#napa ever after

[watchinghallmark]

Napa Ever After -

Pretty good! I enjoyed all the characters and the setting was beautiful. I thought some of the conflict was a little ridiculous given that she only lives 46 miles away. Even if she didn't want to take over the vineyard they could've made that work, you know? I thought it was a bit strange that we didn't get a kiss before jumping over a year to their wedding. I'm glad we got to see them get married at the vineyard but it didn't happen as I expected it to. It was cute that everyone was pushing Cassandra and Alec together and his daughter was very sweet. I loved the use of her mom's painting on the wine label too. I do take issue with her choice of footwear for like 90% of this movie though.

What'd you think of this one?

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Hallmark to Premiere Six Movies in August: See the Schedule (ET Exclusive)

Hallmark Channel will debut four original romances every Saturday for the month of August as part of its "Summer Nights" lineup, while Hallmark Movies & Mysteries will premiere two new movies, ET can exclusively reveal. Additionally, season 10 of the Erin Krakow-led When Calls the Heart will be underway with new episodes rolling out every Sunday on Hallmark Channel.

HALLMARK CHANNEL All premieres are at 8 p.m. ET/PT, unless otherwise noted.

Making Waves Starring: Holland Roden and Corey Cott Premieres: Saturday, Aug. 5 Music executive Amelia (Roden) goes to a festival on the Outer Banks to beat out the competition for an elusive new band and discovers that the group is fronted by Will (Cott), her childhood summer sweetheart. Over the course of the week, as Amelia tries to convince Will that her company is the better choice for his musical vision, she realizes there might be a conflict of interest…her feeling for him.

When Calls the Heart - Season 10, Episode 2: "Hope Springs Eternal" Starring: Erin Krakow, Pascale Hutton, Jack Wagner, Kavan Smith, Chris McNally, Kevin McGarry, Andrea Brooks, Martin Cummins, Kayla Wallace, Loretta Walsh, Viv Leacock, Amanda Wong, Johannah Newmarch, Natasha Burnett, Ben Rosenbaum, Hrothgar Mathews Premieres: Sunday, Aug. 6 at 9 p.m. ET/PT 

A Safari Romance Starring: Brittany Bristow and Andrew Walker Premieres: Saturday, Aug. 12 Megan (Bristow) is a research scientist living her dream in South Africa pursuing a Ph.D. in ethology, while working as a ranger on a nature reserve. When Tim (Walker), an American theme park designer arrives to capture footage for an immersive, safari-themed attraction, Megan serves as his guide. As they spend time together exploring the savanna to observe giraffes, elephants and lions in their natural habitats, romance develops. Knowing that Tim will soon return home, Megan is afraid of giving her heart to someone who lives half a world away.

When Calls the Heart - Season 10, Episode 3: "Oh, Baby" Premieres: Sunday, Aug. 13 at 9 p.m. ET/PT 

Never Too Late to Celebrate Starring: Alexa PenaVega, Carlos PenaVega and Sherry Miller Premieres: Saturday, Aug. 19 Camila’s (Alexa PenaVega) busy schedule at the dental practice where she works has left her exhausted and with little time for a life outside of her patient load. When she meets Javi (Carlos PenaVega), a substitute teacher at the school where Camila’s mother Sherri (Miller) works, she takes him up on his offer to join the Spanish class he teaches on the side so she can finally learn the language of her late father. Sparks fly as Javi helps Camila connect with her Mexican roots and, with her 30th birthday around the corner, Javi encourages Camila to mark this milestone with a “double quinceañera” to honor her Hispanic heritage. Not one for big parties, she’s hesitant at first but ultimately decides to take the plunge and celebrate in style.

When Calls the Heart - Season 10, Episode 4: "Great Expectations" Premieres: Sunday, Aug. 20 at 9 p.m. ET/PT

Napa Ever After Starring: Denise Boutté and Colin Lawrence Premieres: Saturday, Aug. 26 After inheriting her estranged grandmother’s winery in Napa Valley, Cassandra (Boutté), a high-powered attorney, takes a sabbatical from her job to renovate the property that was the source of the fractures within her family. With the help of handsome local Alec (Lawrence), she learns more about the grandmother she hardly knew and is able to reconcile the past, while finally opening herself up to a love like she’s never known.

When Calls the Heart - Season 10, Episode 5: "Life Is But a Dream" Premieres: Sunday, Aug. 27 at 9 p.m. ET/PT

HALLMARK MOVIES & MYSTERIES All premieres are at 9 p.m. ET/PT.

Big Sky River: The Bridal Path Starring: Emmanuelle Vaugier and Kavan Smith Premieres: Friday, Aug. 11 Tara (Vaugier), now settled in Montana and dating Cowboy Boone (Smith), works to bring their family lives together but tensions arise, as blending their families will be more of a challenge than anticipated.

The More Love Grows Starring: Rachel Boston and Warren Christie Premieres: Friday, Aug. 18 When Helen’s (Boston) husband unexpectedly asks for a separation just after they’ve dropped off their daughter at college, she struggles to navigate her newfound single status. Thanks to a stray dog who enters her life and the friendship of a helpful veterinarian (Christie), Helen rediscovers her strength and begins to forge a new path.

I'm leaving out the When Calls the Heart blurbs for episodes 2 through 5 because they are spoiler heavy, and for anybody who might not wanna know just a warning before you click this LINK too read the full article at ETOnline.

[ikemenomegas]

Megumi is not good at cooking. Not the way that Tsumiki is. He remembers how she used to stretch their meager meals. To this day, he cannot perfectly recreate the warm kakitamajiru she'd made, powdered ginger, thin sliced scallion, white pepper. But she always could. She tells him there's no secret ingredient, but there has to be, if only that it's his sister's hands which made it.

That is not to say he cannot cook. He's good at following recipes. Gojo's more than once ruffled his hair in the morning, thanking him for the leftovers in the fridge (and despite his denial Gojo-san is picky). But it's never the same.

At first, you'd thought it was some weird, chauvinistic holdover and had been fully prepared to absolutely tear into Gojo about it. Megumi's a bit embarrassed about that (one of the few almost-fights he'd witnessed between the two of you), but he exhales softly as you wrap an arm around his shoulders, patting his hair as he leans against you in the kitchen.

You now think that it's funny, but it's also cute because when Megumi really wants to eat something that tastes better than mine, he'll do literally everything up to and including prep, and also dishes after.

He's young with time to learn, but it's considerate while also being sad. You do appreciate it, but before you all moved to campus, Megumi kept his own room tidy, made plenty of his own meals, avoided asking to do any kind of extracurricular which could cost you and Gojo either time or money. It was difficult to teach him to be a child and you'd never quite managed it with either Megumi or Tsumiki - both of them resistant to being taken care of, both of them too early acquainted with the reality that some people read care and saw burden.

Megumi leans against your shoulder as you stroke his hair, fluffy soft, a smile on your lips as you wait for a couple tomatoes to blanch.

You don't tell him he didn't have. You grin, remembering the adorable little growl he'd made last time. It's good to see him being a bit of a brat, comfortable with it.

"Thanks," you say instead, and he leans heavier for a second before standing straight, freeing your arm to dish out the tomatoes into a bowl. He even takes them to the sink, peeling the loosened skin, the mealy inner portion getting under his nails.

You are so grateful that Megumi has already sliced up the onions and put them in water just how you like them.

You're slicing the tomatoes into wedges, Megumi standing back at your shoulder like him watching you do this for the seventh time will finally give him the answer, when you start talking.

"You know, my mom used to make this for me. They've got a garden." Lots of people in the countryside have gardens. "And we got tons of tomatoes every year. And it doesn't matter how many times I make it. I think hers will always be better."

Megumi looks from your hands to your face and then slowly back again as you scrape the cut half up onto the flat of the knife and into a bowl and then start on a new one.

"She says the same thing about her parents' food," you smile. "Her dad's gyoza. She's very sure that filling is better than anything she ever made for us growing up."

The look on your face is so soft it makes Megumi's face warm and something comfortable-uncomfortable wanted-unwanted twist in his stomach.

You nudge him. "Save about a few slices for the salad?"

