cleovee

[cleovee]

+　๋࣭ ✴︎ ARISTOTLE | Ollie Bearman x smart-student!reader

Summary: A math genius and a rising racer meet by chance, constantly challenging each other. What begins as playful debates slowly grows into something more, making them question where they truly belong.

Warning: Um kinda out-of-character ollie ig

Notes: I literally wrote this on class because I’m so bored, so this might be kinda messy but I’ll fix it later (if I remember it tho-) And this is kinda long so i hope u enjoy it <3

Y/N had always lived in a world of numbers, equations, and the thrill of solving problems that most people found impossible. At sixteen, she was already a prodigy in the math olympiad scene, effortlessly tackling problems that left even seasoned mathematicians impressed.

But then, she met Ollie Bearman.

She had seen his name before—a rising star in Ferrari’s junior program. Nineteen years old, fast, confident, and already making waves in Formula 2, with whispers of an impending F1 seat growing louder. He was a name that mattered in motorsport, but to Y/N, he had been nothing more than just a name.

She found herself standing in the Ferrari garage, an unwilling spectator as cars roared through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo. Unlike the rest of the team, she wasn’t watching the cars themselves but the screens, the numbers flashing in real time, painting a picture of the race beyond what the eye could see.

That was when he noticed her.

Ollie pulled off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, still breathless from the session. He had expected to be met with the usual engineers, mechanics, or even an occasional sponsor’s representative. Instead, his gaze landed on her—a girl who looked out of place, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen rather than the track.

“You don’t look like a racing fan.” he remarked, walking over.

“Because I’m not.” she replied without looking up. “But I like the real-time data. And you brake later than most in Turn 4. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Ollie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, to her irritation, he grinned.

“Risk is part of racing.”

“And probability says it’ll cost you a race if you keep doing it.”

His grin widened. “Let me guess, an engineer?”

“Unemployed.” she corrected.

He tilted his head, intrigued. “So, what’s your verdict? Am I good or just lucky?”

She hesitated. Math was clean and predictable. Racing was not. It was a tangled mess of speed, instinct, and physics-defying precision. And yet, even she had to admit that Ollie’s driving wasn’t reckless—it was calculated, refined in a way that most people wouldn’t notice. “You calculate your risks well. It’s not all instinct, even if you pretend it is.”

Ollie smirked. “So, you have been watching.”

“Only because my dad makes me.”

At that, Ollie raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling she wasn’t just any guest in the Ferrari garage. “Wait, who’s your dad?”

Before she could answer, a deep voice cut in. “Y/N, I see you’ve met Ollie.” Ollie turned and felt his stomach drop slightly. Standing behind her was none other than the CEO of Ferrari himself.

Oh. His easygoing confidence flickered for just a second. “Ah. That explains a lot.”

To most people, Y/N’s father was one of the most powerful figures in Formula 1. To her, he was simply the reason she had spent more weekends at racetracks than she cared to count. She gave Ollie a knowing look. “Told you I don’t have a choice.”

From that moment on, Ollie seemed to make it his mission to get under her skin. At every race she attended, he sought her out, tossing math problems at her just to see if she’d take the bait (she always did). In return, she picked apart his driving with ruthless precision, pointing out every inefficiency like a strategist rather than a fan.

—

One evening, after hours of solving functional equations for preparation for the International Mathematical Olympiad, Y/N sat at the dinner table with her family. Her two older siblings, Kai and Isa, had been listening to their dad talk about Ferrari’s recent races.

“So, Dad.” Isa started, smirking. “Are we going to talk about how your daughter is lowkey running strategy for Ferrari?”

“I am not running strategy.” Y/N said immediately, stabbing her fork into her food.

“But you could.” Kai pointed out. “Dad literally offered you a spot.”

“Not a real spot.” she muttered.

Their father sighed. “She’s brilliant with numbers, but she refuses to apply them where they matter most.”

“They matter in math.” Y/N shot back.

Kai leaned back. “Okay, but let’s be real. Why are you really turning it down? Is it the pressure? Or…” He smirked. “Would working in F1 mean seeing a certain driver more often?”

Isa grinned. “Ohhh, this just got soooo interesting.”

Y/N groaned. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Her mother, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. “You should do what makes you happy. Whether that’s math or racing—just make sure it’s your choice. Not something you’re avoiding.” Y/N hesitated.

She had been avoiding it, hadn’t she?

But it wasn’t because of Ollie.

Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

—

Her presence in the paddock didn’t go unnoticed. Carlos was the first to bring it up. “You and Bearman seem close.” he mused after bumping into her in the hospitality area.

Lewis, who had been listening in, smirked. “More than close. Kid looked like he was waiting for her approval after his last win.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen him stare at telemetry less intensely than he looks at you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re all being ridiculous.”

“Are we?” Charles grinned. “Because Ollie is watching you right now.”

She turned, and sure enough, across the paddock, Ollie was mid-conversation with an engineer but still stealing glances at her. The moment their eyes met, he smirked and gave her a lazy salute before turning back to his conversation.

