Lydia Martin Indie RP Blog
from MTV's Teen Wolf
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"Do I get to keep that pair too, or do I have to take them off of you to do that?" he asked with a smirk. John wasn’t sure he had the energy to tease, but he meant it lightly.

The feeling of Lydia’s skin against his was invigorating, and he ran his hands over her back and her ass as she kissed him. To be able to feel all of her without any barriers was an unexpected pleasure for John, and he looked forward to being able to do that more often this weekend and hopefully after that.

Taking her hand, John led her to the bedroom. He quietly dropped the condom in the trash by his door and took her to the bed where John turned Lydia around by her shoulders. “Will you take your hair down for me? Please?”

He seemed so relaxed, holding her hand and leading her into his bedroom. This was one room of the Stilinski house she had never seen before, but she didn’t linger on any of it, her attention instead of the naked man beside her. She paused as he shifted her, and mentioned her hair, still up in it’s bun. Truth be told, she had meant to pull it down at some point during sex, but she had been a bit too busy to worry about something like that.

"Of course," she said, moving both hands up to grab the rubber bands holding her hair up. They came out easily, and then she was pulling down her pony tail until her hair was falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Shaking her hair out with one hand, she turned back around to face him, curled hair falling over her shoulders as she waited for his response.

A Knight and the Lady he called wife // Closed rp


Peter was pleased he could get under her skin the way he had done. He loved that she was pissed at his remark about her. Because he knew she was lovely and even though she was a bit mussed up from the ride she still stirred things in him and that in itself was enough to warrant the marriage. 

As she turned from him and stalked away he called to her one last time. ’ I certainly hope you are in a better mood once we reach the dinner table my darling. Because this old man will be seated next to you.” He walked off towards his room and called for his bath to be filled and warmed.

Peter did spend a good deal of time cleaning himself and picking out a lovely outfit to match the one his future wife was wearing. He had on a dark set of pant’s and a white tunic. He had slipped on a tan and green vest and had combed his hair back. He walked out of his room and down to the dining hall. His eyes soon flitted over to the young woman standing there. He made his way over and gave a bow. ” Hello my darling. Please allow my to escort you to your seat.” He offered his arm to her and waiting. He was certainly going to make these last few days before his marriage to the girl count. He wanted to see how far he could push her and yet be the gentleman he was brought up to be as well. 

She huffed again, furious with him, trying to not stomp like a child until after she was out of his line of sight. Old man indeed… and he was behaving like a child. Trying to insult her, walking around while looking like such a mess… she had been promised a marriage into royalty, but he behaved like some country knight.

Standing with a few of her ladies as they amused themselves outside of the dining hall, Lydia nodded, listening in on some of the gossip, bits and pieces about the young prince she had met, and his wild elder sister. Of course, none of her ladies would talk about her future husband, leading Lydia to assume that most had some sort of intimate knowledge with her. She promised to hold no jealous, because how could she hate someone for something that occurred before she was even known to exist, but their lips were all sealed.

They seemed to go even more alarmingly quiet, though, and Lydia turned her head just in time to see the man in question approach. Raising her chin, and glancing down at the arm being offered, Lydia finally nodded and accepted it, allowing him to lead her towards the table itself. It didn’t escape her notice that he had dressed to match. 

"I’m pleased to see that you managed to bathe yourself," she finally said, voice low so that no one would overhear. "Make certain that you keep that behavior up. I would prefer against a repeat of today."



"That I can promise."  Camden hated promising anything to anyone because life was so unpredictable and he really didn’t like not being faced with the possibility of having to break a promise.  "I could never hold it against you or ever resent you.  I want you to get out there experience something outside of Beacon, and Lord knows that you deserve to."  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.  "And if worse comes to worse, I have no problems with moving with you after a couple of years.  Maybe if you go to Boston."  From what he understood about the trade school, if he didn’t finish by then, he could just transfer over to another school.  And by then, Isaac should have an idea of where he was going to go.