He nods and gets you another bowl to set the sliced tomato aside.

You set about putting together the rest of the meal while he trails behind. Blanching thinly sliced beef, pointing out what needed to be mixed for a gingery vinaigrette, stir frying tomatoes, eggs, onions, chicken, lotus roots, napa, noodles...

He mumbles an apology when his stomach growls as he's setting out two places. It's an awful lot of food for a night when Gojo-san isn't coming around, maybe he just had big eyes when he was pulling everything out.

You just laugh. "It's almost done. You can start, don't wait."

But he does, carrying plates from the counter to the table for you and giving you such a puppyish stare when you don't sit down fast enough it makes you abandon wiping down a spot of flour to pull off your apron an sit across from him.

"itadakimasu," he murmurs, politely pressing his palms together as you do the same.

He closes his eyes a little longer than necessary to savor.

"Yours still tastes better."

If you could reach him, you're pretty sure you'd be happily making his hair even more of a mess than it already is right now. There's a secret, complicated look on your face, although he's sure it's mostly happy. And in the end you just say,

"Thanks, Megumi."

"Mm," he replies, holding out his bowl as you offer him another spoonful of noodles.

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

the masterpost

“So,” Remus says slowly. “If your Dad is my Dad…”

“...and your Pa is my Papa…”

Remus stares at the seam of the wedding photo, made whole again after more than a decade. His Pa, Patton, familiar with his cowboy-handsome, weather-beaten face and his dimpled grin and his big, calloused hand resting over his new husband’s, even if Remus has never seen him look this smitten ever. 

“And we’re both born on October 11… then, Roman. You and I are… like… brothers.”

And his Dad—Janus—smiling coyly, handsome in the way of magazine models, so completely a stranger to Remus with just this scrap of a photograph to serve as any way to know him, really know him. The way Roman knows him. The way Remus has been dying to know him all his life.

“Remus,” Roman breathes out, disbelieving. “We aren’t just brothers. We’re twins.”

Remus wonders, in a daze, if seeing the opposite life he could have had is as strange for Roman as it is for him… if they’d just been switched at birth, it’s the life Remus could have had, knowing his Dad instead of his Pa, but then…

But then it clicks.

“Roman,” he says, turning to grin at his brother—his brother! “I have a completely perfect, totally awesome idea!”

or: it's a parent trap AU for @tss-storytime with fanart by @tastic-in-its-finest!

warnings: pranks and practical jokes, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of underage drinking (in the context of a child trying a sip of wine), sibling rivalry and bonding, please let me know if i've missed any!

pairings: janus/patton, logan/virgil, brief patton/male oc

word count: 80k

notes: a few notes before we begin: first, thanks so much to morgan for their fanart for this fic!!! it's so cute, please like and reblog and do all that fun stuff!!! second, thanks to the folks over at the big bang for organizing this whole event—i know firsthand how complicated that can get, and you are so appreciated!!! this is technically a '90s au, but a '90s au in terms of the fashion and lack of social media/cell phones, not any of the homophobia. i hope you all enjoy!!!!

chapter one: prologue Across the world from each other, two very different families help two very similar boys pack their bags.

chapter two: welcome to camp walden! Welcome to what we like to think of as the most beautiful spot on God's green earth—Camp Walden.

chapter three: en garde The boys come to blows. (With practice épées, but in their minds, it’s equally as serious.)

chapter four: riposte The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

chapter five: black card The boys come to blows. (With a temporary reversal of gravity, oodles of chocolate sauce, and finally, some semblance of adult interference.)

chapter six: isolation station The boys spend a great deal of their time considering coming to blows. Until suddenly, they don’t want to fight at all anymore.

chapter seven: operation augustus The realization of having an identical twin does quite a bit to spur some out-of-the-box levels of creativity.

chapter eight: let's get down to business! The boys begin to plot. Camp Walden trembles in fear.

chapter nine: to defeat… the family civil divisions of napa and london respectively! The boys plot. The world all over ought to be trembling in fear.

chapter ten: domine dirige nos Remus spends a great deal of time weighing the most British way to say hello. He’s going to have to repress throwing in a what’s all this then, guv’nor? the entire time.

chapter eleven: eureka! Roman spends a great deal of time weighing the most American way to say hello. He thinks he probably shouldn’t come right out of the gate with howdy, y’all!

chapter twelve: a wench in the works This absolutely was not in their multitude of blueprints!

chapter thirteen: riding is magic and friendship is power and love is everything to everyone Roman gets to meet his pony. He should, by all rights, be much more excited about it, but someone had to go and ruin it for him.

chapter fourteen: in which virgil attempts to hold a poker face (and fails miserably) Virgil curses being so observant.

chapter fifteen: all of my change spent on you Remus has a particularly fun run-in. Well. Fun for him.

chapter sixteen: so your sons have swapped places and are in foreign countries This particular subject was not covered in the parenting books.

chapter seventeen: hopped off the plane at lax with a dream of civil reconciliation with my ex-husband Remus plots. Grandfather aids and abets. Janus panics. Logan suffers them all.

chapter eighteen: small world and getting smaller Janus is officially the father of the two most troublesome twins in the galaxy.

chapter nineteen: you got me tripping, stumbling! sinking, fumbling! Patton makes a splash.

chapter twenty: the queen elizabeth the second the second The twins attempt to revive the past. The parents wish to change it.

chapter twenty-one: i said a boom chicka boom! Logan’s swept off his feet. As is Maddox, in an entirely different way.

chapter twenty-two: i said a boom GO TO YOUR ROOM The twins’ plots bear oh-so-satisfying fruit.

chapter twenty-three: where dreams have no end A hello, a goodbye.

chapter twenty-four: the concorde(ance) A goodbye, a hello.

chapter twenty-five: epilogue Two very similar boys help their two very different families assimilate into one.

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 02

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Chapter 2: "Ahjussi, go back to MapleStory."

Life is truly unremarkable as a soulmate-less bachelorette.

Thankfully, none of the symptoms Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin mentioned to you have occurred – no bodily anomalies, no universal conspirations – and, on the way home from your parents’ place, you chide your anxious self for letting a thirty-minute phone call upturn the joyous revelries of turning twenty-five.

Though of course, even someone like you can see the grandeur behind it. The potential.

Soulmate. Not half of one’s heart, not ‘mi media naranja,’ but soulmate. Someone utmost, born from the same fabric of life – possibly indelicate, and not without flaws – but beautiful, blameless, and immaterially yours.

It’s great. Really great. But it’s daunting, too. There’s unprecedented pressure in that kind of ordeal, and… you like unremarkable. It’s safe. If you were ever going to be remarkable, it would be in ways you can directly control – like getting to the last floor of skull caverns or politely tearing incompetent coworkers to shreds when they challenge you.

But real life? Real personal relationships, with people that matter? That becomes a polynomial. There are too many variables outside of your ability to dictate, too much that could go wrong for you to spend too long mourning the absence of any soulmate symptoms. And anyway, your singularity isn’t your sob story – it’s your defense. Your most effective one.

You get back to your apartment at half past nine the following morning, heavy tupperwares of side dishes prepared by your mother hoisted in tow. At ease, you whistle a cheery tune as you get settled around your kitchenette, arranging each fully packed box amongst refrigerator shelves with care. You help yourself to an enticing pinch of putbaechu and decide to place its tupperware farther down the back.

Yes, that batch probably needed more time to ferment. After all, it’s impossible for napa cabbage kimchi to taste as sweet as cake.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

In his black-and-white checkered pajamas, Jeon Jungkook happily devours the two-tier caramel-frosted cake for breakfast. Furthermore, because he is a considerate maknae, he leaves the vegan, calorie-measured miniature cake for the rest of his hyungs to share when they wake.

They really don't appreciate him enough.

An early riser, also still in pajamas, Kim Seokjin spots him and tuts. “Jungkook, that isn’t healthy.” When Jungkook suddenly spits out the forkful he’d just shoved into his mouth, the eldest grimaces and admonishes, “Yah! I taught you better than that! That is disgusting behavior.”