Kimi Antonelli, the youngest among them, just chuckled. “You should probably just put him out of his misery.”

Y/N ignored them.

Mostly.

“So, when’s this big math thing?” Ollie asked, catching up with her after a long day in the paddock.

“July.” she answered.

“Alright. If you win a medal, I’ll let you call strategy for my next race.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I take you on a hot lap, and you have to admit that racing is cooler than doing equations.”

It was a ridiculous bet.

But Ollie looked so smug, so certain he’d win, that she couldn’t help herself. “Fine.” she agreed, shaking his hand. And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure which outcome she wanted more.

—

Despite their deal, Y/N and Ollie had fallen into a routine. She was deep in training for the olympiad, and he was busy racing across Europe, but somehow, they still found time for each other.

Their conversations started out competitive, Ollie sending her video clips of his best overtakes, asking for her "mathematical analysis," just to get a reaction.

Ollie: be honest, did I calculate my braking perfectly or what?

Y/N: you cut it too close in Turn 7

Y/N: if you keep doing that, probability says you’ll get penalized eventually

Ollie: probability also says I’ll pull it off every time.

Y/N: that’s not how probability works??

Ollie: that’s how I work :)

At some point, the conversations became… more. Late-night texts about nothing and everything. Ollie asking about her training, even though he barely understood half of what she was saying. Y/N watching his races, even when she pretended she didn’t care.

One evening, she was deep into a geometry proof when her phone buzzed.

Ollie: do you ever take breaks, or do you just absorb math through osmosis?

Y/N: breaks are inefficient.

Ollie: you know what else is inefficient? overworking your brain until it melts.

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

Y/N: and what do you suggest i do instead?

Ollie: something fun

Y/N: define ‘fun’

Ollie: call me XD

She hesitated. Their texts were one thing, but a call? It was different. But before she could overthink it, she hit the button. Ollie picked up instantly. “Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“You said fun. I’m testing your definition.”

His chuckle sent a strange warmth through her. “Alright, genius. Let’s see if I can impress you with something other than lap times.”

They talked for hours. About racing, about numbers, about everything in between. It was easy. Natural. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind it.

—

The weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix arrived, and Y/N found herself back in the Ferrari garage, standing in the same spot where she had first met Ollie. She wasn’t a racing fan. She kept telling herself that. But her eyes still sought out the timing screens, scanning for his name.

He was starting P3. A solid position. But Monaco was unforgiving. Overtaking here was a different kind of battle—one that required both patience and risk. As the race began, she gripped her headset tighter than she intended.

Lap after lap, Ollie stayed behind the two leaders, waiting. Her father, standing beside her, noticed. “He’s playing the long game.”

Y/N nodded, focused. “Like he should.” With ten laps to go, the car ahead made a mistake. A lock-up.

Y/N held her breath.

Ollie pounced.

A daring move down the inside of Turn 10. Inches from disaster. She exhaled as he made it stick. Now, it was just him and the leader.

“Come on, Bearman.” she whispered.

With five laps left, she saw it before it even happened. The leader’s tires were gone. Ollie had managed his perfectly.

One chance. A gap opened. He took it.

The Ferrari garage erupted as Ollie crossed the finish line first. Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But the moment that hit her the hardest?

His first radio message.

“This win goes to my strategist.”

Her heart skipped. He found her in the celebrations, helmet off, eyes searching—until they locked onto hers. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about the race.

For the Bearman, racing had always been everything. It was all he had ever wanted. But lately, something had changed. It started with little things—how he’d instinctively look for Y/N in the paddock, how her absence at a race bothered him more than he’d admit, how their late-night texts had become something he needed rather than just enjoyed.

Then came the bigger realization. The moment he won, he didn’t think about the trophy, the team, or the celebrations.

He wondered what she would say. Would she analyze his lap times? Admit he was right about Turn 4? And that’s when it hit him.

He was completely, absolutely in love with her

—

Ollie had barely made it through his post-race interviews before the questions shifted. “So Ollie, your radio message—who’s ‘your strategist’?”

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head. “Just someone who keeps me in check.”

“More important than your race engineer?”

“She’d say yes.”

The reporters paused “She? So, it’s a girl?”

Ollie sighed, but the grin never left his face. "Next question." The speculation exploded. Social media flooded with theories, blurry pictures of him talking to Y/N in the paddock, clips of their earlier interactions.

Her dad wasn’t surprised. "You should have known he wouldn’t keep it quiet."

“I did know.” she muttered, scrolling through an article titled ‘Ollie Bearman’s Secret Strategist: The Genius Behind the Headset?’

Isa sent her a text on their groupchat.

Isa: girl u are literally trending rn

Kai: do we get paddock passes🥺🥺

Y/N: lol no

She was still debating how to handle it when her phone buzzed again.

Ollie: pls tell me ur not mad

Y/N: mad? no, slightly horrified? yas

Ollie: at least they didn’t find our bet lol

Y/N: give em some time

She could practically hear his laughter through the screen.

