#jaimeric

[apollynos-blog]

Okay..I figured out the plot, have for every chapter a title and a song quote.. The FanFiction is going to have 16 Chapters, mostly out of Lazars PoV..

Only need to start writing. :)

This is btw the cover I made for it! ❤️

[akielonlion]

JORD & AIMERIC LOVE

[alleyskywalker]

NEW FIC: After (Jord/Aimeric)

Title: After Fandom: Captive Prince Characters/Pairings: Jord/Aimeric Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~3000 Summary: AU. Jord and Aimeric try to make a life together after Laurent's ascension to the throne. Aimeric feels like he has lost almost everything and Jord fears what will happen if he is presented with a chance to attempt to recapture his old life.  Written for the @fandomtrumpshate auction.

Read on AO3

[winter-hare]

for the rain, part 2

jord/aimeric modern!au by @butitsthegameilike and @winter-hare

[previous] 

Jord pulls gently at the edge of the delicate wallpaper, slipping slowly into yesterday's rhythm. He settles himself into the idea of another day of work, although this time without such a pleasant distraction. When he had walked in he had been greeted hastily by Remon. The man had already been bustling off to busy himself in something more worthwhile, leaving Jord to think about how he looked like an older, gruffer, and more distinguished version of his brother. Aimeric is nowhere to be found, the house empty of the mildy familiar bounce of brown curls.

A door opens in a room over, bringing with it the sounds of shuffling feet and jostling keys. Someone’s home, Jord thinks absentmindedly. He pulls harder at the wallpaper, feeling it give way under his grip.

 “I’m home!” Aimeric saunters past Jord, a loose ponytail brushing against the back of his neck as he moves. Jord watches the way his hips sway, the way his chin is held high. Aimeric moves through the house like he owns it. 

Jord can’t help but listen as Remon speaks just out of view. 

“I have to go to a meeting in a minute - can you stay here and keep an eye on everything for me again?” Keep an eye on me, Jord thinks, as what little regard he held for Remon melts away like everything else in this heat. 

When Aimeric responds, his voice is so quiet and timid Jord barely hears him - not that he was purposely listening or anything.

“Yeah, of course,” it’s a mumble, carried on barely a breath- yet Remon doesn’t seem to care. Jord glances through the doorway to the living room, eyes landing on Aimeric’s delicate arms, wound round his knees, pulling them to his chest. He looks anxious, Jord thinks; it looks like he’s pulling in towards himself, making himself small and quiet. Remon stands nearby. The difference in Aimerics body language makes Jord blink, stilling in his work. Moments before, he had looked like a completely different person. Jords eyes flick over Aimeric, the soft heat flush on his face, the way he taps his fingers on his legs. His gaze moves to Aimeric’s eyes, only to find them looking directly back. Aimeric winks, sending Jord’s guts twisting like eels. 

He doesn’t see Aimeric again until Remon had long since gone and left the house quiet, save the soft scrapes and tears of Jord’s monotonous work. He hadn’t allowed his brain to linger on the thoughts itching at the back of his head - brown haired, green eyed thoughts - but all his work on that front is completely banished as Aimeric pops his head through the doorway.

 “I need a favour.” The words are blunt: it’s not a question, but there’s a certain light to his eyes, a glimmer of a smile. 

“Huh?” Jords brain scrambles for the proper response, fuzzy with the past hour or so of underuse, his mouth hanging a touch slack. Aimeric leaves from view, and Jord snaps his jaw together in embarrassment, immediately realizing how dense he must have appeared. 

“It’ll only take two seconds, I swear!” Jord brushes his dusty hands off on his pants, hesitantly walking towards the call of Aimeric’s voice. What could he want?

Aimeric stands in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips as he looks up scathingly at something on the top shelf of the cupboard, head angled back to see it. At the sound of Jord’s footsteps his face appears over his shoulder, a grin forming over fine features. He gestures Jord closer.

“I can’t reach the powdered sugar, just there,” he explains, “could you be a dear and grab it for me?”

 It’s an easy stretch for Jord, his stature and the added height of his work boots have the small bag quickly in Aimeric’s hands. 

“Thanks,” Aimeric teeters back and forth on his feet, the air between them sticky with the heat of the summer. Jord wonders in the back of his head how long it would be acceptable to stand here for, his mind drifting away as he looks down at Aimeric. Then Jord is stepping backwards, pushing his hand into the hair at the back of his neck. 

“I should get back to, uhh…” Stepping even farther back, Jord watches as Aimeric’s face lights up.

“No way, have a seat.” It doesn’t really sound like a question; Aimeric doesn’t seem to ask many of those. And besides, who was Jord to say no when Aimeric smiled like that?

Aimeric points to one of the stools at the kitchen island, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

“Just let me finish the glaze, you’re not even ready for these scones I’m making.” He bustles away to start measuring out the powdered sugar, his pony tail bobbing happily, brown curls shining coppery in the light. 