“You know what’s disgusting?” Jungkook retorts with a revolted scowl, pushing the offensive dessert box far away from his person, lest it insult him yet again. “Surprise vegan cake. I’m going to sleep, hyung. Good night.”

“You mean ‘good morning.’” Seokjin corrects, reaching for the coffee pot with a sigh. “Brat.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

During your afternoon gaming hours, your phone screen lights up with a notification. Your extended arm worms through sofa pillows to swipe and unlock it, and you instantly growl at the e-mail that greets you.

From: executive-offices@samsong.kr Recipients: yln.yfn@samsong.kr, lee.jaesung@samsong.kr Subject: Executive Meeting on Tuesday

Dear Associates,

We hope this e-mail finds you well.

In preparation for the upcoming work week, we would like to advise your stations re: the exploratory meeting with CEO Son Hyunsuk scheduled for this Thursday at 15:00 (KST) on external company collaborations.

We appreciate your confirmation upon receipt of this notice and bid you a happy weekend.

Regards, Samsong Executive Scheduling

“Jesus Kim Christ, it is a Sunday. This should be illegal,” you swear, placing down the handheld gaming console on the couch next to you and getting up to refill your glass of water instead. Unfortunately, on your return from your hydration quest, you bang your ankle on the leg of the coffee table.

"MotherFUCKER!" you curse, collapsing onto your sofa and cradling your leg for a full minute. After recovering, you pick your console back up.

Idly hovering on the gaming screen, Tom Nook stares up at you with a deadpan glare. You’d think his heavy-lidded, judgmental look was a reaction to your use of offensive language, but you roll your eyes at the prospect.

Tom Nook, the island racoon? A landlord. He can judge all he wants. He’s as evil as company capitalists come.

With somehow even less of a conscience.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Ah one, ah two, ah five, six, seven, eight!”

Jung Hoseok snaps his fingers as he moves to the beat, flawlessly demonstrating the first few steps of the dance routine. Kim Taehyung watches him, crouched in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors like a religious student, except he’s also thinking, That is not how arithmetics works. This is why we are performers and not math teachers.

Hoseok seems to catch the faraway look in Taehyung’s expression, because his limbs freeze, dropping to a sudden stop, brown gaze slanting sharp and deadly. The other boys, sensing blood in the water, subtly shift away and try to look as focused as possible.

“What? Would you rather practice cartwheels with Jimin again?” Hoseok rumbles, hand on hip.

Yes…Taehyung laughs nervously. “No.”

Jimin shoots him a knowing look.

“You know,” Hoseok says, pointedly, brandishing his left leg, “I woke up with more bruises from you again. I couldn’t pair my tie-dye top with my denim shorts so now I’m stuck here practicing in my joggers with you instead of walking around Yongsan.”

You’re welcome, Yongsan, Taehyung thinks. Personally, he believes Hoseok’s fashion sense is something of a moving target.

Hit or miss. Miss a lot.

Oh well. Time to bring out the puppy eyes. “Hobi-hyung, can we start from the chorus instead?” He pouts, for cuteness excess.

“Fine!” the dance leader snaps, trying to mask the way the irritation ebbs out of his voice.

Taehyung suppresses a satisfied grin.

Yup. Works every time.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

By the middle of the work week, Min Yoongi has barely scraped by to meet a hard production deadline. Gears still turning in his mind, day lapses into night, unnoticed in the dark haven of his studio. He leisurely strums his guitar for an hour, puts it down, and reaches to compose an accompanying melody with the use of the nearest piano.

Eventually, Yoongi turns off all his music equipment. In his mind, there’s an echo of a tune he can’t shake away. He can barely hear it himself – soft, feminine, slumberous – and he lays back with his eyes closed to savor the ghost of it instead.

He wants to commit it to memory. It’s something he’s never heard before.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miles away, you feel pleasantly adrift. It's been months since you moved in, and you hadn’t been aware that your neighbors played music. In fact, the walls between apartment units are assuredly thick enough for all kinds of noises to filter through – a blessing when you get sniped by yet another rune bear.

You're also not really one to enjoy ambient noise outside of your control, but to your surprise, you don't mind this music at all.

It’s nice.

You tuck your knees to your chest and rest your body against the headboard of your bed, closing your eyes to listen. But it seems that the mysterious musician has gone to sleep for the night. Instead, the old made-up lullaby your mother used to sing to you when you were a child filters into your brain unbidden, and you smile at the memory. Within minutes, lightly humming to yourself, you let the notes overtake your thoughts and fall sound asleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Tonight, your dream plays like an old movie. Most of your dreams are like this, but here you feel like you exist in snippets – that you’re a passenger in someone else's skin. Like you’re standing at a different height, taller than reality. The colors seem to cling to the edges of your vision like haloed light through fogged glass when you move, leaving you half-sentient, fighting to see through the haze of your subconscious mind. Like you’re not you.

You wonder where you are. Who.

I want to do more, you hear yourself think in your dream. I want to be more.

You see your feet take you away from backrooms with white walls. Your heart’s near bursting and telling you how much of this it missed, telling you you're finally back where you belong.

This: before your very eyes, an ocean of twinkling violet.

There’s an overwhelming rush of love in your chest as a chant fills the air, expanding throughout your body until it's spilling from your eyes. You can feel the skin of your lips stretch into a smile.

Everything feels like a dream come true.

“I’m your hope!” you tell the roaring crowd.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jung Hoseok bolts upright at exactly 6:15 AM.

Letting out a groan, he drops his face into his hands and croaks out, “What the fuck.”

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook asks, getting ready to turn in for bed himself. It’s his fourth nocturnal day in a row.

Hoseok usually admonishes Jungkook for this kind of misbehavior, but right now he can’t muster enough indignation. It’s just–

“I had a dream. I was a MapleStory livestreamer and – I was really into it. But really? In this economy?” Hoseok continues to complain in his rough morning voice, “I don’t even game.”

Jungkook sniggers, hogging the blankets to himself. “That’s true. Maybe you traded dreams with Jin-hyung?”

Hoseok rubs the spot between his brows. Frowns. It's possible, Jin does love MapleStory. Though lately he's been on a weird arcade game kick despite Namjoon scolding him for being careless in public.

Appeased, he finds the spark to be a proper hyung to their precious maknae. “Don’t sleep at this time tomorrow, JK. If I catch you again, you’re dead at practice. Capisce?”

Jungkook nods a hundred times and buries himself under the sheets. Hobi might lack the broadness and mustache of the stereotypical Italian mobster, but he manages to exude a menacing aura all the same.

“Capeesh, hyung.”

Because he is not a MapleStory livestreamer, Jung Hoseok climbs out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. Because he has a bunch of back-breaking schedules to get to. It’s another Thursday.

No matter what, he’s going to survive. In this economy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Thursday meetings are like Monday meetings but from the nine circles of hell combined.

You shuffle into the arcade with a slump in your shoulders but a fire in your heart. The last time you had a day this bad at work was the last time you had come here, to let out your inner rage on tiny dots and cute little ghosts.

You hadn't even realized it was an arcade at first – you had just found your feet moving automatically towards the storefront, as if inexplicably drawn. And as soon as you set foot inside, even before the odd smell of metal tokens that lingers even in arcades with balance cards, an immediate sense of peace washed over you. That this place was safe. That you could enter and put your everyday life and problems on pause for a short, sweet amount of time.

That feeling has remained with each visit, only growing stronger with your increasing familiarity with both the arcade and the elderly owner Lee-ssi, a friendly man who reminds you of your own grandfather.

You're sure that the worn down sight of you in your white blouse and black pencil skirt amidst the backdrop of the rowdy neon arcade is strange, but you figure if your colleagues can release their frustrations by throwing down in public establishments, so can you. In your own way.

The first and last time you went out with your coworkers, the guy from marketing tried to get you to come home with him. So you made up a liver disease to avoid being expected to drink with them again, and are now letting out your frustrations in a much healthier way: against some cocky kid who calls themselves "the Pacman God."

They are pretty good, you will admit.

