#Rom-com

[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.)

[denimbex1986]

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

[viviseawrites]

merry steddiemas, @malikat24601!!!! i hope you enjoy your gift!!! (and sorry it's so very nearly late!)

tingle, tingle

rated E | 17900 words | Steve needs a date to his ex's holiday wedding, and Eddie agrees to go if they can be "the worst dates possible for each other" while still being convincing as a (fake) couple. Shenanigans ensue with holiday fluff, mistletoe, smut, and the classic fake-dating miscommunication. 

read an excerpt now:

“Feels so good,” Eddie says, pouring the words onto his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” 

“‘m real,” Steve murmurs, framing Eddie’s face. He sweeps a curl back from where it was sticking and Eddie loses all of his words. He just stares, enraptured.

His mother always told him not to look directly at the sun. He heard it again in school, especially on days when there was an eclipse. “The sun is dangerous to look at without protection.” Over and over again, he heard it. But he liked looking at the sun. He liked seeing the bright lights imprinted in his vision. He liked the halo effect, the ghostly spots that slowly faded as he blinked back to normal.

This feels just like that. He hopes it follows the same course, that it brands his sense of sight with Steve, the holy aura of his pleasure and eager surrender, the brightness of his rumpled beauty. The collapse of an interstellar cloud; the formation of a star, a sun, a gravity well born right at the center of him, intense and inescapable. 

Steve stares right back. One day, Eddie will wonder what he sees in this moment.

and read the rest on AO3!

written for the #steddiewinterexchange

[stephanieburgis]

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

[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.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Last week, I rewatched the Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movie "Shall We Dance" for the first time since high school

I remembered a lot of the great dancing scenes, but I'd forgotten the humor in the script itself. As in this scene:

[hollywoodoutbreak]

Back in 2003, the romantic comedy How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days captured hearts and raked in a staggering $177 million at the box office. The undeniable chemistry between Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey had audiences hooked. The film's plot is a classic battle of the sexes: Benjamin Barry, a suave advertising executive, bets he can make any woman fall head over heels in just 10 days.

Even a decade after its initial release, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days continues to win over new fans through home entertainment and streaming platforms. McConaughey's charisma shines through, and when we spoke to him before the film was released, he shared that while the film wasn't exactly what he was seeking at the time, the script's unique premise and the chance to work with Hudson sealed the deal.

Both Hudson and McConaughey have expressed interest in a sequel, provided the script is up to par. Would you be on board for a revisit to their on-screen romance? While we wait and see, you can always relive the magic of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. It's readily available on DVD, Blu-ray, digital platforms, and streaming on Paramount+.

[agospei]

Jude Law in The Holiday (2006)

[cieuxgris]

Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain (2001) Posters

[this-is-lit]

Drop Dead

by Lily Chu

One mysterious mansion. Two rival journalists. Three weeks to uncover the story—and love—of a lifetime. Don’t miss this unforgettable romantic comedy!

Drop Dead by Lily Chu follows rival journalists Nadine Barbault and Wesley Chen as they race to discover the untold tale behind one of bestselling author Dot Voline’s books. Nemesis since college, Nadine and Wesley must put aside their rancor for a chance at a defining story of their careers.

Chu is a master of the lighthearted, feel-good rom-com tale. Drop Dead has everything readers of the genre expect from the rival-to-lovers trope, and while she throws in a dash of miscommunication, it is just enough to raise the stakes and cement deeper connections between our two protagonists and not too much that the plot depends on it. Nadine and Wesley come from their own places of hurt and have their own preconceptions; readers will empathize, sympathize, and root for Wesley and Nadine’s personal and business success. All of Chu’s characters are relatable to life in every way, with believable villains and friends who are also flawed. The narrative is character-driven, but the plot is engaging and will suck readers into the intrigue.

Lovers of this genre of books will want to delve into this story post-haste, but crime enthusiasts and readers looking for heavy angst may not find it appealing.

[rickchung]

Anyone But You (dir. Will Gluck).

Starring two extremely good-looking actors, Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell, their quick meet-cute turns into an expected misunderstanding when they realize they're connected through friends and family before an Australian destination wedding full of all the typical but fun rom-com genre shenanigans.

[jomiddlemarch]

While You Were Sleeping

Chapter 4

Some people, primarily Muggles, count sheep when they have trouble falling asleep.

