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d0llhousess · 4 years ago

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⇢ fandom: daiya no ace ⇢ pairing: miyuki kazuya x f!reader ⇢ genre: angst ⇢ warning/tags: exes to friends to lovers, so much angst it’s ridiculous, angst w/ hopeful ending, mild language, pining, coffeeshop!au basically, pro player!miyuki

⇢ summary: you met him at the wrong time of your life, yet fate has awarded you a second chance to fall in love with him once again. ⇢ word count: approx. 3k

⇢ a/n: let me tell you, being hit with a massive wave of insecurity about your writing through the week you post the most is not fun but like yooo here we are. This is Day 3, and I hope you enjoy it! I’m not too happy with how this came out, but I do hope it reads well for you guys.

⤆ Back to Week of Fic’s Masterlist

It’s hard to recall the moment you first fell in love with Miyuki Kazuya.

You were young, in your teens, navigating through highschool in the best way possible. He was just a mutual friend of yours; someone to just say ‘hey’ to when you spoke to Kuramochi. You couldn’t quite remember what led to the two of you hanging out more and eventually going on a few dates, but you clearly remembered the emotions he elicited from you.

Being with him made all your problems fade to the background, it made you feel, believe, that you were on top of the world. Being in love with Miyuki Kazuya was an experience like no other. Yet, you weren’t his first love. You didn’t hold his heart like he did yours, and eventually the dates faded. He stopped making time for you, and you stopped pushing to be a part of his life. In hindsight, your issues could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation, but both of you were young.

So, instead of soft words explaining how neglected you felt, your feelings exploded into hurtful, sharp phrases that led to the demise of your relationship. Gone were the lingering touches in the hallways, the soft good luck kisses before a game, the playful teasing remarks between the two of you. He’d faded into a stranger, and when the both of you graduated high school, you stopped seeing him all together.

There were nights you would replay your relationship in your mind, you would linger on your regret of never mending the bridge between the two of you, because him leaving your life left a slight hole in your heart. Yet, the loudest part in your brain never failed to remind you that communication was a two way street, and that if he truly loved you, he would’ve fought for your relationship.

But that loud part of your brain didn’t stop you from scrolling though his Instagram feed in the late hours of the night. It didn’t stop you from lingering on the sports article that covered him going pro, and it definitely did not stop you from sinking into a deep funk when news broke of his engagement.

If you were honest, you felt a bit pathetic. You were still hung up on your highschool sweetheart, and he was about to get married.

Honestly, how pitiful could you get?

So, instead of holding onto your dead relationship, you allowed yourself to relive the emotions the relationship elicited out of you. You allowed yourself to come to the terms that while Miyuki was terrible at communication, you were too.

You both were too young, too immature, for the seriousness of your relationship, and that was okay. It was okay that things didn’t work out. Sure, lighting doesn't strike twice in the same place, but you were too young to even realize that lighting had struck. It was okay to have regrets because that’s how life was. It was rare to have the perfect conclusion to, well, anything, and with that realization you were finally able to move on.

As the years passed, you chased your passions. You attended culinary school, and graduated which eventually led to you opening your own local cafe. It wasn’t much, but it was your own warm little abode that you’d built from the ground up. It was a physical representation of your hard work, and you couldn't be more proud of it.

Through those years, you didn’t think much about Miyuki. You didn’t scroll through his feed for updates. When you saw a sport’s article with his name in bold letters, you’d turn away from it. He was a person of your past, and you were content with that. You didn’t need to know how he was doing, what he was up to, because you were over him.

Well you were over him until he walked into your coffee shop.

It was a normal winter day. The city streets have been recently plowed because of frequent snowfall; the air was bitingly cold, yet the warmth of your cafe brought in a decent amount of customers who couldn’t wait to get their daily fix of caffeine or sweet treat.

Your mind had been occupied with getting each customer served, that when you heard the familiar chime of the front door’s bell, you only called out a light greeting, not looking up from the cash register as you logged in the current customer’s order. Yet, when you lifted your head, mouth parting to recite your practiced greeting to the next customer, you felt the words die on your tongue.

Your eyes widened, gaze locking with bright amber eyes that you’d only seen in pictures over the past few years. Your heart speeds up in your chest, and it takes everything in you to still your shaking hands. Never in your life did you expect for him to waltz into your coffee shop, fixing you with that crooked smirk that always seems to make your thoughts stutter.

You blink once, then twice, before you allow a professional smile to spread onto your face.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” You greeted, head tilting as you hoped that he didn’t notice the way your brain short circuited just moments before, “What can I get for you, Miyuki?”

“I hope you aren’t saying I aged bad,” He immediately responded, drawing out a soft giggle from you.

