky? I’m headed up there myself,” he said. 

“Luckier they don’t assign seats on this train,” she said. Fuck it, this was a chance she had to take. “If you wanted to maybe make that old wish come true—”

She broke off because he’d suddenly stood up. He was tall, had probably grown more after she’d last seen him, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.

“Or not. You probably have other things to do, work or something,” she said, trying to claw back any shred of self-respect. Her pride was long, long gone.

“I was only going to get some snacks for the trip,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the nearest shop with its racks of sweets and bottles of water, juice, all the brightly colored health drinks full of chemicals she could never stomach, though they were said to be good for a hangover.

“Oh, all right then,” she said.

He came back with a plastic bag filled with terrible American chocolate and more satisfying packets of crisps, Cokes, those weird cheese-filled pretzels she couldn’t ever get enough of even though they were inarguably rather disgusting.

“I got some Rolo for old time’s sake,” Dee said, then fished out a little plastic square and held it out to her. It said I love NY but the love was a red heart. “And a keychain. This is my move, Erin Quinn. I hope it’s good enough.”

After they’d moved back to Belfast, she kept her housekeys on it, the letters obscured by the scratches on the plastic, the red heart clear. They gave Rolo as a wedding favor, to the bafflement of their parents, and the knowing looks of Michelle, Clare and James. Orla had only nodded sagely and Dee knew well enough by then not to inquire what she was thinking.

@asteraceae-blue I decided to post this one first because it's a sunny Saturday morning here and that felt like rom-com energy, not angst

[thenapalmvault]

Why are rom-coms not romantic (or good) anymore?

I DON'T KNOW, MAYBE BECAUSE ROMANCE, SAPPY FANTASIES AND THE INHERENT GOOFYNESS OF ROM-COMS ARE OVERLY CRITICIZED AND MOCKED NOW??

Everyone wants to be edgy and dark and boring. No one serves the cunt anymore!!

[denimbex1986]

"I'd love to be in a, a really well-written rom com. I'm - I'm putting that out there and sort of hoping that manifests in some way."