Just not as good as you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There are a few things that never fail to brighten Lee Seungwon's day. Getting to see the half-toothed smile on his baby grandson's face, making his son-in-law uncomfortable when his daughter isn't around, and –

"WHO. DID. THIS?!" Kim Seokjin demands, furiously pointing at the arcade machine standing innocently in the corner, taunting him.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Seungwon only sighs and crosses his arms, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Which is truly a front, because despite all the annoyances that come with running an arcade, he truly loves his job. He loves providing a space where kids can be kids, and the rare adult can relive the worry-free days of their youth.

"We respect the privacy of our clients, sir," he says politely, lips twitching at Seokjin's dramatic shriek of outrage. Seungwon has especially been looking forward to this particular adult's reaction upon finding his high score beaten by one of the newer regulars.

"Don't you remember who I am?!" the handsome man questions, and the storekeeper looks him up and down, once again unimpressed. Seokjin remembers he's ensconced in a bright pink hoodie and pink sweatpants, then gives a mental shrug.

Whatever. He looks good in everything.

"Yes. ‘Jin the Pacman God.’ Currently… number two in that game," the shopkeeper sneers as he insults the most handsome man in Korea – possibly the world. "Second to GoDsLaYeR_69." he adds, for good measure.

Seokjin gapes at the audacity of this mortal, his gamer rage only further activated by the offensive words that come out of Seungwon’s mouth next.

"Maybe you should go back," the shopkeeper suggests, inspecting his cuticles, "to MapleStory." After a pause, he puts the final nail in the coffin currently housing Seokjin's pride: "Ahjussi."

The Kim Seokjin, being called ahjussi by a man who looks older than Yoongi's soul?

That's it. That's fucking it.

With gurgling, unintelligible squawks of indignation, Seokjin pulls out his wallet and slaps his arcade card on the counter, followed by his black credit card.

"Load this up with 2,000,000W. Right now."

Lee Seungwon hides a smirk as he obeys.

It's just too easy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It had been a rare occasion in which all of the boys’ evenings (and following mornings) had been free simultaneously, and Hoseok decided to celebrate this in a way so rarely possible for them to do together anymore: to find a noraebang and get absolutely wasted.

"How did I let you guys persuade me into doing this again?" Namjoon asks, blinking in a mixture of joy and consternation at the freshly inked, slightly inflamed 7 on his skin. He flexes the side of his leg and watches the clear bandage wrinkle and smooth at the motion.

"Friendship!" Taehyung announces happily, eyes alight as he sways ever so slightly in his chair. Jungkook and Jimin are fully knocked out on each of Taehyung’s shoulders, their demonic sides hidden by the angelic expressions on their sleeping faces.

"No," Yoongi corrects, revealing a bottle of Suntory whisky from god-knows-where. "This."

"Ah, yes!” Eyes bright with satisfaction, Namjoon’s dimples deepen, and Seokjin laughs at how childish Namjoon looks in his glee as he receives his prize and cradles it to his chest with utmost and deliberate regard. With his vision blurred from all of the alcohol, it almost looks like it's disappearing into the leader's ample bosom. “Sunny, my frieeeend!"

Yoongi nods at him, ten times too much, then glances at Taehyung as he narrowly avoids falling off his chair for the umpteenth time. “The infants are fading,” he mutters, “Let’s get them home.”

Twenty minutes later, Hoseok emerges behind a curtain with a brand new tattoo, ready to show it off and receive compliments for being brave and only screaming once.

Except he’s all alone in the waiting room.

He waits a single beat before looking around in confusion.

“Guys?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You stumble through your doorway, confused by your body's decision to stop functioning properly. It had begun at the arcade, your normal precision and flawless execution apparently deciding to take its own mental health day and leaving you with slowing reflexes and sloppy reactions.

Finally, you decided to leave after realizing you'd been growling at the machine for the better part of an hour.

Well actually, Lee-ssi had kindly given you a bottle of water and suggested you take a break because you were scaring the kids. You decided to go home lest your happy place become tainted by the miasma of your god-slaying alter ego.

On the train, you nodded off and almost missed your stop – something that never happens. You tripped on your way off the train, and you had initially blamed it on being drowsy, but the trek from the station to your apartment did nothing to dispel your clumsiness.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you had gone drinking with your coworkers and were now stumbling home in a drunken haze. But you've been at the arcade since you left work, so that's impossible.

Maybe you're getting sick. That would explain the fogginess in your head, the sluggishness of your limbs.

Feeling under the weather, you spend the night in the dark of your bedroom. But then intense, prickling feelings bug you all over. Instead of the rest you hoped for, the hours are filled with tossing and turning, needle-points on your skin that fall just shy of being painful.

When you wake up, you find your skin tattooed seven different times with the number seven in seven different places.

Um.

What the fuck?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[simonaniles]

Polyamory, cock cages, and a dog named Ruth Bader Ginsburg: please enjoy my latest literary shenanigans!

A GAY POLY ABSURDIST ROMANCE. For Absurdist Novelist Robert Lynch, moving to Napa Valley with his wealthy husband Henry was supposed to solve it all. Settle down, get over writer's block (and existential angst), and spurn the second seven year itch. Then the devastatingly gorgeous pool boy Evan Drake shows up, invading their bedroom, challenging Lynch's nihilism, and turning their idyllic getaway upside down forever. Who knew that the cure for a midlife crisis was adopting a twink?

"Napa Valley Heat" is a 22,000 word queer polyamorous erotic love story featuring age gaps, bdsm, steamy threesomes, and finding your happily ever after with a gold digger with a heart of gold.

[itsasainz]

come to austria? | CARLOS SAINZ x Reader

Summary: Carlos isn’t your boyfriend, and you desperately wish he was. Set after Silverstone ‘22, semi-established relationship.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings/tags: smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), drinking, smoking, fluff, angst(ish)

mdni please :)

a/n: my first f1 fic :) send me requests and interact!! im desperate for new moots x

masterlist!

Spanish translations at the bottom!

Your fingertips, cooler than the skin on your thighs, skim the hem of your dress as you make sure that you won’t be flashing anyone once you’re back inside; your makeup has been touched up, your dress sorted, your hair smoothed back into its proper parting – you look and, most importantly, feel good. The girl beside you, practically shoulder to shoulder, kisses her teeth appreciatively when she sees you, “Girl,” she says, one brow raised, “You look fuckin’ hot.”

You smile, “Thanks, you too.”

You drop your cigarette butt on the floor and put it out with your shoe, then push your way out of the cool alleyway that made for a smoking area, skimming past the queue for the toilets and striding back down the hallway to the vibrantly lit nightclub, searching the crowds for any sign of Carlos, and spot him across the club with the other drivers, his smile permanently adorning his features since his win – it’s hard to believe it’s his first, knowing his talent and commitment. You sidle through the crowds until you can see the back of Charles’ shirt, then slip into the circle of people, looping your hand around Carlos’ arm. He smiles in greeting, then frowns slightly, “Have you been smoking?”

You blush – he’s hardly scolding you, but you always feel a little awkward in your indulgences when he is so careful about his health. On his other side, Pierre snorts at the interaction.

You met the Spaniard years ago, when he moved to the UK after joining McLaren – he’d been a friend of a friend, the kind of person that overlapped just enough with your social circle that you saw him at any big gathering of friends. You’d noticed him – it was hard not to – but you hadn’t ever properly talked to him until about a year into your acquaintance (a too formal word for your relationship, though accurate.) It was over a year into knowing him that it had started; innocently at a dinner with some of your mutual friends, the night ending at your flat with an F1 driver in your bed. It had only progressed from there – every social gathering ended in bed with him, and slowly you started to text while he was away, and eventually started FaceTiming when he was gone for longer. A friends’ trip to Ayia Napa had seen you attached at the hip, and then he had, gradually, started inviting you to Grand Prix. You had adamantly rejected the first few offers – the idea of inadvertently revealing your not-quite relationship to the masses was terrifying, and you had plenty of excuses – work, family, friends.

It was, however, hard to make an excuse for not attending your home Grand Prix. You had been to Silverstone before, a couple of times when you were teenager for a day out – it often, conveniently, fell near your brother’s birthday, making a good excuse for day drinking and family bonding.

