see you smile again by icaarusfalls | T | 1035 How fitting. A lonely piece for a lonely man. —•— Louis paints on walls when he's sad. Then someone paints with him.
paint me a picture (i'll give you my dreams) by tothemooon | E | 2510 Sometimes, Harry paints Louis, sketches him into black and white over a blank canvas, inks the curves of his body onto paper, each stroke a caress as he brings him to life all over again. Other times, he paints Louis, traces patterns over his golden skin with fingertips drenched in colour, claiming him for his own the only way he knows how. or the one where Harry is an artist who can't sleep and Louis is his favourite canvas.
Life Immitates Art by wanderingants | E | 4500 Harry is a painter. Louis is his favorite piece of art.
Won't You Carry Me Away by PearlyDewdrops | M | 6134 “Oh, my God,” Louis says, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry! I must have dozed off,” Louis insists, apologetic, face hot. Artsy Boy gapes at him, silent for an excruciating length of time. Louis wants the ground to swallow him whole. "Do you normally take naps in Home and Furnishing Stores?" the boy says finally, slowly, a deep drawl of a voice that sends shivers down Louis’ spine, caressing it like silk. "No, don’t be daft. I only take naps in IKEAs," Louis quips. "Comfier beds, aren’t they?" Artsy Boy slightly pokes his tongue out between almost crimson lips, (Louis’ definitely penning a poem about this wondrous pair of lips later) before pressing them together in an amused smile. Or: Louis decided to test out a bed in IKEA and ends up falling asleep, startling one very beautiful, whimsical boy named Harry. Of course, romance quickly ensues.
The Bare Naked Truth by FallingLikeThis | E | 6490 Harry and Louis meet at an art show and end up falling into bed together. After it happens again, Harry suggests they make a habit of it. At least, the falling into bed together part. Or Strangers to friends to friends with benefits.
Hung Up High in the Gallery by lovelarry10 | M | 14006 "Louis, lay still!” Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?” “Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?” “Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occurred to me until tonight?” ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?
Show Me Life Like I've Never Seen by Rearviewdreamer | M | 42953 Louis never expected to leave the small art studio three blocks down from his job with anything besides the painting he caught a glimpse of and simply couldn't forget.
Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo | E | 114695 Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall. Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left. Fucking shit motherfucker fuck. Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?
