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demytasse · 5 years

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[Shizaya] Just Ask

—

The famous set of misclassified enemies —Izaya and Shizuo— were dubious adolescent lovers.

They were far too honest of what they loathed; reluctant to walk on the same route to class, yet did side by side with compressed tension between them. Never much to share, just hot air and petulant gestures, crossed arms and hands in pockets, and slammed steps across the glossed wood corridors. On their better days they forgot to wear scowls, their best they would smirk in the other's general direction; under the bluest of moons they would feed rumours with soulmate grade closeness, rather, day-after zest, which struck plenty a Raijin student with envy. As it was, they did have some form of intimacy, if only for blink, and perhaps it was more than just a handshake that sealed the rivals in an occasional truce.

However this day was its own special thing in and of itself. Today they walked a single gait; Shizuo in weave of people and avoidance of floor lines, kept away bad luck and a certain burden for his mother's back, all the while a human burden was draped on his.

“You're heavy.”

“That's a lie.” Izaya knocked his head against his transporter's.

“If I weren't me, you'd be heavy,” he corrected with a frown.

“I'm not heavy, even for fools that aren’t beastly strong.”

“Hmph."

Shizuo was unsure, he hadn't the comparison to confirm or deny. Still, Izaya was the weight of a feather to him — it was his damn ego that weighed a ton.

“For instance Shinra can carry me.”

"What?"

“Mmhmm, easily proved his husband potential, bridal style and all.”

“Tch.” His fingers clenched Izaya’s thighs.

"He did it for someone else’s benefit, Shizu-chan. Take it back down from sixty."

Intentionally, Shizuo slackened his hold, though Izaya leeched on. “So why don't you call him to take you home?"

"I can't.”

“Why the hell not, Izaya?”

“My hands are too busy making sure I’m not tossed off your back. You see, I can't seem to fully trust my…” he trailed off, struggled to pick a descriptor from a list where each one soured his taste buds just the same as the last.

“...”

“Correction: I absolutely can't trust you, my detestable rival."

“Same, to be honest.”

Izaya snorted.

“What now?”

"I believe you, honestly, but you sound so awkward using that phrasing,” he gripped tighter with a loveless hug, prepared to actually be dropped.

“There's nothin’ wrong with it.”

“Sure there isn't, I just wouldn't expect you to pick up on cool kid lingo and actually use it.”

“Whatever.”

"Sounds like you're bothered, though." Izaya jubilantly kicked his legs out with a pattern of swishes.

"Whatever means I wasn't."

"It means you're dismissive and perhaps hiding something."

"You're annoying."

"That's a lie."

"It's really not."

"Then why are you still carrying me?"

"What. Ever." Shizuo stressed.

"Glad you’re dismissive of that, at least. I still need my un-noble steed."

Shizuo grumbled, but kept on target.

As they proceeded through the halls they remained unaware of the eyes upon them, Shizuo more focused on a continued scissor kick. Izaya appeared tickled by how quick he was swept into a makeshift saddle after his ankle twisted. Shizuo, however, was not so much.

“How fair is it for a beast to use chairs in close quarters when he already had an unfair advantage?” “No...I...you set me up to trip you, asshole!”

"Now, why would I sacrifice my dignity to cause myself pain?"

Shizuo had unbelievable guilt for his wild punch that staggered his opponent backward, tripped him awkwardly over the seat of an askew chair — his swing and a miss that caused Izaya to grab his ankle and bite back agony, dramatically writhe in spite of himself. It was much to Shizuo’s shock that the pest threw away that pride of his to express pain so openly. Peculiar, out of character, so heavily a cringe to witness that he acted kindly and sympathetic to stop it.

Now, however, he was certain — the flea hardly deserved more than scrutiny over which ankle he easily flexed and which remained limp.

“Ay princess,” he took a pothole on purpose, “aren’t you gettin’ your injured foot mixed up?”

Izaya paused. “Oh, right, it was my left wasn't it?" he switched his gimp foot.

Shizuo forgot to be annoyed and simply sighed, “there you go.” He smirked in vain. “Yes, yes, very observant of you.”

The sarcastic praise was acknowledged with a hike of Izaya up his back; in return a chin nestled in his hair. Their banter softened from animosity, in fact, their spat dialogue ceased all together and the rare silence turned their afternoon lazy.

With a step into the open courtyard their hush seemed considerate of the trees that whispered in the Spring and appreciative of the warmth that the sun provided. Surely they only acted a fluke of their normal dynamic because of circumstance, but they eagerly let it happen without considering it an oddity. They let it linger, the effect of their mistake, until their indolent pace halted at the school gates to address uncertainty that’d been on Shizuo's mind since the first-floor stairwell. “Well?" His toe tapped after a moment of silence.

The path presented options of East or West; would they take one together, or would he force Izaya to fuck off in the opposite direction of himself?

Izaya remained mute. His eyes rested, a whistle played in his head instead of upon his lips, while he feigned slumber. “Louse...”

"Hmm~?" He hummed dreamily.

"Whose place?"

It was the right response, Shizuo gathered, as Izaya turned attentive. He now hovered parallel to Shizuo's viewpoint, palpable satisfaction upon his features and hands pressed into a stationary shoulder massage. With his left foot he pointed down the Eastern path.

"You’re looking to get your ankle checked?" Shizuo forgot the lie.

"Hm?” he paused in confusion. “Oh no, I'm pretty sure I can handle wrapping an ankle without that glasses-freak." “So…" he shuffled Izaya's weight, "we're going to your place."

"That is the direction to my place, yes."

A solo nod and Shizuo picked his pace back up from where he stopped, deliberated what he was going to say — if he was going to say it.

"Your sisters gone today then?”

“Forward, are we?"

"Just answer the goddamn question."

"Does it matter if they are? They're not too annoying. Kind of."

"Ugh, that's not why I care."

"I know." Izaya chuckled. "Honestly, I just find my bed to be far more comfortable than your old sack.”

"Haha, you mean you don't want a back injury to match your fake injury?"

"Are you accusing me of lying just so I could get you to carry me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

“Because I’m not some coward, Shizu-chan. You should know this by now, considering our brawls.”

“Coulda fooled me.” “I often do.”

Shizuo shook the pest from his hair.

Suddenly Izaya’s house seemed too far off and a bit too close; their regular trips never felt so conflicted before, at least not in this regard. It stole their attention to question why it was the case now and what the case even was, instead of paying it to the occasional dip in the pavement and reality outside one’s head. So really they took physical and mental trips while on their after school trip, hilariously stacked like Russian nesting dolls; awkward for onlookers who didn’t know whether to classify it as cute or not.

Izaya broke the silence with a cleared throat in notice of his own doorstep.

"I was wondering…” He swung into a dexterous dismount before Shizuo could halt. With a ‘hup’ he stuck the landing; a smile formed as he shook blood back into each foot.

“Would you have carried me if I’d just asked?" he jabbed his nail into Shizuo’s forehead and twisted for good measure.

Unaffected by the cut, Shizuo leaned into the weaponised nail. "Yeah."

Izaya gasped theatrically, "you're definitely lying this time, Shizu-chan!"

"If you think so, ask me tomorrow."

