hi i saw ur touchstarved requests are open... u should like lowkey (highkey) write an Ais x reader x Vere fic 👀👀👀 reader can be fem or gn idm, thank you boii
Guests of Honor
HII!!! i’m so sorry I know I got this request a few months ago and i’ve genuinely rewritten it 10 times. I’m not joking, I counted. It definetly got out of hand… and there’s a few special guests involved in the fic 🤭 I redid it so many times because this is actually my first time writing for anyone other than Vere, so I wanted to try and make Ais as accurate as possible (he might not be, but it’s the effort that counts right?)
Thank you @lord-shitbox for giving me those notes on Ais! they really did help, and I hope I wrote him at least somewhat in character 🤞and @uzmacchiato for the dividers!
This is mostly proofread, the grammar may not be great but I’ve read this WAYYYY to many times 😭
CW: Sexual themes (there’s no smut tho), power imbalances, objectification(?), alcohol, slight manipulation, confinement, themes of possesion, profanity, it’s really not that bad, but i’m trying to get better w my cw’s (all of the items listed are implied more than anything, except the profanity)
Word count: 9789, gn reader
The velvet curtains never quite kept the noise out. They muffled the laughter, the music, and the low murmur of High Town’s elite into something richer. You’d learned to tune it out. You had to, working here.
Not on the stage, but behind it. There were guests who paid extra not to sit in the crowd. Your job wasn’t to perform under the spotlight, but you were still expected to play a part. Smile when needed, stay close when asked, even when the attendees leered.
You weren’t particularly excited, but work is work, right? This was far better than working in Elyon’s brothel, even though he owned the theatre too.
“Room three.”
The call came quickly, but it was firm enough that you straightened without thinking. One of the floor managers barely glanced your way as they handed you a tray, two glasses, and a bottle that was so expensive you were suddenly very aware of your entire life’s financial situation. You were pretty sure one sip of it cost more than your weekly pay. Maybe your monthly pay…
“Private guest,” they added. “Be polite.”
You bit back a dry response. When weren’t you supposed to be?
Still, you nodded, adjusting your sleeves out of habit before taking the tray. The hallway behind the stage was dim, lit just enough to keep you from misstepping. The further you walked, the quieter it got. The hum of the main hall faded, replaced by low voices behind closed doors and the creak of floorboards under careful steps. It was the kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet at all.
As you neared the end of the hall, a feminine voice slipped through one of the doors ahead, clearer than the rest.
“…behave,” someone said, low and tense. “I’m already at risk of losing my job bringing you here on the clock.”
A second voice followed, sounding too relaxed for the warning they had just been given. You didn’t catch the words, but you caught the tone. Like this wasn’t a risk at all. You slowed for half a second, then forced yourself forward.
Not your business.
You stopped in front of the door marked three, then knocked.
“Come in.”
You pushed the door open and stepped inside, tray steady in your hands, and immediately felt the thick tension in the room.
There he was. Lounged back, relaxed like this was all a game he’d decided to play for the evening. His gaze slid over you the second you entered, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. You would recognize that shitty personality and those fluffy ears anywhere.
Fuck. Seriously?
The other turned at the sound of the door and froze. The reaction was instant.
“…you?”
Vere and Basilea? This might be the worst shift ever.
You stilled for half a second, then forced yourself forward, setting the tray down with practiced ease even as recognition settled in your chest. You kept your expression neutral as you straightened.
“Your drinks.”
But the tension had already settled.
Basilea was staring at you like she’d seen something she wasn't supposed to.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, absolutely stunned.
Her eyes flicked over your outfit, your posture, the tray you’d just set down, and something in her expression tightened. You weren’t sure if it was judgment, disbelief, or excitement.
“I work here,” you said simply.
A soft laugh filled the room, and you didn't have to look to know who it came from.
“Well,” he said, his voice threaded with clear amusement, “this is interesting.”
You glanced over despite yourself. That was a mistake. Vere was already looking at you like he’d just been handed something far more entertaining than he’d expected.
“You didn’t mention this,” he added lightly, eyes flicking toward Basilea.
“I didn’t know this,” she shot back, still staring at you. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I -”
“If you what?” he interrupted easily. “Thought I might enjoy myself more?”
“That’s not -”
You cleared your throat softly, cutting in before it could turn into something worse.
“If there’s an issue, I can request someone else.”
“No,” Vere said.
