#ushijima wakaotoshi x black reader

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚ ʚ₊˚‧ ✿ ꒱ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 / the story of how the ushijima's rekindled an old flame that kick-started their love story.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, her/she pronouns, black reader (with descriptors), influencer!reader, profanity, alcohol usage, intoxication (both reader and ushijima), flashback in italics, mentions of making out, mentions of fingering, tendou makes an appearance, i just around using ushijima & wakatoshi a lot, it's late but we here, mdni

╰┈➤ song for this part: we might even be falling in love (interlude) by victoria monet

masterlist

Wakatoshi’s fingers lingered on your lower back as the crowd cheered for the excitement of the wedding that was just a couple of days away. His lips grazed upon the shell of your ear at the flash of the photographer’s camera. This felt so unreal, you were about to get married in a couple of days to the love of your life. You felt this feeling of warmth rush over your body with each second of Wakatoshi’s fingertips tracing alongside the lining of your dress. 

“Who would have thought?” His words whisper in your ears with a grin. “Wouldn’t think I would be about to marry the cute girl who I help carry coffee to her internship building.” 

You bite back a smile before you turn to wrap your arms around his neck. Your high heels give you enough height so you won’t have to stand on your tippy toes. The diamond ring on your finger twinkles under the restaurant light before you place a quick peck on his lip.

“Yeah, just some years ago we rekindled in Paris,” You said.

His lips were against your ear once more, “Ah, I remember Paris like it was yesterday. But I could have sworn you told me, what happened in Paris stays-“

His words and your pending embarrassment of remembering the events in Paris made your cheeks heat up. Your eyes trail to your fiancé while he’s getting dragged by his teammates away from you. His chestnut-colored eyes never leave you while a foolish grin spreads on his face before he disappears into the celebratory dinner crowd. Even if he was swallowed up by a sea of people, you still could see him in the crowd with a huge grin as he gloated about being a married man in a couple of days.

Paris. 

What a memory that was.

Your first fashion week as an influencer and blogger had just wrapped up leaving you to explore Paris. You wanted to celebrate the huge opportunities that were graced upon you. Landing a brand deal with a well-known and successful black luxury brand was something huge for you. It felt like a dream if you were going to be honest with yourself. So, you had to celebrate until your last day in Paris. You shopped a lot. Went out clubbing with some other influencers that were here also. Now you stand outside this chocolate shop gazing at the huge chocolate fountain that was in front of the display window that looks like it’s been cleaned countless times during the day.

You went to snap a picture of it for your social media accounts, but a figure inside the store caught your attention. His large frame was hunched over the counter as he was talking to another man with a red buzz-cut hairstyle. Even though the sign on the door was turned to closed, he was inside as if he had special privileges. He wore some light khaki-colored slacks, a black polo that was tucked in and secured with a belt, a beige wool overcoat, and a pair of white Alexander McQueen shoes. His dark olive-brown hair wasn’t messy in the sense that it looked like he just rolled out of bed, but more of him constantly running his fingers through it. He looked familiar. 

When the red-haired guy noticed you staring, you immediately fled. Although, the aesthetically pleasing chocolate fountain would be wonderful for your Paris photo dump for your socials—nothing is more embarrassing than being caught staring at a possible stranger through a window like a creep. You thought you were walking fast enough to put distance between yourself and the shop, but when you felt someone grab a hold of your elbow—the feeling of despair engulfed you so quickly. Until you saw who grabbed you. 

The man who you were staring at. That sense of familiarity wasn’t nothing because you knew him. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“I knew you looked familiar.” Your voice came out like a whisper as if you didn’t believe he was standing in front of you.

It’s been years since the last time you saw him. You remembered how kind he was when you two first met. Helping you carry baked goods and coffee orders in your internship building. Then two weeks later from that interaction, you saw him again at a farmer’s market in California. Then after that, the next time you saw him was when he was a part of Japan’s volleyball Olympics team. You didn’t want to admit that you thought about him a lot. Who wouldn’t? He was an attractive and genuine guy. The volleyball part was just an extra point. 

“Last time we saw each other, I remember specifically you talked my father’s head off over-”

“Marketing.” You finished his sentence, the distant memory of you practically forcing him to be the third wheel with his day with his father made you cringe. “I’m sorry about that by the way. Thinking back on it, it was extremely intrusive.” 

