best shot \\ \ stylinson au

\\ 01 \

[a/n]: this is going to be really short - four or five chapters, maybe. only posting this on here because i wanna try and get some feedback, before i post this as a whole thing (one-shot) on ao3. :) so, yeah. that would be amazing - feedback, i mean. thank youuu. x

 

\\ 01 \

for their ten-months anniversary, louis and blake decide to go to a place called zizzi, somewhere in paddington, with nice boats nearby, to rent out for a night. it’s italian – louis’s favourite – and after a bit of a wait for someone to come around and get them a nice place to sit at, they’re led to a table set for two in the far corner.

they sit, blake eyeing the place warily. “’s a bit loud,” he comments.

louis rests his elbows on the table and folds his hands in front of his mouth. he smiles encouragingly as he shrugs his shoulders, resting his chin on his hands. “i don’t mind,” he murmurs kindly.

blake’s smile is blinding. “that’s great – as long as you’re okay, i am, too.” he grins wolfishly. “this is all about you tonight.” he winks as he says, “next time will be about me, yeah?”

louis’s heart rate picks up embarrassingly. “blake,” he murmurs, puckering up for a kiss. blake grants it easily. “love you, babe.”

“love you, too.”

having ordered their food – louis the lasagne and blake a pizza margarita – they fall into an easy silence. louis watches blake watch him.

he’s not the prettiest, louis knows that, but he’s a wonderful person – always kind and never impatient – and louis doesn’t think he’ll want someone else any time soon.

blake’s tall – not unfairly, but a lot taller than louis, still – with black curly hair. louis likes combing his hands through them but there’s this thin line between hot as fuck and what the fuck when it comes to curls, if you’re asking louis, and sometimes, blake’s just on this side of. well. messy sort of afro. he tells blake to grow it out a little, just to see if it’d look any good, but he won’t because, it’ll be annoying, louis. he’s fine with it, though, because it’s still so long that it falls over blake’s eyes prettily when he sucks louis’s dick into his mouth at night, so.

his eyes are bright blue – this side of grey, sometimes, in fluorescent lighting, and it’s. not so pretty. but they always seem to be sparkling when they glance at louis, and it means a lot. the happy glint. louis revels in it.

blake wears bandanas a lot – like, a lot – and he loves wearing rings, too. his jeans are always skinny but the holes in them were made on purpose and you can tell, and louis hates it, but he never mentions it to blake. the rest of his clothing is decent enough, so it’s okay. he can handle proper ugly jeans on his boyfriend. ’s not like he has to wear them himself, so. he’s allowed to bitch about it to liam, though. just. yeah.

“god, you’re so gorgeous,” blake breathes, then, and louis’s glad – glad blake’s not actually edward cullen with the ability to read the oh, fuck that rushes through louis’s head, then, and that louis himself can easily lie a “look at yourself, babe” in return because anything else would be mean. he’s not a mean person. he’s. whatever.

it’s all going good, going great, until that – greek god appears next to blake with a wide smile on his lips. “aye, blake,” he says and his voice is as soft as his hair looks. louis hates him. he’s so unrealistically pretty. “haven’t seen you in – decades.”