A May-December romance is any where there is a larger than average age difference between the partners involved. Sometimes this is met with disapproval, sometimes it is arranged, sometimes it is abuse of power, and other times it just happens and it's no one's fault or doing. This meme focuses on those relationships.
- Post with your character, preferences, and note their ages (or an estimate if no canon age is given).
- Please don't forget to note how much of an age gap you're comfortable with!
- Look around, tag. Have fun! Make up a scenario or make use of the prompts below.
beginning1. confession - you've just confessed your love. How is it received?
2. coerced - they have more power than you and you have no choice but to go along.
3. arranged - this was an arranged union and may not have had anything to do with your choosing at all.
4. secret - it would be forbidden or frowned upon, but you can't resist...
middle1. difference - does the age difference make things difficult?
2. domesticity - just a day in the life...
3. experience - one of you has more experience than the other, but at least they're eager to teach.
4. argument - you're fighting for one reason or another.
end1. breakup - things aren't working.
2. discovered - your forbidden secret has been found out and judged.
3. another - one of you has fallen in love with another.
4. happily ever after - against all odds, you've made it work.
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bakerstreet2021-05-02 05:50 am
Nie Mingjue | The Untamed
Sir Crocodile 🐊 One Piece
Arthur Morgan - Red Dead Redemption II - OTA20+
Sarah Williams | The Labyrinth | M/F
The Darkling | Grishaverse/Shadow & Bone | M/F preferred, PM me for M/M ideas
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[There had been so many ways she'd fucked up in her life that it was hard to imagine she could keep topping herself. When your greatest hits included murder and working for demons, not killing the guy that was suspected of being some world-ending Big Bad was never going to be the sweetest cherry on top.
Looking at him, it was hard to remember all of the warnings Willow had thrown at her between babbling. Harder still to remember that hers wasn't the judgment to trust in the situation when her hormones seemed intent on taking the lead. Something about him called to something inside her; not love, not even entirely lust, just there. Unnamed. Infuriating.
Tantalizing.]
I shouldn't be here.
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When she stopped, he stepped out of the darkness that cloaked him, leaving them in a bubble lit by some flickering light. Hard to say whether it was a streetlight feebling throwing off its light against shifting shadows or a lantern, a flickering candle. The Darkling simply smiled, a faint half-curve of the lip, as if the centuries had worn away the rest of the expression.]
And yet here you are.
[Still, there was a glint of something in his grey eyes, something more than calculation, something almost human. There was power, yes, he was hungry for it and the way this girl possessed it was deeply interesting, but there was something else too, a spark of interest, a match in the night.
He reached for her, and a steady finger tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.]
I won't bore you by pretending to think you wouldn't.
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Because you think you know me? Or because you think you're that irresistible?
[There's no heat behind her questions, not when she can still feel the tingle of where his skin had barely brushed against hers.]
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Because like calls to like. Power calls to its own. Or maybe I just missed you.
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Maybe I missed you, too.
[The statement was entirely redundant given that she was standing there. Why else betray the council? Why else would she bother to try and protect him rather than drive a blade through his heart?
At the thought, her hand moves up to his chest and rests there, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath the material. The thrill she gets from touching him is ever-present and she wonders, not for the first time, if that's all this is.
No. She left those reckless impulses behind her to adopt new ones, it seemed. Ones that were far more dangerous. A thrill was disposable. With the Darkling she'd allowed herself to get invested.]
How long do we have?
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She is warm and soft against his calloused hand, and he breathes deep of the scent of her, of the feel of her close. He cannot feel her power leap up against his touch. Whatever power made Faith what she was was not Grisha power. It made her a mystery, in some ways, and there were few of them in his long existence that he indulged himself.
There is a glint of wicked humour in his eyes as he murmurs back, his thumn now tracing the curve of her lower lip.]
How long do you want?
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She chose this path, a choice she's committed to, but it feels like standing on the edge of a cliff getting ready to fall with no idea of what waits at the bottom.
