#chat: peter

[silamanteia]

Completely content in her own company, usually preferring it, Sila has scarcely felt loneliness. Or, perhaps she’s never put the name to the feeling. She used to get full on people watching or her studies, on sitting in the same room as her sister without much talk between them, on cups of coffee with her closest friends. Lately things feel like they have been happening around her, near her, but not to her. She’s been a little touch starved for theatrics. She’s...bored. No, lonely. Whatever it might be, she’s determined today to try to ease it. Sila briefly ponders that if she could be unlonely, who might she be unlonely with? “Are you busy, Peter? Mind if I bother you?” She’s brought her own book as she approaches him in case he is busy; she will sit herself beside him quietly regardless. She needs this, so she will commit. She flashes her book to him to show she brought entertainment, but a part of her hopes she won’t have to open it. @munozpeter​ 

[superswonder]

‘ she calls me. ’  - @petergxrdcn​

Daphne rested her chin on her hands elbows pressed into the table as she haphazardly listened to Peter talk. “Who calls you?” she asked tuning in at the end of his story. 

[ililopelekaii-archive]

“Do you believe in aliens?” she looked over to him. “I mean, I think you’re cool and all, but I don’t know how much this friendship can continue if you don’t.” Lilo said it like a joke. “Or if you can give me a compelling enough reason why you think they aren’t real. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

@carefreepeter

[thesarcasticmieczyslaw]

Coming home on his lunch break wasn’t something Stiles did regularly. Still, he preferred the quiet of his apartment lately to the bustling noise of a restaurant. Halting his Jeep into the parking space, Stiles climbed out of Roscoe and paced up the sidewalk towards the building. As he fumbled with his keys and came to his front door, his amber hues noted that the latch to the door was already open. Instantly, he shoved his keys into his pocket and reached for his gun. Had someone broken into his home? Cracking the door open slowly, the brunette made his way inside, eyes darting in all directions as he carefully pulled out his pistol and stepped into the empty kitchen. Rounding into the living room, he was startled by Peter standing there, almost dropping his handgun in the process but quickly, he placed it back in the holster. “Good god, you scared me. What the hell are you doing here? This wouldn’t have anything to do with me and Malia sneaking around your place, would it? ‘Cause, I’m not even sorry about that.” The pair had to be certain it wasn’t Peter who was trying to frame Derek.

@haleofanidea

[peacock-sylv-blog]

rorschach;

@callme-pidge

< come over, we need to talk. >

She’d left the message at that, knowing that as soon as Peter received the message, he’d likely dissolve into a state of anxiety. Blue eyes flicked towards the large clock that hung on her wall and a smile curved upon her lips; she’d give it half an hour before he showed up at her door. The brunette stood up from her reclined state on the chaise, abandoning her cell phone on her glass coffee table as it began to buzz in response, moving in a sleek line of silk towards the kitchen where she flicked on the kettle. Two cups were set out, one with a darjeeling tea bag the other with earl grey, thoughtfully set onto a tray before she went back to the star of the show she aimed to put on. A birdcage was a new addition to her apartment, in antique bronze it seemed to fit by the window and inside it sang a pair of cockatiels. Sylv cooed at them, ignoring her phone and the slow boil of the kettle, only turning when a flimsy knock at the door indicated the arrival of her guest. “Come in, it’s not locked.”

[sylvianneliu-blog]

➢ A R P E G G I O

@peter-kovalenko

They’d been assigned the bundle of sheet music nearly three weeks ago and it had taken Sylvianne that long to try and decipher what exactly the title-less piece was. Taking a musical theory class had been something that she’d figured would be a walk in the park; she’d learned how to play piano (albeit poorly) as a child, and had an appreciation for fine instrumentals; but as the semester had progressed, it became abundantly clear that reading sheet music wasn’t just a suggestion for the course-- but a pre-requisite. 

The assignment was meant to be an easy boost for grades-- the professor’s kind alternative to a post-break test; they were to label the devices used and talk about their effectiveness, but it was proving to be Sisyphusian. Her partner was Peter, the surly American boy whose pout and filthy sweaters made him an unattractive choice to collaborate with, and the piece itself was Mahler's Symphony No 1. With a few weeks until the deadline, she cracked, sending him a message to meet at the library to collaborate.

It was a blow to her pride, especially after looking him up and down in class and declaring she’d do it herself and stick his name onto the paper. Now,  Sylvianne settled miserably into her seat in front of the fireplace, headphones in with the funeral march up loud, waiting for him to shuffle in like an untethered raincloud.

[torchedx]

[Puts head on the other’s shoulder] - From Peter

There were plenty of things the world knew about Johnny Storm. He was the Human Torch, a pilot, an underwear model, and a playboy, one of the founding members of the Fantastic Four. He had a sometimes alarming need for thrills, an impulse control problem, and a grin that wouldn't waver if he was staring down hell itself. His dating history was almost as long as he was tall.

And he was completely gone for his roommate and his best friend. He’d been in love with Peter since well before they were actually dating, and he wondered at least once a day how he’d gotten lucky enough to actually be with him. A small, soft smile curved his lips when Pete's head landed on his shoulder, and he curled his fingers through his at their sides, turning his head to press a kiss into his hair. 

[peacock-sylv-blog]

A P P L E   O R C H A R D;

@callme-pidge

         Of all of her friends to take to a festival, Peter was certainly not Sylv’s first choice, but when her question (first posed rhetorical) wasn’t met with a swift refusal; she decided to take it as a clear sign that such opportunities weren’t to be wasted. Her car idled outside of Peter’s apartment-- stepping outside of the vehicle felt a little bit like traipsing straight into a minefield. Instead, she shot off a text to Pete before glancing at the time. She’d give him two minutes, then she’d start leaning on the horn.