Wizards preferred Puffskeins or occasionally crups. Molly Weasley had once admitted she counted crups in Weasley sweaters, after George had spiked her tea with something she made him pull from the store shelves.

(Hermione did not believe anyone who said they counted dragons other than Hagrid, who listed them off by their forenames.)

Hermione preferred facts.

Fact: the Eguzkiko continued to think she and Draco were a married couple.

Fact: Draco was fluent in at least five languages.

Fact: Draco wore a subtle cologne that smelled like Hermione imagined the Silk Road would, minus the camels.

(Unconfirmed fact: this was exactly what Amortentia now smelled like to Hermione, forget cut grass and parchment.)

Fact: Hermione’s facts were usually about statistics, geopolitical historical alliances, and characters in Dickens’ novels because her father had loved those dearly but since the start of this mission, her facts had increasingly, exclusively become All About Draco.

Fact: Hermione appeared to have Feelings for sodding brilliant, widely accomplished and knicker-incineratingly fit Draco Black Malfoy, Esq., Feelings she felt ill-equipped to express.

Fact: She felt no more drowsy now than when she’d extinguished the reading lamp and turned on her side to avoid trying to make out his profile or the exquisite line of his neck against the pillowcase.

Fac—THUMP.

“What was that?” she exclaimed.

“I don’t—” Draco began.

THUMP. Thump. thump.

“What the bloody fuck?!” Draco said, sitting bolt upright. There was a yelping quality to his cry, that couldn’t be denied, though his voice was still pitched low enough that no one would have called it a shriek. Also, being bolt upright showed his broad shoulders to notable advantage (who knew pyjamas could be so impeccably tailored?)

In any case, Hermione had that covered, the shriek-department that is. She did manage to keep it to one solitary shriek that she choked back at the end, right at the moment when Draco reached over and grabbed her upper arms. She only had a split second to evaluate the grabbing, but it was definitely from the making-sure-you’re-real and I’ve-got-you-don’t-worry categories, not the get-a-hold-of-yourself-witch or I’m-about-to-shake-you-silly-for-being-a-silly-bint. Also, his hands were big and warm and transiently made her feel very much cherished and she was glad she’d tied back her hair so he didn’t accidentally pull any of it, though the prospect of his hands gently running through her curls was dreadfully appealing.

When she wasn’t devoting her not inconsiderable brain-power towards the mental recitation of facts, she was capable of noticing quite a bit.

“Are you all right?” he asked. With the grabbing, he’d closed the distance between them and they were close enough she could see the hints of green and blue in his grey eyes, the faint shadow of his beard, a darker shade than his hair. There was a small scar near his left temple and she wondered at what curse had caught him there, how badly he’d been injured to leave such a mark impervious to the Healers at St. Mungo’s. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, are you?” she said. Her heart was still beating very fast, but it had more to do with Draco than the earlier noise.

“Yes,” he said. He loosened his grasp on her and let his hands drop, but they still rested on her forearms, lightly enough she could shrug him off. She did not.

“What was that?” she said when the moment had started to grow too intense, the hollow at the base of his throat too tempting.

“I don’t know,” he said. “At home, I’d guess it might be an old house settling for the night or a storm brewing, but here—”

“Could it be something magic?” she said. She swallowed, then said what she’d first thought, when all she had felt was terror, when she’d wanted to call out his name. “Don’t laugh at me—”

“I won’t,” he said.

“A monster. Under the bed. I know it sounds foolish,” she said.

Hermione was absolutely certain that every single one of her acquaintances, with the sole exception of Luna Lovegood, would agree it sounded foolish. And even Luna was likely to give her reassuring smile and tell her that kidakomori were far fonder of people than people ever gave them credit for and Hermione would have to pretend that she was aware of kidakomori and their undeservedly dubious reputation.

“It doesn’t sound foolish. Not to me,” Draco said. 

“What?”

“I didn’t want to say it first, because I agree it makes me sound unhinged, but I also thought of a monster under the bed,” he replied.

“You were supposed to talk sense to me. To tell me I was overreacting,” Hermione said.

“Are you even capable of overreacting?” Draco countered. “I realize I am tacitly validating your prior assault on me—”

“We were children! And you were beastly,” Hermione said.

“And I deserved it,” he said.

“Well, no one deserves to be hit,” Hermione said.

“I understand the progressive Muggle approach to childhood discipline and in general, I don’t disagree but in that particular situation, I must say I did. And not only because I was making a point.” He smiled at her and she liked it far too much.