—

Y/N had never been one to get attached easily. But Ollie? He had a way of making it impossible to keep her distance.

It started with the small things. The way he always found her in the Ferrari hospitality unit, plopping down across from her with that infuriatingly easygoing grin. The way he’d text her after every race, win or lose, as if her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s. And the way he made her care about racing.

“You seem happier lately.” Charles Leclerc teased one evening in the Ferrari motorhome.

Y/N barely glanced up from her laptop. “And you’re getting slower in Sector 2.”

Carlos Sainz, sitting beside Charles, burst out laughing. “She got you there, mate.” Charles rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, his gaze flicked toward Ollie, who was casually leaning against the doorway, watching Y/N with that same look he always had when she wasn’t paying attention.

Carlos smirked. “So, when are you two admitting it?”

Y/N frowned. “Admitting what?”

“That you like each other,” Max Verstappen cut in from the other side of the room, completely unbothered as he scrolled through his phone. “It’s obvious.”

Y/N scoffed. “We’re friends.”

“Sure.” Max drawled. “And I drive slow.” Lewis Hamilton, who had been silently sipping his tea, finally looked up. “It’s fine if you’re in denial. Just don’t let it distract you. Relationships in F1 are complicated.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Good thing we’re not in one, then.”

Ollie, who had been suspiciously quiet this whole time, finally spoke. “Yet.” The room fell silent.

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Ollie grinned. “I said ‘yet.’”

Carlos let out a low whistle. “Bold move, boy.”

Y/N, meanwhile, felt her face heat up. She was used to Ollie’s teasing, but this? This felt different. “You’re insufferable.” she muttered, focusing back on her laptop.

“Maybe,” Ollie said easily. “But you’re still stuck with me.”

And the worst part? He was right. But now, there was something unspoken between them, something neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Until one night in Monza.

It was late, the paddock mostly empty, the distant hum of the circuit lights buzzing overhead. Y/N had stayed behind to finish some work, and Ollie, as usual, had found her.

“You know,” he said, sitting across from her at one of the hospitality tables, “for someone who doesn’t like F1, you spend an awful lot of time in the paddock.”

She shrugged. “Force of habit.”

“Right.” Ollie leaned forward. “Or maybe you just like being around me.”

She snorted. “Delusional.”

He grinned. “I prefer optimistic.” There was a pause. A rare moment of quiet between them. Then Ollie, unusually serious, asked, “Do you ever think about what happens after this?”

“After what?”

“This. Us. Me in F1, you off solving the world’s hardest equations or whatever it is you’ll end up doing.”

Y/N hesitated. Because, for the first time, she realized she didn’t have an answer. Numbers were predictable. Racing was not. And neither was Ollie Bearman. He stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. “So. What did you think?” He said breaking the silence.

“Of the race?” she asked, though they both knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“Of everything.”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It was a ridiculous situation—two people who were too proud, too stubborn, yet somehow always orbiting each other.

Ollie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? No, I’m saying it. You’re—” He paused, visibly struggling with the words. “You’re annoying.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re annoying. You always have to be right, you never let me win an argument, and you act like you don’t care when you clearly do.”

She blinked. “First of all, I am always right. Second, you’re the one who keeps picking fights with me. And third—” She faltered for just a second. “I don’t care.”

Ollie let out a dry laugh. “Yeah? Then why do you always wait for my race results before you go to sleep?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wha- how do you even know that?”

“Because Charles told me. Apparently, you asked about my sprint race before anything else last weekend.”

Damn it, Charles.

Y/N felt her face heat up, but she refused to back down. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right. Just like how I don’t notice when you’re in the garage, even though I somehow always drive better when you’re watching?”

She swallowed. “Coincidence.”

He huffed, looking almost amused. “You really don’t make this easy.”

“You don’t either.” she muttered. A beat passed. Then another.

And then, with a voice quieter than before, Ollie said, “You know what? I like y- No. I love you.” She stiffened. The words felt so foreign coming from him—blunt, direct, but still carrying that same defiance he always had.

She hesitated for a second too long, so he quickly added, “Not that it matters. I mean, if you’re going to pretend you don’t feel the same way, then—”

“I never said that,” she interrupted.

He froze.

She exhaled slowly. “You’re annoying too. Always teasing, always acting like you don’t care when you obviously do. And it’s exhausting.”

Ollie tilted his head slightly, eyes searching hers. “So, what are you saying?”

She looked away, glaring at the Ferrari logo on the wall as if it would save her. “I’ll give you my answer,” she said quietly, "after my olympiad.”

Ollie blinked. “You’re making me wait?”

“You make me wait every race weekend to see if you actually listen to my advice.”

He groaned, running a hand through his curls. “You are impossible.”

She shot him a glare. “Take it or leave it, Bearman.”

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take it.” His answering grin was slow, filled with something dangerous—because Ollie Bearman never backed down from a challenge.

—

The International Mathematics Olympiad arrived faster than she expected. Almost 6 weeks of nothing but numbers, equations, and the thrill of proving the impossible. When the final results were announced, she stood on the podium, a gold medal around her neck, her country’s flag draped behind her.

