(Izaya Orihara x Reader. Durar) A Person Like You

“So you’re telling me that he actually threw a vending machine at you.”  You raised your eyebrows in doubt, a smirk pasted on your face, a chuckle escaping your mouth.  He had to be telling you a joke; no one could pick up a vending machine that easily and chuck it like a football.  There was simply no way.  “It’s true, don’t you believe me (Y/N)-Chan?”  He feigned a hurt over dramatic look then put on his signature smirk and twirled around in his recliner rolling chair laughing.  

 Izaya wasn’t exactly your favorite person in the world, (for you owed him an extravagant amount of money for the information he provided you) yet you always spent your free time around him; you could not fathom a reason as to why.  Perhaps it was his wild and outrageous stories.  Maybe it was because of the kindness he was showed to you.  Whatever it was, you just kept coming back to see him.

“Isn’t it about time you go back to work, Mrs. Detective?” He snickered, his head resting on his hands like a dreaming school girl, “You have to earn the money you owe me one way or another.  Unless…”  He trailed off leaving the rest to your imagination, forcing you to ask.  “Unless what?”  You sneered as leaned close to his face, yet subconsciously you were shaking nervously; you couldn’t let him sense your fear, he would only use that against you.

He put on an innocent smile and came in closer to your face than expected.  You could practically feel him breathing down your neck, almost as if he were some kind of cold blooded demon, sending chills down your spine.  His right hand moved toward your face to push a lock of your hair behind your ear, yet he never once broke eye contact to do so.  “Work for me,” his icy cold breath tickled your ear like a snowy breeze as he spoke those three words.

You froze; work for Izaya?  That would practically be suicide with the amount of enemies he made on a daily basis.  “Speechless?”  He inquired as he leaned all the way back in his chair, resting his feet upon his desk.  “I never imagined you as the type who would be at a loss for words.”  You shook yourself out of your daze and began to laugh anxiously, “W-Why ever would I work for you Izaya-Kun?”  You tried to keep the uneasiness out of your voice, yet that effort was futile.  “You know why.”  He was keeping information from you again.  “Do I have to pay you for that information?”  You questioned as you stood up to leave, gathering up your things; he was right, you did have to get back to work.  “No, I want you to think on that.”  You waved to him as you walked out the door, saying nothing but a simple goodbye.

You sighed as you exited the building; I know why?  You thought to yourself.  No it’s one of Izaya’s tricks again.  You rolled your eyes at your own foolishness.  How could you believe him?  How could you be so unbelievably stupid?  You laughed it off and continued about your day.

On your way home you stopped at a local café, nothing out of the ordinary.  That was, until you saw a crowd gathered around one particular area at the end of the street, the same office Izaya work in.  “Who has he pissed off this time?”  You asked yourself bemused, and made your way over to the crowd.  

The crowd screamed and scattered just before you could reach it, yet you couldn’t understand why.  That wasn’t until you saw people pointing at you and screaming.  You looked up, there, hovering right above you was a large bulky rectangular object.  It was a vending machine and it was going to crush you.  You couldn’t even scream or move, you were petrified.  It seemed timed moved in slow motion.  

The machine was just inches away from your face.  This was the end, you squeezed your eyes shut; you saw your very life flashing before your eyes, and, strangely, most of it was memories of Izaya.  Of the two of you laughing or him sharing one of his stories.  You felt yourself blush.  That was when two hands roughly wrapped around your waist and yanked you away causing you to crash into something hard; it felt like a lamp post or bicycle rack.  

“Hey (Y/N)-Chan?  Are you alright?”  Came a slightly amused, yet mostly concerned voice.  “I-Izaya-Kun?”  You inquired as you rubbed the back of your pounding head.  You opened your eyes to see Izaya, the demon with dark orbs for eyes, right in your face.  “What just happened?”  You were terrified; you almost died.  “Someone threw a vending machine at me.”  

He smiled as if nothing had happened and picked you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style.  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Mrs. Detective.”  Was he being sincere or sarcastic; you couldn’t tell.  He then locked eye contact with you, “You know (Y/N)-Chan, I love people, but…” He trailed off, snickering, again, leaving the rest to your imagination.  “Izaya-Kun!”  You were in no mood to play games.  “I love people but, out of all the people in the world…”  He moved a strand of hair from your face and whispered in your ear, “I love you the most.”