#jaimeric

Only need to start writing. :)

Total Word Count:  430,598 words

Number of Fests: 13

Number of Stories posted to AO3: 77

Drarry: 20

Jeddy: 25

Scorbus: 6

Drarry/Jeddy/Scorbus: 1

Gen Fic: 3

Perciver: 2

Flintwood: 1

Drames: 2

Pansy/Luna: 1

Harry/Neville: 2

Rarry: 2

Deamus: 1

Teddy/James/Albus: 2

Sheith (voltron): 8

Jaimeric (Captive Prince): 1

Most Kudos Fic: Dating Potters -  Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it's time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they're not counting on is the fact that they're not the only ones with secrets to share. A story in which innuendos are made, hoodies are worn, secrets are revealed, and Albus hides under the table, though not necessarily in that order.

Most Commented on Fic: Also Dating Potters

2nd Place:  Sun's Out, Guns Out -  Keith is a loner who doesn't really want to be alone. Shiro’s a frat guy who isn't actually a douche. After a chance meeting at the college gym, Keith begins to question everything he thinks he knows about himself and the things he wants.

Most Bookmarked Fic: Wow, also Dating Potters

2nd place: For The Price of a Cup of Tea -  When Draco Malfoy returns to England, he doesn’t know what he is looking for. Meanwhile, Harry’s spent the last few years trying to make the magical world a better place, but he’s unable to escape the nagging feeling something will always be missing. Years later, when they reconnect and find in each other an equal match, the missing pieces of their lives begin to fall into place.

Fic with the most Hits: ....Dating Potters ;)

2nd place:  For The Price of a Cup of Tea 

Most Kudo’s Fic: Dating Potters again (you guys really love this fic and that makes me so happy <3)

2nd place:  Pogonotrophy -  Harry and Malfoy are Auror partners. Friends. Really good friends. That's all. And Harry is perfectly okay with that. Until Malfoy grows a beard and his entire life turns upside down.

Fic with the Highest Word Count:  Boiling Point (42,882 words) - Ferveret - n. boiling point.

After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

Fic I’m Most Proud of: Boiling Point. The non-linear was really a challenge for me and I almost died writing this a few times and put so much of how I see Harry and Drarry into this one that I feel this piece is the best representation of my writing and I’m just really proud of it.

This was really fun to do. I’m so proud of myself this year and how much I wrote and challenged myself to go outside my comfort zone. I don’t think this is an attainable word count for me to achieve next year again since I’m feeling more than a bit burned out at the moment, but I enjoyed every moment of writing and am so pleased with the things I wrote this year.

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.

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. 

Pushing his way through the trees, he saw Aimeric, who was standing with one hand on the twisted branch of a tree, as though for support. Damen almost hailed him. But then he saw that Jord was weaving through the scattered trees, following Aimeric. Damen stayed silent, not announcing his presence. Jord put a hand on Aimeric’s back. [...] Jord murmured something that was too soft to hear, and Aimeric let himself be folded into Jord’s arms. They stayed that way for a long moment, under the swaying branches of the trees; and then Damen saw Aimeric’s hands slide into Jord’s hair, heard him say, ‘Kiss me. Please, I want—’ and he stepped away to give them privacy, as Jord tilted Aimeric’s chin up, as the branches of the trees moved back and forth, a gentle, shifting veil, covering them up. -- Prince’s Gambit by C.S. Pacat