She had done it.

And the first person she texted?

Y/N: i placed first!

Ollie: so that means I get a strategist, right?

Y/N: guess i owe you an answer

Ollie: finally

When she returned home, he was already waiting. She met him at the Ferrari garage—after hours, when most people had already left, and the place was quiet except for the hum of machinery and the faint smell of oil and rubber. Ollie was leaning against the side of his car, arms crossed, but the moment he saw her walk in, his expression softened.

“So,” he said, watching her carefully. “Did solving equations help you figure things out?”

“Yeah,” she said simply. Ollie raised an eyebrow. “And?”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“I like you.” It was so effortless, so blunt, that it completely threw him off. He had expected a debate, some kind of teasing remark, maybe even a dramatic build-up. Not this.

“You—” He blinked, mouth parting slightly. “You really waited this long just to say that?”

She shrugged. “Had to be sure.”

Ollie let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “God, you’re impossible.”

And then—he kissed her.

It wasn’t careful or calculated. It was instinct, reckless and real, like something that had been waiting to happen for too long. She froze for a second, then kissed him back, just as certain.

The sound of a camera shutter snapped them out of it.

Ollie pulled back just enough to glance toward the entrance—where, through the gap in the garage doors, a group of photographers had their lenses pointed directly at them.

His jaw clenched. “You have got to be kidding me.”

She blinked up at him, a little breathless, then exhaled sharply. “Guess we’re making headlines tomorrow.”

Ollie groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.”

—

You’re right, the headlines the next morning were everywhere.

“Ferrari’s Rising Star Ollie Bearman and Mystery Girl—More Than Just Friends?”

“Caught in 4K: Young F1 Driver’s Late-Night Garage Romance!”

At first, people were just trying to figure out who the mystery girl was. But then, someone zoomed in on the photo and noticed about who that girl is.

“WAIT. ISN’T THIS THE GIRL WHO JUST PLACED FIRST AT THE IMO??”

“YOU’RE TELLING ME FERRARI’S FUTURE STAR JUST BAGGED A MATHEMATICAL GENIUS???”

“Ollie Bearman. Sir. How did you pull THAT?”

Ollie nearly threw his phone across the room when he saw the last comment. “You’re kidding me.” he muttered, scrolling through the article. The picture was clear, him and Y/N in the Ferrari garage, mid-kiss. There was no way out of it.

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: wow we’re famous

Ollie: you think this is funny?

Y/N: a little

Ollie: i’m going to eat whoever took that photo.

Y/N: too late, my mom already sent it to all my relatives

Ollie groaned. His face was burning. Great. A few hours later, Y/N showed up at his place, looking way too calm about the whole thing.

“You look way too amused.” Ollie said, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.

She shrugged. “I think it’s funny. Besides, it’s not like we were planning to keep it secret forever.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, but I was hoping for a little control over how people found out.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Control? Ollie, you kissed me first.”

His face turned red instantly. “That’s—shut up.” She smirked, stepping inside and flopping onto his couch like she owned the place. “And now the whole world knows. Congrats, loverboy.”

He groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“You like me, though.”

Ollie sighed, defeated, before sitting beside her. He nudged her shoulder lightly. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned. “Lucky me.”

Despite the chaos, despite the headlines and the teasing texts from the other drivers.

Lewis: Look at our little Ollie, all grown up!

Charles: I expect wedding invites.

Kimi: can you two not do this in the Ferrari garage next time?

He groaned dramatically, but when she laced her fingers through his, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe the whole world knowing wasn’t so bad. Maybe, for once, he didn’t mind being the center of attention.

Because if there was one thing that mattered more than racing, more than headlines, more than anything—It was her.

© CLEOVEE 2025, please do not translate or repost my fics without my permission.

[cleovee]

+　๋࣭ ✴︎ SOBER | Ollie Bearman x reader (16)

Summary: Once Ferrari’s brightest young car engineer, Y/N vanished without a trace. Until now. When she reappears in a Monaco’s club, F1 biggest names also Y/N’s ex-teammate take notice. Lewis, Charles, and Max want answers, but the drunk rookie Ollie Bearman stumbles into her first.

Warnings: Reader is a minor, (a bit)drunk!ollie, broken english XD

Your usual club is alive tonight. Neon lights flicker in time with that loud ass music, the kind that thrums through your chest, setting your pulse to its rhythm. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, bodies pressed close, moving like they’ve got no worries in the world. You’re only sixteen. But really, who cares?

You stand at the edge of the chaos, watching as drinks spill, as laughter fills the air, as people lose themselves in the night. Your friend elbows you, breaking your focus. “Y/N, take a shot!” they shout, grinning as they offer a glass toward you.

You smile, shaking your head. “I don’t drink.”

They groan, rolling their eyes. “Boooooring.”

You just laugh, slipping away from the group before they can protest. The crowd swallows you whole as you weave through the bodies, the heat of too many people packed together pressing against your skin. You just need some air, a second to breathe. And then, out of nowhere, someone crashes into you.

