Ned the Pie Maker (Pushing Daisies): You were at the Pie Hole with Ned and Digby. There was no one else around. You were leaning against the counter, waiting for Ned to finish with the last touches of cleaning up the place. You watched the lean pie maker removed the apron around his waist and hung it. You smiled, knowing that it was the end of the night. You were reaching out for Ned's hand when the slightest touch startled him causing you to retract immediately. It had been a while since the two of you had begun dating, yet there were moments where you questioned Ned's fear of intimacy. You being a very tactile person felt unnerved by the idea that you had to be cautious with the notion of holding your boyfriend's hand or touching his arm, and that you had to be the one to initiate most of the kisses and hugs. There were times where you wished he would be the one to approach you first. And tonight wasn't a good night for him to react in such a way. He smiled sheepishly back at you but it had been a long and rough day, so you weren't having it. You sighed, clearly annoyed. "I think I'm just going to head back to my place tonight. I'll see you tomorrow," you mumbled monotonously and walked out the shop before Ned even had the chance to process and respond.
Joe MacMillan (Halt and Catch Fire): You were about to pack up and leave the office when Joe waltzed in with a smug smile plastered on his face as he headed towards you. Normally, you would've found that to be an attractive sight, but tonight you couldn't stand it. He was about to pull you in for a kiss when you backed away. "Where the hell were you, Joe?!"
Joe furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "I was at a business meeting. You know that."
"You could've told me that you were going to be late." You glared at him. You could see his rage grew. "Since when do I have to report to you?" he spat back.
You let out a groan in frustration. "Do you even care about me, Joe? Do you even care about us? Am I just a game to you? Something you play with when you're bored?"
"Where is this coming from?"
"I'm sick and tired of wondering whether you really love me or you're just saying it to get things your way? I'm tired of feeling like a hobby to you. I'm a person too, Joe. I have feelings too. I have my own needs, my own priorities. I can't just keep waiting for you on the sidelines for whenever it's convenient for you. I'm going home now, and I suggest that you give this." You motioned at the both of you. "A good, hard thought - whether it's something that you want for real or it's just a hobby for you."
Aaron Tyler (Wonderfalls): "Ha! I was right!" Aaron cheered and jumped off his seat. You rolled your eyes and slumped further onto the couch. "That's not the point, Aaron," you muttered through gritted teeth. Aaron was no longer listening; he was jumping around the living room, clearly proud that he had proved you wrong.
"Ugh!" You got up and grabbed your bag pack.
"Where are you going?" Aaron asked, finally stopping.
"Home," you mumbled as you headed for the door.
"Why?! We just started to have fun!"
"No. You are having fun." You spun around to face him. "Why does everything have to be a competition? You don't have to prove everything, Aaron! Jeez!" You turned and stormed out the house
Thranduil (The Hobbit): "I still don't understand why you refuse to move in with me. This place is a dump in comparison," Thranduil complained as you unlocked the door to your apartment. The elevator was under maintenance so the two of you had to take the stairs. You peeled off your coat and tossed it over the couch in the living room.
"I like it here," you reasoned as you sat gently on top of armrest of the couch. Thranduil frowned as he examined the small apartment. "But why?" he asked incredulously. "Why stay here when you can live in a penthouse of one of the most prestigious apartments in the world?"
You shrugged, a little annoyed. This wasn't the first time he brought up the issue of your "cheap" apartment. You understood his points but he wasn't getting yours. You liked this place. You didn't need some expensive apartment or fancy jewelry. You liked your mediocre lifestyle. But Thranduil wasn't having any of it. He couldn't understand. He was the kind of person who if you had the money, why not flaunt it? Why not splurge?
"I'm serious, Y/N. Come st-"
"Enough! Why can't you see that I love staying here? I love my life. I don't want to live in your million dollar penthouse and you don't need to buy me some expensive jewelry every time you're away on one of your business trips. I know you have the money, Thranduil and you don't need to use it to impress me. I'm already yours, Thranduil. Can't you understand? Why can't you try to accept my lifestyle for once?"
Thranduil's gaze narrowed as it slowly turned into a glare and by the end of your rant, his face had begun to turn a deeper shade of red. "Suit yourself," he hissed and walked out the apartment, slamming the door.
Roy Walker (The Fall): "You should go for this, Roy," you said, showing him the casting opportunity on the website. It was for a stunt job and he was more than qualified for it. Yet he shook his head after a quick glance at the advert.
"Why not?" you asked with a frown. He had been out of a job for a few months now and things were starting get tough financially. You had been as supportive as you could be, looking out for any vacancies that fitted him. But time and time again he had been saying no to them. You were starting to feel aggravated by his negativity.
You turned back to Roy who was slouched on the couch; his eyes were glued on the TV screen. "Roy," you began. He shifted his gaze to you. "Yea?"
"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.
He shrugged. "Nothing's wrong."
Your lips formed a thin line. "Why did you stop looking?"
"For?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
Roy sighed. "Just leave it, Y/N. I don't need you to mother me."
You opened your mouth but no words came. You got up from the couch, took your belongings and left the apartment.
Whit Coutell (Ceremony): Whit unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the console to give you a goodnight kiss. The two of you were out for the evening at one of the screenings of Whit's documentary. However, instead of leaning in for the kiss, you shrugged it off and slid further away from him, unbuckling your own seatbelt.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He could already sense that there was trouble in paradise when you had been silent throughout the car ride instead of the usual chirpiness the two of you shared, especially after an event.
