The lights in the apartment were dim, a soft golden hue spilling over half-drunk wine glasses, scattered books, and the faint scent of coffee that lingered from earlier in the day. Dazai sat lounged across the couch, one leg draped lazily over the other, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he watched you from the corner of his eye. He’d been like this all evening—strangely quiet, uncharacteristically patient, and, if you looked closely, maybe even a little... nervous?

For someone who usually buried his intentions beneath layers of sarcasm and theatrics, tonight he seemed to wear his feelings a little too close to the surface.

“Hey... pretty baby,” he murmured with a crooked grin, voice lower than usual, playful but threaded with something softer underneath. “Won’t you come over here? Just for a bit? I’ve had this awful craving all day and it’s not going away unless you let me be your favorite distraction tonight.”

He patted his lap, laughing quietly at his own boldness, but there was no teasing in his eyes—just something quietly desperate, like he really did want you there, close, warm, right where he could hold you.

“Sit with me,” he added, eyes locked on you now. “Just for a little while. I promise I won’t bite... unless you ask me to, naturally.”

There was a softness to him tonight, a vulnerability he didn’t bother to hide. Maybe it was the music playing low in the background, or maybe it was just you—always you—that made him like this. Willing to beg a little. Willing to let down his walls. Willing to be yours.