Duncan Vizla x Male reader

Polite Men Say Please

The days seemed to slow down. Another day had passed, and not a single new message from Cigarette. It wasn't as if you hadn't texted him at all. The morning after he gave you his number you had texted him a single 'good morning.'

He responded with the same thing, and that was it, nothing more. It was becoming very difficult to not text him more than what you were doing. You didn't want him thinking you were clingy, desperate, or bothersome. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him away, not when you managed to get closer.

All of this was running through your mind even as you were working. Finally, your break had arrived. You went to your car to enjoy your meal. It consisted of a sandwich, an energy drink, and a cigarette.

You leaned on your car, finishing up your cigarette, watching it burn.

As you were losing yourself in the embers, you were snapped out of it by a crunch in the snow.

After finishing the job, they knew better than to lie to me. At least Vivian was aware of that, because she wasn't involved in the poor attempt of my assassination. Now that I know that they're after me, I'm not sure if I should text him back.

'Good morning' is the only thing I said, and that was that. Should I have texted him something else, I'm not sure. Either way, I'm too old for this: relationships, and texting. I'm going to do what I know how to do.

I didn't know when was the next time he would be off of work, or if he was even going to be there that day. It was worth a shot.

I arrived at the bookstore a while after it opened. I saw the familiar car that I had leaned against the very day I met him. Now all that was left to do was wait. I went to the nearby coffee shop to get a little pick-me-up. On my way back I saw Y/N sitting in his car.

Oh shit, I think I look decent, right? Does it matter? I don't think so, I look the same as the day I gave him my number. I saw him get out of his car and light a cigarette.

My steps were usually quiet but I didn't want to sneak up on him. I'll have to purposely step louder. As I took a step forward, I saw him stand up straight, I guess stepping louder didn't do anything. He acknowledged that someone was there, so I spoke. Just so he could relax, didn't want to scare him off, not when he was so close.

"How's the cigarette, Y/N?" You heard his gruff voice and let out a soft sigh. It was him, thankfully. You waited for him to stand by your side, just like the day  you met him.

"Funny. Not sure, want to try it for me?" You held the nearly burnout cigarette in front of his lips. He glanced down at the cigarette and back up at you.

He was tempting me, and if he was trying to kill me with this, it would work.

You didn't expect him to accept your offer, but the warmth of his lips on the tips of your fingers said otherwise. You stood there looking at him, admiring the way he looked down at your hand, the way he furrowed his eyebrows, and the things he made you feel.

You pulled your hand back and saw him blow smoke not long after.

"Pretty good."  You didn't respond, wasn't sure how to respond.

He seems flustered, naive.

"What brings you here?" You put the cigarette out in the snow, and the reason you asked was because you were genuinely curious. He didn't seem too interested in messaging you, so what is he doing here?

"I wanted to see if you were busy."

"What for?"

"Dinner, at my place." Forwardness is what you liked most about him. Direct words is what you needed. He always gave you a simple answer to any and all questions you asked, with the exception of his name.