That was way too fast.
Basilea hesitated, but didn’t contradict him. That was answer enough.
You exhaled slowly, settling back into your role.
“Then I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
“Will you?” he asked.
Something in the way he said it made you pause. You glanced at him again. He was still smiling, but now there was something sharper underneath it.
“Because,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “it would be a shame to waste this opportunity.”
Your grip tightened slightly at your side.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Mm. I think you do.”
“Enough,” Basilea cut in, quieter now but firm. She finally tore her gaze away from you. “Don’t start.”
Vere didn’t even look at her. His attention stayed exactly where it had been since you walked in.
On you.
“Start?” he echoed softly. “I haven’t started anything. I’ve only just found out what’s been right in front of me.”
The room felt smaller and hotter.
This is some bullshit.
You straightened, forcing your voice back into something steady.
“I’ll leave you to your evening.”
“Why so professional? You don’t need to pretend with us.”
You stopped and slowly turned back.
Vere hadn’t moved. Still lounging like he owned the room, those pink eyes hadn’t left you for a second.
Basilea, on the other hand, looked like she was about two seconds away from dragging Vere back to work.
“Don’t,” she said under her breath, more to him than to you. “Seriously, don't make me say it.”
“What?” Vere replied lightly, but his face didn’t match the tone of his voice. “I’m being polite.”
“You’re never just polite.”
“That hurts.”
“It should.”
You exhaled through your nose, already tired.
“If you’re done -”
“We’re not,” Vere cut in smoothly.
Of course you weren’t getting out that easily.
You forced your shoulders to stay relaxed.
“Then what do you need?”
“Mm.” He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering something far more interesting than your question. “That depends.”
“On?”
“You.”
You stared at him.
“That’s not how this works.”
“No?” His smile sharpened just a little. “From what I’ve seen, it’s exactly how this works.”
Heat crept up your neck, but you refused to let it show.
“My job is to serve drinks,” you said flatly.
“And look exquisite while doing it,” he added.
Basilea made a small, pained sound.
“Please ignore him. It’s nice to see you, even if it’s... here.”
It was a poor attempt to divert the conversation, and the jab at your job and the theatre was unnecessary, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
“I’m trying. It’s quite nice to see you too.”
“Trying unsuccessfully,” Vere said.
You shot him a look. He looked delighted by your plight.
Right. Of course he did.
“This isn’t funny,” Basilea muttered, finally stepping forward.
Her voice dropped slightly when she spoke to you again.
“You shouldn’t be in here. I mean, you can, obviously, but -”
She stopped, clearly struggling to phrase it.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you said dryly. “I do.”
That was a lie. You weren’t sure what she was talking about, but it was best to go along with it anyway.
Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.
Vere, however, seemed to be having the time of his life.
“You’re both very tense,” he observed. “It’s a little insulting, actually.”
“No one is insulting you,” you said in an eerily calm tone.
“You’re acting like I’ve done something wrong.”
Basilea interjected.
“You will if you keep talking.”
He laughed softly, unfazed.
Then his gaze slid back to you again, slower this time.
“You really didn’t think I’d notice?” he asked.
Your stomach tightened.
“Notice what?”
“This.”
His eyes flicked over you, your clothes, your stance, the careful distance you were trying to keep.
“Where you ended up.”
You crossed your arms before you could stop yourself.
“It’s a job.”
“Mm. You said that.”
“And I meant it.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Something about the way he said it made it sound like he didn’t believe you at all.
Basilea sighed, rubbing her temple.
“Can we not do this right now?”
“You brought me somewhere interesting, with someone interesting,” Vere replied. “What did you expect?”
“I expected you to behave.”
“And I am.”
“You’re absolutely not.”
You huffed out a quiet breath, then reached for the bottle, deciding you were done being part of whatever this was.
“Do you want the drink or not?”
That got his attention.
“Pour,” he said, like it was a challenge.
You did. Carefully. Steady hands, measured movements. If nothing else, you were good at this part.
You handed him the glass without meeting his eyes.
He took it, but his fingers brushed yours.
You pulled back immediately.
Of course he noticed.
“Still so careful,” he murmured.
You ignored that.
Basilea did not.
“Oh, that’s it,” she said, stepping in. “Drink your stupid expensive booze and stop making this weird.”
“I’m not making it weird,” Vere replied, taking a slow sip. “It already is.”
He glanced at you over the rim of the glass.
