Eros

Chapter 1

Summary: Stiles and Lydia find in lust the escape they so often need because they think they don't deserve love. But what if they do? Strangers/Soulmates/College AU

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: Over 12,5k

Characters: Lydia Martin, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Sheriff Stilinski, Mentions of Allison Argent, Mentions of Claudia Stilinski

Tags: Alternate Universe, Strangers, Soulmates, College, Angst, References to Previous Characters' Deaths, Emotional Hurt, Comfort, Strangers to Lovers to Anchors to Friends to Soulmates, Friendship, Loss, Love, Sexual Content, Romance, Alcohol, Bad Decisions

Author's Note: Huge thanks to Leah, Giulia and Olivia (grounderstiles, lydias-martin and lydiamartinu on tumblr, respectively) for beta-ing this for me. You guys are incredible!

And of course to bebethsas, to whom this work is dedicated AND who's pretty much my other half. God knows why she puts up with me as it is, and truly a great deal of my inspiration comes from the headcanons and fic ideas we throw back and forth, so thank you for that as well. Honey, may we discuss smutty and fluffy Stydia until the end of our days!

= As of January 2019, this story is ON HOLD, and so it will be picked up once some of the on-going stories are finished. =

Chapter 1

"If Love's a Sweet Passion, why does it torment?
If a Bitter, oh tell me whence comes my content?
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain,
Or grieve at my Fate, when I know 'tis in vain?
Yet so pleasing the Pain is, so soft is the Dart,
That at once it both wounds me, and Tickles my Heart."

- "If Love's a Sweet Passion", from the libretto of Henry Purcell's The Fairy-Queen, act 3.

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Lydia empties her red cup again, drinking all that remains in one gulp and feeling warm all over but not quite drunk, not yet.

She watches with scrutinizing attention to detail everyone that passes her by, from those who are too high on drugs to understand what they're doing, to those who run outside so that they can throw up on the lawn. From betrayed individuals that want nothing but to get out of there, to their significant others who rush behind them to see if they'll be granted a second chance. From couples that flirt for the first time, to those that sneak to the upper floor to fuck inconspicuously.

It all seems ethereal, Lydia thinks, as if she's watching the room from behind a veil. Everything in plain sight but too far from her reach, and if that's not a metaphor for her fucked up life she doesn't know what is.

Lydia resumes walking to get another drink (she can't decide between water to subside the headache that she knows is coming, or something stronger than the mildly alcoholic beverage she was just drinking to worsen the hangover she can already foresee because honestly, she just doesn't care), the music blaring from the speakers with a volume that leaves her slightly disoriented as she bumps into sweaty bodies and grabby hands that cause the redhead to scrunch her nose in disgust as she makes her way to the improvised bar.

She doesn't have it in her to do something about that invasive closeness though, because the alcohol will help her forget about all of this as the night goes, like it always does.

Well not always, she knows, but it sure as hell helps and she'll take that any day.

Lydia adjusts her shirt to show a little more cleavage before bending over the counter to get the bartender's attention; a girl that Lydia recognizes from one of her classes. She's busy with other students, each in their own degree of sobriety or lack thereof and Lydia has never hated being in college so much.