It’s not a gentle bump, it’s enough to knock you off balance. Before you can even react, strong hands grip your arms, steadying you. You glance up, almond eyes meet yours.

It’s Ollie Bearman.

His fingers flex slightly around your wrist before he realizes he’s still holding you. He lets go, but there’s hesitation in the movement, like he wasn’t quite ready to break the contact.

“Oh shit.” he mutters, blinking at you like he’s trying to make sure you’re actually there. “It’s really you.”

Your lips curve slightly. “Do I know you?”

Ollie exhales a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “No. But I know you.” That makes you pause. You tilt your head, intrigued. “Do you, now?”

His drunken confidence flickers for just a second as he rubs the back of his neck. “They talk about you all the time.”

“They?”

Before he can answer, a familiar voice cuts through the music, laced with disbelief and amusement.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is. Lewis Hamilton steps forward, his dark eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for confirmation, maybe, that you’re really standing here. “You just disappeared.” he says.

And then there’s Max Verstappen, standing slightly behind them, hands in his pockets, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always had. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again." he says, tilting his head slightly.

You smirk. “Didn’t think you’d ever miss me.” Max scoffs, shaking his head, but there’s a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles lets out a laugh. “Oh, he did. He just won’t say it.”

“Shut up, Charles.” Max mutters, making Charles laugh even more. Lewis crosses his arms, still watching you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Seriously, though. Where the hell have you been? You disappeared like a ghost.”

“Maybe I like being a ghost.” you tease.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t.” Lewis says. “You had everyone wondering what happened to you. I was wondering.” You roll your eyes. “You guys act like I dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Didn’t you?” Charles points out. “One day you were there, and the next poof.” Max raises an eyebrow. “We heard rumors, though. Some people said you left on your own terms. Others said you were pushed out.” You let out a slow breath, letting their words settle. They’re not wrong. You did disappear. And they never got the full story.

Lewis narrows his eyes slightly, like he wants to press for more, but Charles nudges him. “Let it go.” he murmurs. “She’ll tell us when she wants to.” Max just nods, but there’s something in his expression that tells you he isn’t done asking questions.

Ollie, who had been standing beside you in silence, shifts slightly. The three men turn their attention to him at the same time, their eyes scanning him like they’re sizing him up. “Oh, come on.” Ollie groans, looking between them. “You guys know me.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Do we?” Ollie gives him a look. “Don’t play dumb, Leclerc. You literally saw me last week.”

Charles smirks. “Did I? I must’ve been too busy beating you on track.”

Ollie scoffs. “You wish.” Lewis watches the exchange with amusement. “So, that’s why you were acting all weird.” Max lets out a low chuckle. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”

“I felt like I saw a ghost.” Ollie mutters, glancing at you. “You all never shut up about her, but I never actually thought I’d meet her.”

Lewis leans in slightly. “And?” Ollie hesitates, then shakes his head with a smirk. “Even better than the stories.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You been talking about me, Bearman?” Ollie grins, a little cocky despite the alcohol in his system. “Can you blame me?” Max tilts his head, smirking slightly. “Careful, kid. She eats guys like you for breakfast.”

Ollie’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Maybe I like a challenge.” Lewis and Charles exchange glances, clearly entertained.

“Well,” Charles muses, “that depends.”

Ollie frowns slightly. “On what?”

Lewis grins. “On whether she thinks you’re worth the challenge.” Ollie turns to you, and for the first time all night. “So… am I?“ The world spins around you, music, bodies moving in every direction. But in this moment, everything stills. You let the question hang, a knowing smile curling on your lips.

You lean in, close enough that only Ollie can hear. Your lips brush the shell of his ear as you whisper. “Try again when you’re sober.”

Then, without another word, you turn back to your friends, leaving Ollie standing there, watching you, wanting you, with a challenge in front of him that he definitely saw comin.

© MICHAVS 2025, please do not translate or repost my fics without my permission.

[cleovee]

+　๋࣭ ✴︎ 🍓 & 🚬 | Oikawa Tooru x reader

Summary: Dating the captain of Aoba Johsai's volleyball team who has many female fans. Ran away from his practice cause of jealousy, where he finds your bad habit and comforts you.

Tags: Oikawa x fem!reader, hurt-comfort

Warnings: Vaping!reader, oikawa being redflag(?), messy relationships, grammatical mistakes probably

It’s been almost seven months since you started dating Oikawa Tooru, the handsome, always cheerful, and energetic captain of Aoba Johsai's volleyball team. Oikawa is constantly surrounded by people, especially female fans captivated by his charm. You often see him being overly friendly with them, chatting and laughing non-stop. Although Oikawa always assures you that he’s just being polite and there’s nothing to worry about, you can’t help but feel jealous.

Today was a usual day, you accompanied Oikawa to his volleyball practice for the upcoming competition. Instead of greeting you sitting in the stands, he went over to chat with the girls there.