"Break up with me if we drift apart, or if you… if you stop loving me, but please don’t hate me for going after what I want." She couldn’t stand that. Couldn’t stand the thought of him resenting her because she had pursued her dreams. And him hugging her close, saying that he might move with her only made it worse. "I know I talk about my future a lot, Cam, and that it’s always things like school and awards and degrees, but you’re what I want too. I want a future with you."


       He easily catches on when she tries to distract him from his own question, but it doesn’t work. He’s not going to let her ignore the question, after all he had been wanting to know all week and now that he’s finally asked it? He’s getting some answers. He’s also quick to catch her movements. It’s something he’s gotten used to in interrogations and watching Lydia as he asked her what he wanted to know, wasn’t any different. She’s freezing up momentarily and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

       ”As much as I appreciate you trying to save my jacket from getting dirty and wrinkled, I think I could handle it. As far as my coffee goes, they know my usual by now, I only go in every morning to get it. I’m pretty sure they have it ready, before I even get there. Now, stop trying to avoid the question. What’s going on?”

        He’s not really a fan of the coffee at the station, only drinks it when he runs out of his coffee from the coffee shop or what ever he brings from home. It wasn’t really a surprise that Lydia brought him coffee, more so that she knew just what to get. Moving his attention away from the coffee cup still sitting on his desk, he glances at the fax machine as it goes off and reaches for the papers, looking them over before standing up and signalling for Lydia to wait a moment.

         It only takes him a moment to knock on the door of the sheriff’s office and step in, handing over the notices with a comment on what they are, before he walks back out and this time, instead of going over to his desk, he walks over to Lydia and sits on the edge of the desk. “Start talking.”

Her chin raises a little, as though she might snap at him and deny him. Saved by the fax machine, and really who still uses those, she assumes the conversation is finished until he comes back, encroaching on her personal space. Every part of her can sense it even more, the fact that this body, this man, was about to die. She almost feels ill from it, and knows that her face has likely gone slightly more pale under the thin layer of foundation and powder she wore.

"You’re not going to like it," she finally said, pushing herself up from where she sat. There was an obvious height difference regardless, but she hated feeling as though he was looking down at her. She already had no control in any of this. She didn’t need another reminder of just how much at a disadvantage she was.

Setting the coffee on the desk at the far end, she sits on the edge as well, and turns her head to look at him. She’s studying him for just a moment, then let out a sigh and glances away, anywhere other than at his eyes. It’s not fair. He was drawn here, because of the beacon that they had in essence created. Now, he was going to die here because of it…

"I… woke up screaming about a week ago. It happens, when something’s going to happen. I wasn’t at home, but in a warehouse. And I knew, looking around it… that that was where you were going to die."


John hadn’t felt this calm in … Well, probably years. Certainly not since he found out what was really going on in this town. To have actively taken the weekend off of work and not worry about it, and to have Stiles gone and not worry about him walking in on anything was lifted a huge burden off of his shoulders.

The only thing he had to worry about right now was how to get himself and Lydia to the bed, and if the carpet had wreaked havoc on her skin.

"Alright, nap it is. But no making Life Alert jokes if I can’t get off the ground right away," he said with mock severity. With that, he rolled over away from Lydia to fumble with the now used condom before standing up and offering a hand to her. "Shall I escort you to the bed, miss?" He was trying really hard not to crack a smile, but if he did it was something he would blame on the entirely Lydia Martin related haze of pleasantness.

She opened her mouth and burst out laugh, something full and real, not forced, which was a rarity for her. She watched him for a moment as he pushed himself up, looking a bit sore. She could feel it as well, and accepted his hand as he pulled her upwards. “I would love that,” she replied, looking up at him. First, though, they were finally both naked - or almost.

"But before we do that…" Lydia moved her free hand to her hip and pushed the last of her clothing down, underwear hitting the floor. She stepped out of them and walked into his open arms, pressing her naked body to his. Going onto her tiptoes, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Laying on the floor had been all well and good, and grinding against each other while still clothed was fun, but she liked this, their bare bodies moving together.

"Now you can take me to bed," she finally said, letting herself go down from her tiptoes, and opening her eyes to look up at him.



