#state of Grace Taylors version | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchelll · 3 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XIV): State of Grace.

Imagine you find the love of your life on Tinder. But there’s a lot going on before you and him realize that.

Warnings 1: fluff, light reading, some drama, light smut.

***

• (I)

I'm walking fast through the traffic lights. Busy streets and busy lives and all we know is touch and go. We are alone with our changing minds. We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time…

You stare at the Tinder app you’ve just downloaded. Motivations cannot be concealed of why you are doing it. Loneliness is why it’s suddenly opened, leading you to interact with strangers under the pretense you are about to fall in love with the man of your life.

Ridiculous are such romantic notions, and you have no one to blame for nurturing them but yourself. That is why you open it and sliding these male pictures like they are part of an odd menu, you think you are very demanding when you see his picture on your screen.

His profile reads:

Aemond T, 28 years old. “Live fast. Die young. No idea what the fuck I’m doing here, but it is what it is.”

You think those lines are quite amusing and you press the “like” button, a part of you doubting he’s liking you back. Especially when your profile reads:

Y/N, 28 years old. “I talk a lot and make bad jokes. If you are here to be monosyllabic, please get out.”

To your disconcert, he likes you back.

“Well, let’s see how this one goes”, you tell yourself, somewhere between self pity and skepticism.

Aemond Targaryen has arrived home in the first rays of morning. Ran on the streets, crossing red lights, a color he dresses and lives for, hardly respecting it at times when he finds convenient.

Living at the upper east side of King’s Landing, he’s slightly drunk when he gets at the apartment he shares with the only tolerable member of his family: his sister, Laena, who’s sleeping by now.

Opening Tinder because, since he left Alys, he feels the need of one night stand, he finds himself quite impatient before such pursuit. When he sees Y/N on his screen, he knows this is not the kind of woman he usually hangs out with.

In fact, this bad boy hardly looks for good girls—Alys once accused him of mother issues for dating older women who somewhat resemble his mother and this kind of traumatized him. No one knows, but he’s doing therapy to fix this issue.

But you are not older, hardly look like his mother, Mrs Alicent Hightower, and… well, you look beautiful with vivid y/c eyes, smooth y/c skin and y/c hair tossed against the wind.

As soon as he sees he’s corresponded, he sends a message, almost falling asleep because it’s 5 am but he’s surprised when you promptly reply.

“What’s up?”, Aemond writes, half drunk, half asleep.

“All good. And you? Where do you speak from?”, you write back.

“Upper east side, you?”

“Not the richest part of the town for sure.”

When reading these acid lines, Aemond laughs, though something about them annoys him in the same measure.

“What do you know about that?”

“Enough to know this is not a place I frequent.”

“So where do you come from?”

“I recently left High Garden and am temporarily living at the capital. In that neighborhood called Y/C.”

“That’s a good neighborhood. Despite your prejudice, I actually go there at times.”

“My prejudice? Do you suppose I hate rich people now?”

Aemond is not sure how the hell this is going. Shouldn’t a one night stand be this difficult to find, for sure.

“Sorry. I’m drunk.”

He’s about to throw the phone away and touch himself instead. This appears to be a better option. Besides, calling Alys is not fucking considered.

“Apologies accepted. I admit I did not express myself well”, you write. “Should we start again?”

Aemond, between horny and impatient, finds himself compelled not to throw away his phone, after all.

“Sure, why not? What are you doing at 5 am? I mean… I have the excuse of being drunk after a fantastic party at the port, but you?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts over my head, I think, but this is not a conversation for Tinder.”

Now Aemond is wide awake. You don’t look like any superficial woman he’d been talking these days.

“Why, tell me about it. I am an expert when it’s about anxiety and other things. Besides, who do you take me for? I like deep conversations.”

“Send me a text message and we can keep this going.” And you write your number down.

The silver haired male raises an eyebrow. Despite the poor starter, you are more interesting than he’d formerly judged.

I wonder what lies behind these photographed vivid eyes, Y/N.

