pairing: modern au!valarr targaryen x fem!reader
summary: Valarr is forced to confront the fact that being everyone’s golden boy means nothing if the only person he loves feels unseen.
cw: jealousy, insecurity, emotional confrontation, crying, reassurance, mild suggestive content, established relationship, hurt/comfort, possessive undertones(soft)
a/n: i freaking love writing modern valarr also kiera’s such a cutie
“Are you certain you don’t want another?” His voice, a low hum against your ear, cut through the party’s thrum. He held out a glass, condensation beading on its surface, a pink, fizzy drink swirling within.
You shook your head, the movement tight. “No, I’m fine, Valarr.”
“Are you sure?,” he said, his fingers brushing your arm. “Is the music too loud? We can find a quieter corner.”
“No, it’s just… a lot of people.” You shifted your weight, the fabric of your dress clinging. His hand, warm and firm, settled on your lower back. “That’s true,” he chuckled, the sound rich. “the entire campus seems to have descended upon this place. “look, there’s Kiera. I should probably go say hello.”
you watched him go, a practiced ease in his stride. His dark hair, with that striking silver streak, caught the dim light. Those beautiful mismatched eyes fixed on Kiera. You took a slow, deep breath, the air thick with perfume and the faint scent of cheap beer.
“Valarr! You made it!” A high-pitched voice, then another. Two girls, their dresses shimmering, converged on him. Their laughter, annoyingly insistent, carried across the room. He turned, a polite smile already in place. “Rhae, Daella. It’s good to see you both.” “We’ve been looking for you all night,” Daella said, her hand reaching, almost touching his arm, then pulling back. “This party is so much better now that you’re here.”“You’re too kind,” he replied, his tone even, his gaze sweeping over them both. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
“Oh, we are now,” Rhae purred, her eyes, too bright, lingering on his mismatched ones. “We were just talking about that philosophy assignment. You always make it sound so easy.” “It’s all about breaking it down,” he explained, his hands gesturing subtly. “Finding the core argument.”
You watched, a knot tightening in your stomach. He didn’t notice. He never did. He was just being Valarr, effortlessly charming, endlessly patient. “You’re so smart,” Daella breathed, her voice a little too loud. “My brain just doesn’t work that way. Maybe you could… tutor me sometime?” Rhae elbowed her, giving her a sharp glance. “Don’t be silly, sis. Valarr’s busy.”
“I’m always happy to help if I can,” he said, his smile unwavering. “I actually tutor after my classes on monday, you can stop by if you have any questions” He took a small step backward, his eyes scanning the room, as if searching. For you. “Oh, Valarr, you’re the best!” Daella smiled brightly . “We’ll hold you to that!” Rhae added, a mischief glint in her eyes.
He offered a final, polite nod, then moved. Talked to Kiera for a while, she smiled at you across the room, a sweet and gentle one with her soft lips, she’s really calming to look at, you thought. He then threaded through the crowd back to you, his eyes finding yours. He walked directly to you, his hand immediately settling on your back again.
“Everything alright?” he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly, the only sign of concern.
“Perfect,” you said, your voice flat. You didn’t look at him. You stared at the wall behind his shoulder, at a faded poster of some band you didn’t recognize. “You look a little pale,” he observed, his thumb stroking your skin gently. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“I ..I don’t know” you said softly, the words tasting like ashes. You wanted to go home and Valarr could see it. “We should go, it’s getting it’s late, aright? Give me five minutes to say goodbye to Matarys. I’ll meet you by the door.” He squeezed your hand, then vanished into the throng once more. You walked to the entrance, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed cheeks. The city sounds, distant and muffled, were a comfort. He joined you moments later, Without a word at first, he slipped off his dark riding jacket, fine wool, lined and warm, he draped it carefully over your shoulders. His hand lingered just a moment at your collar, adjusting the fabric so it sat properly. “Keep it on, I don’t want my girl getting sick.” If he wasn’t so freaking perfect you would have slapped him by now, his girl, if only you’d felt like it.
He simply walked beside you, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire.
The elevator ride up to his apartment was long. The soft hum of the machinery filled the space. You stared at the glowing numbers, counting each floor. He unlocked his door, the click echoing in the quiet hallway. “Want some tea? Or water?”
You walked past him, straight into his living room, dropping your small purse onto the coffee table and slipping off his jacket. “No, I’m okay.” He followed, his movements quiet, efficient. He tossed his keys onto a chair. “You’ve been saying that all night.” He paused, his mismatched eyes, usually so bright, now clouded with a gentle concern. “And you haven’t looked fine, not for a second.”
You turned, facing him, your arms crossed. “What do you want me to say, Valarr?”