“Do you really think there’s a monster under our bed?” she said, trying not to whisper and failing. 

“You said our bed,” Draco replied.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on? Not the monster part? And the fact that we have no wands and even wandless magic is verboten in here, even assuming either of us knew what spell to cast for a monster under the bed,” she ranted. Her exposure to Parseltongue had been so negative (whose wasn’t?) she kept herself from hissing, but it was a close call. Draco moved his right hand from her forearm to her wrist and then laced his fingers through hers. It would have been the sexiest move she could remember any man making except for the possible monster beneath them.

“Inanis belua, but you have to put the emphasis on the bel and let the final a drift. Like leviosa,” Draco said.

“Inanis belua,” she repeated.

“Perfect,” he said. “You’ve always had an ear for incantation.”

“How did you learn it?” Hermione asked. It seemed he wasn’t going to make her face the implications of our bed. At least not at the moment.

“Narcissa,” Draco said, again referring to his mother by her first name. Hermione almost wished for another round of eerie thumps to distract them both from the ticking bomb that was his relationship with his mother. “She coddled me, as much as she could—the Malfoy heir was expected to be superior in all regards, but the Blacks tend to be high-strung, overly sensitive. It was a secret, that she taught me the spell. I wasn’t to tell my father.”

“I don’t think it’s coddling to make your little boy feel safe,” Hermione said, hoping she’d picked the least inflammatory aspect of what he’d shared. The less she said about Lucius Malfoy the better. Even after all these years, she wasn’t sure she could talk about him without venom and however Draco felt, the man was still his father, albeit immured in Azkaban .

“Perhaps,” Draco said.

“I suppose you think it’s horribly middle-class of me. Or Muggle,” she said.

“I think you were raised by kinder people than I was,” he said. Hermione thought of the estrangement that existed between her and her parents and also how it had been as the Grangers’ little girl, the plush calico kitten that had been tucked with her under her covers, the bedtime stories, the trips to the library with a trolley to bring home her latest acquisitions. When she thought of them, they were still Mum and Dad.

“It was Bellatrix who taught her the spell,” Draco said, watching her face. His own eyebrows were drawn together, a serious expression similar to one he wore when wrangling with a particularly thorny bit of medieval Eguzkikan legislation.

“I take it you’re of the confront your fear persuasion,” Hermione said. “Or is this some kind of weirdly roundabout apology Or a Pureblood thing? If it’s a Pureblood thing, you’ll have to give me some context, like whether it’s all the Sacred Twenty-Eight or just the Blacks. It doesn’t feel authentically Malfoy.”

“I’m not sure what it is,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, still hanging onto her right with his own. “I thought, we’re talking about monsters, from our past, we’ve never spoken about what happened with Bellatrix. We’re sleeping together every night, it seemed odd not to address it but perhaps that was better—"

“It wasn’t better. But this isn’t necessary,” she said.

“I think it is,” Draco replied. “Necessary, but not better. She’s so hard to talk about and no one wants to, beyond cursing her, and I understand, but to not talk about her, it’s as stupid to me as blasting Andromeda off the tapestry. And I’ve never told you how terribly sorry I am that I couldn’t figure out some other way to help you, when she was hurting you. I don’t know what I could have done but that’s not enough, Hermione. It never was and now—”

Draco broke off and Hermione found herself raising her left hand to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. It went on far to long for him to mistake is for only gentleness.

“D’you know, I think we’ve had enough of monsters,” she said. “Only I wonder—”

“What?” he said.

“There’s been no more noise. Might we have done wandless magic with that spell of yours, banished the bedframe’s resident horror to parts unknown? And if we did, will the Eguzkiko be deeply offended and break off diplomatic relations?” Hermione asked.

“I won’t tell,” Draco said. “Wandless is near-impossible to trace and tandem wandless hasn’t been recorded. Or regulated in any magical region. I think we’re safe.”

*

Fact: Draco’s eyes weren’t only grey.

Fact: Draco had been a little boy afraid of monsters.

Fact: Hermione wanted to fall asleep holding Draco Black Malfoy’s hand. And he let her.

[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."

[milliondollarbaby87]

What Happens Later (2023) Review

Willa and Bill are ex-lovers who see each other for the first time in many years when they are both snowed in at an airport overnight with delays and cancellations for all flights. ⭐️⭐️ Continue reading What Happens Later (2023) Review