“You bake?” Jord asks, a little surprised at how gruff it comes out. He tries to smile in an attempt to soften it. 

“And what about it?” Aimeric lifts his eyes to Jord, green peeking out from underneath full lashes. They were like tiny glittering emeralds, set amongst marble. Jord has to shake the thoughts out of his head. What on earth was he going on about, emeralds...what was happening? 

“So, big strong contractor man, what’s your name?” Jord blinks; he hadn’t even thought to introduce himself. 

“Jord.” 

“Well, Jord,” Aimeric practically purrs. It sends a jolt of something through Jord, he likes the sound of his name in Aimeric’s mouth. It has a softer ring to it. “What else do you get up to, other than pulling the wallpaper off peoples walls. What’s inside that brain of yours?” Aimeric moves to lift a tray of something out of the oven, shielding his creation from view. Jord tries to think, what does he do, other than work? His mind passes over the past night spent in front of the television, an old war documentary playing across the screen, a warm beer in his hand. It’s truly a less than appealing image, the paint splatters across his clothing, the calluses on his hands. 

“I mostly work, not too much time for anything else,” Aimeric looks disappointed as he looks over his shoulder at Jord, a playful pout on his pink lips. 

“Oh come on, I know your job doesn’t take up that much time, are you just trying to avoid telling me you’re boring?” Aimeric’s tone is warm and teasing. Where had this side of him been when he was talking to Remon? Jord is quick to start defending himself, ignoring the truth of Aimeric’s statement.

“And what do you know about contracting? What are you, nineteen?” Jord taps his fingers on the cool marble counter, watching the muscles in Aimeric’s back move under the thin cotton of his shirt as he fiddles with his glaze. Aimeric turns around, a delicate plate of scones in hand. He looks at Jord, his eyes narrowed and a smirk splayed across his face. There is a smear of glaze on his cheek, the milky translucency just a touch too close to resembling something much less... safe for work. Jord feels the burning heat of his blush, eyes snapping to lock with Aimeric’s. God, the heat is getting to his head. 

“I’m twenty, thank you very much,” Aimeric leans in close to Jord over the island, tone shifting, stirring something deep inside of Jord. “And for your information, I happen to know about a lot of things.” 

Jord gulps. 

“Have a scone, love.” 

[butitsthegameilike]

for the rain, part 1

jord/aimeric modern!au || by @butitsthegameilike and @winter-hare

[next]

"No, Orlant, I told you it's fine." Jord steps out of his work van, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he closes the door with one hand and rifles through paperwork with the other. "I can manage."

"You better not be saying that shit for my benefit," Orlant answers gruffly over the line. "'Sides, the doctors said-"

"Stop." Jord sighs through his nose, stuffing the papers into his back pocket as an afterthought. "Your family needs you more than I do. Take your time." Though close business partners, this was about as sentimental as their conversations ever got; Orlant coughs awkwardly to fill the silence.

"Okay. If the primer isn't enough, use the new card when you get more."

"Alright." Jord ends the call and walks up the driveway. The oldest son of one of the city councilors had contacted Jord two days prior, stating that he wanted his entire first floor repainted. To do that, he has to measure the walls and figure out how much paint to buy; Jord hopes that someone will be awake to let him inside this early. Fighting through crowds at the home improvement store is always a pain.

He rings the doorbell, and waits. A stone frog squats on the porch to his left and gapes at him in silent horror. He stares back. He considers knocking, but thinks better of it; cranky customers are always the hardest to please. There's movement beyond the frosted glass windows, and Jord steps back. The deadbolt slides out of its lock. Tumblers shift with the handle, and the door opens inward enough for a youthful face to stick out. "Sorry, I almost didn't hear you." The man says, lips pouting prettily around the longer vowels. “You’re Jord, right?” Jord forces his gaze up to the other’s eyes, which… is hardly any less of a distraction. “Er, yes. You are Remon’s brother?” His throat clicks, inexplicably dry.

The corners of the man’s lips tighten into a terse smile. “Aimeric,” he introduces. He blinks, and opens the door the rest of the way. “Come in.”

Crossing over the threshold, it’s as if Jord has just stepped into a glass tunnel at the aquarium. The temperature inside is at least a fifteen degree drop, as if cool water flows through the very walls. Summer swelters outside, but inside is a delicate haven, hazy shadows cast from all angles in the unlit house. The foyer stretches to cathedral heights above Jord's head and light from the windows play in refractions across the pale interior.

It is easy, then, to slip back into work-mode: carefully noting the dimensions of the first floor and calculating the total surface area he will need to prime and paint. The arithmetic is soothing in its simplicity, and Jord has already developed a plan of attack by the time he enters the kitchen. He frowns. "Remon wants me to take down the wallpaper?" The design is elegant and, aside from a minimal amount of fraying at the edges, it is in fair condition. Aimeric sighs, turning off his phone and uncrossing his legs from his chair at the table. "Yup." "But." Jord scratches his head. "It doesn't need it." Aimeric shrugs. "It's tacky." "This will cost more to do, though." Aimeric shrugs again, recrossing his slender legs. Jord clears his throat.