And there it was again, that look.
Like he knew something you didn’t, or something you didn’t want him to.
“You can go,” Basilea said quickly, shooting you a look that was half apology, half urgency. “I’ve got it from here.”
For a second, you considered leaving, escaping this entire situation before it got worse.
But there was an odd look in Vere's eyes. His tail had gone limp, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was afraid.
Is he afraid?
It’s not like you really knew what happened behind closed doors. As funny as the banter between Vere and Basilea was, she was still his handler.
The sensible option was to leave. It was safer. It would have kept you out of whatever this was turning into.
Basilea was already watching you like she expected you to agree.
Vere, on the other hand, looked like he was waiting for you to do the opposite.
You hesitated.
Just a second too long.
“…I’ll stay,” you said.
Basilea blinked.
“You don’t have to -”
“I know,” you cut in gently.
Then, a little more firmly, which made her pause.
Vere didn’t say anything right away.
But his expression changed. The tension in his posture eased slightly, like something he’d been holding onto loosened.
“If I leave the room too early, my manager will notice.”
You hesitated, then added, a little more honestly:
“They’ve already been on my case about it.”
Basilea blinked.
“On your case about what?”
You shifted your weight slightly, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous this sounded out loud.
“Not spending enough time with guests.”
Vere laughed.
It was higher-pitched than his usual practiced laugh. It was more… fox-like.
It was certainly amusing, but you needed to keep your poker face.
“So,” he said lightly, “you’re staying because your manager wants you to… spend more time with guests?”
You immediately regretted staying.
“That’s not -” you started.
But he cut in before you could finish your rushed explanation, still amused.
“And here I thought you were just being polite.”
“I am being professional,” you corrected.
“Mm.” His smile sharpened slightly. “You’re doing very well at it.”
Something about the way he said it made it sound like a compliment he didn’t fully mean.
Or maybe he did.
It was hard to tell with his lying ass.
Basilea sighed.
“This is going to get worse, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” Vere said cheerfully.
Basilea went very still.
Something in her head had finally clicked into place, and she didn’t like what it meant.
“…shit,” she muttered.
Vere blinked.
“Charming.”
She ignored him, already stepping back toward the door.
“I have a meeting,” she said quickly, like the words were chasing her. “I completely forgot. Of course I did, because this is my life.”
“Now?” you asked, surprised.
“Yes, now!” she said, already half-turned away.
Then she looked back at you, her expression softening immediately.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to dump him on you like this.”
“It’s truly not a bother.”
“Are you sure?”
“I mean… it’s better than creepy drunken guests that I don’t know.”
Then she sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“I swear this is not how I planned my evening.”
You huffed a quiet laugh.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she said, then softened again when she looked at you.
Then she gave you a small, genuine smile. Warmer than anything she’d shown since you walked in.
“Thank you for your patience.”
Your expression softened slightly despite yourself.
“You’re welcome.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
Then she turned her attention fully to Vere. Her tone shifted instantly.
“Behave.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and just like that, the room changed again.
You exhaled slowly, looking at the door for a second too long, like it might reopen and fix the situation.
“Relax,” Vere said lazily.
You glanced at him.
“That’s not reassuring coming from you.”
“Mm. Fair.”
He was still lounging on the couch, but now it felt different. Less like he was performing for an audience, more like he’d settled into waiting for you.
That thought was irritating.
You turned slightly away.
“So… I’ll stand outside and pretend this didn’t happen?”
“You could,” he said. “But I’d be bored.”
You let out a quiet breath through your nose.
“Aw, how tragic.”
“Isn’t it?”
You glanced at him again despite yourself.
He was watching you properly now.
Not teasing in the same way as before.
“You’re staring,” you said.
“What? I can’t look?”
You wanted to slap that irritating smirk off his face, or kiss it off. Whatever worked.
You sighed.
“You can, but I can’t tell if you’re trying to eat me or eat me.”
Vere stared at you for half a second.
Then he laughed.
It slipped out before he could stop it, warm and surprised, like you’d actually caught him off guard for once.
“Oh,” he said, still smiling. “That’s a new one… though I’m sure you would enjoy either option.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Vere’s smile didn’t fade.
If anything, it got worse.
“You’re doubting yourself already?”
“I’m doubting you,” you corrected immediately.
“I think you’re underestimating my preferences,” he stated matter-of-factly.
That made you pause.