***

You exchange messages with Aemond for three days. A date is set, and before you know expectations rise. Then you start to sabotage yourself.

You begin to look for excuses when it comes to meet this strange, handsome rich man. Old traumas remind you of past failures, but your mind is briefly distracted when he sends you a message:

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going? Didn’t hear from you today.”

It’s mid-week, and due to your work as y/c you occupied yourself enough to avoid his name or the fact that in three days you might meet him.

Part of you wonders what could possibly go wrong whilst another makes a power point presentation with lists of why it could go worse than expected.

“All good”, you eventually answer. “Sorry for not answering straight away. I’ve been working.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take long to answer you back.

“How’s work so far?”

You know Aemond works as humanities professor at Westeros University, but that he’s also part of that (rather infamous) Targaryen family.

“Good so far. Just busy. How’s yours?”

“One needs patience to deal with young adults that still think they are teenagers. By the way, apologies for the swift change of subjects, but how’s our Saturday going? Still standing, I hope?”

You hesitate, panicking before the idea of seeing someone. Part of you tries to find motives to avoid him, but another, more reasonable, reminds you this is living: hurting, yes, but embracing the joys life may offer. Shielding oneself against disappointment will not stop them happening, so what is the point of hiding in shadows under the pretense of impeding suffering?

“Is 10 o’clock good?”

“It works fine for me. I’ll see you there!”

It’s set. Your first date in three years…

• (II)

You come around and the armor falls. Pierce the room like a cannonball. Now all we know is don't let go. We are alone, just you and me…

Aemond is not romantic, but practical like his ex used to mock. He is not the kind of man who opens easily, rather being a man of actions.

How unusual, or perhaps following an advice of his sister dear, that he opts as first date with a girl he’d never seen before a picnic at the Aegon’s Hill.

Dressed like someone who could easily be mistaken as a motorcycle rider man, he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses and threw over his shoulder a black jacket, wearing a simple white shirt and black pants.

He checks his phone once a while, but why is he feeling dizzy at this first encounter with a stranger?

It’s when he spots you dressed in a flower dress, medium y/c hair blowing against the wind, wearing a pair of blue sandals on your feet.

A funny contrast you two are, like sun and moon when they meet, resulting in an eclipse. But as Aemond watches you come, shy and insecure about him, he wonders where this will go.

Taking off his sunglasses, he stands and smiles:

“Y/N? It’s me, Aemond.”

“Oh”, you barely blink when spotting those purple eyes. “You are taller than I had assumed.”

He chuckles at your remark.

“In my family this is a remarkable trait, some would say.” Aemond offers you a seat and you soon take it.

You see the picnic is already set, the cloth already spread over the green grass on a spot that has some shadows thanks to a large tree that there stands.

There are fruits, cakes, cereals and breads, but also juice, water and coffee. You are positively impressed by the effort he paid to this. Aemond side smirks at your reaction.

“What? Did you like it?”

“I loved it”, you smile the brightest at him. “Thank you, Aemond. I’ve never done picnics before.”

“No?”, he inquires, watching you with interest. “How come? I thought this was a common thing at High Garden?”

You laugh heartily and Aemond decides that he likes the sound.

“I am not a noblewoman, my dear. It may be a tradition amidst the local elite. You must certainly have heard of a beauty named Margaery Tyrell. She does promote these events there, but like I said, I’ve moved to Kings Landing a few years ago.”

“The name may hint something, but I don’t care about elites and their gatherings”, says Aemond, serving himself some water whilst you opt for some juice. “My father loves throwing fanciful parties, but I don’t fit them, so I stopped going.”

As you study him, your gaze and his linger for one small, but significant moment before you say:

“So I get you are not very close to your family?”

“Not really, no. But you wouldn’t be if your father favored one child over the other and expected gratitude in return”, he smiles despite the poisonous words.

You raise your eyebrows.

“Is it that bad then?”

“You have no idea.”

You tilt your head.

“I cannot believe I relate to you, Aemond Targaryen.”