The truth was weighed out with Izaya’s stare, which only stopped when Shizuo surprisingly gave into the pressure; pulled away and unnecessarily rubbed at his forehead to check for blood. With anticipation, he found his pockets and fussed with lint, too bashful to ask if Izaya wanted to continue on as planned.

Nervous energy was absorbed by Izaya and turned him away to struggle with his locked door with his own jitters in control of his hands. A number of dissatisfied clicks and the right one clunked, he swung the door in haste and moved to the side.

"Why not now?"

"Uh…" Shizuo watched as Izaya openly displayed his body.

"Now, as in, carry me now, Shizu-chan."

"Oh." He shrugged, "okay."

Neither of them moved.

"...well?"

"What? You didn't ask."

"Seriously…" Izaya took the moment to be unamused.

“You’re not a coward, so prove it.”

He looked offended, "fine! Carry me up to my bedroom so we can fuck already."

Shizuo had already prepared to carry Izaya, but he hadn’t expected the proposal to be so crass — brief shock drew upon his face and his stature went rigid. Satisfied with the result, Izaya beckoned him further with a popped chin, which he displayed with far too much cock for Shizuo’s liking. Decidedly, he flung the other teen into a fireman's carry instead of what he knew was wanted.

"Brute! This isn't how I meant!"

"Eh, technically you didn’t ask, didn’t specify either."

"You knew what I meant. Don't let Shinra one up you, carry me bridal style, like a man who is courting his beloved!!"

"Maybe someday. If it’s accurate." He snorted.

Izaya kicked Shizuo in gut, especially hard, specifically with his injured foot. "Don't think I would ever ask a imbecile like you something like that."

"Why would you be the one to ask?"

"Because you make me ask unnecessary things!"

"So you’re saying it's a given that one of us eventually will? Ask, I mean."

Izaya was caught off guard; his backside was intentionally used as a weak battering ram against the bedroom door, though it was the question that shook him and not how he was used.

He huffed. "You're pressing your luck of that ever happening. Which, by the way, was never in your favour."

"I just want sex. I never said I wanted...that."

"Good, because it was a one in a million chance. Not 100% impossible, but only because nothing is certain and it’d be a disgrace to act as though we were prophets."

Their hot potato game of mock adult topics escalated into something that disgusted both players with scowls.

"Whatever, Izaya." Shizuo swung the annoyed teen onto the mess of bed covers.

"Whatever, Shizu-chan." He flicked his leg up to demand removal of his pants — arms crossed, eyes dead set, his toe mockingly pointed.

Shizuo shrugged like he had no idea what to do with the limb, the same he dodged when Izaya aimed a kick below the belt; retaliated with a lowered gaze to rest on his attacker’s belt with a lackadaisical demand of his own.

Izaya steeled his annoyance—complied, but flubbed each attempt he made to loosen leather from its clasp.

"You can be fun to tease, flea."

"Same, to be honest."

"Ha, you were right. You sound dumb saying it too."

"It's called a throwback, Shizu-chan, a wittier version of you nearly throwing out my back." He unzipped his fly and simultaneously tugged his pants down, waited for further assistance, slathered on thick his insinuation for Shizuo to cut the crap and join in — damned if he asked.

Still Shizuo denied with a fake yawn and a drawn up hand to shield; summoned tears at the corners of his eyes to accentuate his laissez faire.

Izaya cursed. He hoped hormones would overrule Shizuo before he was forced to strip and maneuver him through the motions like a doll. Why couldn’t they fuck like normal sex driven mammals and get it over with?

"Thought your bed was too high quality to injure you?"

"Mattresses have their limits.”

"Thought you didn't weigh much."

"Strength knows no bounds!"

"Hmm..."

Izaya finally took Shizuo by the shoulders and yanked him down. "What inane idea are you pondering over now, Shizu-chan?"

"Will strength get you to shut up?"

"Depends, will you finally join me if I do?”

“All you have to do is ask me to, pest.”

"I can’t do that if I can’t talk, dolt. Besides, that ruins the fun, doesn't it?" he nimbly undid buttons below a splayed wide collar. “It’s better that you figure it out for yourself.”

"You're seriously gonna go the hard route."

Shizuo watched as his shirt tails got tossed aside; as his abdomen was ironed by clammy hands which slid up and around his shoulders to bunch blazer sleeves at his elbows.

"Isn't this the hard route for you as well? You could speed this up if you didn’t wait for me to ask for something we both want."

Without motion of his own, Shizuo let the other pull him out of his Raijjn blues, one arm and each leg at a time.

"This is fun, though."

"I'm glad I can humour you, Shizuo."

"Me too."

"Seriously, where’s this patience coming from?" Izaya pulled a waistband taut, "you're already hard!"

"Yeah, this is a turn on."

Izaya let the elastic snap. "I'm appalled."

"Also turned on."

True enough, he was. The call of attention riled Izaya enough to bespeckle his chest with a blush that traveled from his cheeks. His own knit fabric strained with a solo throb — or two.

"Yes, and the longer I have to work, the quicker I'll go flaccid. Wouldn't that be a pity."

"Eh, I could still beat off to you."

Indignant, Izaya decided to sacrifice his own pleasure to extend the tension so far it would bend Shizuo to his mercy. He hooked elastic and wiggled a tight undergarment to free Shizuo's erection. He ran a finger along the underside, base to the tip, directed it to stand pert upon his pointer, used his tongue to take away a taste of pre-cum. As he glossed his lips, he assessed if Shizuo would give, but wound up having to pull away again after a mere shiver was enacted and nothing more from his supposed lover.

"But why wait to handle it yourself?"

"'Cause you're not asking."

“I shouldn’t have to ask these things! It’s sex for fuck’s sake! We aren’t timid boyfriends!” “Yup.”

Izaya escalated, “then why, pray tell, are you waiting for my consent when it’s handed to you on a silver platter?”

“‘Cause you’re hilariously bashful when asking for what you want, instead of being confident like you think you are.”

"Ohohoho, Shizu-chan," his frustration turned sadistic, "I'll make you eat those words."

—

It was needlessly arduous — the extended game of chicken that the two hormonal teens played, rather a test of sexual resolve and the extent to which their partner would go to fulfill a not yet developed kink; a deathless battle royale. They held out to the end, no questions asked, only desires begged — stubbornly masturbated almost exclusively to their own pride.

With huffs and sneers, their wills were exhausted. Despite the tail end of adrenaline, they were peacefully calm, reasonably satisfied with the results, just frustrated with the lengths that it took to get them. Izaya was frustrated with Shizuo, as was he in return, but they didn’t question if they were satisfied with the benefits of being casual fuck enemies. So they rallied their heated retorts past the main event and into the glow of their post-game cleanup, because —of course— that was who they were.

“Who’s the winner in this scenario?” “You seriously askin’ that?” “I don’t needlessly chatter, simpleton.”

“There doesn’t hafta be a winner.”

Izaya pre-cleaned himself before his shower. He shook off a stringy tail of cum from his hand while he shared his disgust with how it clung; took note of where to concentrate his soapy cleanse, like a film would remain without an extra scrub.

Shizuo watched, though almost buttoned the hole above the proper on his shirt, distracted by the naked view that jumbled his coordination and threatened to turn him on again.

“Double think that thought — with us, I’m pretty sure there has to be.” He felt self conscious under the study of his skin and grabbed his slacks to hop into.