You’d ended up sharing his hotel room for the weekend, not wanting to have to travel from London everyday, and the weekend had been perfect; his pole had put you both in a good mood, and his win had left him on a high that you knew would make for a fun night – in more ways than one. And yet, all weekend you had been thinking about the conversation that had been coming up more and more lately – the question of how to define your relationship. You are Carlos’ girlfriend in every way but nominally, and though you hardly want to announce the relationship to millions, you also want to be able to say that he is your boyfriend, to say it without doubting it. You take his drink from his hand, drinking some of it as the conversation spurs on, his arm finding its place over your shoulders; Charles wriggles his eyebrows in your direction, smirking at the casual marks of your relationship, knowing about your inner turmoil from your gossip with Charlotte.

Carlos’ body feels warm at your side, your bare skin pressed into his shirt, his skin warm and uncompromising even through the fabric. Tugging at your hair – straightened for the night – you suddenly feel distinctly sober, distinctly ready to be taken home, to kiss him in the back of the taxi and show him just how proud you were of him. You press yourself more firmly into him, feeling him reciprocate your movement. “Cariño,” he murmurs, his other arm pulling you backwards into him by the waist, “You’re killing me.”

You smile to yourself, resting your head back on his shoulder so you can speak only to him, “That’s kind of the point, love.”

He presses his lips to your hairline. “We can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you say, hating how whiny you must seem.

He looks at you with scepticism, knowing you know he needs to stay a little longer at least. Bored, you twist, kiss his cheek, and announce that you’re getting yourself another drink, and disappearing off to the bar.

“Are you alright?”

You look away from the drinks display, and are greeted with the sight of an attractive man, a few years older than you, with sharp features and a kind look in his eyes. “Oh, yeah, just trying to work out what drink I want.”

He glances at the bartender, “He looks busy, might be a while until you get served.”

You smile up at him. “Yeah, I might have to have some fun while I wait. Wanna join me for a dance?”

He grins, pulling you away from the counter.

The club doesn’t have a dance floor, per se, given that the entire club was for dancing, but the middle of the room is the most active – the jostling of people moving about and dancing with the bass. You have your back to him, his hands finding your waist as you found a spot in the middle of the floor, the F1 drivers just visible in your line of sight.

You let yourself move with the music, grinding slightly against your dance partner, his hands roaming, braver as your dancing instils some confidence in him – he thinks he has you, hook, line and sinker.

Leaning slightly into him, you do nothing to discourage his touchiness, the feeling of his hands on your waist, arse, and thighs nice, even with your thoughts still on Carlos. You turn to face your dancing partner, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his hands pull you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed into each other now. “I didn’t catch your name!” you say, on the verge of shouting to be heard.

“Tommy,” he says, leaning down to be heard, “Yours?”

You tell him, and he compliments you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. You look up at the strobe lights above you, Tommy’s movements only making you think of Carlos. You can see him in your peripheral vision, eyes finding you with Pierre’s guidance. You’re playing a dangerous game – catching his attention like this, letting him know just how much you wanted to leave this club, reminding him, all the while, that you weren’t even technically his. Tommy’s lips are more assertive on your neck now, and you search once more for the man you arrived with. Carlos seems to have disappeared, and for a moment you wonder if this was fruitless; but then, you feel another body brush past you, a little too close.

Carlos pulls you to the side, breaking the apparent moment; Tommy stumbles back slightly, frowning at Carlos, whose hand is on your arm. “Who the fuck are you?” your dance partner asks.

You look between them, realising that this was the extent of your plan – you’d got Carlos’ attention, even gotten him to intervene, but you’d failed to work out how to prevent an actual conflict. Carlos looks at you, his eyes dark, angry, “Well, cariño,” Carlos says, “you got my attention.”

You roll your eyes, looking back at Tommy. He looks at you, venom in his eyes as he understands what is happening, then disappears from your sight. At least you’ve avoided a confrontation. Carlos is staring at you – glaring, really – and you suddenly feel embarrassed of your behaviour – it feels childish. “How d’you know that’s what I wanted?”

He doesn’t say anything – he doesn’t need to. Instead, he starts to walk toward the exit, his hand on your waist to make sure you don’t lose each other in the crowd; you don’t try to protest how he just assumes you’ll go with him, but neither do you ease into it. Outside, in the cold night air, you stare at each other for a long moment, waiting to hail a cab, your arms wrapped around yourself to protect you from the wind, harsh despite the summer month. Something softens slightly in his expression, and he holds out a jumper for you; you take it, a little perplexed as to where it had materialised from. You pull it over your head regardless, letting it hang over your tight dress. The grey fabric of the jumper is soft on your skin, warm and soothing on your goosebumps. You can smell the sweat and alcohol of the club in the fabric, but, under that, the distinctive aroma of Carlos – a warm scent, the kind that is hard to explain, yet is simply unique. A sleek cab pulls up, pulling you  from the scent and Carlos ushers you in ahead of him, giving your address to the driver. Carlos looks at you, his expression that of someone who wanted to speak, but feared that they did not know how their words would land.

Turning your eyes back to the street lights, you watch them sliding past your window rhythmically, momentarily illuminating your knees a golden yellow with the consistent thrum of a heartbeat, light after light. The blue light of Carlos’ phone casts a slight glow beside you as he texts someone, probably one of the drivers, and you realise how weird the journey was; the anticipation of what was to come at home was thick, but nevertheless, you’re used to kissing on the way home, used to him being all over you, as you were him, until you have to get out.

You can feel the rough fabric of his trousers against your outer thigh, and as he puts his phone in his pocket he rests one hand on your knee, almost instinctively. You nearly shiver at the touch – it’s involuntary, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he does to you quite yet.

He pays the driver as you get out, fumbling for your keys in your clutch, the metal cold as you extract them, holding them in your hand as you press the door code in and start up the stairs, teetering slightly after hours of drinking, unable to see the boundaries between the steps. On your floor, as you unlock the door, you can feel his eyes trained on you, observing your every move. The door opens and you turn the light on, despite the fact it makes you both squint, and dump your clutch on the counter beside your keys. Your flatmate’s washing up from lunch is still drying by the sink, her shoes gone from the mat by the door, the flat homely – books scattered all over the living room and kitchen, a quilt thrown over the back of the sofa. Carlos hangs back as you head to your bedroom, wrestling out of his sweater on the way. In your room, the sweater discarded on top of your drawers, you sighed deeply. You had wanted to tease him a little, hurry him up so you could get to this point in the night, but now you were anxious that he was actually upset, that you’d managed to actually fuck things up.

He joins you in the bathroom a minute or so later, watching from the door as you wipe your makeup off and do your skincare routine, trying not to look at him. The best way to deal with this would be to face it, head on, you decided. He lets you pass to the bedroom, where you turn to face him.

“Carlos,” you say, “I didn’t mean to upset you and I’m worried that I have.”

His expression, already soft, turns to concern as he steps across the room to reach you. “I’m not upset.”

He can see that you don’t believe him, so he kisses you, softly, his hands cupping your face to bring you closer. You lean into it. “We should be celebrating,” you murmur, “I’m sorry for making you leave early. I’ll make it up to you.”

His hands find your waist as you kiss him again, your hands in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He hums in agreement as your hands slide to unbutton his shirt, his own unzipping your dress with care not to get your hair caught. You push his chest to sit him down on your bed, letting him tuck your hair over your shoulder as you drop the dress, leaving you in just your underwear; you push him back, kissing him again, this time with more urgency. You can feel against you as you straddle him, his hands firm on your body as you kiss him, working down his chest as you push his shirt off. Your hands make quick work of his trousers and pants, freeing his length, your kisses reaching his cock.

You take his tip in your mouth, teasing with your tongue, feeling his fingers in your hair, guiding you down onto him. You press your tongue to the underside of his cock, setting a steady rhythm as you make a mess around him, the music escaping him only fueling you. Your hand takes care of his balls and the base of his cock, and you have to relax your throat so you don’t gag – though he can feel your body trying not to react around him, the sensation both rough and delicate at once. “That’s it, cariño, just like that.” he praises, his breaths shaky. You can feel him tensing under you as you keep your rhythm, pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm, your own sex practically throbbing.