For some reason, this brings you both to delightful laughters in that first date…

***

• (III)

And I never saw you coming. And I'll never be the same…

It’s been two weeks. What was supposed to be a chasing after one night stand it has become new discoveries giving space to new sensations.

Aemond likes to kiss your lips in his car, to make you laugh at his bad jokes or listen when you tell about your day.

You like to listen to him too, not only about his days, but his past experiences, open wounds that mirror yours. And when he kisses you it is as if the world stops spinning and everything takes in a slower rhythm.

His kiss makes you feel unspeakable things, but that you never felt encouraged in doing them, transferring to reality what has only been a fantasy of your dreams.

Nonetheless, you are still reluctant in pushing affairs forward and Aemond respects you that. He reads you like an open book, always observant about your mannerisms.

This day, for example, you two are at a coffeehouse that is located within a bookshop. There, you read a book of poems all the whilst he drinks coffee. It’s a comfortable silence and it gives him such a peace, one of the kind he’s unused to it.

“What are you looking at?”, you ask upon sensing his stare, which makes you blush.

He chuckles, finding adorable how easily he makes you shy.

“You”, says he directly. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful like you, reading so concentrated.”

You giggle like a silly girl, finally putting the book aside to take his long hand in yours, enjoying how smooth it is when your fingers are locked with his.

“Stop it”, you shoot him an embarrassed look. “You know it’s untrue.”

Aemond laughs quietly. He then makes sure you are now sitting on his lap, disregarding the fact you two are at a public place.

“I mean every word I say”, he looks deep into your eyes, holding your hips as he rests his chin over your shoulder. “How come I feel more alive when I’m with you, dearest Y/Nickname? My heart races when you look at me like that.”

You lean closer to him, a smile spreading big on your lips before cupping his face with your hands.

In your mind you cry out a big “I love you”, but these words don’t reach your tongue yet. You thus kiss his lips instead and there you stay, at your private paradise.

Later, he drives you to his home. His sister isn’t there and Aemond wants to show you his place properly. This is the first time you are there since you and him started dating—though no label has come out of either mouths yet.

Once inside, you are given a tour at the apartment. It’s bigger than you’d expect, but cozy and nice to look at with a huge view at his living room to the sea.

“Look at this view!”, you exclaim in awe as you see green hills mixing with different modern buildings that are combined with the blue of the oceans, reflecting the same shade of the color that paints the skies. “I wish I was this privileged! But then I remember I already am.”

And saying so, you look at him, transmitting more than you’d expect. But even so… when Aemond meets your gaze, he sees it through you. What is curious is that, somewhere in his past, he’d flee, panic or fight it in his way by sabotaging the process.

He still has his scars, and these are eventually coming to surface, but this silver haired male has no space in his mind that is not you. Thus, he comes to stay behind you and says:

“You know what, Y/N? Be with me. Be my girlfriend.”

You turn your head at him. It is easy to be involved by sweet words and empty promises, but this is not what you feel when your wide-eyed gaze meets his intense one.

Souls speak in silence when desires, sentiments and thoughts are aligned in one purpose. Could it be any different? Perhaps yes, but neither you nor Aemond conceive otherwise.

"Yes, my dearest."

You turn and wrap your hands around his neck. Proximity is shortened as his long, callous hands tight the grip around your waist and his forehead once again rests against yours and a kiss comes as a result.

Though he is not yet ready to speak these three words that at times can be seen behind his dazzling purple eyes, Aemon is more than ready in building a new, more optimistic future with you by his side.

A sentiment and perception that you share as your togue snakes in his and together dance in one slow syncronized rhythm. Silence remains undefeated in the surroundings... but for how long?

His is the fireous pursuit and you, like a timber prompted to burn. Soon, you are pressed against the wall with his lips still locked with yours, but his hands move to your hips, there staying, there caressing your bum before rising to your waist and slowly transferring his gentle, warming touch to your back, underneath the blouse you wear.