“Fine, you won.”

“Oh? Now you’re admitting defeat so easily.”

"Look, I'm not gonna feed your ego with compliments for being an avoidant brat, so just take it."

Light reflected off Izaya’s widened eyes, "well that's the funny thing..." his smile curled.

Shizuo spoke a ‘here it comes’ in his mind, paired the dramatic pause with his own, "...yeah?" he wrinkled his brow as he was egged him on. "Tell me what the hell is so funny, Izaya?"

To which his question snapped the trap which the manipulator hoped his prey would fall for.

"I didn’t expect you to compliment me," he winked, “because I never asked you to. Thank you for the real victory, Shizu-chan.” Izaya sung.

With an air of shook hands for a good duel, Shizuo graced Izaya with smiled touché.

It was dumb, yet endearing; fitting, but all the same dumb. After all the fuss, their stubbornness began to carry their baggage while they two trudged onward through a messy relationship. To what degree, though, would forever be a battle of who would ask first.

—

AN: This one kinda ran long, but eh. It fulfilled my hankering for a Raijin fic, simultaneously one where Shizuo carries Izaya. Sometimes I hate loving tropes. uwu;

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dailydoseofshizaya · 5 years

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Shizaya WWII AU

After I read and saw the movie Atonement by Ian McEwan in school I got inspired to write a Shizaya Nurse-Soldier WWII au ficlet by Briony’s nurse scene. It’s not a romantic scene, at all, but the setting gave me the idea. I have big finals these next two weeks, but maybe I’ll continue this : )

The air reeked of fresh blood, burnt skin, and morphine, among other unpleasant things, and it climbed up their nostrils aggressively. No one wanted to sneeze less they might suck in more of the death-filled air, so they scrunched their faces instead. The orchestra of cries and moans of pain seemed to line up in sync with the barking commands of chief-medics and the constant squeak of rolling carts and the pitter patter of scurrying shoes over the grimy floors. Izaya was among this crowd right now, his eyes red from exhaustion and shock, but his body moved on its own with practiced certainty as he attended to the fresh battle wounds of soldiers coming. As he nursed wounds, administered medicine and IV’s, he tried to distract his mind and put up a barrier between his actions and his emotions, anything to make this easier, although he was no stranger to these kinds of emergencies at the hospital. He pictured in his mind a sack of rice. Sturdy, thick, and firm. Funny, how just a needle prick in one of these sacks could cause the entire mass to deflate like a child’s balloon. A large sack of rice, that could feed families or kill a man with its weight, useless with a snap.

A hand with dry, crusty skin seized his own, and he snapped his head up to the weary eyes of a soldier who was written down with a severe concussion. Izaya offered a soft smile and eased the soldier’s hand off his wrist. He pulled the blankets up the man’s body and told him to continue to rest. The soldier had a sharp, haggard face, and for a brief terrifying second Izaya thought it could have been Shiki. Shiki, his old friend, who was a soldier in this platoon, and whose last letter a few weeks ago wrapped up in an optimistic note.

“Nurse Orihara, get me more wrapping gauze. Then clean the chest wound for patient number sixty-five.” Commanded the head-nurse.

“Yes, Sister.”

Sister Naomi came into the warden around the same time as Izaya joined the hospital, and even though there was no difference in their rank since they both did the same job, Naomi always seemed to think otherwise. It was the tang of smugness in her tone and her tendency to not even look at you when she addressed you which made Izaya love to mess with her in any way that he could.

However, that would have to wait for much later. As he marched away to do his bidding, Izaya failed to notice a stretcher carrying a terrible head injury that two petite nurses were struggling to lift up. In effect, they clashed. Badly. At least the wounded soldier was so unconscious from the morphine given to him that he wasn’t aware of the violent shaking to his state.

“Nurse Izaya!” Naomi shrieked in her annoying high-pitched voice.

But Izaya didn’t feel like turning around at the moment. He lazily glanced down condescendingly at the girls scrambling to lift the stretcher back up again and continued walking forward.

The location of the medicine storage that was usually the most supplied was thankfully packed behind a quieter corner on the building’s floor level. There would be no breaks today for the medics, and it was nice to step away from the noisy quarters for a moment. The shelves were located at the end of a long stretch of the room that was narrower than the main quarters where all the nurses and doctors were attending to the patients. There were beds spread evenly on both sides across the whole expanse of the passage, even up to a couple of feet away from the shelves and cabinets with the supplies. The storage was inside an alcove that was created from a narrow “T” dip further down the corridor. There were doors on both sides of the walls of that formed the storage “gap” which opened to stairs leading to more building levels. Due to the massive and unexpected influx of soldiers that morning, every single bed was taken, and many dollies were positioned between the hospital beds to accommodate more patients. The patients here were sleeping or quietly resting. Most of them had already been treated and the others had less demanding injuries that needed attention while the soldiers in the main quarters all needed the most urgent medical care.

At the storage shelves, Izaya picked up a stray cart and started to pile up the needed materials. Dakin solution, cocaine hydrochloride, chloroform, he muttered to himself. Where is the sodium salicylate? Scanning the wide furniture packed with multiple cupboards, drawers, and shelves all ranging different sizes, Izaya’s eyes finally rested upon the very top shelf where there rested fully filled and untouched bottles of the desired aesthetic. Izaya was 5’9’’ and the shelf was 6’5’’ feet tall. How convenient. He stretched up on his tiptoes and grabbed the left edge of the furniture for support. He managed to grab a couple of bottles but the rest were pushed far too back for it. He pushed his body weight up and towards the back crannies and tried poking his fingers on either side of the bottles to nudge them closer, but his fruitless endeavors resulted in shaking the old furniture and knocking a glass bottle of gauze balls instead.

“Shit…!”, he cursed.

“Do you need help with that?”, a deep voice suddenly spoke up.

Startled, Izaya whipped his head around, unaware that his comical failures were being watched, but then turned back around again to pick up the gauze balls.

“I’m sorry if I woke you. Please go back to bed, soldier.” The other man chuckled and Izaya heard the bed creaking as he adjusted himself and sat upright.

“I think I’m taller than you. Let me help?”

“I’m fine,” Izaya said curtly. “Thanks,” he added, “Go back to bed.”

After a moment of picking up the rest of the balls, Izaya got up and turned around to finally address the soldier. He was a broad-shouldered with dyed blonde hair with evident muscles but slim. His face was stained with soot but his eyes sparkled with interest nonetheless, and his left-arm was cradled in a sling. His chest and right arm were wrapped in bandages with blots of dark red peaking through.

“Is there anything I can get you, soldier?”

The blonde man looked caught off guard and hesitated for a bit.

“No, I’m fine I guess.”

“You don’t look very ‘fine’ though,” Izaya said, referring to the man’s wounds. Izaya stood there, both men looking at each other and neither one knowing what to say. Realizing the awkwardness that he created, Izaya’s face turned a little red and he walked away, pushing his cart with him. When he was farther away from the blonde man’s bed, he let out a breath, not having realized that he was holding it in.