Faith nips at his thumb, finding her footing with false bravado and artifice to chase away the unsteady feeling she has when he looks at her like that.]
Careful, I might decide to get greedy.
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Well that would make two of us.
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We have tonight at least.
[This time it's her who pulls him in but there's nothing patient or gentle in her kiss. Her tongue presses against the seam of his lips, hungry and almost violent, her nails scraping against the nape of his neck to slide into his hair. Faith pulls back slightly breathless and tugs gently, challenge and promise alike on her face.]
Better make the most of it.
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Power. ]
A few hours isn't enough for you?
[He kisses her again, his hands running up her body, seeking to push clothes away, seeking heat and skin, the better to grip, to bruise, to bite. A breathless laugh that is more of a growl, that is dark promise and power. Like calling to like.]
You are getting greedy.
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Never.
[His bruises won't last until morning on her skin and she wonders if that's why he seems to enjoy leaving them. She can heal without the healers he commands faster than most of the Grisha themselves and she gives as good as she gets. Her free hand pushes through swaths of dark material looking to leave her own marks while the grip on his hair never lessens.
He may be a force of nature, but so is she.]
If you're looking for an apology, you're going to be disappointed.
hell is where all the fun is, tho
She was healthier than she had ever been before from using her power, and was stronger along with some semblance of confidence. At the Fete less than an hour ago, all eyes had been on her, and she hadn't minded -- in fact, she had put on an excellent show that had stunned everyone.
She was no longer Malyen Oretsev's little friend from Keramzin. She was Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner, who would banish the Fold and help reunite Ravka. Finally, finally... she gave into that happiness.
That included kissing General Kirigan. Call me Aleksander, he had said.
And so she did.
"Aleksander," she gasped, breathless from his kisses. "Is this...shouldn't we go back?"
Sitting on the table, cheeks pink, in her gold and black kefta with her hair artfully styled, she was a beautiful sight to see. There was reluctance in her question -- it was obvious she wanted more -- but Alina also did not wish to shrug off her responsibilities.
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Alina Starkov, Sun Summoner, was starting to make a habit of it.
The way she felt beneath him, the warmth of her through the ornate kefta, her giddy breathless laughter against his mouth... it all felt like the fading heat of the sun at nightfall. And a part of him grasped for it like a drowning man, like one who had spent too long in the dark.
The same part of him that at once wants to hear his name, that old forgotten name, from her lips again and regrets having used it to draw her in.
The Darkling shook his head, as if the motion would banish the conflicting thoughts in his head. He was too old, had lived too long for regrets. All that mattered was this moment, the fact that he had the Sun Summoner with him now.
"Everyone knows I can't stand the winter fete," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the curve of her jaw. He nipped at the lobe of her ear, a low laugh creeping into his voice. "They'll just assume I've disappeared to my war room to scheme. And you've been whisked away to speak to some very important dignitary, Miss Starkov."
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As if Aleksander was the answer to a question she had been asking her whole life.
She smiled when he shook his head, and allowed her worry to dissipate for the time being. "Both those things do sound very important."
Alina tilted her head to give him better access to her jaw. When he nipped at her earlobe she inhaled sharply, a shiver running down her spine, awakening her body further. The sensations were both sweet and maddening at the same time.
She allowed one hand to move to the back of his neck, bringing him in close again for another kiss. This time there was a hint of desperation there, lightly nipping at his lower lip, hungry for more. Her other hand slid down the front of his black kefta, lingering over his heart.
When they had to draw breath, she pulled back to look up at him. "I've never felt this before," Alina said, voice almost a whisper. The intensity of it all was overwhelming. "Is this normal?"
Normal -- that was something she had longed to be her entire life, and failed at. Day by day she was giving up that dream, and instead embracing what she truly was: something extraordinary.
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The Darkling paused at her question, and he raised his hands to touch her face, one hand tracing the curve of her jaw with his thumb, the other brushing aside a phantom stray lock of hair from her forehead. Each touch was electric, humming with power and desire.