       He’s going to fire Boscoe, this is the second
           time he failed to order shipment of tequila.

                “Chertovy sotrudnikov. Chert voz’mi!” 
                    He curses under his breath.

Approaching the bar that, on more than
one occasion has called to her banshee
senses, Lydia pauses, hearing who she
assumes to be the boss cursing.

Zadacha?” she asks, raising one

A Knight and the Lady he called wife // Closed rp


Peter looked at the young lady as she dismissed her ladies maids. He then let a single brow raise at her comment. He smiled though as he walked over to her side and leaned in close to her ear. ” I had thought about it, But I thought that if everyone saw me like this they would forget the sorry state that you had arrived in.” He pulled back and grinned a little more at her. She certainly was the one he wanted. Not willing to hold back biting remarks. She was a good match for him. 

Peter looked down at himself and knew he was in better shape than most men his age. Knew that she was being coy in her own way. Or at least he had hoped that was what it was. He shrugged though as he looked at her. ” My body shows the work and dedication I have for my country. It shows how hard I train and well if you wish it I will stop the training and let myself truly go. I could put on more weight if that is what you wish for my darling. Or I could see if the young stable boy is more to your liking?” He would never allow someone to touch her other than himself once they were wed. She would be his and his alone. And if he ever found out that someone touched her he would make them pay.

Peter looked at her once more and gave a low bow. ” Now then my Lady Lydia I must bid you goodbye for now. Unless you wish to help me bathe?” His smirk grew as he looked at her. ” I am sure you would make sure I was well and truly clean. What say you my darling?” 

She wanted to slap him for his remark - she had spent the past week riding hard, all to marry him. In fact, she had looked wildly beautiful, almost untamed. He just looked downright pathetic. “How dare you,” she snapped, jerking away from him. How dare he actually insult her? She was beautiful, and strong, and he should find himself fortunate to have her as his future wife. “Let yourself go? Ha. But that stable boy idea…”

Oh no. She certainly didn’t want a stable boy. She wanted a man, this man she loathed to mentally admit. He was rough and wild and demanding and he could give as good as he got, and she loved it. She hated it. She was… She wanted to turn back to her rooms and take him with her. 

"I think that you have been bathing yourself for the past fifty or so years, so, why should I bother helping you now?" She knew he wasn’t fifty, but she had already insinuated him to be far too old for her. Stepping away, she turned and raised her chin, heading towards where her maids had disappeared earlier… and trying to not think about bathing with him. That would be… so very bad…


Eventually, John needed to move. And he knew that he needed to move, but he wanted to enjoy this contradictory rush of nervous energy and near physical exhaustion.

As Lydia spoke, a noise escaped John that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh, and his shoulders shook a little with it. “If you can move so soon after that then I have a lot of catching up to do. I want you to be a mess, and not be able to move, after everything.”

In any case, he rolled onto his side and draped one arm over her stomach, fingers brushing over her hip bone lazily. “Can we move… In a few minutes?”

She laughed slightly in response - amused. Not to crush his dreams, but he was going to have to work a lot harder to get her to that state. Either way, she was open to the promise.

Turning her body with him, Lydia rested her head on her forearm, watching him. He seemed so at peace, so relaxed for the first time she had ever seen him. Was this how he could be, when all of the stress of work, of the supernatural, and of course the pent up sexual frustration, had melted away? She wanted to see more of it, more of him smiling like this.

"We can move when you’re ready," she promised, shifting her body a little closer to his. She was cold, now, without him laying over her, and there was a thin layer of sweat on her body from their workout. "But, I think we could both use a nap after this - and it would be better to doze off in a comfortable bed than right here. Your body will thank me for this later."



"Because I want to.” 

"You don’t know me. You don’t owe me anything."



"Yeah well if you figure the secret to getting out, share it with me?"


"If I remember, but at this point, it’s every man for himself."


After a few hours, he also fell asleep himself, keeping his face hidden at the back of her hair, but breathing not against her skin to let her rest. Once hours had gone through and he woke up, he tried not to move to much to let her sleep a little longer.


