Hello, my lovely readers! Today I’ve had an idea for a new blog series I think you’ll enjoy.

One conversation happening a lot on writing Twitter for the past year or two has been about consent in romantic fiction. We’ve all seen the movies where the hero cuts off his love interest mid-sentence with a passionate kiss. You’ve probably read a story in which one character “makes their move,” going in for a kiss, not sure if the other person will reciprocate or not.

In real life, this is not nearly as romantic in most situations. Actually, diving in for a kiss with someone who you’re not even sure wants it is generally considered sexual assault. So how do we reconcile long-standing storytelling traditions of “romance” with the real-life, very un-sexy implications of that behavior?

This is where the romance of in-story consent comes in.

Some writers complain that it’s impossible to include consent, and similar topics like contraception or protection, into stories without killing the mood. I (and many others) disagree.

This week, I want to share with you an example of consent written into one of my stories. Next week, we’ll get into a list of what not to do. In future posts, we’ll discuss how context and things like body language play into writing consent, and how consent works in established or long-term relationships as opposed to first kisses and new partners.

Let’s dive in.

To set the scene: this is an excerpt from a long-form Narnia fanfiction I’ve been writing since 2013, starring Susan Pevensie and Prince Caspian the Tenth in a secret romantic tryst.

The first version of this scene I posted actually didn’t include the consent exchange. I was a teenager with very little understanding of consent and no relationship experience. This year, I’ve been editing and re-posting the fanfiction on Wattpad and made some much-needed updates. I don’t think it kills the mood; do you?

I lay my free hand on our clasped ones. “Caspian, I… ” I look at the stone column behind him, casting about in my mind for the words to encourage him. My efforts are frustrated. I settle on the only thing I am sure of concerning the man before me. “I believe you will make a great king.”

The hope and uncertainty warring in his expression tugs at my heart. He reaches out and softly touches the back of his free hand to my cheek. 

I sit frozen, unable to respond to his touch, not wanting to pull away. My pulse shoots up. I can feel heat race from my chest and cheeks through my body. 

Caspian leans closer. I am sure his eyes can see straight through mine to my soul. When he speaks, his voice is thick and barely audible. “Anger is not the only emotion I find difficult to contain.”

His hand brushes across my cheek to curl around the back of my neck and pull my head closer. “May I?” He murmurs. “Will you let a hotheaded former prince offer a kiss?”

My gaze is frozen, staring at his lips, the line of his stubbled jaw, the red tint of his mouth. I should fight this. I cannot allow myself to become a part of Narnia once again. Love is not a part of the plan. I will be returning home, returning to England. All of this will be left behind.

“Yes,” I whisper, barely breathing the word.

The Telmarine prince closes the gap between us and presses his lips softly to mine.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, I close my eyes and kiss him back.

In the comments, I want to know what you think of this scene.

Have you read a romantic scene that you thought uses consent well? Do you think writing in consent kills the mood or ruins the escapist nature of romantic fiction?

Let me know below!