“…your preferences?”
“Mm,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t bother with the boring option.”
You stared at him.
“…the boring option,” you repeated slowly.
Is this man deadass?
He really expected you to figure out what the boring option was?
He’s a monster, for fuck’s sake!
Neither of those options sounded like they would be boring to him.
You tried to fill in the blank politely, but you failed immediately.
The only thing worse than his tone was the fact that he looked completely serious about it.
You narrowed your eyes.
“You’re talking like I’m supposed to guess what counts as ‘boring’ for you.”
Vere blinked once, then gave a small, almost patient smile.
“I thought it was obvious.”
That made your stomach drop a little.
Were you going to die?
“…no,” you said flatly. “It really isn’t.”
He leaned back again, looking almost disappointed in your lack of imagination.
“The boring option,” he repeated, like he was explaining something simple, “would be quick.”
Vere’s gaze drifted away for a second, like he was thinking it through properly now instead of just teasing.
“That kind of thing doesn’t take long,” he added. “There’s nothing worth staying for anyway.”
The way he said it made it sound less like morality and more like disappointment.
You let out a slow breath.
“That’s a very strange way to phrase something like that.”
“I know,” he said immediately, almost pleased.
You frowned.
“So what, you prefer things that are… not quick?”
He hummed, like you were finally circling the right idea without quite landing on it.
“Well, aren’t you eloquent?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And my hair is red,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t worry, your little secret’s safe with me.”
“What secret?”
“Your job, and your cute little outfit.”
“That’s reassuring,” you said, though it didn’t feel like it.
“It should be.”
He picked up his glass again, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just tilted the entire room on its axis.
After a moment, he glanced at you over the rim.
“You can relax,” he said. “I won’t bite.”
He smirked again.
“Unless you ask nicely.”
You turned away before he could see your reaction.
But his quiet laughter followed you anyway.
The tray in your hands felt heavier today, even though it was empty. Elyon’s orders had been simple: keep to the floor, avoid trouble, and above all, stay polite. Polite was second nature now, a reflex honed sharper than any blade, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you.
You were halfway through grabbing drinks from the wine rack when Elyon found you.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice smooth but heavy with that undertone that always made you straighten up. He leaned against the edge of the rack, arms crossed. “I was beginning to think you’d vanished into the floorboards.”
“I know, it’s been a while,” you said flatly, keeping your tone even, like you always did.
You never knew what kind of mood he’d be in. Some days, he thrived on banter and sass, and those interactions could be… entertaining. Other days, when the employees from the brothel managed to rile him up, even the smallest mistake felt like it could set off a storm you’d rather not think about.
“Good, you’re preparing the beverages.”
If by beverages, he meant drinking borderline rubbing alcohol.
His eyes scanned the rest of the bottles behind you.
“We have a… delicate arrangement tonight. I need you sharp and presentable.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Sharp enough to serve drinks or sharp enough to survive the guests?”
You decided to test the waters. It had been a dull day so far. Cleaning the theater wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially when you were used to chatting up the guests in the private rooms upstairs or mingling with those lounging on the balcony below.
To be honest, the private rooms weren’t exactly prime seats. They were far from the stage. You couldn’t blame the people who paid for them, though. The music carried well enough, and, of course, there were plenty of other perks that made the price worthwhile. Some… you weren’t too keen on providing, but a handful of your coworkers didn’t seem to mind.
He smirked.
“Both, ideally. But don’t worry, you’ll manage. You always do.”
Before you could respond, your manager appeared, brisk as ever.
“Hello, Mr. Elyon.”
Elyon raised a brow.
“I assume you’ve reminded them about the private guests tonight?”
“Of course,” your manager said smoothly, then glanced at you. “I merely came to… ensure everything is running smoothly.”
You tried not to roll your eyes.
“And remember,” your boss added, stepping closer and lowering their voice, “if anything goes wrong tonight, it’s on you first. Elyon second.”
“Noted,” you said, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Elyon murmured, watching you as your boss walked away. “The special guests do all my dirty work. Good luck, and don’t fuck it up.”
You tilted your head slightly, setting the bottle back into place.
“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” you said, letting the words hang - half warning, half challenge.
Elyon’s eyes glinted, amused but calculating.
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
Room Five.
The moment you stepped into the hallway outside Room Five, something felt wrong. Not dangerous, exactly but you felt like you were being scrutinized by something you couldn’t see.
