I was tagged by @vhen-harel Thank you! Your romance scene for this was beautiful as always.
Share your favorite romance scenes that you have written. Kisses, dramatic confessions, tragic pairings, tearful reunions - whatever you like.
Since it says scenes I am going to include one Solavellan and one Galemance because I'm proud of them for different reasons:
For Solavellan I chose the first romance scene I ever wrote from my short fic, Cold Comfort which is basically an exploration of how I think Solas would finally break down and become intimate with my Lavellan. It happens after her clan is wiped out and he finds her in a near catatonic state.
She had no answer to that. Instead, she brought her mouth up to his, seeking to give and receive comfort in a simple kiss. His grip on her hip tightened. Cradling the base of her skull with his other hand, he returned it, as hungry for her touch as she was for his.
After a time, he broke the kiss, running the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. He said nothing. His eyes said everything. Within them was a need that matched her own. A mutual desire to alleviate grief with an act celebrating life.
She rose to her knees and placed her hands around his neck, drawing him in for another kiss. He pulled her closer, his interest urgent and unmistakable against her thigh. She made a low noise in her throat.
He ghosted his hands over her chest, down toward her waist, just brushing her breasts. His mouth found her neck, left a trail of soft kisses as he followed the curve down to the hollow of her throat. She felt her skin flush. She pushed her hands up under his tunic, caressed his back. He let out a soft moan.
Retracing the path his hands had taken, he reached for the top of her shift, began unfastening it, then hesitated, dropping his hands and shifting backwards.
“I am sorry,” he breathed. “You are not yourself at the moment. This is inappropriate.”
He hunched his shoulders, looked away. When he turned his head toward her again, the polite mask he habitually wore was back in place. "I should leave."
“And if I tell you, this is what I want?”
“You think you want this now,” he said. There was regret in his voice and something unfathomable in his eyes. “You may not see it that way in a day, a month, or a year. In that time, you may come to think I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable.”
She cocked her head, regarding him thoughtfully. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”
“No,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “I would never do that. If you believe nothing else of me, believe that I would never use you in that way.”
She nodded. He was right, she should send him away. She should crawl into bed. Sleeping was better than imagining the screams of her people as they died. Or was it?
For my Galemance scene I chose their first kiss which is honestly their first real romance scene. It's from Let the Last Note Die - which my Tav is about to die unless Gale can use that beautiful brain of his to save her.
She pushed herself within reaching distance of her harp, every motion heavy. Silver fire wreathed it, too bright and eerily beautiful considering it foreshadowed her death.
“I can moderate the Orb — usually—to prevent it from feeding without restraint,” Gale went on. “I’m going to release that control. The Orb should reach for your harp. The cursed thing should find it… more appetizing than you. I’ll maintain tension between them for as long as possible. Meanwhile, you start replenishing your emotional energy.”
“And you still haven’t told me how I’m supposed to do that.”
“I have a hypothesis,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “And a fragment of faith.”
She inhaled; it was getting harder to breathe. “If your timing’s wrong, you’ll level the continent.”
“Highly unlikely,” he said, with the formality of an academic defending a theorem. “The formula holds. I’ve run it in my head at least a dozen times already.”
“That's not reassuring, Gale.”
“As soon as I withdraw,” he continued, “sing. Pull from me. I’m… well-supplied with fear and self-recrimination. Use the harp to feed me a little of your happiness — well what I hope will have given you a measure of happiness. That exchange should reestablish emotional equilibrium. The harp will believe the bargain remains intact.”
“Fear?” she repeated. “You?”
He met her eyes. “You think intellect excludes fear?” he asked softly. “You’re wrong. I’m terrified.” His hand rose, unsteady, to her jaw. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. Not now… not when…” he trailed off, glanced away, then veered away from what he had intended to say. “Not when we’ve been through so much together." He pushed away from her, positioning himself in front of the harp.
He placed a hand on his chest. Instantly, the Orb flared to life, light spilling like liquid through his fingers. Strands of energy glided from the scar, stretching toward the instrument. She felt its focus turn, sudden and predatory, its grip on her loosening. Her body shuddered with relief.
The light intensified. Gale’s breath hitched; he was holding it together by will alone. The air burned between them. Then, abruptly, he reached for her, pulled her close, and kissed her.
Fire slammed through her veins. Gale’s presence, which had been a small, stubborn candle in the dark, became a white-hot flare. His scent—parchment, ink, leather scroll cases and the dust of a thousand books—hit her like a physical thing. The raw, desperate sound he made when their mouths met told her exactly how close to breaking he was.
Their kiss was hard and hungry, nothing careful about it. He parted her lips like a man terrified of wasting time, and she hauled herself against him, fingers digging into his shirt, needing all of him now.
Tagging - @optimisticgrey @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream @dr4gonwriter @pooyaaaaan and @asorceresswrites
(no pressure of course -especially if you have already done this)