"Oikawa-san, I brought you a drink." said one pretty brunette, offering him a bottle of water.

Oikawa accepted it with his usual sweet smile. "Thanks a lot.” he said before returning to his practice.

You sighed in resignation at the familiar scene, "Hh, nothing new." Frustrated and bored, you left the gym to get some fresh air.

You went behind the building and sat on one of the benches, fishing out your strawberry-flavored vape from your blazer pocket. The smoke mingled with the surrounding air as you gazed blankly at the sky. You had no idea how much time had passed just sitting there in a daze.

Before you knew it, the bright blue sky had turned into an evening hue. The evening sky in Miyagi always had a mesmerizing feel, blending with the bustle of students heading home.

You pulled out your phone and opened Instagram, shocked to see Oikawa’s story, smiling with another girl. “Good luck, the fuck?” you muttered angrily, glaring at your phone with smoke still swirling from your lips. There’s an urge to just smash your phone and throw it away.

Meanwhile, inside the gym. “Iwaaa-chan, have you seen Y/N?” Oikawa asked Iwaizumi, who was mopping the court. Iwaizumi paused, thinking. “Y/N? I think she went out.” he replied, resuming his work. Oikawa nodded and quickly left the gym to search for you.

Oikawa looked around the gym because he knew you wouldn't go far or even head home without him. The strong scent of strawberries hit his nose, and he knew it was your distinctive smell. He hurried towards the source of the scent.

You had just exhaled a cloud of vape smoke when you heard footsteps approaching. Turning to the sound, your eyes met Oikawa's, and you nearly dropped your vape in shock.

“Y/N…?” he called out, seemingly the first to catch you vaping like this. You stared back blankly.

“Why are you here?” you asked, pretending not to care though you wanted to hurl the bench at his fucking face.

Oikawa stepped closer, standing in front of you. “I should be the one who asking you that. Why are you doing this?” He took the vape from your hand, his sharp eyes filled with meaning.

You stood up from the old bench, facing him. “Oikawa, don’t be nosy. Give it back.” you ordered softly.

Oikawa’s expression was a mix of anger and disappointment, clearly unhappy with what he was seeing. “Nosy? I’m your boyfriend and don’t call me Oikawa.” he stated firmly but without judgment.

You scoffed bitterly, “Boyfriend your ass, Tooru. Do you think it doesn’t hurt seeing you with other girls? You never introduce me as your girlfriend to those girls even you said i was your bestfriend to your teammates,”

Oikawa stepped closer, and instinctively, you backed away until you were cornered against the wall. “How can I believe in love when every time I see you, you’re with someone else? I feel like I’m not even part of your life.” you continued, your voice sharp.

“Hey, I never meant to make you feel that way. I just. I don’t know how to explain it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” he replied, guilt evident in his voice. He tossed your vape into a nearby trash can and held both your hands.

Your eyes met, and you fell into the depths of his beautiful gaze. “You can talk to me if you need to, so tell me why you started to do this.” he gently urged, lifting your chin so your eyes locked again.

You looked down at your shoes, struggling to find the right words. “I just… i’m feelin so tired lately and i need something that makes me feel better.” You tried to explain, but no answer seemed right. Vaping felt like a way to relieve your stress and jealousy, but deep down, you knew it was just a temporary escape.

Oikawa sighed, softly touching your chin to lift it again. “Y/N I care about you. Don’t hurt yourself with this, you know it’s bad for you, right?” he said, his voice tender and filled with concern.

You nodded slightly at his words. Oikawa smiled, moving his face closer to yours. “There are other ways to feel better, you know.” Your heart raced at his words. “Like what?” you asked, imagining how red your face must be.

A thin smile formed on Oikawa’s lips. He leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. You were stunned, feeling as if you were floating. The kiss was sweet, like strawberries, and warm, making your soul feel more alive than ever before.

As he pulled back, you stared into his eyes, trying to process the emotions swirling within you. Oikawa’s goofy grin made you chuckle despite yourself. “See? Better already.” he said, his voice lightening the mood.

You sighed, the tension slowly melting away. “You’re impossible, you know that?” Oikawa laughed, a sound that felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

“And yet, you still put up with me.” He sat down on the bench beside you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Let’s make a deal. If you ever feel like this again, talk to me first. No more hiding behind vapes or running away, okay?”

You nodded, feeling the sincerity in his words. “Okay, I promise.”

For the next hour, you and Oikawa stayed on that bench, talking about everything and nothing. He shared funny stories from practice, making exaggerated faces and gestures that had you laughing uncontrollably. It was in these moments that you remembered why you fell for him in the first place – his ability to make you feel seen, heard, and cherished.

As the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle, Oikawa stood up, offering a hand to help you up. “Come on, let’s head home. We’ve got another day tomorrow.”

You took his hand, feeling a renewed sense of closeness. Walking back to the gym to gather your things, Oikawa kept up a steady stream of chatter, his voice a comforting background to your thoughts. You realized that while he might be surrounded by admirers, it was you he came home to, you he searched for, and you he kissed under the evening sky.