The door opened before you had the chance to announce yourself. Warm amber light spilled across the floorboards, carrying the scent of smoke, expensive liquor, and something faintly metallic beneath it all. The air inside felt heavier somehow, dense enough to press against your lungs.
Then you saw that ridiculously smug smirk. “Sparrow?”
“Here to serve,” you said automatically, setting the tray down with practiced care. You couldn’t even muster a smile, it’s not like you had to anyway. It’s just Ais.
Ais didn’t move when he saw you, he was slouched into the couch like he owned the space. One leg was hooked lazily over the other with his glass perched between two blood-tipped fingers.
He grinned when your gaze caught his hand. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine… Probably.”
You find it alarming that he can’t tell the difference between his and someone else’s blood, but questioning Ais is pointless. The table beside him had a bottle you couldn’t name it was expensive though, which is shocking considering he’ll drink Leander’s concoctions. The thought of those “drinks”, if you can even call them that, make you shiver. They always look thick, and you suspect they taste worse than sewage. There was a red smear on the rim of his glass, and you felt like a rabbit staring at a snake.
You swallowed the urge to back toward the door. Ais’s lazy grin sharpened at the edges as he lifted the glass to his mouth. “You look nervous sparrow, you should smile more. It’s more appealing to your customers.”
You don’t know why he’s taunting you, but the best solution in your mind is to castrate him. It’s a two in one, he won’t ever be able to do one of his favourite “activities” again, and his ego will literally be cut off.
“I work in a theater,” you said. “I see strange men every night.”
“Mm.” His gaze dragged over you thoughtfully, “And am I strange?”
You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You’re drinking mystery liquor alone in a locked room. What do you think?”
Ais hummed thoughtfully, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. The red smear along the rim stretched with it.
“Fair.”
You moved to straighten the bottles on the tray just to give your hands something to do. His eyes tracked the movement instantly. His eyes made everything look predatory. “I can practically hear your mind wandering, Sparrow.”
You side eye him. “You’re unsettling.”
“You still came in.”
Is he serious right now? “I’m forced too, it’s literally my job.”
Ais’s mouth twitched, he clearly finds this entertaining.
“Oh, poor Sparrow. Can’t handle a little staring?”
“You say that like you aren’t the problem.”
“I usually am.”
His honesty threw you off more than the smugness did. Most men puffed themselves up, danced around accusations and pretended they were misunderstood. Ais wore his flaws like expensive jewelry. Openly, proudly, even. He seems that he would rather scare people off early than deal with the disappointment of losing them later.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You know, most people try not to sound incriminating.”
“Most people are boring.” The room had gone quiet except for outside. Muffled music from the theater drifted through the walls in warped little bursts. It all felt very far away from this shitty room. You lied, it’s actually a very nice room. But you’re sick of these so-called “luxuries” Elyon has to offer.
You became acutely aware that the door had shut behind you at some point. Your gaze flicked toward the door, and Ais noticed immediately. “You wanna leave?”
The question should’ve sounded mocking. Instead, it came out flat. If you said yes, he’d let you. You still hesitated to answer. That was the wrong move. Ais’s mouth curved slowly at the edges. “Thought so.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You’re the one still sitting there.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. In a. attempt some to end this pointless conversation, you’d finally stood up. You start to question your choices. Was it really a good idea to work here? Maybe you should have just stayed broke and leeches off Leander. Ais’s grin widened slowly, sharp enough to cut. “There it is.”
You mentally roll your eyes, here we go. “What is it?”
“That look again.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow against his knee. “Whatever realization you’re having is amusing.”
You narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly am I realizing?”
“That you like me a little.”
You barked out a laugh so sudden it startled even you. “Oh, you are insufferable.”
“Mhm.” He looked deeply pleased with himself. “Not denying it though.”
“You want honesty?” you shot back. “I think you’re weird, vaguely threatening, and probably one bad day away from killing everyone in Eridia”
“And?”
“There is no ‘and’, that was it.”
Ais tilted his head slightly. “You do this with everybody?”
Why does he as so many questions? You’re sick of his nosy ass. The banter is kind of fun though. “Do what?”
“Act like you’re one inconvenience away from biting them.”
“I’m not biting anybody.”
“Shame.”