He was surprised by the sound of his own voice when he spoke, low and breathless, rough with desire. "No, nothing about you or I or this is normal," he admitted, meeting her wide dark eyes. The finger that had traced along her hair ran along the shell of her ear, down along where the fur-trimmed kefta met her neck, his fingertips ghosting along the bared skin. He allowed himself a quiet laugh, his eyes lowering for a moment before meeting her gaze again.
"I've never felt this connection before. I have been waiting a long time for you, Alina."
He was surprised to find that he believed every word.
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Usually, the general's voice was smooth as silk and perfectly controlled. Each word he spoke was chosen deliberately with much care. To hear it so rough with desire and breathless only increased her desire for him...and made her feel even bolder.
One of his hands traced along the shell of her ear, then down to her neck. Alina could not stop herself from moaning: the skin there felt almost unbearably sensitive. She moved her hand away from his heart to capture his free hand, kissing his palm almost reverently while still maintaining eye contact. His laughter lit up her gaze with happiness. She was the one eliciting these reactions from him.
"I've never felt this before, either. And...I think I've been waiting for you, too. Only I didn't know it."
With that said she pulled him in for another kiss, eyes closing briefly as she savored the taste of him. "Aleksander, please...will you undress me?" There was a needy yet vulnerable note in her voice: she was offering herself to him, and had no idea if he wished to accept that offer, or if he would turn her down.
Beneath her pale skin, her power seemed to offer itself to him as well: please please please, her light pleaded, reaching for his darkness.
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It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
He could feel the power rising in her, reaching for him, and he spared a half glance, a fleeting flick of his fingers to banish the light from the sconces and the lamps, plunging the room into darkness lit only by her light. The Darkling drew back, ran his hand down the front of her kefta reverently, and leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. Even with his long life, his long experience in waiting, in planning, in deliberate manipulation, the chaste gesture cost him something, the tension in his body clear as he held back, wanting to coax the word from her again.
"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice low and soft, dark against her breathless light, even as he felt the power under her skin cry out for him, threatening to drown him in incandescent light.
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Aleksander snuffed out the light, and she was quick to replace the sudden darkness with a warm, friendly glow that lit up just for the two of them. It hadn't been long ago that calling upon it took great effort. But with Baghra's instruction, she could do so with half a thought -- and maintain it.
When the Darkling drew back, she could not help but feel a sharp stab of disappointment. It turned out not to be warranted, though: he ran a hand down the front of her kefta, and Alina could not help but lean into his touch. There was an inviting smile on her lips when he leaned his forehead against hers. For just a moment, both were quiet, breathing hard, savoring the tension between them and their gifts.
"Yes," she said, gazing up at him. "I'm certain, if you are." The kiss from earlier when she had helped him with his kefta played in her mind again. What would have happened had they not been interrupted, she wondered...?
She kissed his cheek, and then the corner of his lips. "I don't know why, but being here with you...it just feels right." When she kissed him again, it was a sweet and lingering one on the mouth.
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"I have never been more certain of anything in my life, Alina," he answered, his voice low and rough with the control he was exerting over himself even as his fingers continued undoing the last few buttons of her kefta. He leaned in again, to nip at her earlobe, trail kisses along her throat as he eased the kefta aside. "You belong here. With me."
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And yet...her heart rebelled against her mind. How many long years had she wasted pining after Mal? Over a decade of friendship, and he had not bothered to write. Well, she wouldn't make that mistake again. No -- she had suppressed her true self for long enough.
The way Aleksander spoke her name made her smile, her light briefly brightening. And his voice...it was a good thing he had set her down on his table, or else she feared her legs would have gone weak.
His teeth nipped at her earlobe, and his lips on her neck made her gasp and moan again, hands on his broad shoulders to stay steady.