#shizaya #fanfic #shizaya fanfic #ficlet #my fanfic #my writing #izaya x shizuo #shizuo x izaya #shizaya au #au #fanfic au

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humanitys-shortest-soldier · 5 years

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Whoo, finally some Shizaya around here! Chapter two is already finished, so be on the lookout for that soon! Enjoy! <33

Summary: After a year of peace, Shizuo starts having nightmares about his final fight with Izaya. He always expected Izaya to come back, but as more time passes, the guilt starts to eat away at him. Without a whisper of Izaya's name in the city, Shizuo starts to wonder... did Izaya finally give up and stay away for good? Or is Shizuo the monster Izaya always accused him of being?

#izaya #shizuo #durrr #shizaya #shizuo x izaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #shizaya fanfic #my writing #fall apart

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the-music-fairy · 6 years

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Afraid of Feelings?

(Part 1 of I don’t know how many. It’s set in the canon universe, only Izaya is nicer in high school and not near as much of a douche. Not that I don’t love Izaya how he is, but I figured why not see how much of a difference it makes. So here goes.)

Good vibes, that’s what Izaya Orihara wanted to show. Yes, he definitely avoided a love life and getting too close to people, but that was the reason he wanted to give off good vibes. That way, no one would think there was anything wrong and he can just go through life not getting hurt... emotionally. His thought process was one that took a little while to get to, but he wasn’t the type to bug people for no reason, but he did want some form of friendship - not love - so he had pushed away anyone who got too close.

In elementary school, he was frequently bullied for being such a goody two-shoes. So to avoid this, he learned parkour. Self-taught. He would dodge the bullies instead of telling on them because he wanted to observe the instead. To see their choices impact their lives.

In middle school, he had one actual friend. The son of an underground doctor. His name was Shinra Kishitani.

There could be many reasons that he counted Shinra as his only friend. Maybe because he knew the most about him? Or maybe because the boy didn’t pry into Orihara’s personal life. But the reasons didn’t matter, they simply talked about lighthearted things, joking and playing around. Some pretty morbid jokes for a couple of middle-schoolers, but there were no questions.

This was all fine until a few days before the end of their second to last year or middle school. Shinra got stabbed and hospitalized because of someone who thought it was Izaya’s fault that they lost everything. Izaya did make the occasional deal to lend money to certain people, even at this age, but he wouldn’t ever go too far on purpose.

Despite his saying it was that guy’s own fault for wasting everything Izaya lent him on gambling, he still ended up taking the blame for stabbing Shinra. As a result, he got sent to correctional classes all of the next year.

The next stage in his life, high school. That was when he met him. Shizuo Heiwajima. The man was almost a beast. When someone made him mad enough, he would rip a pole out of the ground or whatever else he could reach at that moment and swing it at them. He was fascinating to Izaya. Their first encounter was when he happened to be around Izaya and Shinra chatting, and a group of delinquents who still doubt Shizuo’s strength had the gall to attack the fake blond.

Izaya watched, half in awe and half in slight disgust at that raw, monstrous strength. He watched as the man swung tha pole in his hand to hit someone, then dropping it, only to have another man come at him with a crowbar, which he caught and bent with ease after taking it from the surprised man. It didn’t take long for them all to be knocked out cold. The only thing that could make this worse was if Shizuo had killed anyone. But miraculously, he didn’t.

A few moments of silence pass before Izaya gets the need to clap for that show the other had put on. And he did. The look on his face, however, was a smirk. Shinra starts, “Ne, Shizuo-kun, this is Izaya-kun. He’s kind of a jerk, but not too bad.” “Honestly, Shinra, so rude~” And Shizuo’s first words to him… “You piss me off.” followed by an attempt to punch Izaya that ended in Izaya dodging the man while Shinra jumped back in surprise.

Izaya’s smirk grows… and that’s where their first chase started.

It was lunchtime, so a majority of the students would either be getting lunch from the cafeteria or eating their bentos somewhere else. The enraged fake blond and the scrawny raven haired boy continued their chase all through the halls, over trash cans, over recycling bins, into classrooms, over desks, past students… their chase didn’t end until Izaya purposely lost the blond, dashing his way up onto the roof and then seeming to disappear. Shizuo looked for quite a while, but Izaya was doing perfectly at just keeping barely out of sight. The raging blond eventually gives up and starts walking to his next class.

Izaya, however uncharacteristically, actually ended up being in his next class just as the late bell rang. He takes his usual seat, smiling just a bit to himself. He didn’t have any particularly close friends other than Shinra and Shinra wasn’t in this class. He simply let the class drone on, thinking about the fun chase, and at the same time, answering all the questions thrown his way.

What happened at the end of this classes had ceased to surprise him at this point. It was another girl asking him if he would date her. He had never revealed his sexuality, since he rejected guys and girls alike. What made this girl think she was any different? After she got her question out, there was a moment of silence before Izaya… laughs. He just laughs.

By the time he finally stops, the girl is bewildered. “Ahh, I appreciate your asking, miss, but I’m sorry; I’m not interested in any forms of romance.”

As always, rejected with that same nice smile on his face as always, and the girl goes away, blushing. After she is completely out of sight, he drops his smile.

A couple days later, a student approaches Izaya with a question, this time, one he’s not used to.

“Ne, Orihara-kun, may I ask you something?”

“What is it, Masura-kun?”

“Why does no one know anything about you except your likes, your name, and your class…?”

“Well, that’s oddly specific. But it’s because it’s none of anybody else’s concerns~”

At that, the mysterious, raven-haired boy turns and walks off with a smile and a spring in his step, just like always.

Of course, he saw Shizuo every day after that as well, the chases ensuing almost immediately upon visual contact, with Shizuo letting out an earth-shattering, “IIIIZZAAAAYYYAAAAA-KUUUUUUUUUUN!!!”. They turned out to be more fun than they would’ve imagined, for the both of them, especially when Izaya stopped once, in the middle of their chase, making Shizuo almost run into him, and then turns, sticks his tongue out at the man and walks calmly away. Shizuo ended up just watching Izaya confusedly. He only gets one answer, “It seems I have some business to take care of~ I’ll play with you later.” That smirk seemed to only come out when he was talking to Shizuo. Then he ran off again.

But of course, like every good story, it doesn’t happen the same way every time. Each time, Shizuo would come at the raven with something different, be it a pole or a sign or a trash can. Once, he even ripped a part of the fence off of the top of the school roof to try to swing it at Izaya.

These chases started off because, yes Izaya was planning something not so good of him again, and yes Shizuo could tell, but they ended up being in order to relieve stress and just for fun. It did seem like the perfect partnership: a dangerous game of tag in order to have fun.

But despite how fitting it all was, it was definitely unexpected when it led up to something that would change everything forever. It starts like always, a war-cry of Izaya’s name, a taunt from the bastard’s mouth, but what was unusual was that the raven-haired male almost didn’t seem to have the motivation for this, but it was as if he was acting the part anyways, since he barely dodged one of them. It was their last day of highschool and neither would move on to college, both for different reasons. Of course they would not be told to anyone not close to them, but the reasons were there and as fate would have it, they would meet again in their adult years.

Their first meeting in their adult years, Izaya had run from Shizuo again, but this time, he seemed… off. He seemed too serious compared to his high school self. They should hate each other like they claimed to back in high school, but somehow, Shizuo can’t. Izaya seems to hate him more than he did back then. It wasn’t quite explainable… and it was weird. Other than the type of look Izaya gave the man and the fact that he now used switchblades and had on a black, fur-lined jacket, there wasn’t too much of a difference compared to their chases back in high school.