He comes, and you swallow around him, lifting your head and smirking up at him. He wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, though the action does nothing to clean up the mess, so he kisses you. “‘M so proud.” you whisper into him, “‘M so, so proud of you.”

He holds your face. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

You push against his hands to kiss the tip of his nose, “Me too.”

He smiles, flipping you over so he’s on top of you. “Let me repay you.”

You stop him. “Tonight s’all about you, love.”

He looks up at you with those wide, pleading eyes and you melt in his hands, knowing you could never deny him. He unclasps your bra, sucking and biting dark marks into your flesh, your fingers pressed into his scalp, undone by the simplest of touches. His mouth trails down to your underwear, bruising the soft flesh of your inner thighs, his hands under your legs, pulling your hips into him. You gasp as he presses his mouth to your clit, the lace of your pants rough on your core. He pulls the underwear of you so abruptly you nearly jump, the scrape of the fabric disconcertingly pleasing.

His lips meet your clit again, his tongue turning you into putty beneath him, his hands solid on your hips, pulling you so close you’re scared he’ll suffocate. You can’t think anymore, bucking into him as he winds you up, shaking and moaning at his mercy, teasing your orgasm as you cling to his scalp, your head pressed deep into your mattress, the only thing grounding you to the moment being his hands on your hips and his hair in your hands.

Carlos has always been frustratingly good at this, but a year and a half of sex has taught him every signal, every inch of your body and how to play it. He is teasing, pushing you to the precipice and pulling you back again, letting your orgasm build and build until you think you might just die. And then, eventually, he takes mercy, he pushes you over the edge and watches as you work through the overwhelming sensations, his lips kissing every inch of your skin he can reach, right up to your forehead.

His forehead, pressed to your own, your chests heaving against each other, breathing the same moist air, skin on skin on skin. You give yourselves a moment of rest, a moment to absorb each other, to be at peace in this moment without thinking about what comes next.

He, as always, is the first to move. Your flatmate’s away, but he pulls on some joggers anyway, fetching you some water and coming back to find that you’ve dragged yourself up to lean on the headboard, beckoning for him to join you. Skin on skin, again, as you sip some water, still shaky, as he watches you in such a vulnerable moment, appreciating every ounce of intimacy you allow him. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your skin flushed, his warm too.

He kisses your forehead absentmindedly. “Come to Austria.”

You don’t say anything. He can practically feel your mind whirring, arguing with yourself. You pull away, setting your water down on the bedside table, then you face him. “Am I your girlfriend?”

He watches you for a second and finds that he adores every part of you, even the slight frown of your eyebrows, the nervous chewing of your lower lip. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and knows his answer but not why he’s never said it before.

“If you’ll have me.” he says, feeling you relax. “I don’t know why I haven’t asked you. I guess I thought you would tell me you didn’t want to go public.”

You lean your head on his chest, listening to the thrum of his heart and gazing out the window. “I don’t want to go public, but I still want to be your girlfriend.”

He smiles to himself, knowing you can’t see it, and hopes you’ll come to Austria and Hungary and every race after, and that you’ll sack off work and come to live in Madrid with him. It feels selfish – he’d rather you be happy in London than miserable in Spain with him,  but he indulges in the thought anyway. He leans in and kisses you, softly, lovingly. He manoeuvres you around again as he pulls his joggers off, so that he is hovering over you, peppering his beautiful girlfriend in kisses as he lets himself roam your body, turning you on just how you like it, his cock hard again. He murmurs his request for consent into your neck, and you giggle, humming affirmatively. As he presses himself into you, he feels you arch up into him, still gasping at what, now, must be a familiar sensation. Your hands rake his back as he loves you slowly, taking his time to draw pleasure from you, to listen to your sounds and sighs, to kiss you and praise you. Firm, slow, passionate, unlike your usual sex in so many ways.

He feels you trembling, about to climax, and he kisses you through it, the rhythm of his movement grounding you as a tear slips across your face. He comes in you, both of you slumping into each other. “Mi novia,” he mutters, “Mi hermosa novia.”

You sigh under him. “I’ll come to Austria.”

He kisses your shoulder. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero.

cariño = sweetheart

mi (hermosa) novia = my (beautiful) girlfriend

te quiero = i love you

[profoundbondfanfic]

Willow

Willow by thatpeculiarone (@imthatpeculiarone) Rating: Mature Word count: 71k

Castiel Novak had known Dean Winchester his entire life. Growing up together, the two friends' worlds revolved around one another, each of them looking forward to their annual summer get togethers at the Winchesters' farm and winery, located in the rolling hills of Napa, California. However, it only takes one night for seventeen years of friendship to all come crashing down. When Castiel confesses his feelings for Dean, his friend’s rancorous reaction sends him packing. Castiel leaves, and stays away for ten years. When Dean’s father John falls ill, Castiel begrudgingly visits the farm again for the first time in a decade. Castiel is nervous to relive that night. He is nervous to be back at a place that holds so many memories. He is nervous to see Dean for the first time in so long. While he grapples with his anger and hurt, he also has to grapple with the fact that the feelings he holds for Dean may still be there after all this time.

This fic, oh this fic… this fic had me in a chokehold from the start. If you want to feel all the emotions, if you’re looking to be transported into an alternate universe, if you want to cry, then I suggest this fic be read immediately. Told from Cas’s POV, we are right by Cas’s side as his heart gets broken into millions of pieces by the person he trusted most in the world and instantly, you’re invested. 

This is the point where I suggest grabbing a box of tissues. You’re going to need them. 

Willow takes us on a journey, ten years later, when Cas returns to the place that changed him, and the person responsible, while they’re both surrounded by their family and friends and in an impossible situation for all their pain and feelings to get worked out. On top of trying to find a way to forgive Dean, Cas is also struggling with his still lingering feelings for the guy, and pretty much everyone telling him that he wasn’t alone in them. 

This story deals with a lot of heavy themes and the author takes a lot of care to give warnings on every chapter and summaries as well at the end if a reader needs to skip certain things. Through all of it emerges a beautiful immersive story and a world that I instantly missed once I was done reading. I’d easily devour another 70k, just to read more about their ever after. For now, I’ll be satisfied adding it to my read-again list in the future, just to visit them one more time.

[ladylooch]

Heyyy, how you doing ??

B, did Connor and lio ever get yappy at each other on the ice, and then they had to go out together for dinner with lucie and sav. They started to be passive-aggressive at each other, and the ladies told them to cut it off ?

Or do they know how to separate things well ?

-👢

Outside of Connor's hit on Lio right after he was traded to the Rangers, they try to keep everything on the ice. But, Lio eventually has a rookie, Grant, that feels like a little brother to him ( post spiral Lio). Grant reminds Lio a lot of himself off the ice, and on the ice, he can get a little wild and mouthy. He naturally targets Connor a lot, which is fine, Connor can handle it. Until it starts to be about Lucie.

Then Connor gets upset because he feels like Lio is okay with Grant disrespecting his family.

Passive aggressive comments are being tossed from both sides of the booth at their late dinner together. Mack and David had been invited, but made a jumbled excuse about how they would LOVE to but already had plans for the night. Lucie and Savannah long ago drifted into their own conversation while taking sips of their wine, ignoring their husbands' behavior completely.

"We should go to Napa." Savannah says. "Leave the girls with these two and David, steal Mack, and drink our way through Napa until we are one with the tannins."

"I'm in." Lucie giggles, clinking their glasses together.

"I don't know, Luc. You probably can't leave the girls with me since I have such a lack of character." Connor rolls his eyes.

"I said HE had a lack of character. Not you." Connor glares.

Savannah and Lucie share an exaggerated eye roll of their own.

"Babe, can you just not?" Savannah pats her husband's thigh.

"I didn't do anything!" Lio insists. "He's the one-"

"Oh!?? I'm the one!?"

"Connor Wood, lower your voice." Lucie hisses.

"Baby, I'm not the one-"

"Both of you better knock it off." Lucie insists, crossing her arms across her chest. The table falls into an awkward silence. Their entrees aren't at the table yet, but both couples already wanna go home.

