the mysterious fangurl(izaya x reader x shizuo)

Don't leave any fujoshi traces in your phone

disclaimer: durarara!! does not belong to me. i am just your average fangurl who makes fanfictions
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your POV:

"She hung up on you?"

Shizu-chan arched his brow with a puzzled expression, and i nodded in reply, the phone still beeping in my hand.

"Well what do we do now?"

Rocchi-san chimed in, still having a reassuring smile on his face. I was so glad he was there.

i turned to Izaya-kun, holding the phone out back to him.

"Izaya-kun, can we go home? I need to know what happened. Namie-onee-san told me that she couldn't tell me over the phone."

"Sure, let's go (Y/n)-chan."                                                                                                                           -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Namie-onee-san!!"

i ran inside the apartment, making a beeline straight for the lady arranging some books on the shelves.

"(Y/n), you're home. Here's your phone."

She put the books down on a nearby table, and reached into her skirt pocket, pulling out the familiar phone. I grabbed it, still remembering to thank her before dashing into my room and locking the door. If there was something in here that Namie-onee-san couldn't even tell me, then it must be pretty bad, right? There's a possibility it could even be evidence that I was a stalker or something.

i slid open the unlocked screen, and typed in the password. Thank god I remembered it.

The home screen looked pretty normal. There were apps that every person would have in their phone, and I swiped across the screen, trying to find anything weird. I didn't. There wasn't a single thing that was out of the ordinary. A few games and necessary apps. That was all.

This phone is absolutely and completely normal.

Then why did Namie-onee-san want me to come back? And why couldn't she tell me over the phone?

Suddenly, my eyes caught something. The phone's background. Two guys, and pretty good-looking too. One of them had smooth raven-black hair and was grabbing the bowtie of the other man, pulling it loosening his shirt. He had a seductive smirk on his lips, and held a knife in his other hand. The other guy had slightly messy blonde hair and looked annoyed at his partner, though he had a small tint of red on his cheeks. He looked like he was trying to resist, but couldn't at the same time. How cute. It was like a love-hate relationship. It wasn't that weird, and anyone could pass it off as a unique taste.

If only they didn't look so familiar.