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wigglebox · 8 months

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It’s really not that hard to understand how Destiel is canon despite not having Dean verbally textually concretely saying “I love you” back, which is what most people who only consume media on a surface level understand.

You have a jigsaw puzzle. Let’s say there’s 327 pieces. One by one you put it together with some bright spots where you get a bunch of them in a row and some more complicated spots where it took you longer than you wanted and the picture made it difficult to match up the pieces.

After awhile, you get 326 of them in, even tho your dog almost ate the 326th piece and it’s a little chewed up but whatever. It’s passable.

But, you realize you can’t find that 327th piece. It’s somewhere — it’s gotta be somewhere. You can see the hole where it belongs. You see it’s shape in it’s empty space, you see how many curves it has and how many sticky-out bits it has to connect perfectly with the rest of the puzzle.

However that final piece is still missing.

You look up and down, come up with theories about where it could possibly be (did the dog eat it? Did the manufacturers just screw up and there was a glitch in processing? Was it your own fault you lost it and it’s somewhere super obvious?).

But despite you being unable to find it, you’ve stared at that empty space for so long it’s almost like it is already filled because the shape is so clearly outlined. It’s the final piece and even if it’s not there, the rest of the picture is, and, the empty space is so well defined that there is no QUESTION that’s where the missing piece should go.

So Destiel is canon because the rest of the puzzle was filled in through years and years of subtext, text, basic narrative structure, romantic tropes, queer coding, etc etc.

The one piece that’s still missing is Dean saying three words but you don’t know where that piece is, aka, we don’t know why he wasn’t allowed to say it back. But we know that’s what has to be said. There won’t be a refusal of reciprocation because if that was the case we would have gotten it when the show was airing because there’s no harm from executives perspectives in denying queer feelings. They’d probably prefer it.

Dean’s missing words is the one single puzzle piece that’s missing right now. And we are all still searching for it but that doesn’t mean that it’s clearly defined space isn’t already there outlining exactly what could only fit right. There.

#destiel #sorry I saw tiktoks on puzzles and someone was missing a piece #and I’m like #in my Destiel feels like I always am #and I always had the puzzle analogy in my head but didn’t know how to really voice it #then the adhd meds kicked in this morning lol #anyway #happy Wednesday

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

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//broken pieces. miya atsumu//

Request: Yeah, by a lot of you. But me too, tbh

Warnings: very mild implications of sex, low self-esteem, some swearing, infidelity

Word Count: 2,1K

Notes: things i need: cuddles from bokuto, sleep, and a cherry vanilla coke. But, the coke first please.

{Read Part I - “Missing Pieces” HERE}

{Read Part III - “Two Pieces” HERE}

He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want to see what he already knew. If he looked at your face and saw all of those brand new tears streaming down your cheeks, everything he had just done would finally hit him. He’d have to face the fact that he alone ripped your heart out of your chest and tore it to shreds.

He was quick to cover his torso with a new shirt. Quick to cover up the physical reminders of his sins. But, that quiet nickname, the name that you’d been calling him since you met, the name that he’d come to love so much, the name that left your lips in the most intimate of moments was now filled with sorrow. The heartbreak evident in that single word kept echoing through his head, reminding him off all the times that he’s laid awake, listening to your quiet sniffles because of him. Because he was far less than everything you could have wanted in a boyfriend. Because he kept all of his emotions bottled up inside his chest and just shoved you out when things got hard for him.

He didn’t want to look at you. But he did.

You didn’t look angry. Atsumu would’ve preferred that to this. He would have preferred that you sat there and yelled at him, calling him every explicative in the book. He was well aware that he deserved it, but you showed no intention of taking all of your pain out on him. Rather, you just sat on your side of the bed, sad eyes staring at his swollen kiss-ridden lips, at the deep bruises that crept up his throat, at his blonde hair that had had a set of fingers that didn’t belong to you raking through it only a mere hour earlier. The soft glisten of tears on your cheeks and red puffy eyes being highlighted in the rays of the setting sun. You kept looking like you wanted to say something, but every time your mouth moved, you would catch yourself just letting out a quiet whimper instead of words and clamp your jaw shut again.

Atsumu didn’t want to look at you anymore, so he turned away. He turned away and those missing pieces to the puzzle that he had been keeping from you had been crumpled to an irreparable state. He turned his back on apologizing, shame washing over him as his own words failed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block your image from his mind. He didn’t want to see the black stains of mascara adding to the pained expression.

It didn’t matter what he wanted though, because no matter how many times he tried to steer his mind away from everything, he’d remember your bright smile there to greet him after practice every day, your eyes crinkled in happiness as you would lean up to kiss his cheek, but just as soon as those mental images would start to warm his heart, your face would morph in his head. He’d be right back to the present image of your face branded into his memory.

There’s a soft sniff and the bed springs squeak as you get out of bed.

“I’m sorry.”

Those small words leaving your lips felt like a knife to his heart. You were apologizing to him? Why? He was the one who ran off and cheated. He should be the one on his knees, grovelling for forgiveness, but rather, your head was hung as you stood behind, your words still fresh on your lips.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make you happy, ‘mu.”

Another stab. There was a tremble in your voice. He knows that tremble. It’s always there when you’re upset. He used to hold you against his chest and quietly tell you that everything was going to be okay while tears left damp circles on his t-shirt. Atsumu couldn’t remember the last time he had done that though. It’d been a long time, that’s for sure. He’d been pushing you away for months now, the shame of his lies bubbling up in his chest every time you would look into his eyes. It was better to just keep you at an arm’s length and let him work through everything himself. He thought that maybe this would make him feel better. Maybe if someone else was there to tell him how great he was, he’d get out of whatever slump he was in, but he just kept burying himself deeper and deeper into this pit, desperately trying to crawl his way up and come back to you.

