dehydratedpool fics masterpost
fics are listed in order from oldest to newest. thisāll be updated whenever i post a new fic unless i stop writing or something lmfao. please be sure to read all tags and authorās note before starting!
last updated: 09 December 2021
ā¢ hath made thee a sinner [50k, M]
But nothing, nothing would ever top the first time they laid together, cozy in Louisā fluffy bed, inexperienced hands trailing up each otherās sides, not knowing how to please the other, eyes blown out in lust and eternal affection for one another, the way Harryās hands slipped underneath his waistband, feeling, tender in their exploration. Soft murmurs, impatient longing, trepidation in their sounds, wet lips dragging down throats and skin smacked against flushed skin, immense pleasure radiated in their veins, a throaty whine, a satisfying finish. Nothing could compare, would ever compare. [fic post]
ā¢ beneath the shining stars [35k, E]
A Hamlet retelling/AU on steroids, where Harry is Hamlet, Louis is Horatio, and comedic chaos ensues (with a dash of tragedy). Featuring the rest of OT5 and the original characters of Shakespeareās āHamletā. [alternate ending added. see authorās notes] [fic post]
ā¢ a scintilla of predilection [19k, T]
There, in the far back of the room, next to the only available seat left, is none other than Harry Styles. Harry, who grew up next door to him, who knew all his secrets as a child and played FIFA with him on Saturday mornings after he would spend the night Friday evenings every week, whose curly hair would tickle his nose as they held each other during bitter cold nights that made his room glow a haunting blue.
or, the one where Louis loves poetry and Harry is terrible at pining. [fic post]
ā¢ in the crooks of your body (i find my religion) [2k, E]
She should probably go back to bed, try to pretend her girlfriend isnāt getting off to whatever sheās dreaming about right next to her. Louisāll probably forget the dream when she wakes up, wonāt even know she did this.
Instead, her body flushes against Louisā side like a magnetic pull, one Harry canāt control. Carefully, she pulls the sheets down to their ankles, exposing Louisā hand shoved down her cotton underwear, fingers rubbing at herself, squelching from how fucking wet she is, the sound ringing in Harryās ears.
A suppressed groan escapes her lips, eyes rolling back into her skull from her attempt to keep her hands to herself.
But Harryās never been great at denying herself the simple pleasures in life.
ā¢ these pink delights [5k, T]
Harry hovers over Louis, hands moving to hold Louisā, still above them against the pillows. He scans Louisā face, noting his stunning features; the way the gentle sunlight glitters along his cheekbones, how his feather-like fringe falls ever so prettily against his forehead. When he opens his eyes to look back at Harry, the blue of his irises, faint yet so clearly celestite, stare at him as if he alone dots the stars in the night sky, as if heās Louisā entire world.
or; the one where Louis loves crystals and Harryās a supportive husband.
ā¢ in my bed (youāre not here) [6k, M]
Louis fears that his long-term boyfriend Harry is losing feelings for him. A drunken night reveals he might be wrong. [fic post]
ā¢of lost things [58k, E]
Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with.
But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louisā story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But itās all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis.
Exceptā¦ what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and mythāor rather, history, is about to repeat itself? [fic post]
