REQUEST: Insecure reader who doesn't think they deserve Blaise and that's why it takes so long for them to get together
A/N: Hello!! This is a request for Blaise's Banquet A very big, big,BIG, HUGE thank you to my lovely friend @i-await / @theladyriddle for proof reading and spellchecking this for me 🩷
(and i'm sorry i'm a day late i'm currently moving and i don't have wifi yet)
UPTADE: (if you saw it no you didn't 😭)
You and Blaise had always been in the same friend group. That was the problem.
You sat with them at lunch in the Great Hall, walked to Hogsmeade together, lounged in the courtyard after classes. And Blaise was… Blaise. He always lingered when you needed more time in a shop, saying things like, “It’s fine, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” or, “I wanted to check something out anyway.” He sat close to you in the courtyard because you rarely spoke loud, that’s all. He was just kind. Protective. Friendly.
He couldn't possibly feel the same way you do.
Not when he's him—smart, charming, funny, beautiful, and unfairly hot. Not when your clothes never fit quite right, your skin has blemishes and scars, your un-perfect teeth, and your glasses. Not when Pansy and Daphne exist in the same vicinity as you; confident, gorgeous, effortless, perfect.
So every small thing he did for you? You told yourself it's nothing. It's just him being nice, right?
Like that time he noticed something so minor, you almost didn’t believe it.
You'd trimmed just a little off your hair. Nothing drastic. But the moment you sat down at breakfast, Blaise’s eyes found you immediately.
“Oh, you cut your hair!” he said with that bright, easy smile of his. Before you could respond, he reached over and gently tucked a loose strand behind your ear. "Looks good, they feel softer now." His fingers brushed your cheek. Your heart nearly stopped.
“Oh, um... thank you... it's nothing much," you replied quietly, cheeks burning. "I'm surprised you noticed."
Or that Christmas you'd stayed at the castle, and you thought you’d be alone. Instead, Blaise wasn't able to go home either.
You ended up spending Christmas together.
He’d bought you things, thoughtful things. Things he saw you stare at once, in Hogsmeade. And he'd remember exactly what you liked or wanted. Your favorite scents, your favorite color; everything was perfect.
You’d only been able to make him something by hand, even felt a little embarrassed giving it to him, cause you felt like it wasn't as good as his gifts. What you didn't know is that it'd been on his bedside table ever since; he looked at it every night, without fail, before going to sleep.
Or there was that time in Hogsmeade, when the waiter got your drink order completely wrong.
You hadn't wanted to make a fuss, as you're not one to make a scene, so you stayed quiet. Blaise, mid-conversation with Theo, had simply reached over and switched your cup with his without a word.
He never even looked at you while doing it. But he knew. And fixed it. Simple as that.
The day it was freezing in the courtyard, you’d forgotten your cloak.
Blaise didn't hesitate when he saw you trying to warm up yourself; he took his off and draped it over your shoulders. It smelled warm and expensive and so much like him. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to not smile stupidly wide.
Mattheo whistled. “Whoa, pre-marital touching? You two are going straight to hell.”
Blaise didn’t miss a beat. “If anyone’s going to hell for pre-marital touching, it’s you and your whore reputation, Matt.” He looked at Mattheo with a raised eyebrow. “So shut up.”
The whole group laughed, including Mattheo, who flipped him off. Your cheeks burned as Blaise adjusted the cloak around you like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you were fighting a laugh too.
But none of it was enough to quiet the voice in your head.
You ate less. You started wearing more makeup than usual. You rolled your skirt shorter, undid an extra button on your shirt like Daphne does, tried to style your hair like Pansy’s. You studied how your friends moved, how they laughed, how they existed so easily.
Blaise noticed. Of course he did.
One evening, he showed up at your dorm without warning.
You were bare-faced, hair still damp from a shower, wearing soft pajamas. The second you saw him standing in your doorway, your eyes went wide.
“Blaise! What are you doing here?” you gasped.
He stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him. His eyes moved over you slowly, and his expression shifted.
“Why are you changing yourself?”
“You’ve been trying to look like Pansy. Like Daphne.” He gestured vaguely at you. “Why?”
“I thought… you said you liked it?”
“I did,” he said quickly. “I liked that you were trying new things. You looked beautiful. You always look beautiful. But not when you’re trying to be someone else.”
You looked down at your hands, throat tight.
Blaise exhaled and moved closer, kneeling in front of where you sat on the bed. He took your hands in his.
“Did someone say something to you?” His voice was low, serious. “Did anyone make my girl feel like she's not enough? Because if they did, they’re dead wrong. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re kind. And I’ll hex anyone who made you think otherwise. Hell, I'll even bribe Mattheo to do unspeakable shit to them."
Your eyes widened, tears already slipping down your cheeks.
“…Your girl?” you whispered.
Blaise froze for half a second, realizing that it had slipped out, then cupped your face with both hands, thumbs wiping away your tears.
“Yes. My girl.” His voice stayed soft. “Fuck it. I’m crazy about you. Always have been. I love the way you joke around. I love how you snap back at Theo and Mattheo when they piss you off, I love when you get grumpy because you’re hungry. I love how you stop to pet every cat in Hogsmeade. I love listening to you talk. I love looking at you. Not anyone else. So who made you feel like you had to change? To be someone else?”
You were crying quietly now. He kept wiping the tears away, never looking away from you. You shook your head.
"…No... No one... It's… not that," you tried to say and took a breath in. “I thought it was all in my head… the way you were with me," you whispered.
“It was never in your head.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.
"It's just that Pansy and Daphne are… they're perfect, Blaise. Pansy is cool, she's fun, she's… she's got that personality that makes everyone drawn to her. She smokes, she parties, she's easy to be around. And Daphne is so beautiful, she's perfect everywhere and in every way, she's got flawless make up, expensive clothes… and I'm… I'm just me. Next to all of you, I'm just...," you trailed off quietly.
“Don't say that, please. They're not you. They're great and pretty, yes, but you're you. Beautiful, and perfect. And I’ll stay right here, on my knees, as long as you need me to, telling you how perfect you are, how I think you're everything. Scars, blemishes, glasses, imperfections, all of it. You’re perfectly imperfectly, and I love that. And I’d choose you over and over again.”
He kissed your forehead, then your wet cheek. "Okay?" he whispered. You nod.
“So… will you go on a date with me, silly girl?”
You let out a teary little laugh and nodded again.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yes, please... I’d like that, Blaise.”
He smiled, soft and devastating.
“Good. Because I’d love that too.”
Created by Bug 𓆣 | @voidofsunlight
Please do not translate, copy, or repost my work.