But, he never could.

Every inch of progress he made, he would lose his footing and slip further away. It was wrong and he knew that the very first time he let some other girl touch him while he was out, but Atsumu’s mind played games with him. Somehow he had convinced himself that every “I love you,” every “You look so handsome, ‘mu,” had been fake, that you were saying everything you did to him because you had to. Hearing those same things from a different pair of lips, well, that would fix these feelings, right? His name falling from someone else’s mouth in breathless whimpers would make him feel better, right? Someone else telling him that they loved him would take away all of these insecure thoughts, right? But, no matter how many times he left a bar early to go home with someone new, Atsumu was left feeling emptier than before.

“Are you happy?” Your hand is on his back now, fingers lightly grazing the area that you had remembered seeing those bright red lines. “With her, I mean?”

There’s a soft hiccup from the man in front of you as his head falls. He had always been good at hiding his short whimpers of approaching sorrow, but the way that his shoulders shook as those crystalline tears finally spilled from his brown eyes gave him away in an instant. Your arms found themselves wrapped around his torso, holding him tightly against your body, the same way that Atsumu used to comfort you.

“I don’t get you,” he whispered, his voice straining to push through the rock in his throat. He had ruined everything. He had been the one to take those pieces that could’ve fixed everything and he had broken them. But, here you were, trying to pick up those broken pieces, attempting to squeeze them back together, so you could finish the puzzle and make it beautiful again. “I- I do this and-” Atsumu pauses, taking in a strangled breath, trying to blink away the salty drops that blurred his vision. “And you’re apologizing to me. I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough, Atsumu.”

He wanted to go back and rewrite every part of the story. He wanted to erase everything and go back to when things were happy and the two of you would spend nights giggling as you tried to recreate dumb TikTok dances, when you would chase him around the house, both of you sliding across hardwood floors in socks. But he ruined it. He ruined his relationship. He ruined you.

You stood there this entire time blaming yourself. Believing that all of his actions were your fault and that if only you had shown him that you cared more, he would have been happy and he wouldn’t have felt the need to cheat. Your constant apologies hurt him more than any amount of screaming could have. You could’ve kicked him out, told him that you never wanted to see him again, and none of it would have hurt as much as this. Those genuine apologies escaping you just rammed the knife deeper and deeper into his chest.

But, he deserved it, didn’t he? He deserved to feel the same level of anguish that you felt. If this was as easy as a screaming match, Atsumu would just be left numb with anger, heaving for air. He would’ve said things that he didn’t mean and you would’ve walked out for sure. He didn’t deserve to be held in your comforting embrace, to have your head pressed firmly between his shoulder blades, mumbling apologies against the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

The croak of his voice caused you to lift your head, but when Miya Atsumu finally turns to face you, to face his mistakes, he just presses you into his chest. Maybe it was the old comforting feeling of having his arms around you, being able to smell his cologne that you loved so much, or maybe it was the wave of realization that, no matter how hard you wanted to, you couldn’t just look over those broken pieces that had been ruined by a couple’s insecurities. They would always be a part of the picture that encapsulated your relationship. They were battered and weary, but they were there, never to be forgotten.

The two of you must have been quite the sight, really. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, the light of day long gone, bodies racking with sobs, not able to do anything else but cry and whimper soft apologies against each other’s skin.

“I’m such a piece of shit. I don’t know why you’ve put up with me this long, Y/N. I’m a lying, stupid, cheating piece of shit and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his tears dampening the top of your head.

“B-but, if I was better for you-”

“Please, stop blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault. You were always good enough, princess. I was the weak one. I was the one who wasn’t good enough for you and I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough.” Atsumu’s voice is soft and sincere, each word slipping out without a second thought. He was as calm as he could’ve been given everything. His eyes had started to dry as they had finally run out of tears, mouth dry from all of those shaky breaths between mournful weeps. He wanted to place a kiss on your lips, make you feel all of the love that he genuinely still held for you, make you feel every apology that he couldn’t figure out how to voice, but he knew better. It wasn’t the time. His actions had already caused so much damage, driven the wedge between you so deep that he wasn’t sure if it could ever be fully removed and repaired.

He felt you shift in his arms, your fists balling up the front of his t-shirt in pent up frustration. “I don’t want this to be over, Atsumu. I really don’t, but if you don’t love m-”

“Y/N, I do love yo-”

Atsumu wasn’t sure what took him more by surprise: the weak fists pounding against his chests or the sudden change in the volume of your voice that inevitably ended in a sad crack as misery crept back into your heart: “Then why the hell would you do this to us?!”

“Princess, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want an apology anymore! I want an explanation, Atsumu.” The fists that had been battering him had become slow as any hope that had remained when it came to putting the pieces back together slowly dissipated into the realization that this was probably it. You could try all you wanted, but you’d never be able to make the picture look like it should. “Please.”

That plea had him pushing you away, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. But, he placed a gentle hand on your knee as he sat down next to you, urging you to meet his gaze. Atsumu always kept his emotions right there behind those gentle brown eyes. Every single ounce of love, remorse, and desire to put all of those pieces back together stared right back at you.

“Then, let’s talk, because I don’t want this to be over either.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #miya #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya x reader #atsumu x reader #imagine #x reader #i really wanted to make this angry #and break them up #but then i kept getting really soft #because i genuinely do think that he loves reader #and i think reader really loves him #even if he is a dirty cheater

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