Disclaimer: I only own this fic |D

A/N: I'm digging my own grave, aren't I? As if two multi-chapter fics aren't enough ;w; I just had to take up this prompt from the Kink Meme again. Why? Because I love Durarara, and Kuroshitsuji, and yes, Hana Yori Dango OTL

Warning! This is an AU story. Characters might be OOC.

Blame It All On Fate!

CHAPTER 1

Where are you?

He waited and waited, the others were already leaving.

The sounds of laughter and chatting were dying down.

He was now left alone, still waiting.

Shizu-chan…? Didn't you promise?

Music blared in the background as people moved their bodies to the beat. Neon lights flashed everywhere in the darkness of the nightclub, providing just the right amount of light to ensure that the clubbers would not fall over one another.

A slender figure dressed in a plain navy v-necked shirt smirked at the joke that the girl beside him had just tried to tell. It was pretty lame, but she was beautiful and that was enough for him to remain draping a arm around her petite waist. Makeup or not, having such a beauty by his side was good for the playboy image that he had worked to build over his 22 years of living.

She wasn't the only one that was trying to win over his attention though. A group of young ladies in their twenties and even older were gathered around him. Giggling and blushing at every comment he made.

"Iza-kun~ Would you be coming here again tomorrow?"

"Yes yes! Would you? We'll miss you so much after tonight!"

Orihara Izaya laughed and ran a free hand through his raven hair. It was the same thing over and over every time he visited the nightclub. These girls were in love with his killer looks and ridiculously fat wallet – he knew it perfectly well. Being the only heir of one of Japan's top financial companies (Dorasu) sure brought along an abundance of special privileges one could only dream of.

"I'm afraid not, my pretty ladies. I have a date." He put a finger to his lips as if he were discussing a secret.

"EH! Iza-kun has a girlfriend?" One of them wailed.

"Of course I do~ She's my fiancée." It was mostly true, except for the date part. He only came to the nightclub when he felt like it. This was one of those very rare times which he did.

He could almost hear the sounds of their little crumbling hearts as they absorbed this.

Before they could start bombarding him with objections and insults to his girlfriend, he released his hold on the girl's waist and excused himself politely, "Ah, I'm going to get another drink now. Please excuse me for a minute, ladies." He gave his empty glass a small shake for emphasis.

They reluctantly parted to allow him to pass, which he did so with the same smirk plastered onto his face. A few regulars of the nightclub shunned away when he passed them, not wanting to be involved with him at all. They knew who he was and what sort of twisted character he possessed. Some even stared and started whispering in hush tones.

"Pathetic little humans." He chuckled to himself, watching their reactions from the corner of his eye.

He was only a few feet away from the bar when something tall and big slammed hard into him, sending him falling hard on his side with a short cry of pain when he landed heavily on his wrist.

The towering figure turned and Izaya, clutching his throbbing wrist to his chest, found himself staring up into soft hazel yellow eyes which looked just as surprised as he was.

"I'm sorry." The tall man said, extending a hand out in a gesture of helping Izaya up. "I didn't see where I was going."

Izaya narrowed his eyes at the man and got up with support from his uninjured hand swiftly, pointedly brushing aside the proffered hand with a slap.

"Are you blind or something? You sprained my wrist!" He growled. "I won't accept such a lame apology."

The said man raised an eyebrow and felt his lips twitch in annoyance.

"What?"

"You should get on your knees and beg for it."

"Beg…you say?"

He punched Izaya hard on the cheek, rolling his shoulders in satisfaction when then smaller man flew back against an occupied table, it's occupants stood up hastily to find a safer spot.

Izaya winced and rubbed a thumb over his aching jaw, scowling at the blonde man in anger and shame.

"How dare you hit me?"

The blonde grinned. "Because I can."

Izaya was at a lost of words, never had he been defied before, not to mention punched.

"You…do you even know who I am?"

"No. And frankly, I don't give a damn." The man shrugged.

The people around them were starting to stare in interest and inched away to prevent themselves from getting involved. A few even whistled when Izaya pulled out a switchblade from his expensive leather pants and pointed the tip at the blonde.

"You'll regret this, bastard." He snarled, not liking how this was going at all.

The man laughed and tilted his chin towards Izaya as if daring him to continue, "Bring it on, you stuck up flea."

His eyes widened in surprise at the horrible pet name. Tensing his shoulders, Izaya sprung forwards to give the man a piece of his mind. That is, until a large hand came between them, effectively removing the switchblade from his grip professionally.

"No fighting allowed." A deep voice rumbled. He had a heavy accent to his Japanese.

They found themselves staring at an even taller figure who looked like a foreigner with his dark skin tone.

"Simon." The blonde greeted the newcomer with a strained nod, reluctantly stuffing his hands into his pocket as a sign of peace.

If looks could kill, everyone within a foot of Izaya would've dropped dead by now. He wasn't one to back down but the size of this foreign dude was enough to make him think twice about lashing out again.

Simon was the nightclub's Russian bouncer. His immense strength and size made him one of the most fearful people in Japan. Despite his appearance though, he absolutely hated violence and would often be found giving intimidating lectures to young hoodlums.

"Fighting no solve anything. Buy a drink, alcohol good." He said in a rehearsed tone.

The blonde clicked his tongue once and turned to the bar, his anger suddenly subdued.

Izaya continued to glare daggers in the man's back, snatching his switchblade rudely from Simon's hand before exiting the bar without bothering to tell his fan girls bye. He had lost the mood to drink entirely.

A limousine was already waiting for him outside. He didn't even offer his chauffeur a greeting, straight away directing the man to drive him back home with an ugly scowl on his face.

Tonight was definitely not his night.

"Izaya! What happened to you!" His mother exclaimed the moment he walked into the ornate living room.

His father was away on a business trip, again, leaving both his wife and only son in the enormous mansion they lived in.

Two of their maids bowed and excused themselves after offering their young master some midnight refreshments which he brushed off with a flick of his uninjured wrist.

"A fight at the club, mother."

He allowed her to lightly press her petite fingers to the bruise on his cheek to examine it.

"The bastard knocked into me and sprained my wrist." He explained quietly.

She sighed and called for another maid that was on standby just a few feet away, "Please bandage him up."

"Yes, my lady."

As Izaya and the said maid were on their way up the gold plated spiral staircase, his mother suddenly said just loud enough for him to hear, "Izaya dear, I've hired a new personal bodyguard for you. Please don't force him to resign like you did the last."

I actually had my eyes on this prompt for awhile but I wasn't really sure whether I should've taken it since I barely have time to work on my other fics now due to my incoming final exams (as I might've mentioned before) D;

An idea for the ending hit me all of a sudden...and so I started :X