lurkingstalkingwatchurcontent - Tumblr blog

lurkingstalkingwatchurcontent · 7 days ago

Text

Unexploded

Synopsis:

Love is a grenade. At least, that’s what Tamaki Amajiki believes—something volatile, best avoided unless you want to get hurt. And the moment you start sitting too close, laughing too loud, or touching his sleeve, he’s convinced you’re pulling the pin.

Cw: gn!reader,fluff, mutual pining, Tamaki's self-deprecating thoughts, mild angst (Tamaki is insecure and reader comforts him)

Wc: 1.1k

Not beta read!

Confessing your feelings to someone is hard. Everyone can agree to that. However, it’s even harder when that someone is Tamaki Amajiki. He was shy, anxious— you knew that. But he seemed even more jumpy when it came to you.

Every time you got close, Tamaki would tense up like a startled rabbit. His usual mumbling grew even quieter, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his uniform sleeves.

It was endearing, really. And frustrating.

Because no matter how many times you rehearsed the words in your head—I like you, Tamaki—they always lodged in your throat the moment his eyes flickered to yours. But before you could actually say anything, he was long out of sight.

You’d known Tamaki for months, though "known" was generous. Same class, same training exercises, yet he might as well have been a painting on the wall for how little he interacted with anyone outside Mirio and Nejire.

That changed one rainy afternoon when you found him in an empty classroom, forehead pressed to a desk, muttering, "Stupid, stupid—why’d I freeze up? Now everyone saw—"

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the way he’d buried his face in his hands, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the world, made it impossible to walk away.

So you sat beside him, close enough to be heard but far enough to give him space. "I think you did a pretty good job," you said.

He went utterly still. When he finally lifted his head, his expression was pure bewilderment, like you’d just told him the sky was green. "…Thanks," he whispered, so quiet you almost missed it.

That was probably the first time you properly spoke. You and Tamaki were in the same class but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t really get a word out of him. So instead of pressuring him any more, you decided it was best to just stick to your own group friends.

Well, until that encounter. Ever since your little chat with Tamaki you had made it your goal to get closer to him.

You sat with him and his friends during lunch; sought him out when he studied in the library. Tamaki never spoke directly to you, but sometimes, when you laughed at one of Mirio’s jokes, you’d catch him peeking at you from behind his bangs.

One thing about Tamaki: he never expected kindness. Every small gesture—a shared lunch, a note of encouragement before exams, even just saying his name softly—made him freeze for a second, like he was waiting for the catch.

And yet, despite his skittishness, he always found ways to show he cared.

When you forgot your jacket on a chilly day, his was suddenly draped over your shoulders, his face red. When you mentioned loving a rare hero manga, a pristine volume appeared on your desk the next morning (though he just froze up and squeaked when you asked him about it). And when you sprained your wrist during training, he was the one who showed up at the nurse’s office with an awkwardly wrapped ice pack and a mumbled, "You’re… really cool, you know?"

But the more you grew to like him, the more nervous he seemed around you. His stuttering worsened. He’d trip over his own feet if you walked too close. Once, when your fingers brushed when passing him a pen, he turned so pale you thought he might pass out. Your name in his presence made him choke on air. Once, you leaned over to check his notes, and he slid so far down his chair he nearly hit the floor.

Mirio had just laughed when you brought it up but didn’t actually say anything. While Nejire grinned. "You should see him when your name comes up! He turns into a tomato with legs!"

You wanted to believe it. But how do you confess to someone who looks at affection like it’s a live grenade?

It happened on a Tuesday.

You’d found Tamaki on the school rooftop—his favorite hiding spot when the world got too loud.

He was picking at his lunch with single-minded focus. He didn’t notice you at first—too busy muttering to himself about the egg roll that had dared to roll off his tray.

"Hey," you said cheerily.

He startled, nearly dropping his chopsticks. "O-Oh. Hi." His eyes darted to the empty space beside him, then back to you, like he couldn’t decide whether to invite you to sit or bolt.

You sat before he could overthink it.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

The wind played with his hair, and you watched as his shaking hands

struggled to pick up veggies with his chopsticks.

Then, out of nowhere he muttered "I’m not… good at this,"

You turned to him. "At what? Using chopsticks?"

"What? No! I mean…This." He gestured vaguely between you two, his voice fraying at the edges. "Talking. Being… normal. People usually give up on me."

You nudged his shoulder gently. "Good thing I’m stubborn, then."

He didn’t smile. Instead, his fingers clenched around the fabric of his pants. "Why don’t you give up?"

The question hung in the air, heavy.

You took a deep breath. "Because when you finally do talk, you say things that matter. Because you notice when people are having a bad day and sneak them their favorite snacks. Because—" you poked his knee— "you’re the only person who’d apologize to a door for bumping into it."

Tamaki blinked rapidly, his ears turning pink. "That—that’s just…that’s weird! And embarrassing."

"Not to me," you said softly.

He stared at you like you’d rewritten the laws of physics. Then, in a voice so small it nearly got lost in the wind:

"…What if I mess it up? Us. This."

You leaned forward, catching his gaze and holding it. "Then we’ll figure it out. Together."

Something in his expression shifted—the tension in his shoulders easing, just a fraction. He didn’t reply, but when his pinky tentatively brushed yours against the concrete, you knew he’d heard you.

The actual confession happened days later, under your usual tree. This time, when you said, "I like you, Tamaki," he didn’t freeze, he didn’t panic.

Instead, he took a shaky breath—and whispered back, " like you too. And I want to be someone who deserves you."

You laced your fingers through his, feeling his pulse race against your palm. "You already are."

And when he finally, finally smiled—small and wobbly and so bright—Tamaki realized love wasn’t a grenade at all.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated though!

Deviders are by @/thecutestgrotto

83 notes · View notes

lurkingstalkingwatchurcontent · 12 days ago