But the attitude Izaya gave eventually started to piss Shizuo off, and the chases began to get more serious. Shizuo still yelled his nonsensical threats, but Izaya actually taunted him more. He was more able to dodge things than he’d been in school, and hatred seemed to fuel him in order to run away. But why did he always come back to that city? Why did Izaya Orihara always come back to Ikebukuro? What made him come back over and over again when he obviously hated Shizuo Heiwajima? It could have been because of business, but it wasn’t like Izaya Orihara didn’t know how to avoid Shizuo Heiwajima. He’s done it before. He’s avoided Shizuo before, which means he’s purposefully going out of his way to find the blond and taunt him into chasing Izaya with a street sign or vending machine or trash can. So why? It didn’t make sense, but Shizuo went with it for a while, despite going easier on him than usual.

Neither party could have expected what would happen later on. All would, for better or for worse, never be the same in the city of Ikebukuro, Japan, ever again.

#shizaya #nicer izaya #izaya orihara #shizuo x izaya #durarara fanfiction #shizaya fanfic #mostly in character possibly loving

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futuristicharmonything · 2 years

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Secret Santa for Goodvin based on fan fiction «ПИУ».

Signature: plastic coffee stick. Since, according to the plot in the fanfiction, Shizuo quit smoking.

Holiday greetings!

#durarara #anime art #fanart #shizuo x izaya #shizaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #fanfic art

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yeahawvampire · 3 years

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Me every couple of months since 2015

#shizaya #it's being so many years somebody save me #I feel like I read every fanfic of them #when I'll get over of this two bastards #Shizuo #Izaya #drrr #drrr!!

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mikiib · 3 years

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A Cheap Imitation: Episode 2 is out! @shigaeru

#a cheap imitation #aci #shizuo x izaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #comic #comic dub #durarara #drrr!!edit #drrr #fanfic #shizaya #shizaya comic

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allshewhispers · 2 years

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hi!! so i read a cheap imitation, to the hell and back, souls refrain, hours fate, the mistake we made.. so, any long shizaya fanfiction. now i need more!! do you have any good recommendation? i can't find any D: thank you!

Hey!! Omg yes I do have more!

Anything by my lovely friend @glaciesdraco like What We Left Behind. And @sachigram With Teeth and Hearts like Ours

And I have more too!

Any Other Name, Protest too Much, Trade Negotiations, and Forbidden Fruit by Tastewithouttalent are really amazing!

Poles Apart By Riri is a great military au!!

Nocturnal by Adargo

Those are the ones I can think of at the top of my head xD thank you for the ask and I hope you enjoy 💜💙💜💙

#shizaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #ask #fic reqs #durarara #drrr #durarara!!#fanfics #fanfiction

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icantbelieveimstillbitteraboutit · 5 years

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me, reading a fix-it fanfiction and crying: this is how it should have ended

me, reading another fix-it fanfiction and crying: this is how it should have ended

me, reading another fix-it fanfiction and crying: this is how it should—

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demytasse · 5 years

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[Shizaya] Firsts and Seconds

Super belated, but anon, it’s finally your lucky day! But wait! It’s double belated because it’s ALSO a Christmas fic. ( ´ヮ`);;

———

It was was one of those days where the wind nipped colder than the atmosphere — lips bluer than depression, fingers red just as the prior autumn pantone. Where huffed breath upon frozen fingers made one a tempered dragon, the heat sufficient enough to ease the nipped pain, but hardly enough to actually matter. And the lowered sun lifted a blanket of fog from the rooftop to continue what poured from a set of asynchronous lungs; a duo of students just shy of center stage. The scene perfect for a captivated audience.

All to which was a was shame, that one teen’s emotions would be given in vain while performed above his slumbering peer.

“Obnoxious fool…” Izaya jabbed the other’s down-turned nose which scrunched the same agitation as his own.

Collected, a comedic parody of his normal cacophony, Shizuo looked a victim of poisoned murder. The chainlink bowed at his curved spine, his body slumped into its clothing, while his features rested as if it were their final. Though the only thing dead was his cigarette burned up to his knuckles, as well as his conversation with Izaya that was killed before its arrival.

“Was the nicotine really worth the vulnerability?”

As for Izaya, he crouched adjacent the scene of the crime like it’d be accurate to frame him. Disgust etched his face in response to his follow of an easy rise and fall of Shizuo’s chest. Mildly annoyed, he tried his own breath against the dry air to which he blamed his chapped throat on the beast before him. The very same whose temperature he checked the with the back of his hand behind an overhang of blond, as if that was the intent to touch him.

“At least that hot-head is good for something.”

The strands fell out of their lay, overgrown yet not long enough to comply with any style Izaya tried to correct. It was curious to see the catastrophic mess up close unlike what he couldn’t from afar, which he combed the dirty colours together to examine the way it shined under new light. Izaya’s trial of intimacy turned into a pattern of habit. Easy, the way he worked natural oils into the ratty mop, and wove locks into silk at the will of his nimble fingers, while his admittance twisted around neurons and continued the process until it prickled awkward.

What a relief that the root of his feelings remained a conundrum to ponder over, rather than certainty that bode trouble.

Though the answer seemed similar to the bangs that finally accepted his coercion: unobstructed; and his conscience became well aware as warmth nestled into his palm.

Izaya was struck. He worried over that drop of sick in his stomach which tied up loose ends into a knot of an accursed notion.

It wasn’t love. At least he was wise enough to discern budding feelings from developed; but it certainly was a troubling mind contagion, a flirtatious dip into a ponderous subject he wasn’t privy. His knees shook, balance wobbled, his coherency wavered.

His coat of confidence billowed with the icy breeze while he enviously wished for the clear mind that Shizuo slept with — unaware, without a care, completely ignorant of Izaya’s transfixion. It was desire that he fed with a curious cup of Shizuo’s winterized cheeks and it fluttered his insecurity as he drew closer to count uneven breaths that quickened; may it be his own reverberated pulse or a combination of their two, he was roused the same. Izaya wished to be suffocated by his rival’s wafted heat; he pressed onward to share his own dwindled temperature with parted lips that unknowingly offered themselves. The feeling rode a wave sent down his spine while his rampant heart spread stifled oxygen through his veins and it overruled his mind. Innocent emotion or not, in that moment it matured. Technically Shizuo was coerced into a kiss, but for something initiated without consent it came easy. Stationary lips participated too well for them to be considered a puppet — it was odd, but hardly off-putting. It was audacious for a comatose participant.

Perhaps what Izaya played with was a doppelgänger: a Shizuo that mirrored the version that bumbled around his dream world and moved just like him with rough motion. His unplanned tactic of bruising emotion hurt Izaya’s chance of escaping, as if he’d want to, but it was ever more impossible as arms draped across his back and locked him in place. That musk piqued his senses in between held breath, only so much as an occasional taste, that’s when he rose his count of shallow intakes to make it a constant indulgence.

Devious hands weaseled around the tail of Izaya’s knitted scarf, once a taut obstruction around his neck now cast aside to expose the crook of his neck. His hair bristled as a clumsy massage worked at deep tissue; it was enough pleasure at mere touch, but the dig at sensitive muscle gave him to Shizuo’s lap in a tangle of his own legs.

