handsome
— you call aran—your crush—handsome.
ojiro aran x f!reader
aran is so 😋😋
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
aran ojiro has always been mature, but you never expected a single offhand compliment to turn into a family event.
it happens so casually—you’re both walking out of practice, the late afternoon sun painting his skin golden, the faint sheen of sweat on his temple making him look almost annoyingly attractive. you don’t mean for it to slip out, but it does.
“you’re so… handsome.”
it’s soft, barely above a whisper, like you’re afraid the universe will punish you for saying it out loud.
but of course, aran hears it. aran always hears everything when it comes to you.
he freezes mid-step, blinks once, twice, and then grins like you just handed him the key to the city. “say that again.”
you snort, trying to brush it off, cheeks burning. “don’t push it.”
“nah, nah,” he insists, jogging a step ahead to spin around and face you, walking backwards with infuriating ease. “you said i’m handsome. me. oh my god. oh my god.”
“aran, it’s not that deep—”
but it is. oh, it’s so much deeper than you realize.
before you can stop him, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket, thumbs flying, and you swear your soul leaves your body the second you realize what he’s doing.
“no. no. no. don’t you dare—”
he’s already pressing the FaceTime button.
“aran!”
the screen lights up with the contact name: granny ❤️.
you think you might collapse on the pavement.
“pick up, pick up, pick up…” he mutters under his breath like a man possessed. and then, the sound of the call connecting.
“aran? baby, what are you—”
“GRANNY.” he all but shouts, beaming at the camera. “listen. listen. she agrees with you!”
you’re dragged into frame before you can duck out of reach, aran’s big hand covering your shoulder like he’s staking a claim.
“see? granny, she said i’m handsome!”
his grandmother, a sweet-looking woman in her seventies with the kind of smile that could melt glaciers, blinks at the both of you. then she claps her hands together like she just won the lottery.
“oh, darling, i told you! didn’t i tell you?”
“you did!” aran crows, bouncing on his heels like a kid at christmas. “she said it. she really said it. i’m not making it up this time!”
“aran, please—” you hiss, tugging at his arm, face on fire.
but granny’s already leaning closer to her screen, squinting at you. “oh, she’s pretty, too. you didn’t tell me she was pretty!”
“i did!” aran insists, affronted. “you just didn’t believe me!”
“because you exaggerate, sweetheart,” she teases, but then she waves at you warmly. “hello, dear. i’m his grandmother. you’ve made my grandson’s entire year, you know that?”
you want the earth to open up and swallow you whole. aran, meanwhile, looks like he’s won the championship.
“granny, can you just—can you tell her she can’t take it back?” he begs, squeezing your shoulder like you might bolt. “like, officially. make it legally binding.”
“aran, oh my god!” you groan, burying your face in your hands.
granny laughs, the kind of laugh that’s pure sunshine. “oh, sweetheart, i don’t think she wants to take it back. look at how red her face is.”
aran gasps, eyes widening like she just uncovered a state secret. he immediately tilts the phone, capturing your very obvious blush. “see? she is red. granny, she likes me.”
“of course she does, you silly boy.”
you shove at his chest, mortified beyond belief, but he doesn’t budge—he’s solid muscle, stubborn and immovable, and his grin is downright manic. also yummy
“granny, i gotta go, but thank you for backing me up. love you. bye!”
and with that, he ends the call, sliding his phone back into his pocket like nothing world-shattering just happened.
you gape at him, utterly betrayed. “you’re insane.”
he just leans down, so close his breath fans across your cheek, and murmurs, “say it again.”
“no!”
“come on, baby. just one more time. please.” his eyes are dark, intent, like he’ll never get tired of hearing it. like he’ll carve the word into his skin if it means keeping it forever.
you swallow hard, heart hammering. “you’re unbelievable.”
he grins. “yeah, unbelievably handsome. thanks for noticing.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
from that day forward, it becomes a thing.
he won’t shut up about it. at practice, he corners you by the water cooler, arms braced on either side so you can’t escape. “hey. remember when you said i was handsome?”
you roll your eyes. “aran.”
“no, just—say it again real quick. i promise i’ll stop asking if you do.”
lie. he’s never going to stop asking.
during lunch, he steals the seat beside you, ignoring his teammates’ smirks, leaning so close his shoulder presses into yours. “what’s wrong? food not good? oh, i get it—you’re distracted ‘cause you’re sitting next to the handsome guy.”
you throw a grape at his forehead. he eats it off the floor.
at night, he texts you:
aran: hey, handsome boy here just checking in
aran: you up? thinking about that time you called me handsome
aran: goodnight sweetheart don’t dream about anyone else but me
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the team notices within a week.
“aran,” kita says mildly during warm-ups, “you’re hovering.”
he’s not stretching, not warming up—just… standing next to you like your bodyguard.
“just keepin’ an eye on her form,” aran says smoothly. you weren’t even in the team.
atsumu squints. “nah. you’re actin’ weird.”
suna smirks. “he’s actin’ weird AND he’s in love.”
aran doesn’t even deny it—just shrugs, unfazed, though he can feel his ears burn.
but later, when you cheer a little too loud for ginjima’s spike, aran’s smile gets tight. the others notice immediately.
“jealous, aran?” ginjima teases.
“nah,” aran says flatly. but his gaze is already back on you, sharp, focused, making sure your attention finds him again.
atsumu nearly chokes on his water. “holy shit, aran’s whipped.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
and you… you should be annoyed. really, you should. but it’s impossible when his smile makes your chest ache, when his shameless adoration feels like sunlight pressed against your ribs, when even his ridiculous obsession with a single word makes you laugh until your cheeks hurt.
because under all the teasing and dramatics, there’s something raw in his gaze when he looks at you. something desperate, something like mine mine mine written into the shape of his grin, the set of his jaw.
and you like that more than you should.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the next weekend, when he drags you to his house under the flimsiest excuse “i need help taste-testing snacks, can’t trust anyone else’s opinion”, you’re not surprised to find his grandmother waiting in the kitchen with two mugs of tea.
“oh, hello again, dear,” she greets, eyes twinkling. “aran’s been talking my ear off about you.”
“granny!” he groans, covering his face with his hands.
“don’t you ‘granny’ me. you’re smitten, boy. it’s obvious.”
you almost choke on your tea, but when you glance at aran, expecting him to deny it, you find him looking at you with that same unshakable intensity, lips quirking up like he doesn’t even care if you know.
and that’s when it hits you.
aran ojiro is ridiculous. he’s clingy, dramatic, and way too much for your sanity.
but now, he’s also yours.
and you think that’s the handsomest thing of all.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a: left me on read for 3 hours, didn’t even explain shit
© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
iloveu