"I've always wanted to belong somewhere," she admitted, voice low. 'With me,' he had added, and yet it felt far too soon to acknowledge such a thing. After all, Alina was not entirely naive -- things changed, people changed, and if she couldn't destroy the Fold --
Well. There was no point in ruining such a perfect evening with what-ifs.
Beneath her kefta was a stark white peasant's blouse -- part of the uniform the general insisted the Grisha wear, to help them all remain humble. Still focused on him, she shrugged out of it, then raised her hands to let down her hair from the deceptively elaborate style Genya had done it up in: her long, silky, black hair fell down her back once she removed the combs that had held it in place.
"I helped you into your kefta earlier...may I help you out of it, too?" Her cheeks were pink, and there was a note of shyness in her voice. "Also -- please tell me that those doors are locked." The last thing she wanted was for anyone to barge in and see her like this.
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She brought with her a promise of balance that he had not realized he'd been missing all his years.
"Only if you can be quick about it. My kefta is suddenly far too warm," he answered, letting his hands fall away from her face to give her easier access to his kefta. In the soft glow of her light, his eyes were darker than stormclouds, and he drank in the sight of her. He allowed her to work the heavy formal garment from his body but leaned in to capture her lips with his again as if unable to stop touching her, unable to stop drinking her in like a man parched. "Even if the doors weren't locked, there's only one person brave enough to walk into my chambers uninvited and she's right here."
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His answer to her question made her smile. Alina's hands found the hidden fastenings easily enough, and though clumsy at first, she was able to undo them fast enough -- at least, in her opinion. At one point she glanced back up again, and the sight of that stormy gaze fixed so intensely on her took her breath away.
She helped push the heavy fabric off his shoulders, and Aleksander caught her lips once more. Alina was all too happy to wrap her arms around his body, eager to pull him closer and to feel the warmth of him. His response made her laugh.
"That was rather bold of me, wasn't it?" she said, blushing again. "Next time, I will be sure to slide a note beneath your door, asking first."
Next time. She had said those words so easily, without thinking. It was hard to remain realistic about whatever this was between them. And yet...she found herself desperately wanting more, even before they were done this night.
Alina kissed him, a hum of happiness escaping her. She pressed kisses along his jaw, hands roaming over his chest. "Your shirt...?"
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The Darkling looked up then, away from her hair slipping through his fingers, back to the blushing sun summoner glowing in the warmth of her power, and kissed her again, spontaneous and full of desire. He shrugged out of his shirt, the worked silver clasps parting under his rough tug, and it joined his kefta on the ground as one hand reached again for her hair, tangling his fingers in it, nudging her head up so he could press his lips to her bare throat.
"Don't you dare," he murmured against her skin, feeling the warm flutter of her pulse under his mouth. "Ivan and Fedyor will never stop gossiping if you did. Stay bold, Miss Starkov. I could use surprising."
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She was happy to kiss him again, noting how his reactions seemed just a little more hasty than earlier. The thought that she may be the cause of his growing eagerness pleased her. Wide, dark eyes watched as he eagerly removed his shirt before reaching once more for her hair, fingers tangling in it and allowing him to tilt her head.
"Oh --!"
His lips kissed her neck. The warmth of them pressing against her pulse made her moan and shift beneath him, lashes fluttering closed. Her neck was sensitive, and he was beginning to drive her crazy.
'Stay bold, Miss Starkov.'
Bold. Alina had never thought of herself as particularly bold before. It was almost as if the more she used her abilities, the more they helped to reveal secret, hidden parts of herself that she had never even knew existed. From the moment that burst of light had illuminated the Fold, followed by Aleksander revealing the font of sunlight flowing just beneath her skin...it felt like she was truly living for the first time in her life.
'I could use some surprising.'
One leg reached out to hook around his own, pulling him closer as her hands briefly ran down his bare chest. She tugged at her camisole, pulling it over her head and revealing the delicate skin beneath. It took a good amount of self-control not to automatically cross her arms over her full breasts, the blush on her face brighter than before.
Cara Lavelle (OC) - F/M
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