He twisted into a straddle while avoiding their disconnect; situated his posture to grind into the other, well braced by the thighs that’d slid up to support his back.

The pace was set too inexperienced to be beautiful; it was raw teenage hormones that created tipsy sensations of a lightweight drunk. Still the honesty was persuaded out of them by the trick of blackout inhibitions. Izaya dug into Shizuo’s scalp, raked and knotted the unruly hair.

Shizuo trekked the path of Izaya's arched spine to the edge of his jacket and beyond to yank his shirt. Exposed to the elements he shivered — gasped as warmth quickly replaced cold, gurgled when hands travel beyond his waistband; a murmured giggle responded to the caress of his soft skin.

But it was an alarm, that ring of delight. It flashed Shizuo aware and disturbed their ecstacy.

With shocked momentum, Izaya was thrown onto his back, his skull struct the ground upon accident. Instantly on guard, he shook; he didn’t want to pay for his actions, but Shizuo was often a harbinger of repercussion. The chill of concrete matched what dead eyes shimmered with sleep — what uncertain scowl left no room for a yawn.

“What the hell, Izaya?” his voice quivered.

“I could say the same to you, minus my name,” Izaya squinted to shade his widened pupils from the blinding sun, “but goodmorning all the same.”

Shizuo yanked him forward by the scruff of his shirt, “don’t steal from me while I sleep, you scumbag.”

They were inches from where they once conjoined — the quick switch of blood flow harshed Shizuo’s cheeks, his features pinched from the ache at his head. Izaya welcomed his refocus with a wry smile.

“Oh? Was that your first kiss?”

Intuitively Shizuo slicked his lips, “yeah...” a curse hid just under his breath.

“Not shocking.”

Though he was shocked that no immediate retaliation was cast. Izaya watched the other puzzle out his thoughts; he remained neutral in expression while he tallied the remaining leaves on distanced trees. To read Shizuo’s mind required a tilt of his perspective; from a different angle he was still unreadable, and it increased his worried with the past time.

“...'s alright,” he struggled with his voice.

“Is it?”

Shizuo nodded, far-off and dejected — perhaps in denial.

“Is it?” Izaya stressed.

“Maybe.” “...maybe isn’t definitive, Shizu-chan. Try again.” Izaya hid behind his glib. Without an ounce of his usually abundant emotion Shizuo shrugged, his lost eyes realigned with a peculiar design.

Self-pity filled Izaya’s veins and within an instant he thrust that weakness against the brute’s chest. “Get off me.”

Though it was hard to convince himself that it was what he wanted; it was increasingly difficult to counter his pin to the ground, what was an immovable force that imprinted the texture of tile onto his skin.

“Can we just,” Shizuo pressed, “...talk?”

“Funny, this is coming from the one who can barely form a thought. I don’t know why you’re asking me, of all people.”

“...right.” Shizuo seemed shocked by the reminder of his own confusion, the concept lost on his absent mind. Likewise, Izaya was baffled by his rival’s even keel.

“Are you going to answer me then?”

“Answer what?” Izaya sighed, “If you’re alright.”

“With what?”

“Is this Twenty Questions? If you want to be a detective so bad, consider this practice and figure it out for yourself, Akechi-san!” His eyes widened, “I didn’t tell you tha—” “Never mind.” Izaya curled his fingers tight around Shizuo’s forearm, his stare was stone. “Are you alright with this?” he punctuated each word as if extra time allowed him to determine what ‘this’ meant to him.

“...not sure.”

“Just answer me.”

“STOP FORCING ME, ALREADY!” “Then let me reiterate: get off.” The terse sentiment made Shizuo comply and let Izaya throw him off to the side.

Adept in his ability to flee, he hopped into a dash on the balls of his feet, sliced through the air with his loosely bladed hands; he staggered when blood refilled his calves and it threw his scarf off behind him to pile on the ground.

Izaya was aware of his cowardice, but he only cared enough to tsk himself as he reached the rooftop door. His knuckles bruised as he missed the handle, but hastily found it in a blind panic.

In between an annoyed screech of hinges and what would become a heavy clap of metal, a rasp addressed his wake — just as his feet hit the decline of stairs. The words were jumbled when he first received them, but after he reworked the order they formed a message that made sense.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Izaya.”

Unpredictably the words caused Izaya to hate himself; he was a master of hidden language rendered useless. With his mind lost, most certainly for the rest of the day, he exited the school grounds early and allowed himself the holiday.

He sighed defeated and embarrassed.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Shizu-chan.”

At least he’d finally deciphered his own word.

———

Perhaps it was a little late for Shizuo's response; it had been delayed far beyond a fair expiry, in fact. A year overdue without a fee, but an unconscious nag that reminded him of what he hadn't. Or maybe it was the tension that built between him and Izaya that counted as his just reward of negligence.

Their remainder days of school ran them through a myriad of stilted interactions that set a tough row of hurdles to constantly jump in early adulthood. Hardly avoidant of the other, they forgot to tiptoe around the other’s triggers, rather intentionally set them off for a taste of that passion they once grasped. That, in concept, wasn’t any different from what it’d ever been, their exchange on the rooftop only an agitator for their stir-crazy emotions. Outside the bounds of concept — in the torn up glory of flesh and blood — their interactions differed from questionable friends and spoke of a long term relationship that neither were part of, just yet.

And they were at the butt of Shinra’s tease, relentless as he was a sap; his casual prod and hinted wisdom would eventually lead to Izaya’s watchful eye upon him as well, the asshole duo both in pressure of Shizuo and he didn’t feel he earned it. That annoyance could’ve brought the end of his ridiculous avoidance, yet he continued to grimace through lies. If he did spill the beans, he wouldn’t by any means connect it to those bastards’ badgering.

Truth, however, was usually found at the tip of Shizuo's tongue just behind raucous curse words that he served Izaya in plenty, all the while honesty slipped further in the queue behind each mention of pests and scum; drowned in the dregs of his trashed compliments and recycled hate from when it actually meant something.

Which brought him to the present day dilemma, filled with nervous excitement. Twas the city’s hyped day of romance, one familiar to his history with Izaya, and what Shizuo marked as the deadline to make a move that he should've in Christmas past. It was a confrontation that he’d strategically planned for hours equal to the count of days he’d pussyfooted.

Yet further he waited out the day — just as twilight fell into the brink of night, right when the young informant left his final meeting. Obviously tuckered out, Shizuo noticed how Izaya still held a perk stature; in stride to an unknown destination, he casually perused the congregation of couples for interest whilst Shizuo did his best to remain incognito.

Opportunities to approach his target at the perfect moment passed him by coincidence. One body-check of a slunk punk interrupted his poke of Izaya's open shoulder, which naturally wound up unfortunate for the careless prick. He was knocked from concentration for two blocks, as a duo of rugrats darted through and around his legs with literal bells on, to which his warning growl shot them off to their mom who scooted them to safety. Over the course of three more streets his racing heart dissuaded him while the two separately plunged deeper into the city.