You turned to face him. He had an arm rested on top of the steering wheel of the car. He was flashing one of his toothy grins, and normally you would have pushed away your worries at the sight, but tonight was different. You had been feeling insecure about the whole thing for quite some time now. "Do you love me, Whit?"
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Of course I do, sweetheart." He was about to reach over for your hand when you shook your head quickly.
"I'm serious, Whit. 'Cause you don't seem to take this relationship that seriously."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like tonight for instance, earlier on you were just flirting shamelessly with the women by the bar. I mean... do you want them to think you're available and I'm just some date you brought along tonight?"
Whit chuckled and shook his head. "That's ridiculous, Y/N. I was just entertaining the guests."
"Oh, don't give me that load of bull, Whit. I know when you're entertaining and when you're flirting. And that was flirting," you insisted. "And tonight wasn't the first time. It's been happening since... forever! Whenever there's a beautiful woman around, you'll flirt."
Whit pursed his lips in disdain. "You're insane, Y/N. I love you. I love us. And I never pegged you to be the jealous type."
"I'm not! I'm just..." He exhaled loudly, exasperated by the whole conversation. "I just feel like you don't take this whole relationship seriously, which is odd considering you take everything else so seriously. Why can't you treat this," you gestured at the space between the two of you. "More seriously?"
Whit bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N."
You stared at him. Clearly he was getting annoyed by your comments and you were definitely frustrated with his lack of understanding. "Forget about it," you sighed and opened the car door in one swift motion, getting out without saying goodnight and headed straight for your front door.
Garrett (Twilight): "Garrett, it's all subjective! There's no such thing as the right way to write an email!" You rolled your eyes and snatched your laptop back from Garrett. He was reading what you had just written to your boss, disagreeing over and over again on the tone of your email, the choice of words, what have you. It was late, and all you wanted to do was to finish up work and rest. Garrett had insisted to stay over and accompany you when you had told him how bored he would be. He refused to listen and sat next to you for the last few hours, reading over what you had written for your report, and now the email. It was one thing to be corrected, but it was another when you had to explain for the hundredth time that things had changed years ago. You hated arguing with Garrett but you were tired of his stubbornness about everything. He hated everything English, but you were quite the Anglophile, hence you were constantly trying to explain to him that what he was saying was irrational. He couldn't stand the way the current generation was behaving, with their mobile phones and internet. He despised the fact that people lacked manners. Usually, you would debate him, trying to convince him to see things differently, but tonight you had it.
"Garrett, I'm exhausted," you shut your laptop, leaving it on the coffee table before you. "Do you mind if I just go to bed?"
"But it's the weekend! You don't need to wake up early for work tomorrow," Garrett argued.
You peeled yourself off the couch. "I'm serious, Garrett. I just need some time alone. Do you mind?"
His maroon eyes narrowed at your suggestion. He could sense that you were irritated with him, so he got up, waved apathetically and exited your apartment without another word.
Ronan the Accuser (Guardians of the Galaxy): "Let's go to the park!" you suggested with a wide smile while your index finger traced random patterns on his hand.
"But it's late," Ronan replied as he stole a glance of the time from his watch.
"So? We never do anything spontaneous!"
"That's not true," he denied quickly.
"Yes, it is. It's... today's Saturday which means that we'll stay in, order takeout and watch something on Netflix. Then, we'll cuddle and have some red wine, and eventually we'll make out which would lead to sex and I'll end up staying over."
Ronan scrunched his eyebrows together. He couldn't quite believe it but you were right, that was what the two of you did every Saturday night. It was your routine as a couple, and he felt alright with the idea of a routine. He didn't mind. In fact he liked it.
"I don't see what's wrong with having a routine," Ronan replied.
You got up from the couch, letting go of him. "I'm not saying there's something wrong with it, but don't you feel bored sometimes - with the predictability of our relationship? Where's the fire? Where's the passion?"
Ronan chuckled. "Oh come on, Y/N. Now, you're overreacting."
"No, I'm not! All I ask is for a little spontaneity. A little surprise."
"Why?" He held your gaze, clearly confused by your sudden outburst. "You've never mentioned that it's a problem before."
You studied Ronan's steady gaze. "Forget about it," you sighed. "Let's call it a night. G'night Ronan," you mumbled and walked out of his apartment before hearing him utter a reply.
Roman (Possession): "Just relax, Roman. Breathe," you suggested to no avail. Roman was seeing red. He kicked the couch, overturned the coffee table, all the while cursing at the recent revelation that he was just fired from his new job. You were standing in a corner of the room, waiting for him to cool down. You had seen Roman lose it before but this was a whole other level.
He was about to punch the TV screen when you yelled for him to stop which got his attention. He rushed to you and you knew it wasn't going to be good. You backed up as he towered over you, his breath ragged, his eyes darkened. You stood your ground. "Don't you dare," you hissed. "Don't you even try," you warned with a glare. Roman paused in that moment. There was still anger in his eyes.
You could feel your heart pounding against your chest, but you were not planning to show him how truly afraid you were of his temper. So, you pushed past him, picked up your things and stormed out the door. All the while, Roman watched you like a hawk as he felt his anger simmered, the thought that he almost hurt you scared him more than anything else.