It does not help that, after biting your bottom lip, he breaks the kiss so he gradually grows bold in his teasings. You like how your boyfriend--and the word brings a smile to your redish lips--takes his time to get to know you and your pace even if you suspect he's a dragon like the standard of the symbol of his famous family.

You play with his long locks, wrapping them around your fingers, sighing quietly as his tongue takes its time to get familiar with your neck. You giggle softly, however, when his hands rest subtly on your belly.

"Yes, babe?", he raises his eyes to meet yours and in them you see mischief. "Is it good for my lady?"

Your knees often weaken and your body gets instantly warm at whenever he is gallant with you. Aemond, a good observer, knows it well. No wonder why he smirks at you.

"It is more than good, I fear to say", you chuckle, struggling not to rub one leg to the other, especially when he looks at you like that. And you find yourself restless, prompted to let your fingertips vaguerously move from his arms to his chest, thus helping him remove his shirt.

"Is it so?", Aemond laughs quietly, letting you take the reins of the moment. "Your innocent gaze makes me no fool, young lady".

Saying so he presses you one more time against the wall, biting your neck all the whilst your hands eagerly move to his pants.

"You are my doom", you whimper impatiently.

The spark is about to explode...

***

(IV)

So you were never a saint and I've loved in shades of wrong We learn to live with the pain, Mosaic broken hearts. But this love is brave and wild

Even sun sets in paradise. In due time, his obscurity comes to surface as well as your vices. Jealousy is a trait you dislike in yourself, reflecting the insecurity within due to bad experiences in former relationships.

His self entitled taste for liberty awakes this beast, coming to test your relationship in the famous “three months crisis”.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment”, says Aemond, troubled by your silence as he drives you home.

The cause of disagreement rests in the unwelcoming presence of Alys Rivers. Two days after Aemond’s birthday party, she, who remained a close friend to his brother Aegon—even if his entire family hates her for reasons you have not yet figured out—paid him a visit and you were not told about this.

But he eventually tells you like it is not relevant for your relationship. You, proud where sentiments are concerned, think that if he cannot see how wrong this all is, certainly will not find out by you.

“I am not giving any silent treatment”, your words cry a wound open in your ego, your voice betrays your pride.

Aemond sighs and stops the car somewhere random.

“Come now, don’t be like this, Y/N”, he looks at you with confused eyes. “We have always talked about everything, haven’t we?”

Your therapist usually tells you that, regardless of how uncomfortable it is to speak out, you must not swallow your sentiments nor bury them by turning into a burden that should be forgotten. Or else your body would feel the results, which in turn were not nice.

Aemond can see you are struggling against yourself, aware that underneath you there lies old scars that still do you harm. He puts a hand around your shoulders, patient.

“Take your time”, he says with his usual soothing voice.

In other circumstances, he’d not be patient. But this is someone whom he cares deeply, having grown to love sincerely. Only another woman holds his patient affection and it’s his sister, Helaena.

Eventually you burst into tears, letting yourself exposed before this man you love. You’d think he is the kind of guy who likes strong women so you’d never let be seen so fragile, so open.

Aemond somehow comprehends it, then he lifts your face so you can meet his gaze and see there’s no judgement behind his eyes. Wiping away your tears, he suddenly realizes, after examining his conscience, the probable cause of your hurting.

“What did I do, lass? There is no need to push me away. We must speak. What is troubling you, my love?”

“I… I…” you take a deep breath, confident you can battle your demons. “You welcomed her, the woman who you told me you loved fiercely for many years. You welcomed her at your house and tell me as if this is no big deal? She may remain friends with your brother, but then what about us? What about me? Do you care so little about my feelings that you simply receive her, a woman I cannot equal in many ways?”

Oh, the thought comes too late. So this is what it’s about.

Aemond doesn’t know how to respond straight away. Sticking to his early encouragement, he is not running away from himself.

There is embarrassment, there is shame. His thoughts are a mess, but only after you stop sobbing that he turns at you.