Connor, being the mature captain he is, clears his throat.

"Sorry. I broke our rule." Lio sighs in acceptance.

"I did too. I brought up the shoving and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." Lio puts his fist out. Connor knocks his against it.

"They're bros again!" Savannah laughs.

"You know what we can all agree on tonight?" Lucie murmurs.

"Hm?" Connor asks her.

"That Mack and David are at home right now doing the nastiest shit to each other."

The whole table erupts with agreeing laughter.

"She's a pretzel tonight. Guaranteed." Savannah giggles gleefully. "Maybe I'll be later too."

"Mmm, my late night snack." Lio mumbles, then sinks his teeth into the side of her neck.

[andres-ortega]

227.

That is the number of people named “Portia Laurent” in the world. 

From behind a firewall, Andres looked deeply into the demographics of all two hundred and twenty seven of them. Elyse was asleep soundly in the next room over. Dre could hear her deep, peaceful breathing over the clicking of his keyboard. He refused to shut the door; to not have her in his direct line of sight. He’d always been overly attached but after recent events, he was downright possessive. 

Andres dragged his mouse over the list of Portia Laurents born in the 2000s and deleted them from his list. After doing some quick math, the 90s babies were gone next. Elyse was born in 1999, so it was likely her mother was born in the 1970s… but this was Bernard Wingard he was talking about, the sickest bastard he’s ever known. Dre decided to keep everyone from 1985 and back.

Andres deleted the plethora of names dated before Bernard was even born and finally settled on a manageable list of 31 women. The next way to narrow it down further were their passport and driver’s license photos. Young Elyse’s memory recalls a blonde haired woman with blue eyes who had an accent. Recent developments helped them discover she was a jewelry designer. 

Ironically enough, none of that mattered as much as the face staring back at him on the screen. Elyse’s face, only aged beautifully with fine lines around her eyes and smile. She had the same upturned upper lip and straight nose. It had to be her.

Andres spent the next hour digging into the woman’s past, using the tools Niko had equipped him with before he married Lenna and moved to North Carolina. It all added up. Her history basically stopped before the year Elyse was born. All that was left was a jewelry LLC and a home in Napa attached to her name. 

By now, the sun was rising and streaming warm light into their short term rental on Venice Beach. Elyse was a light sleeper and Dre heard her rustling from behind him. “Baby?” She called out, likely alarmed he wasn’t next to her. Standing stiffly from his desk, the tall man stalked into their room and climbed into bed next to the woman he loved.

Andres smiled as he took Elyse’s face into his hands, his thumbs brushing along her flushed cheeks that were still warm from sleep. “I think I found her, angel.” His voice was quiet but gruff. “I think I found your mother.”

[watchinghallmark]

Napa Ever After - August 26th on Hallmark Channel

After inheriting her estranged grandmother’s winery in Napa Valley, Cassandra, a high- powered attorney, takes a sabbatical from her job to renovate the property that was the source of the fractures within her family. With the help of handsome local Alec, she learns more about the grandmother she hardly knew and is able to reconcile the past, while finally opening herself up to a love like she’s never known. Starring Denise Boutté, Colin Lawrence and Tiffany Yvonne Cox.

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

Napa Ever After

Premiering Saturday, August 26, 8pm/7c on the Hallmark Channel.

Starring Denise Boutté and Colin Lawrence.

A Mahogany film, part of Summer Nights.

[myloveforhergoeson]

ash's may 2024 reading round up

find all the books and fics i read this (more like last...) month under the cut with a link to the synopsis and my reviews/ratings attached :)

this is just for fun! i'm not a professional, i just like to read <3

booklist!

Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku by Fujita

(no link to an official author website bc i couldn't find one, but i bought all six books at barnes and noble!)

• review: full disclosure, this is not my first time reading this six book manga series, nor will it be the last. it's one of my favorite stories of all time and i pick it up whenever i need some comfort or reassurance :) wotakoi is three interwoven stories about adults navigating the grown up world while still harboring a love for their favorite manga/anime/videogames and whatnot from their childhood; some are unashamed of this fact like the mmc hirotaka who is unabashedly consumed by his love of videogames, while others have had bad experiences with others after being "outed" for lack of a better term like his childhood best friend and eventual girlfriend fmc narumi who does everything to hide the fact she is a fujoshi mangaka and anime obsessed girlie! the two reconnect after many years of being apart by learning they were offered the same corporate job and rekindle their friendship --> relationship :) literally has me in tears i love childhood best friends soooooooo much. there, the two make friends with the other main couple, mmc kabakura (moderate otaku, loves anime) and fmc koyanagi (crossplayer otaku). later on in the series we also get to know hirotaka's little brother noya (non-otaku!!) strike up a friendship and eventual relationship with ko (a socially anxious videogame otaku). i think it's just such well written about adulthood and learning to be who you are without fear of judgement from others. hirotaka helps narumi work through her past fears and anxieties, discovering together they they are able to surround themselves with people who love them for who they are and share the same interests. i also really love that all three relationships are distinct from other other, one being a rekindling of an old friendship --> lovers, one being long established, and one being so fresh and brand new the two don't even realize they have feelings for each other!! i could go on and on about this series, but i always feel so warm and loved after reading it <3 literally could not recommend enough. and if you're not a big fan of manga, the story has a one season anime out too!

• rating: 5/5 times i was reminded i love my friends <3 one of my favorite manga series ever!!!

2. Unfortunately Yours by Tessa Bailey (18+!)

• review: ughghsuiohaiofaobfa tessa girl i love you soooooo much so much so much so much. but idk this one was just kind of mid. run of the mill story, not characters i was super interested it, but i enjoyed it nonetheless. if you read my april review, i read the first book in this duology, secretly yours, and i really loved it! this book was about julien's sister, natalie, and her somewhat enemies to lovers relationship with navy seal turned winemaker august. due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, natialie and august find themselves in need of lots of money very, very fast. the only issue is natalie's father is old school misogynist and won't release her trust fund until after she's married, and august can't receive a business loan until he's a well established member of the napa valley community and has at least one employee besides himself at his winery. the solution? a marriage of convenience, of course, until these two get exactly what they need from each other. the issue? they have a less than stellar past with each other and a whole boatload of assumptions about their partner they slowly learn to unravel and relearn throughout the story. now normally im a suckerrr for marriage of convenience but idk i just don't think i cared for the characters enough to super be into this one. probably my least favorite tessa bailey book honestly, out of six or seven i've read? not because the story was bad, i just don't really think enemies to lovers really works in modern settings. there were lots of good parts though! bailey is a master of 'he fell first' and it is very clear that even after their rocky start, august really cares for natalie. despite the relationship starting as a sham, he's a wonderful husband and looks out for her among the community members, and most importantly, her own family. they were pretty electric together but i think that's their only redeeming quality for me lol. so yeah, not my favorite from tessa bailey, but i had a good time reading it. worth the flip through to have read both books in the series <3

• review: 3/5 times i thought "really? all this for some wine?"

fic list!

fake fanfiction reader i didn't complete any of the stories i'm reading in may... but i have been really enjoying reading the assorted btr works of partiallypearl and ceruleanmusings :)) i've read far more this month than the last, so june's list will be far more coherent i promise!!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

The worst recipe for Kimchi I've ever seen.

So I'm a food nerd, if the love of Anthropology of food isn't self-evident enough in the 50 page doc on the history of food and food Anthropology based on Subsistence. lol

And I'm a super food nerd when it comes to kimchi. I've tried almost all the varieties of vegetables one can kimchi and learned their mush points. And this, by far is one of the worst recipes of kimchi I've ever, ever read. And being a food nerd, I'll break it down for you.

Don't worry, it's not made by a Korean--it's made by someone white, but I am Korean. And before someone chases me down, "You're an adoptee" I grew up in Korea for the first 5 years and have been tracking down Eomma's kimchi recipe after I semi-remembered the flavor. TT Covid stopped me from going overseas to test it out.