“Eh, it’s fine. My father still talks about you up to this day, you know? Quote on quote said I should date a girl like you. I can see why he would say that.” His eyes scan over your face to your body and now even though you are covered in a sweater dress—you feel bare. 

The heat that spread from your fingertips to your cheeks made you want to fan yourself. “It’s good to see you again, Ushijima.”

“Wakatoshi..” He corrects. 

Your lips curve into a smile of warmth before speaking again, “Wakatoshi.” 

You liked how that felt, and you can tell that he enjoyed you saying it. The tip of his ears was as red as your purse that was hanging on your shoulder. Soon that deep crimson color imparts across his cheeks. He looks down at his shoes in embarrassment before attempting to speak through the fact that he is blushing in front of you.

“Are you free tonight? Meeting my friend and his co-workers at this bar not too far away from here.” Wakatoshi questions. 

“Yes, I’m just enjoying the last couple of days here before I head back.”

“And when is that?”

“Two days.”

“Great.” was the only thing that left his mouth before he grabbed your hand and walked through the crowd of people towards the bar.

Here you two sat in a bar full of people and that feeling of it only being you two returned. Thighs briefly brushed against each other while you were in a booth together, practically ignoring the environment around each other. Even though the two of you could only send wide grins toward each other, you still felt this strange feeling of comfort wiggle up your spine. Even growing comfortable to lean back further in your seat into Ushijima’s arm that was resting on the back of the booth seat.

“Okay, you have half a million followers. How can I build my following?” Tendou slides his phone across the table to show you his Instagram account.

You glance at his phone briefly. He had a pretty decent following for a chocolatier. From your conversations with him, while you were here with him and Ushijima, he had a bright and energetic personality that you were sure would win people over. You scrolled through his photos of different chocolate he’s made and even some fun photo dumps. His likes on his photos were extremely stable considering the platform’s strange algorithm. Quite obvious it was actual people liking his photos and not bots. 

“You have a decent following and interesting stuff on your page. Have you tried recording a day in your life video?” You asked. “I think it would be cool for people to see the life of a chocolatier.” You shrug your shoulders and slide your phone to him.

“I never thought to do that,” Tendou snatches up his phone to glance through his Instagram again. Soon a young woman caught his attention and he abruptly excused himself, uttering how he had to use his French to good use. 

“So, how’s your social media looking?” You questioned before your eyes looked up at Ushijima. “Do you even have any social media pages? You look like a very reserved guy..” Your words trail off realizing that maybe this was a bit intrusive that came off.

“Not a social media person, but my manager insists I make an Instagram account to connect with fans.” He pulls his phone out, unlocking it swiftly to show you his page.

He had more followers than you and verified. But he had only two photos on his page. One was dated back to a year when he first signed to the Schweiden Alders and the other was with his dad, who you assumed was in California. 

“You only have two pictures. Why? If you mind me asking.” 

“I just don’t see the point of having millions of people to be able to see important details of my life every day. That’s how people begin to construct their own opinions about you even though they merely only see what you post on the internet.” He sips from his beer bottle. 

You hummed at his answer, letting it debrief in your head. You never thought about it that way considering your career choice. Granted, you don’t share a lot about your personal life—but you were a very public person. Over a half million people knew you were in Paris at the moment, but for Ushijima, no one knew he was here unless they were Tendou, his close friends, and maybe some volleyball fans. 

“But your job must be quite interesting though. You have half a million people wanting details on your outfits and such.” He tries to lighten the atmosphere because he can tell that his words are causing you to think deeply.

“I’m grateful for that since they do help a girl eat, but I see why you’re so private. You’re like an all-star volleyball player. I’m sure social media could throw your game off.”

“It does, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Sports journalists are much harsher, you know.” His fingers traced alongside the rim of his beer bottle.

“How’s your parents?” You asked. “I’m sure your dad is loving the Cali weather,” You add. 

“They’re good. We can officially be in a room together without any back and forth. Think they do it just for me though,” his shoulders shrug and you manage to take note of how broad his shoulders are. 

Maybe you were gawking at his appearance. The last time you saw him, he had height on him. Maybe he grew a bit taller over the years. You definitely can tell whatever workout plan he had made him gain more muscle too. 

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure they’re super proud to see how far you have come.” You cheesed at him and he finished the last bit of his beer before the two of you were interrupted. 

These two young men stood with a huge smile on their faces. Faces as red as the red Sharpie one of them held in their hand. You knew they weren’t there for you, so you only laughed as Ushijima waited for them to spit out what they wanted. 