“I’m sorry, Y/Nickname. That was imprudent of me.”

“I am not that kind of girl who is possessive of her boyfriend. Who you hang out with is your problem, we all have friends and it’s completely understandable to be friends with one’s ex but…”

“Wait”, he frowns. “Are you friends with your exes?”

You ignore his remark.

“…to welcome her like that without even telling me, and at your own house with no one else. How can I feel comfortable with that?”

“Aegon was there”, Aemond mumbles. “This doesn’t excuse, I know. I’m sorry, darling. And I had no idea you compared with her. For the love of God, I am your boyfriend, not hers. If I wanted to relive the past, I would be a historian or a museologist.”

Pleased to make you chuckle, Aemond smiles at you, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“Are we good?”

“Yes, my love, we are.”

And you two stay silent, appreciating each other’s company with only the stars and the poorly illuminated posts as witnesses.

A few months later, a graver disagreement comes like an earthquake to shake the stability between you two.

Aemond is a possessive man, so he is not exactly a man of sharing. This flaw comes particularly when he feels threatened by others. One of these is his nephew, Jacaerys Velaryon.

He thought this rascal man was being friendlier to you than you deserved. You two had a fervent argument after that.

Or when you accused him of running away of his commitment to you by not introducing you to his family.

As you can see, it’s been a hell of a ride.

But twelve months later and insecurities are overcome, with you finally settled with each other’s demons.

***

• (V)

This is a state of grace. This is the worthwhile fight. Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right. These are the hands of fate. You're my Achilles heel. This is the golden age of something good and right and real…

You mount on him, ready to another drive. It feels so damn good to have his cock twitching hard, thrusting inside you as you two move slowly.

“This is so damn good”, you moan, eyes closed.

“Do not be loud, my dear”, Aemond smirks, adjusting to you, taking a seat without letting you fall.

Curtain is open, giving path to moonlight spark in his bedroom. You are at his apartment, having recently moved together.

But dear Helaena’s birthday is coming soon and some of the family is spending time there.

“I am trying to, but you make it difficult”, you whimper when he takes your breast to his mouth all the while fingering you concomitantly to his moves.

And then he rolls you to his bed, fastening his pace and kissing you passionately.

Not too long after that and you both come together in the same climax. When cuddling you, Aemond says.

“I corrupted you, didn’t I?”

You cast him an amused glance.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve become more naughty since we’ve met”, Aemond chuckles, kissing your neck. “Not that I am complaining.”

“What can I do if the makeup sex is really good?”, you laugh quietly.

Interlocking fingers, you two stay like this for a moment, staring into the nude dark sky able to spot from his bed.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

You look at him, admiring his beauty, the paled, smooth skin, the well built muscles perfectly drawn in his shaped body, his long hands that mould so well with yours… Even his wrongs, his flaws, his vices… make you love him ardently.

Sensing your gaze, Aemond begins to flush.

“I am no romantic”, he whispers in his usual quiet tone. “But you know how I’ve grown to overcome my disability in expressing my thoughts and sentiments.”

“I’ve always judged you did this better than me”, you muse partially joking, pleased to make him smile.

“I…”

Now on your elbows, you take his face with your hands.

“What’s it my dear?”

Avoiding your inquisitive gaze, Aemond is silent before bursting it soon:

“Be my wife.”

You barely blink, a small, silly smile, coming to form on your lips.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me”, he blushes.

You laugh at his lack of sensibility. Throwing yourself at him gives the peace his rioting heart requires.

“Is this a… yes?”, Aemond asks, unsure. “I should have done it better, I’m so…”

You shush him by kissing his lips, then saying:

“Of course this is a yes! You are my state of grace, Aemond Targaryen! I could have not asked for a better husband.”

When contemplating the genuine joy stamped in your features, he, stroking your cheek, then says:

“You are the love of my life, Y/N Y/LN.”

Without waiting for any response, he holds you against his chest, rocking you in his arms as you share a kiss.

It’s the first chapter of your happily ever after…

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