She can feel him, breathing softly, his body wrapped around hers, and she has to resist the urge to open her eyes, to get up, to worry about how long she slept - then again, at that moment, she feels like she had the most peaceful rest she has had in a while. “What time is it?” she mutters.


        As if on cue, the girl makes her way into the sheriff’s station and over to his desk. To his surprise, she has his coffee order down and it has him smiling just a little. How did she even know what kind of coffee he took? Chances were that she knew, because of how much time she had been spending with him, lately. Raising an eyebrow as she sat down at Haigh’s old desk, he picks up the coffee cup, mumbling a soft thank you, in return.

        Jordan can’t help but to watch her every move as she sits and pulls out her phone, wondering if she’s just there to watch him or if there’s another reason she’s been around all week. Hearing her speak, he takes a sip from the coffee and places it back on the desk. He’s more than curious as to why she’s asking about his plans for the day, considering it’s just work stuff and he would in fact be working the entire day. Was she really going to stay by his side the entire day, as if he needed some kind of a babysitter. 

        Picking up a pen that lays next to the coffee cup, he looks back down at the paper he was looking at previously, pushing his seat back towards the desk again. He knew he was too distracted right now, to make the call he was planning on making before Lydia walked in, but if he didn’t write himself a little reminder, now, he would forget what he had to call for, later. Scribbling a few words down on the paper, his lips part in an attempt to answer her question. However, an answer isn’t really what she gets. “Exciting? I wouldn’t say that. Although, I do have something to ask you. Is there something I should know about, Lydia?”

She’s idly flipping through her phone, attention entirely locked on that as she makes her way down to Danny’s name in her contact list. Pulling up the messenger window, she’s just about to text him a greeting when she hears Parrish finally respond, and in turn asking a question. Her finger pauses where it is, and she forces her attention to remain on it for a moment as she takes a sip of her coffee. She’s a terrible liar, truth be told, and avoids doing it… but that doesn’t mean she’s just going to outright tell him just how much her banshee senses were tingling.

"There’s a lot of things you should probably know - like, if you’re going to be sitting around the office all day, you should probably hang up your jacket instead of letting it get wrinkled on the back of your chair… or are you more going for something like… yes, I do know your coffee order, and it’s painfully obvious because you’re the fastest person I know about grabbing a coffee…"

She raises an eyebrow, wanting to try and throw him off track from his original question, not really wanting to tell him… How would anyone react when told that they’re about to die? Especially when she definitely didn’t have all of the answers. She wasn’t exactly willing to find out.


Christine’s holy mother of god I have a lot of followers and I never love y’all enough promo.

There has been a lot of people asking for me to icon an episode for a character other than Holland, so, that’s what we’re gonna do. Reblog the post, likes don’t count, and after a random amount of time, the randomizer will choose four winners.

One Winner Gets - 

An entire episode iconned.
Character of your choice.
Episode of your choice.

Three Winners Get - 

One scene iconned.
Character of your choice.
Episode / Scene of your choice.

The Rules - 

MBF Me. BC this is for followers.
Reblog it. 
Idk not be a hater?
Being a boss ass bitch is cool too.

Examples of my insanely terrible icon making skills:


ps: “iconned” isnt a word and that really bothers me. 



  ’ ♔ —— :

         He smiled at her, looking down at the
         bags and bags of the clothing they had
         bought for him. It was probably the most
         he had gotten for himself in a long time.

❝You do know how to make me feel
    special. I don’t think anyone has
    ever said I look good in everything

          It amazed her, how he could be so in
          awe by her simply caring for him, caring
          about him. Wrapping her arms around
          him and pressing herself to his side,
          Lydia looks up at him, a brilliant smile
          spreading over her lips.

"Well, should I ever find something you
don’t look good in, I’ll let you know.”


"Consider I am not judging your aspect but your voice…" He teased, softly chuckling.


"Mmm… How about you just come home, alive, and then I’ll rest easy. I don’t like all of us being so spread out.”