“Alright,” he says.

Stripping off wallpaper is both tedious and miserable, and after almost two hours, Jord (literally) throws in the towel and allows himself a break. The front of his t-shirt is soaked in water that clings to his chest. From the joints in his fingers to the long muscles in his back, he’s definitely feeling the strain.

“I made lemonade,” Aimeric says, a question masked as a statement. He has been in the kitchen most of the time, as far as Jord is aware; folded up on a wooden dining chair, tapping away on his phone, making little noise. Jord wipes his sweaty forehead off on his sleeve and collapses onto the seat across.

“When did you do get the chance to do that?”

Aimeric rolls his eyes and crosses to the refrigerator. The shirt he wears - made of a fine cotton Jord hadn’t noticed before - dangles loosely down and around Aimeric’s taught stomach as he bends over to retrieve a pitcher of lemonade. “Yesterday,” he replies, voice like song. “I got thirsty, and made too much.” He straightens, setting the pitcher on the counter.

“Oh,” says Jord.

Early on, when Jord was first taking measurements, Aimeric went upstairs and changed clothes to accommodate for the heat. Now, as the younger man stretches on his toes to collect two glass cups from the top of a cabinet, Jord watches as his shorts ride up his delicate legs. Aimeric’s skin is a smooth gradient of cream, increasingly lighter in shade the further Jord’s gaze traces until disappearing behind cloth. Absurdly, Jord remembers that there is a pool out back.

“You’ve been working hard - I’ll pour us both a glass.” Jord is so lost in the aristocratic lilt of Aimeric’s tone that he nearly startles when Aimeric walks over and places a drink right in front of him. Instead of returning to his seat, he leans back against the counter and glances down at Jord through long eyelashes. “Is it good?”

Jord takes a sip; the citrus bursts across his tongue, but does nothing to quench his bottomless thirst. “It’s very good. Thank you.”

Aimeric positively beams at the praise, and Jord feels something not unlike a flower begin to unfurl in his chest.

[butitsthegameilike]

jord/aimeric modern au 1/?

jord is a contractor. though of modest means, he’s the favorite home improvement guy in affluent suburbia. he doesn’t have near the money his clients have but it’s good, honest work. humbling. jord is a man who enjoys laboring with his hands and, at the end of the day, appreciates having a tangible end product to show for the hours of work he put in.

though he lives a solitary lifestyle, jord doesn’t necessarily feel lonely. he buries himself in his current job, comes home, eats a tv dinner (with a shit brand of beer) in front of some military documentary, and sleeps like the dead. lather, rinse, repeat.

jord still has a flip phone. he only really texts two people: orlant, his business partner, and laurent, who could possibly be considered a friend and is even more of a loner than jord himself.

one day, the eldest son of one of the city council members hires jord to repaint the entire first floor of his house; jord drives his van over two days later and begins to strip off the wallpaper.

it’s tedious work that has him sweating, so when the youngest brother of the homeowner offers him a glass of lemonade, jord gladly stops to take a break

and then jord really does stop. and stares. 

the young man, rather than dissuaded by jord’s attention, seems to preen beneath it. “i’m aimeric,” he says, voice lilting in an aristocratic way that jord finds.... charming.

a little backstory on aimeric:

he’s the youngest son of loyse and guion, who are still married but have long been estranged

when aimeric turned 18, guion was gracious enough to allow him to finish high school before kicking him out of the house

he had to do some survival sex work :’( poor boy

when loyse returns from her extended european frolic two years later, she’s  p i s s e d. eventually after she pesters him enough, remon (aimeric’s oldest brother) decides to shelter aimeric in his house as a favor to their mother.

despite this, remon never speaks to his younger brother and only interacts with him when absolutely necessary. aimeric feels like a ghost in his house, not touching his brother’s food in the fridge and careful to reset any belongings he might touch. 

it’s maybe a month after aimeric moves in (though the days seem to drag on like decades) when laurent stops by for a visit; laurent could be considered a family friend although their shared history is far too complicated for such a banal role if one didn’t look too closely

it’s laurent who points out the peeling kitchen wallpaper to remon. “really,” he says dispassionately, “for a councilor’s son to neglect his property in such a way only reflects poorly on the councilor himself. you and guion should both be thankful that i know someone capable of renovating this shithole.” 

aimeric doesn’t think the place nearly qualifies as a shithole, but remon is far too proud to let the lesser de vere lecture him in such a way. he takes down the name of laurent’s man and makes sure that aimeric will be home on the day the contractor will come.

@winter-hare i’m passing on the baton; continue it from here 👀

[finnthebunneh]

Snuggles before bed.

[damens-blondie-blog]

You guys know Aimeric is soo happy now doing anything he wants at his little house with Jord and they adopted Nicaise too?