He sighed, a soft, weary sound. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” He took a step closer, his hands open, inviting.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly. “Everything is perfect, isn’t it? You’re perfect. This life is perfect. Everyone can’t get enough of you.” His brows drew together. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything!” You threw your hands up, then let them fall. “Did you see them? Daella and Rhae? Clawing at you? Practically drooling?” He looked genuinely bewildered. “They were just being friendly.” “Friendly?” You scoffed, a bitter sound. “You call that friendly? They want you, Valarr. They all want you.”
He took another step, closing the distance. “I only want you.” His voice was soft, persuasive.
“Do you?” You shook your head, a hollow laugh escaping you. “Because sometimes I don’t believe it. You just stand there, smiling. You let them flirt. You entertain their stupid questions and you even offer to tutor them. Don’t you see it?”
“See what?” He reached for your hands. You pulled them away. “That you’re too good for me!” The words burst out, sharp and raw. “That you deserve someone who isn’t constantly looking over their shoulder, wondering when you’ll realize you could do so much better.”
His face, usually so composed, crumpled slightly. His mismatched eyes, fixed on yours, wide with hurt. “Not enough? Is that what you think?”
“How can I not?” You felt tears prick your eyes, hot and stinging. “You’re you. You’re brilliant. You’re kind. You’re handsome. You excel at everything. There isn’t a single thing you’re not good at. And then there’s me. I’m just… me.”
“Just you?” His voice was a whisper, laced with disbelief. “You think you’re ‘just you’?”
“Yes!” You choked back a sob. “I’m plain. I’m ordinary. I’m jealous. I’m insecure. I’m everything you’re not.”
He closed the remaining distance, his hands gently cupping your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears that had finally escaped. “Look at me.”
You tried to turn away, but his grip was firm, tender. “Look at me,” he repeated, his voice a quiet command. You met his gaze, the mismatched eyes swimming in your own tears. “You are not plain,” he stated, his voice unwavering. “You are exquisite. Every curve, every line. The way your eyes crinkle when you genuinely laugh. The way your hair falls just so, framing your pretty face.”
You shook your head, a fresh wave of tears. “You’re just saying that.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You are not ordinary. You are fiercely intelligent, with a mind that sees things others miss. You are passionate, about the things you care about, about the people you love.”
“I’m just acting stupi—,” you whispered, your voice thick.
“No, you’re not,” he said firmly , his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And yes, sometimes, you feel things deeply, perhaps more deeply than others. That’s not a flaw. It’s part of what makes you you.”
“But I’m not perfect like you,” you argued, the words barely audible. “Perfect?” He let out a soft, rueful laugh. “My love, I am far from perfect. I make mistakes. I get frustrated. I worry. I have my own insecurities, believe it or not.” “You do not,” you sniffed, unconvinced. “I do,” he insisted, his gaze piercing. “I worry that I’m not doing enough for you. I worry that I’m not giving you what you need. I worry that one day, you’ll realize that I’m not enough for you.”
You stared at him, truly seeing the vulnerability in his eyes for the first time.
“When those girls flock around me,” he continued, his voice dropping, “I don’t see them. I see a sea of faces. And I’m always searching. Searching for yours. For that slight frown when you’re thinking, or that little crinkle in your nose when something amuses you. Because you are the only one I want to impress. You are the only one whose opinion truly matters to me.”
He paused, his eyes searching yours. “Do you know why I’m polite to them? Why I smile and answer their questions?”
You shook your head, a tear tracing a path down your chin. His thumb already brushing it away. “Because I was raised to be,” he explained, his voice gentle. “Because it’s easier than being rude. Because if I were to snap, or be cold, it would reflect poorly on me, and by extension, on you. It would be a momentary satisfaction for me, but it wouldn’t change anything. And it certainly wouldn’t make me love you any less.”
He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “My heart,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “You are everything. You are my joy. You are the one who sees past the ‘perfect’ facade, who knows my anxieties, who knows me. And you love me anyway.”
You felt a tremor run through you, a warmth spreading from your chest. “When I look at you,” he continued, his breath mingling with yours, “I don’t see ‘just you.’ I see my future. I see a woman who challenges me, who makes me better, who makes me feel whole.” Then he smiled softly “plus, my father would kill me, quite horribly and very publicly if I ever let go of you. He adores you far too much and I can’t blame him.” He said teasingly, making you smile again.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes again. “Don’t ever think you’re not enough. You’re more than enough. You’re my everything.” He leaned down, his lips brushing yours, soft and tender. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, a silent promise. His hands moved from your face, tracing the line of your jaw, then down your neck, settling on your shoulders.
“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you too,” you breathed, the words heavy with relief, with a newfound understanding.
His lips moved to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And if you ever feel that way again,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing tone, “just tell me. I’ll remind you.”
His hands slid down your back, pulling you flush against him. You felt the solid warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against yours. The lingering pain of jealousy began to dissipate, replaced by a deep, undeniable sense of belonging. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time.
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