You shook your head, denying his claim, because no matter how much you did not want to admit it, he became even more handsome with age. You allowed your gaze to roam over his features as he gazed over the menu that hung above your head.

You noted how he’d grown just a bit taller, how despite years passing he somehow had the same style of black frames that he had in high school, and how his features seemed to be more pronounced. Before you could linger over his face any longer, you quickly snapped your gaze to the digital screen of your cash register, because you could not be caught checking out your high school ex.

“What do you suggest?” You hear him ask, and you lick your lip as you thought about your answer, recalling the seasonal drink options and your usual menu.

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” You eventually respond, turning your gaze back to the man on the other side of the counter, “If you’re feeling festive we have an array of cinnamon or ginger based drinks, yet if you’re a fan of more simple drinks, we have your basic cappuccinos and lattes.”

Shifting your stance, you watch as he mulls over your response, eyes still firmly locked on the menu before he waved his hand in an indifferent manner.

“Just make me your favorite drink.”

You nod, immediately logging in the order, refusing to allow yourself to think too deeply about the request. He was just here to get coffee. He was just another customer. He was just Miyuki.

After you told him the total and he paid, you began to work on his drink. You ignored the way he seemed to watch you buzz around behind the counter. You refused to glance at him again. No, you solely focused on the task at hand.

Once you finished his order, you handed it to him over the counter, ignoring the slight sting of electricity that shot up your arm as your fingers brushed against each other. You watched as he brought the cup to his lips before taking a small sip of the drink, eyes fluttering shut briefly before they met your gaze once again.

“Oh this is good,” He mummers, and you open your mouth to explain what's in the drink, yet he holds up his hand to stop you.

“I don’t need to know what’s in it.” He explains, causing your brows to furrow in confusion.

“But how will you order it again if you don’t know what it is?”

Miyuki is quiet for a moment, bright eyes roaming over your face as he leans against the counter, “How often are your shifts here?”

You blink at the question, a bit confused at what he was getting at, “Uh, I’m here nearly everyday.”

The smirk that spreads onto Miyuki’s full lips and it lets know that you’d fallen for something, yet you’re still unsure of exactly what that something is.

“Perfect, then you’ll just have to take my order every time I come, right?” He chirps, taking another sip from his coffee cup.

“Um,” You begin to say, but before a full sentence leaves your lips, he’s already bidding you goodbye, leaving just as fast as he came.

Throughout the rest of your workday, you’re plagued with thoughts about Miyuki and why on earth did he come to your cafe. Fuck, how did he even find out about your cafe. You attempted to push the thoughts away from your mind, yet they still plagued you even after you’d closed.

The next day, Miyuki comes into your coffee shop again, but this time he lingers.

It was a slower day for the cafe; your usual morning rush wasn’t that heavy so you knew who he was the moment the bell chime rang through the nearly empty coffee shop. Immediately, you began to go through the process of making his drink, handing it to him as you began to ring him up.

“Slow day, innit?” He commented, and a small smile played onto your lips.

“Yeah, but that gives me more time to do other things besides just making drinks,” You responded before telling him the price of his drink.

He handed you the exact amount of money you’d said, causing your brows to raise in slight surprise, but you don’t comment on it. Instead of leaving right after he received his coffee, he remained in your cafe, eyes lingering on your form as you cleaned up your work space.

He asked you questions, seemingly catching up with all of the things he missed in the years you’d grown apart, and fuck did this puzzle you. Why on earth did Miyuki just randomly breeze back into your life? Why was he behaving as if the last conversation the two of you held didn’t end in scathing words and tears?

You wanted to ask him this, to demand answers on how he learned about your little cafe, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. You were afraid of the answers to those questions, and seeing him again, even for a few minutes, brought a sense of peace in your life.

When you gazed into his amber eyes, you felt as if it was the very first time you’d seen him all those years ago. You’d missed the banter he brought, you missed his jeering, you missed him. You wished you could press rewind on the clock, to go back to the very moment of your relationship’s demise, yet you couldn’t.

Besides, you were getting ahead of yourself. To him, you were sure he just viewed this as catching up with an old classmate. He was happily engaged, and just engaging in a purely friendly conversation. At least, you thought he was engaged until he informed you that he’d broken off the engagement nearly a year ago. You don’t have much time to respond to him after this confession, because he’s wishing you a goodbye.

Yet, just like the day before, your thoughts are riddled with him.

You can’t help the bubble of curiosity in your chest. Did he seek you out for a sense of familiarity after a failed engagement? Was it purely chance that he’d walked into your cafe? You didn’t know, and frankly you were slightly afraid of the answer, but you knew that you needed to ask him these questions.