Finally able to move forward, he efforted breath of fresh confidence to godspeed his heel which aligned his final step with Izaya’s halt. He gathered his surroundings in mirror of the other. Priorly blind, he was unknowingly lead to a festive plaza dimly lit by a twinkling spectrum of colour and full of romantic opportunity — Shizuo thanked karma with a smile just as bright as the strung LEDs. How advantageous it was, that impromptu Christmas Eve date that Izaya decided to take himself on.

He cleared his throat, but the conversation starter failed to stand out above the hushed city roar and random phrases snipped of their context. He rubbed nervous energy from his neck to try again, but choked on his greeting when he looked back up.

Nonchalantly posed at the base of the tree, Izaya was bathed in the spirit of Christmas, completely mystified by the beauty, but unaware of his own glitter. The joyful atmosphere seemed to reverberate within the young adult, which edged him closer to the seasonal smell of dying pine; his aura beamed in fashion of his natural charm, perhaps a hair more childish with his peppy hum in perfect tune of yuletide carols.

Unabashedly Izaya was a halved couple, but really he was a far-cry from lonely, especially as his performance garnered at least Shizuo’s undivided attention.

The scene was the season’s loving showal of support — it should have made his gift giving easier, but as he was cemented in stance, he could only lean forward on a hinge. His arm mid-reach and vocal chords prepared, he was beaten to the punch.

“Were you seriously waiting for this exact day?”

Shizuo’s fingers twitched in the open air, his mouth agape even more than before — he shrunk embarrassed behind his scarf. “If you were hoping for Christmas luck to bring us a prosperous relationship, Shizuo…” Izaya turned only the fraction needed to connect his gaze, “you could have spared the wait and answered when I asked you so generously.” Poised and delicate, his ring-adorned finger pulled the bulk of his own scarf to chin level, his lilted smile followed the curve of the fabric. At the height of his cheeks, a tease crinkled his eyes with some form of relief, the release of held breath that left behind a cloud. It was stunning the way that light payed Izaya such favour, it set him a glow yet cast shadows that melded with his dark locks and clothing. He was the true highlight of the night, what everyone and no one should have been observing.

He gasped, “...wow…”

Shizuo couldn’t fathom what phenomenal deed he’d done to gain so much of a blessing from the universe. Suddenly he felt that the pricey gift loose in his fingertips was wrapped up in worthlessness.

A sprinkle of snowflakes shook from Izaya’s hair while he chuckled, “that’s your answer?”

“Yeah…” he was still caught in the awe, “I mean no,” he juggled the small box around his fingers until he noticed that his nervous tick caught Izaya’s wide-eyed attention — hooked on a panic. “A-ah! It’s not what you think! It’s somethin’ dumb not anything like...that.”

“I was going to say...it’s certainly not the confession I would’ve expected. In fact that would be a question, wouldn't it?” He swallowed nerves, “though you are unpredictable.”

Shizuo’s fluster befell him, his inspiration collapsed with the lid of his giftbox that was too weak for his grip. He felt the question of Izaya’s stare upon him as he shuffled from one uncomfortable pose to another. It was stupid, really, he’d experienced two years worth of work stress while only half a year out of highschool — he felt inexplicably older than he should, yet it contradicted how his current mentality felt stuck in the halls of Raijin.

Mutually known feelings didn’t matter much if his act didn’t pop into gear and the more Izaya’s humour began to bubble in his features, the more his body shook from a held back laugh, the angrier Shizuo’s temperament grew.

“Will you stop it, Izaya!” his spat aligned with Izaya’s explosion of laughter; he followed with a scoff. “It’s not fuckin’ funny!”

The pest gathered a small audience until they got used to the scene and moved along just as Izaya died down.

“Do you need me to do the honours, Shizu-chan?”

The remainder of Izaya’s chuckles hiccuped his shoulders while he took the few steps forward to cut further chase. They were close, but their distance didn’t close the air off from wrapping their bodies. Eager proposal splayed across Izaya's features as he rocked upward a few inches onto his toes like their height difference deemed it necessary. Shizuo read the setup clearly.

“...’s alright…” blood rushed to his cheeks.

Izaya hummed, “Is it?”

Nodding, he slid fingertips along the brunet’s presented jawline, trepidatious, but lacked the fear he once had when Izaya softened under the delicate motion. Like a tug of an invisible string that connected them, they were simultaneously pulled together. Chaste, but enough, the kiss mostly sealed some unspoken deal they’d written with fate. Honest to the duo, they were satisfied to just share the moment that dazzled with the holiday magic. Kinetically, they fulfilled their bond, breathed in the resurgence of their past; rested from their marathon of stubborn feelings. Not until Izaya tapped Shizuo out of his trance did they part — with a whole-hearted smile he delivered a sentiment he’d long reserved to be intimate.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Shizuo.”

———

AN: My dweeby ass took the opportunity to mention Shizuo’s dream of wanting to be a detective; also...replaced my initial ‘Sherlock’ with ‘Akechi’ to honour Edogawa Ranpo. =w=;;;

#shizaya #shizuo x izaya #anon answer #fic request #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #drrr #drrr!!#durarara!!#durarara #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #shizaya fanfic #durarara fanfic #izaya x shizuo #demytasse fanfics

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slayzaya · 2 years

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Hi I’m having the worst week of my life but aot sundays are back 💗

#izaya orihara #durarara #shizuo heiwajima #shizaya #durarara!!#aci #to hell and back #fanfic

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freakythedeadfox · 2 years

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Prompt: Shizaya with these condoms. (Shizuo mistakes them for candy)

#shizaya #izuo #fanfic prompt

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lavenderboneswrites · 3 years

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So as I was little unprepared for this week cause I thought it started on the 12th not the 5th 🙈 anyway here’s a lil drabble for day 2! And yes I’m sort of switching the days all around but dw the angst will be coming 😈😈

Flirting; According to Heiwajima Shizuo

Day 2: Gay Panic / Accidental Love Confessions / Coffee Shop AU

Words: 132

Rating: General Audiences/SFW

Tags: Shizaya Week 2021, Day 2, coffee shop au, accidental love confessions, drabble, izaya is smooth, shizuo is a hot mess, they're both stupid

@shizayasweek

The words are leaving Shizuo’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Ithinkyou’rereallypretty.”

Red burns his cheeks, his words an incoherent mess, and the handsome black-haired barista blinks back at him.

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that?”

Oh thank fuck.

Shizuo picks up his to-go coffee, face beet red as he yells out, “I said I think you’re really shitty.”

The entire coffee shop turns and stares at his booming voice. The black-haired barista has a look of bemusement on his pretty shitty face.

Shizuo books it out of there.

It’s only once he’s run from Sunshine to Ikebukuro Station that he notices the scrawl on his coffee cup.

Call me sometime, xxx-xxx-xxx.

-Izaya.

#shizaya week 2021 #day 2 #coffee shop au #accidental love confessions #I love this week so much #drabble #fanfic #my fanfic #shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #drrr #duarara

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happyandticklish · 3 years

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Interruptions

~Happy Birthday Izaya!~

Summary: Izaya’s busy and Shizuo wants attention. Events occur thusly.

“Stop.”

Another poke, this was one delivered closer to his side.

“I mean it.”

The distracting touch traveled down to his hip and he barely hid his jump.

“Shizuo.”

Shizuo smiled up from where Izaya now gripped both his wrists with a piercing glare. “Pay attention to me.”