“We’re huge fans. Can we get some pictures and an autograph?” One asked. 

Ushijima looked at you with an apologetic look that you simply giggled at before letting him talk to his fans. In the meantime, you watch as he talks to the two guys as if he knew them for years. A huge smile on his face and his eyes twinkling like the night stars, seeing him like this felt nice. It brought comfort to you in a sense. During the time of them talking, a waitress placed shots down on the table that the fans brought. In return, you volunteered to take the picture of the trio and watch as Ushijima scribbled his autograph on a spare napkin on the table you two sat at. 

“We’re sorry for interrupting your date. Thanks for the picture and autograph.” One of the guys says before leaving—not giving either you or Ushijima time to correct him that this wasn’t a date. 

You went to make a joke about it, but your phone interrupted that. You quickly down the shot in front of you and make your escape out of the booth. 

“I have to take this call.” You seem to yell over the loud music playing in the bar. You went to stand up to take the phone call outside, but you felt Ushijima tug you back.

“Let me go with you,” You felt his hand grab yours instantly as he slid from outside the booth.

“I’m not going to get lost, you know?” You glance back at him briefly before leading him out of the bar. 

The two walked right by Tendou who was talking with a co-worker and as soon as he saw you two walking towards the door, his bright red eyebrows raised in curiosity. Most likely thinking you two were calling it a night after the extensive round of shots Ushijima fan brought him after he autographed a napkin for him. 

You thought it was strange for someone from one of the brands you work for to call you so late at night. Especially when you had spoken to them earlier—correction, you even did your part of the deal and finally posted the product review they were hounding you for. You listened to the agent talk about how they wanted you to post a review on their newest lipstick line that was being released in two weeks. But as they were throwing out their demands through your tipsy hiccups, they weren’t mentioning anything about increasing your pay.

You were a bit intoxicated and on the phone, with someone from a company you were a brand ambassador for. The night Paris wind brushed against your smooth brown legs under your sweater dress and you thought your body was going to shiver, but the closeness of Ushijima was like a personal heater. His eyes stared down at you with lust and charm while you were listening to the person on the other end. 

They do say some wines can be classified as an aphrodisiac. Perhaps it was the alcohol because you wanted him. You yearned for him just as much as you did years ago when you first met him. The heat that pooled in between your thighs crept up on you when you noticed Ushijima’s eyes scan over your lip gloss-covered lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You couldn’t quite remember if you said yes. But you remembered your timid nods as you leaned to meet him halfway to close the gap between you two. You remembered ending the phone call without a care (and was sure you wouldn’t hear the last of it during your next Zoom meeting). And you remembered how Wakatoshi's lips felt. Soft, smooth, and plushable. He was a stern kisser, it went well with his personality. You could feel his fingertips on the back of your neck locking you in place for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced alongside your full lips aching to taste all the alcohol that stained your tongue. His knee breaks apart from your thighs as soon as your lips gasp apart to let him in. Your fingers interlock in his brown hair tugging him closer and your left thigh lifts just a bit for his free hand to grab upon.

Was it cliche to say you’ve never been kissed like this before? The way your lips moved with each other, you would have thought that the two of you had done this before. Perhaps in another life, you two were former lovers. That would explain the chemistry you two bounced off each other within the night and right now under the bright moon that gave you little light in the space you were camped out. 

During the heated makeout session, you could feel his fingerings up the dress you wore and your body instantly heated up. It was Wakatoshi doing this to you, of course, your body would feel like it was running a fever. But the idea of doing this here in an alley as drunken strangers walk by turned you on. Yes, it was scandalous if someone snapped a picture. There goes your brand deals and maybe a decrease in followers, but this was Wakatoshi. You would do anything to feel his expensive fingers rub against your clit. 

After the alleyway interaction, he spent the remaining two days with you. Even though he technically was supposed to leave the next morning—he extended your fairytale of making you feel like the most important woman in the world. Embracing those last forty-eight hours with you as if it were his last specks of air escaping his lungs. 

You remembered his last words before you were boarding your plane. A foolish grin on your glowing face and fingers intertwined with his like a love-sick character from a romance novel. 

“Is it odd to say I want us to work?” He admits. “And we only just rekindled two days ago.” 

“Then I’ll see you at your game next week.” 

“Really?”

“Let’s make this work, Wakatoshi.”

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