The next day at practice, things felt different. Oikawa still charmed everyone around him, but he made a point to acknowledge you, even introducing you to his teammates and his fans as his girlfriend. The jealous pangs that once gnawed at you began to fade, replaced by a growing confidence in your relationship.

And when the competition day finally arrived, you were there, cheering louder than anyone. Oikawa looked up at you in the stands, a mischievous wink and a cheerful smile on his face that made your heart flutter. You knew, no matter how many people surrounded him, your place was always by his side.

© MICHAVS 2024, please do not translate or repost my fics without my permission.

[cleovee]

+　๋࣭ ✴︎ Flash Drive

KEI TSUKISHIMA x Fem!reader

Summary: A photography enthusiast forgets their flash drive at the lab, filled with photos they shouldn't have taken. Tsukishima Kei finds it and threatens to expose them unless they agree to pretend to be in a relationship. Over time, their fake feelings turn real. (Also please help to support my AO3, ty <3)

Warnings: Reader being a stalker, language, blackmailing, grammatical mistakes probably

Notes: This fict is inspired by Lost in The Cloud manhwa omgmgmg, you guys should definitely check it out!!!!!

Click. The sound of your camera went off as you captured a photo of your awesome senior, Sugawara-san, playing soccer on the field in front of your class. You had been admiring him since your first day at this school, he was your mentor for student orientation.

“Cute.” you murmur while looking at the photo you captured, your heart fluttering at the sight of Sugawara’s smile frozen in time.

“You’re such a stalker, you’ll be in a big trouble if you get caught, you know.” your friend Yachi says, smirking at you as she nudges your shoulder playfully. You roll your eyes and gave her a defiant grin. “I don’t care.” you reply, shifting your position to get a better angle to shoot Sugawara-san again. The excitement of capturing the perfect shot makes your pulse quicken.

“Hey, help me out at the volleyball club at 5 PM. Kiyoko-san is absent today.” Yachi says, munching on her food with an air of nonchalance. “Yeah, sure. I’ll study in the lab while waiting.” you respond, your mind already wandering to the photos you’ll edit later.

Later, in the quiet of the lab, you sit ready with your computer. The intention to study is overshadowed by the thrill of transferring your photos. You connect your flash drive, your fingers trembling slightly as you gaze at Sugawara’s handsome face on the screen. Each click brings a new wave of admiration.

“All done!” you say excitedly, your voice echoing softly in the silent room. You pack up your things with a satisfied smile, already anticipating the next opportunity to photograph him. You get up from the lab chair, your steps light as you head to the volleyball court with your bag and camera in hand. Little do you know, in your excitement, you’ve forgotten to turn off the computer and your flash drive is still connected to it. The oversight, unnoticed in your eagerness, sets the stage for the unexpected events to come.

“Yachi, am I late?” you ask, your breath slightly ragged from rushing to the court. “Nope, we’re still waiting for the others.” she replies, glancing up from her attendance sheet. You scan for Sugawara-san’s face among the tall volleyball players, your heart beating faster with anticipation.

“There he is,” you murmur, eyes sparkling upon spotting Sugawara-san next to Daichi-san. Your pulse quickens, and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Hinata… here, Kageyama… here, Tsukishima… eh, where’s Tsukishima?” Yachi asks, her voice echoing in the gym as everyone shakes their heads.

“Tsukishima, the blonde guy with glasses, right? He was studying in the lab earlier,” you say, recalling the fleeting glimpse of him before. The door swings open, and Tsukishima strides in, his tall figure and blond hair unmistakable. “I’m here, sorry I’m late,” he says, placing his bag and headphones aside before joining the practice. Practice begins, and everyone immerses themselves in their activities. You sit on the sidelines, leaning against the wall, eyes drawn to Sugawara-san's every move. He’s graceful and focused, a natural leader on the court.

Suddenly, a loud thud catches your attention. BRUKKK You look over to see Tsukishima sprawled on the ground. Your heart skips a beat as everyone rushes to surround him, their concern palpable.

“I’m fine, no need to worry.” he reassures, brushing off their concerns and returning to the game. Your eyes follow him, noticing an item that has fallen from his pocket and landed right in front of you. A flash drive, identical to yours. You pick it up, frowning. “Hmm weird, it feels just like mine.” you mutter, rubbing the flash drive. Then you see it, a label with your name on it.

‘(Y/N) GRADE 10-C’

OH. MY. GOD. Panic sets in as you remember what you’d done before coming here. Your heart races, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. You forgot to take out the flash drive, and you left your computer on. Crap, what if he saw the files?

Great, now your life is over.

After practice, you gather your courage and approach Tsukishima. “Hey, can we talk for a second?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly. He’s walking with his friend, Tadashi, but they stop and turn to face you.

“Can’t you just say it here?” he replies curtly, with that annoying look on his face. You pull the flash drive he dropped from your pocket. “Oh, that. Do you know whose it is? Looks like they forgot to take it,” Tsukishima responds, a sly grin on his face.

