Implied! Izaya X Reader~ Criminal
You smiled contently while flipping the pages of a large sketch book. Giggling at some of the responses, you turned to another page.
"'Cellphone', eh?" The word was sprawled out in this hideous looking handwriting that was hardly legible. You looked up from page to the eyes-- well helmet-- of a black-suited motorcycle rider. The only factor about her gender was how tightly the black leather she wore held tightly around her skin.
"What are you looking for?" You asked, shoving the sketch pad and black marker in her face. The stranger nervously took the marker out of my hand and wrote a phrase on the pad. She then walked away, pushing her motorcycle with her.
You blinked at her utterly perfect handwriting that was on the pad, "'My head'?"
Glancing at the women's receding form, you sighed deeply. "Society these days; everyone's so depressing."
"[Y/N]-chan! Long time, no see!"
That voice could be recognized from miles away. It was the sound that drove people to their deaths, misery, and shame. It spoke words that should never be shared to any being-- except it was its job.
When you turned around, the terrifying man was in front of you, which almost startled you into dropping the sketch pad in your hands. He had that hood to his furry jacket up, despite the summery weather in the air. The sun was pounding on the pavement of the city square, and he didn't even manage to break a sweat.
"Aren't you going to greet me?" His reddish brown eyes twinkled in excitement, "It's not nice to stare."
"I'm not staring," you said dully in your defense. "I was simply looking at that sushi ad that happened to be in my line of sight."
He glanced over his shoulder to find that there was a ad being held up by Simon, the proud owner of Russian Sushi. The informant eyed you curiously as you started to flip through the pages of your pad, trying distract yourself.
Once you noticed that he wasn't walking away, you sighed, "Good afternoon, Orihara-san."
Izaya smirked in amusement, "Why hello, [Y/N]-chan! I didn't even know you were standing there! You happen to be so short!"
He was messing with you, a hobby he somehow picked up during his lifetime. You were indeed shorter than him, but still on the lower side of average for a women's height. "It's genetics, I hope you realize I can't 'happen to be so short.'"
Before he can say anything back, you shoved the pad and marker into his hands, pretending that the conversation you previously had never happened. "What are you looking for?" It was a simple question, no doubt the information broker, Izaya Orihara would have an answer to it.
He wrote an answer across the middle of the paper, without looking at you. "I'm glad you're so concerned about my well-being, [Y/N]-chan. I happen to be looking for something highly valuable and fascinating-- in fact, I just found it..." Izaya pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch, "a mere five to ten minutes ago."
"Orihara-san," you said. "I'm glad you can read a watch correctly due to your state of mind, but whatever this thing you found is sure to be criminal-- I don't want any part in it."
"That's where you're wrong," he wiggled a finger in front of you playfully. "You are all of it."
You flipped to the page he wrote his answer on, and eyed the black font curiously. When you looked up, he turned around and was walking away, to whatever his next plan for the day was. Izaya never turned around to see your reaction, because chances are, he already pictured what your face would be like. In fact, he thought of it every day, every night, every morning. He knew what replies you would give, and where the conversation would go. Of course, you never knew any of this.
He's only looking for [Y/N], which happened to be you, according to the surprisingly neat handwriting on the sketch pad. Whether he wanted you to participate in criminal activities, you'll have to find out-- that will be proven difficult, especially if it includes Izaya Orihara, the city's rather dangerous informant.