It takes weeks for you to build up the courage to ask him the questions that swarmed in your mind the moment he left your eyesight.

Sure, he still came to your cafe, ordering the same thing nearly everyday, engaging you in light conversation topics that filled in the gaps of the years you’d miss of his life. He told you about university, about the pro league, about how he was in general. Yet, his engagement was never brought up.

He’d ask you about your life, and you’d found yourself telling him about it rather candidly. You told him about the slight funk you fell into after graduation (of course you didn’t tell him the reason for the funk), about culinary school, about opening the cafe.

The unspoken questions linger in the air between the two of you, and though you find yourself tentatively growing closer to the man that visited your coffee shop nearly everyday, there was something actively holding you back from him.

So, when he walked through the door of your cafe after nearly a month of being your number one customer, you decided that this is the day that you’d ask the questions that’d been causing you to keep him at arm's length. You fall into the routine of fixing his drink, and as you hand it to him, instead of giving him your usual playful greeting, a question falls from your lips in a jumbled up mess.

“How on earth did you find out about my cafe?”

Miyuki’s gaze widens behind those black frames, and his usual smirk is dropped from his face. The pair of you look at eachother, minds filling with unspoken words, and the nearly empty cafe is so quiet that you’re sure he can hear your heart hammering away in your chest.

“How about we talk about this after you close?” He offers, and you nod as he paid for his coffee (the exact amount of cash like always), and bid you farewell.

The rest of your day is spent in an anxiety induced haze, until you’re flipping the open sign closed. Nursing a cup of your favorite warm beverage, you wait for Miyuki at one of your window seats and a mere five minutes pass before he’s walking into the cafe, discarding his snow littered coat. He sits beside you, thanking you for the drink you’d prepared for him as well.

The two of you are quiet, unsure where to start. Years of tension hang in the air, and you can feel your leg begin to bounce out of sheer nervousness. You hear Miyuki chuckle softly and your eyes shift to his grinning face. You raise a singular brow in question, and he shakes his head.

“It’s just funny how you still do that,” He comments, and you then halt your bouncing leg, soft laughter breezing through the warm air of the cafe.

“You know what they say,” You responded, facing him fully with a soft smile, “Old habits die hard.”

Miyuki’s grin melts into a smile that mirrors your own, and just a bit of the tension dissipates. You open your mouth to apologize for the rather random question that led the both of you to your current position, yet before you can even utter a word, he begins to tell you about the events that led him to your cafe.

He told you about how devastated your breakup left him, about how you broke his heart, about how he knew he broke your heart as well. He tells you about how thoughts of you plagued his mind all throughout your time apart, about how he yearned for a simple “do over.” Then, he begins to tell you about his engagement. A part of you wants to tell him to stop, because you don’t want to hear about the man you’d loved for years falling in love with another person.

Yet, you allow him to continue because he needs to get this off his chest, and you need to hear it.

You listen to him as he recounts the engagement, at how the relationship deteriorated into something toxic simply because he refused to let go of his love for you. Your hands began to shake around your coffee mug as you listened to him admit that the reason called off his engagement was because of you.

You nearly begin to cry.

You don’t know what to think, what to say.

A part of you wants to throw your arms around him, to weep into his chest about how much you missed him, but another part needs him to finish recounting his tale. So you anchor yourself to your seat, encouraging him to continue.

Finally, he tells you about how he heard about your little cafe. He tells you about how Kuramochi mentioned it in mere passing when they were catching up, and about how he couldn’t resist seeing you again. By now, your heart is beating so heavily in your chest, that it’s nearly hard to breathe.

Here he was laying his heart out bare for you to judge, to even reject. He wasn’t the boy that you’d turned your back on all those years ago. He didn’t brush off your questions with jokes, no, he answered them truthfully.

He was being vulnerable with you, and never in a million years would you have expected Miyuki Kazuya to approach you with his heart in his hands. You exhale shakily, hands removing themselves from your now cool mug, before you placed a soft hand over his larger one.

“Kazuya,” You breathed out, facing him fully, if he could bare his heart to you, then you could do the same, “I never stopped loving you.” Your confession fills the air between the two of you, and your hand squeezes his closed fist that rested on top of the table.

“Even after all these years, Kazuya,” You whispered to him,“I’m still in love with you.”

A mere second passes before his lips are on yours, and the same electricity you felt clap through your body from your very first kiss with him, strikes through you. Goosebumps littered your forearms as you melted into his embrace, pressing your body even more closer to his.

Apparently, lighting did strike in the same place twice.

#dayia no ace #dayia no ace x reader #diamond no ace #diamond no ace x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #one shots #nghts week of fics

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