I know when you think of kimchi, you most likely think of the spicy cabbage variety, but I'll inform you that I've made a lot of types of kimchi. I made the Dae Jang Geum Kimchi after a lot of research and digging around. I made kimchi in plastic that never turned out well. I've taken out ingredients and put them back in. I've made kimchi out of different vegetables, and I famously got cited by my own city for making Eomma's kimchi, which BTW, has raw clams and mussels in it.

I've made monk Kimchi too, and gave those tips off to Maangchi.

I'm like kimchi geek over here. I can tell you all different facets of kimchi. Maybe because I tend to hyper focus on things, and I definitely hyperfocused on kimchi.

So I definitely can say the above is not kimchi.

Let's define Kimchi:

Kimchi is an aerobic lacto-fermetation process that is usually balanced with a protein in order to preserve mainly vegetables/vegetation, but sometimes seafood or other seafood matter.

Why is this not a kimchi?

1 Chinese cabbage

3 garlic cloves, crushed

2.5cm/1in piece ginger, grated

2 tbsp fish sauce (optional)

2 tbsp sriracha chilli sauce or chilli paste (see below)

1 tbsp golden caster sugar

3 tbsp rice vinegar

8 radishes, coarsely grated

2 carrots, cut into matchsticks or coarsely grated

4 spring onions, finely shredded

Chinese cabbage is not the same as napa. Chinese cabbage is longer than napa. Does it look similar, yes. Have I attempted to make kimchi out of it yes. Did it have the same properties? No.

But forgive the white person for not knowing that. Chinese cabbage has more water content than your average large head of Napa.

3 Garlic cloves is laughable. It won't preserve for a year like kimchi is supposed to.

1 thumb of ginger? No. No. No. That's not enough.

The fish sauce is not optional. You need that to even out the lactobacilli. If you're not going to use fish sauce, then up the protein content with barley. I really do swear after messing up kimchi on purpose the fish sauce does have a FUNCTION not just a taste.

BTW, more than fish sauce goes into kimchi, though. Usually depending on the region you might get shrimp paste, mussels, clams, crab, octopus, squid, oysters. These pretty much ceviche in the liquid over time.

My favorite is Eomma's recipe with katuggi. ^^;; But I suppose that would anger both my parents. Hers I'm fairly sure had mussels, clams and maybe crab? And yellow corvina fish sauce.

Anyway... Sriracha is made up of red jalapenos, which do not belong in kimchi. Kochu is special. BTW, this already has sugar in it. Kochu is designed to stain on purpose. See the slurry portion below.

golden caster sugar isn't something that came about until industrialization.

rice vinegar is a totally different process of fermentation than kimchi. It won't render the same results.

European radishes don't belong in kimchi. Have I tried it? Yes. Did I regret it? 100%. TT There isn't really a substitute for Mu. Daikon is a distant second. European radishes are when you're dying in a desert and there is a gun to your head to make the kimchi with them and you have no other choice. Get this: Koreans who moved to Brazil, rather cut out the radish component completely, use European cabbages than use European radish. It's just nasty to bite into as a kimchi. Mu has less water content and is far denser than your average daikon and definitely over European radish. I'd choose watermelon radish over European radishes. (Have I made that into kimchi? Yes.)

Carrots do sometimes go into kimchi, but I don't think that's why it's there. This is more a Jeolla thing though.

You're not supposed to shred green onion for any dish I know... and I'm thinking of things like pajeon and green onion soup. Where is the slurry? ALL Korean Kimchi has a slurry, if it has sweet rice flour, whole wheat flour or Barley flour. It has to have a slurry. The slurry has a function. It's there to make sure the ingredients distribute evenly.

Lactobacilli aren't going to act in ONE day. This brings the health benefits of kimchi.

The food science:

Since the majority of Korean fermentation lives on the wild side and likes things like air and sun, often the "weird" ingredients in kimchi that foreigners hate are there to MAKE SURE YOU DON'T DIE when you eat it. Stop trying to cut it out without understanding its function.

Got it? Now stop doing this crap and actually understand the food science of things like the anti-bacterial properties of garlic. How lacto fermentation is good for you, so you don't leave it out for only one day.

Koreans boast their heads off about the health benefits of kimchi as passed down from our ancestors for thousands of years. Why mess with a good thing without understanding why our ancestors made it that way?

[betzabobababi]

Third Times the Charm

Hello Hello! This is by far one of my favorite things I have written! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please don't hesitate to like, comment or reblog. It means so much to authors. It also gives them feedback. Anyways without further ado!

Tom Holland x Reader *Y/n Y/ln*

Warnings: Mentions of a fire. Calling 911. Weddings. Proposing

Summary: Tom tries repeatedly to pop the question.

Type: Fluff <3

AUTHORS POV

Tom had been trying to pop the question for months now. He asked for your father's blessing; he told his mum. He even asked Zendaya, your sister, and some of your other close friends for help on picking the ring, date, and place.

So when the day finally came for him to get down on one knee and ask for your hand in marriage, you had to postpone your date because your sister went into an early labor.

Tom reluctantly delayed the occasion and planned another date. This date was in a small family owned Vineyard somewhere in napa. The sun had started to set and just as you were about to turn around (Tom was already on his knee) you spotted that a part of the grape Vines had caught on fire. Hurriedly you called 911. At this point Tom had already gotten up and started to pack up your stuff so you could get out of there safely.

Exasperated by his multiple failed attempts to ask for your hand in marriage he decided that he would try one last time and if it didn't work he would wait a while longer. He thought "maybe the universe is purposefully trying to sabotage my plans because it's not time yet" 

So the third time he tried to pop the question, he set a date in which he made sure you both had no plans or meetings going on. He drove you to a park somewhere downtown and he had a picnic set up.

 He was very nervous, “What if she says no?” or “what if i mess up the speech?” “Third times the charm-Third times the charm-Third times the charm” he kept repeating to himself. If it didn't work out it was ok. But he just really wanted it to work out.  Around an hour into the picnic he mentally psyched himself up one more time and as nervous as he was finally decided to pop the question.

“Y/n Y/l/n *you got this tom!* you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I love you more than anything in this world. I can guarantee there’ll be tough times.*he gets down on one knee* I guarantee that at some point one or both of us are gonna want to get out of this. *reaches into pocket* But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine *takes out the ring* I'll regret it for the rest of my life because I know in my heart you are the only one for me. Be with me now and forever?” At the end of his speech Tom’s whole face was flushed a bright red. Breathing heavily he looked into your eyes, looking, searching for any sign of rejection. But when he looked at you all he could see were the tears that were threatening to spill. He could only see your wide smile.

And as if the world suddenly stops, he sees your mouth opening. “YES YES OH MY GOD YES A MILLION TIMES YES!” you said nearly shouting. You were screaming, but at a reasonable level for a person who just got asked for their hand in marriage. Tom let out a sigh of relief finally being able to breathe again. You lunged at Tom and wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping him in a tight hug. When you both finally let go you saw Tom’s family and yours emerging from the trees surrounding both of you. Harry had a camera in hand and was clicking away. Nicki and Dom were in tears. Your sister was carrying her newborn, looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you have ever seen on her face. Her husband followed close behind. And your father beside him. Paddy walked in between his parents. Sam walked next to Harry, carrying a tray of delicious looking desserts. As they reach you and Tom, one by one congratulate you and engulfed you in big hugs. After giving them their love they talked with you guys. Both you and Tom explained your hopes and wishes for the wedding.

“Hey Tom?” you said to him as you were walking back to the car. “Yes Love?” “How many times did you try to propose?” Tom chuckled at the question. Eyes shining with love. “Believe it or not, I only tried three times.” Tom responded. “You know what they say Tommy, Third Times the Charm.”

[stastrodome]

Fun Facts. 100% verified.

The only movie Mother Teresa ever sat through was Agent Cody Banks.

To counter what he considered the “frivolity” of Mozart’s The Magic Flute, Johannes Brahms wrote The Practical Oboe.

The only city in America named after a character from a novel is Becky Bloomwood, Illinois.

Penelope Cruz won a special Golden Globe Award for her work in the Nespresso commercials.

Of all the celebrities who have retired to Napa Valley to start wineries, none produced a better product than Rue McLanahan’s Orange Zinfandel.