Izaya tightened his grip, debating internally, before finally releasing the other and turning back towards his computer. “No. You’re being a child right now. I told you, I’m busy and I need to work.”

This game had been going on all night. Izaya could tell something was up with the other the moment he saw the look on Shizuo’s face upon entering their apartment. Normally Izaya was grateful for Shizuo’s affectionate moods, but that night he had work to get down, a last minute job he had been putting off, and he couldn’t concentrate with the other throwing himself on top of him every five seconds. He had explained this fact to the other in not so patient manner, and thus Shizuo had turned to this particular annoying method. The poking he wouldn’t necessarily mind, were it not for the fact that Izaya was unfairly ticklish and Shizuo absolutely could not know about it.

Izaya flinched as yet another poke was aimed at his side, his nerves flaring momentarily. His hands were paused at the computer, his arms tensed and ready to fly to his defense at a moment’s notice.

Poke.

Izaya’s lips screwed together in a concerted effort to conceal his growing smile. “Shizuo, I swear to god, if you don’t stop I’ll—”

“What’s with the ‘Shizuo’?” the other inquired tersely, continuing to aimlessly assault his side. Izaya desperately wished he would stop for two seconds so he could in any way coherently continue this conversation. “Normally it’s all ‘Shizu-chan’ this, and ‘Shizu-chan’ that. Why so formal tonight?”

“I thought it irritated you when I called you that,” Izaya said distractedly, not really listening to the other’s words. Shizuo had discovered this one spot on his hip that he kept pursuing with a lazy persistence, and Izaya was slowly folding over his computer, his elbows unconsciously darting in protectively.

Shizuo grunted noncommittally at the argument, which was as good a confession as any that maybe he didn’t entirely hate the nickname. Izaya mentally tucked away the information for later, not that it was of much use right now. Shizuo paused his poking for a moment, and Izaya just managed to exhale a sigh of relief when suddenly two arms were wrapped around him, causing him to tense up once more.

“Shi—” he started, before startling as he felt a pair of lips press a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. Izaya’s shoulders rose instinctively as Shizuo began the affectionate gesture once more, and dammit why did that still tickle?

“Shizuo, I really am busy,” Izaya snapped, but his words faltered at the end as he found himself caught between pleasure and the unbearable sensation that sent shudders zipping down his spine. His gaze was directed at the computer, and yet he found himself unable to focus on any of the words contained there. “Why is it that you’re so clingy tonight?”

“I missed you,” Shizuo muttered into his hair, the words muffled. Izaya paused at the statement. “You’ve been gone for the past couple days now, and anytime you stop back here you just go back to that damn computer.”

Izaya hadn’t realized it had been that long, but as he thought back on it, he realized the other was right. He had been so absorbed in his task that it had completely slipped his mind that Shizuo might be affected by his absence. Guilt prickled unpleasantly inside him, and he would have offered to spend time with the other then and there were it not for the very real pressing deadline he needed to accomplish.

“I should be done by tomorrow,” Izaya offered as a peace treaty, though he had a feeling that wasn’t true. “Surely you can wait till then?” A sly smirk crossed his features suddenly, and, unable to help himself, he added, “Unless that would be too much for you? Do you really miss me that much, Shizu-chan~?”

Shizuo nipped at his shoulder pettily for that comment, and Izaya yelped, a hand flying back to shove him off. Shizuo raised an eyebrow. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Izaya denied quickly, cursing himself for being so stupidly sensitive. “It didn’t, it just, ah—”

Shizuo narrowed his eyes. Experimentally, he leaned down and kissed him again on that same spot, only this time he made sure to be extra gentle, his lips barely brushing the skin. Goosebumps scattered across Izaya’s flesh. His lips twitched into a hint of a smile, but he managed to repress the genuine thing.

“S-Shizuo—”

Shizuo snuck his hands under the other’s shirt, trailing them up his sides as his fingers ghosted feather-like over his skin. Izaya arched back minutely into the other and away from those hands, butterflies erupting in his stomach. “W-Wait—” he choked out, but then Shizuo curled his hands, nails tracing across his ribs as he did. Izaya squeaked, his arms flying up to cover his face and hide his reluctant grin. “Shizuo!”

“You’re ticklish?” Shizuo asked curiously, his words a soft breath against the shell of his ear. Izaya’s shoulders scrunched up protectively.

“N-No!” he insisted, the words coming out far gigglier than he would have liked. Shizuo’s hands were crawling spider-like up and down his ribs, the touch slow and intimate, and Izaya was having trouble not collapsing into a puddle right then and there. “I’m nahat!”

“How come you never told me you were ticklish?” Shizuo asked, his words innocent and inquisitive, which was somehow so much worse than him being mean about it. He seemed genuinely delighted by the discovery. “This is adorable!”

“I-It’s chihihildish—noho!” Izaya curled up in his arms as Shizuo’s fingers strayed too close to his underarms, teasingly circling the sensitive area. Izaya’s hands fisted in his hair, and he found himself torn between shoving the other away and revealing the laughter he was so desperately trying to hold in.

“It’s not childish,” Shizuo dismissed. “Everyone’s ticklish—even adults. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

Izaya flushed, trying to ignore the way the other’s reassurance made his heart flutter oddly inside his chest. “S-Shihihizuo!”

“Izaya.”

“Ihihihi neheheheed tohoho wohohork!”

“So work.” Shizuo scratched the spot where his ribs connected to his underarms, the touch devastatingly light. “Just ignore me.”

“Ihihihi cahahahan’t!”

“Mm,” Shizuo hummed unsympathetically. “I guess there’s nothing we can do about it then. You’ll have to take a break.”

Izaya cackled in his arms, squirming at the utterly unfair sensations. He knew, technically speaking, that he could make Shizuo stop if he wanted to. The other was usually fairly self-conscious about his strength advantage, and would instantly back off if the other protested. And yet, Izaya couldn’t find it in himself to put an end to this. Even though he knew it meant his work would remain unfinished for the night. Even though he was going to lose his mind if Shizuo didn’t stop dragging his nails across his skin in that infuriatingly ticklish manner. Despite all of this, he found himself strangely content to lie there laughing in Shizuo’s arms.

He would have time to dissect that thought process later.

“I didn’t know you could be this cute,” Shizuo commented nonchalantly, gently squeezing his hips. Izaya squeaked, drawing his knees up to his chest. “How come you’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me?”

“B-Behehecause yohohou dohohon’t deheheserve ihit—nohoho, stahahap dohohoing ihihit thehehehere!” Izaya hissed, batting weakly at his hands as he continued to torment the spot.

“I think you need to watch your tone,” Shizuo warned, a devious edge to his words. “Or are you forgetting the position you’re in?”

Izaya opened his mouth to throw back another snarky comment, but quickly found himself lost to another flood of laughter as Shizuo discovered how effective of a method digging his thumbs into the slender bone was.

They spent the majority of the evening like that, Izaya curled in Shizuo’s arms whilst the other drew hitching music from his lips with only his fingertips. Izaya never did get around to finishing his work that night, but in the end he had to agree that the break was nice.

#tickle fic #durarara #shizaya #shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #durarara!!#tickling #fanfic #fanfiction #happy birthday izaya!!

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