“It’s mine, idiot. My name is literally right there,” you snap back, your frustration bubbling over. He whispers something to his friend, which you can’t hear. Tadashi gives you a sympathetic look before leaving, leaving you alone with Tsukishima.

“So, you’re the little stalker, huh?” he smirks, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“It’s for the photography club assignment, nothing else,” you retort, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Oh, really? Then what’s with the folder named ‘Pretty Boy, Suga-san’?” he teases, stepping closer until only a few centimeters separate you. You glare up at him, your height disadvantage making you feel even more vulnerable. “Let me see the flash drive.” he demands. You show it to him, but he suddenly snatches it and holds it above his head.

“Hey, give it back!” you cry, jumping to reach it.

In an unfortunate twist, you trip over Tsukishima’s foot. Luckily, he isn’t weak, so neither of you falls completely. You crash into his chest, and he catches your left hand while still holding the flash drive. His other hand steadies your waist. “Wow wow, watch it.” he complains, his voice softer, letting go of you.

“Well, give me back my flash drive then.” you demand, straightening your uniform and glaring at him.

“I will, but do me a favor first.”

“Huh, why are you so demanding.” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“Well, if you won’t do it, say goodbye to your image then Ms. Stalker.” he threatens, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“No. Please don’t share it, I’ll do anything you want.” you sob, your eyes starting to water. Panicking, you grab Tsukishima's shoulders, pleading desperately. “Wow, chill. I didn’t know you’d freak out like this,” he chuckles, gently prying your hands off his shoulders. “Let’s go on a date for a month.” he adds, his tone flat.

“Stop joking,” you shoot back, annoyed and desperate.

“I’m not joking. If you don’t want to, then whatever,” he shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “Fine, it’s a deal then.”

“Yeah, it’s a deal. See you tomorrow, Ms. Girlfriend.” he says, giving you a wink before walking away, leaving you standing there, trying to process everything that had just happened.

“Damn it, please tell me this is just a dream.” you mutter to yourself, hoping for an escape from this surreal situation.

──────────────────

Weeks has been passed, you and Tsukishima grow closer, and what started as a fake relationship begins to feel real. You start to notice the little things about him – the way he listens intently when you talk, his subtle acts of kindness, and his rare, genuine smiles. As the month of your fake dating arrangement nears its end, you and Tsukishima walk home together after his volleyball practice for what you believe might be the last time. . The streets are quiet, the sky painted with the warm hues of the setting sun. You feel a mix of relief and sadness, knowing that this bizarre yet strangely comforting chapter of your life is about to close.

The silence between you stretches, comfortable yet tinged with an unspoken tension. You steal glances at Tsukishima, wondering if he feels the same way. As you reach a familiar corner, you slow your pace, reluctant to let this moment end. Tsukishima seems to notice, his steps matching yours until you both come to a stop. He turns to face you, his usual cool eyes softened by an unusual intensity in his eyes.

“(Y/N).” he starts, his voice steady but quieter than usual.

“Yeah?” you respond, trying to keep your voice casual despite the fluttering in your chest. He takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “This month… it was supposed to be just a favor, right? A fake relationship to help me out,” You nod, unsure where he’s going with this but afraid to hope.

“But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake for me,” he admits, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. “I know we agreed to end this after a month, but… I don’t want it to end.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What are you saying, Tsukishima?”

“I’m saying that I like you, (Y/N). Not just for this month, not just for the sake of our arrangement. I genuinely like you,” he confesses, his voice earnest and a bit vulnerable. “And I want us to be real.” You stare at him, trying to process his words. The cold, aloof Tsukishima is looking at you with a raw honesty that you’ve never seen before.

“Tsukishima…” you whisper.

“Kei.” he corrects softly.

Your own feelings bubbling to the surface. “I like you too. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I was afraid to say anything because I thought it was just part of the deal.” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “It’s not part of any deal. I want to be with you, for real.”

You smile, tears of relief and joy welling up in your eyes. “I want that too, Kei.” With a small, relieved smile, Tsukishima leans in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. It’s gentle and sweet, filled with the promise of something real and lasting.

As you pull away, you both smile at each other, the tension of the past month melting away.

“Ah right here, you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal” he says and hands back your glash drive. You take it, “Thanks.” you reply softly with a small giggles.

He looks at you for a moment before speaking again. “Since I’m your boyfriend now, you should delete those Sugawara-san’s photos, okay?” he says.

“I’ll delete them, i guess.” you reply, looking at him playfully. He chuckles, a rare, genuine laugh. “Yeah yeah, now let’s go home.”

“Mhm, let’s go home, Kei.” you agree, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. Walking hand in hand, you both head home, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

From that moment on, your relationship with Kei blossoms. The teasing and banter continue, but now it’s filled with affection and understanding. You find comfort in his presence, and he becomes your rock, always there to support you. Your friends notice the change, and they’re happy for you both. Even Tadashi, who has always been supportive, gives you a thumbs-up and a wink.

© MICHAVS 2024, please do not translate or repost my fics without my permission.