Oh! alright then. Heat crawled up your neck so fast it almost hurt. As annoyed as you were, you couldn’t bring yourself to spit out a smart quip. You narrowed your eyes at him in what you hoped was a threatening manner. Judging by the way his grin widened, it absolutely was not.
“You’re disgusting.”
You grabbed the tray from the table just to create an excuse to leave for a while, or better yet, an escape plan. The second you stood taller, Ais’s gaze dropped slowly to where your sleeve had slipped slightly down your wrist.
Ais leaned back into the couch, watching you like you were the only interesting thing in a room full of knives. The candlelight caught the edge of his glass, the faint red smear still circling the rim when he tilted it. You hated that your attention kept drifting there.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re waiting for me to do something stupid.”
Ais’s smile tilted. “I’m always waiting.”
You scoffed and shifted your weight, setting the tray down harder than necessary just to break the tension he kept building on purpose. This poor tray, you don’t know how many times you’ve fiddled with it today. You wouldn't be surprised if it's scratched at the bottom. The sound echoed in the tight room. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his gaze dipped briefly to your hands again, then back to your face.
“You’re braver when you’re annoyed,” he said.
“I’m not brave. I’m employed.”
Ais barks out a laugh, it’s sounds like more of a scoff than anything. But it’s hard to tell with him. “That doesn’t make any sense.” For a moment, Ais went still. It felt like the air shifted, and his face almost became more… feminine?
“Ais?” you said, more carefully now. He didn’t answer right away, his eyes unfocused. Not away from you this time, but away from everything. Like something else had stepped into the space behind his gaze and briefly taken the lead.
His voice became softer, with an almost airy tone. “Hello.”
Ais blinked once, slow, and exhaled through his nose like he’d been mildly interrupted mid-thought. The tension didn’t vanish, but it folded back under his skin.
His voice went back to normal for a moment. “Iris,” he muttered.
What? Iris? like the cute and slightly creepy girl with the braids? “Is she invading your body right now?” That sounded way worse than you intended.
Ais stared at you for a second like you’d just said something wildly incorrect. To be honest, you didn’t blame him. That didn’t sound right at all.
“Don’t phrase it like that,” Ais said again, quieter this time. But the twitch at the corner of his mouth stayed, like he couldn’t fully decide whether to be amused or annoyed.
You narrowed your eyes. “Then how am I supposed to phrase it? ‘Congratulations, I’m being perceived by your haunted brain passenger’?”
Ais huffed under his breath. “That’s one way.” His eyes were unfocused again, then he spoke. “Hello” Judging by the tone, that was Iris again. This is getting confusing, it was way easier to tell when Ocudeus was around. At least his sclera were black. Now you need to scrutinize Ais’s face for tiny details. Like fuller lips and slightly larger eyes.
“Hey, Iris.”
Ais, or, Iris smiles at you. “You look nice, dear.”
Your stomach did a small, unpleasant flip. “…Okay,” you said slowly. “That’s new. Thank you though.”
“We don't get to speak very often,” Iris said. Her voice came through him cleanly now. She’d finally settled in. Ais’s fingers rested loosely around the glass again, but he wasn’t really interacting with it anymore. More like holding it out of habit.
You frowned slightly. “And Ais is… aware of this?”
“He will be after.”
That alone made your skin prickle a little. You actually didn’t mind Iris, but she was a little scary.
You studied him, or her, or whatever this was. The expression was still soft, but it had a strange precision to it.
Room Five.
The moment you stepped into the hallway outside Room Five, something felt wrong. Not dangerous, exactly but you felt like you were being scrutinized by something you couldn’t see.
The door opened before you had the chance to announce yourself. Warm amber light spilled across the floorboards, carrying the scent of smoke, expensive liquor, and something faintly metallic beneath it all. The air inside felt heavier somehow, dense enough to press against your lungs.
Then you saw that ridiculously smug smirk. How could someone manage to look that smug? “Sparrow?”
“Here to serve,” you said automatically, setting the tray down with practiced care. You couldn’t even muster a smile, it’s not like you had to anyway. It’s just Ais.
Ais didn’t move when he saw you, he was slouched into the couch like he owned the space. One leg was hooked lazily over the other with his glass perched between two blood-tipped fingers.
He grinned when your gaze caught his hand. “Paint,” he said, bland as a weather report. “Probably.”
What is he on about? You know damn well it’s not paint. But questioning Ais is pointless, he’s so cryptic. The table beside him had a bottle you couldn’t name it was expensive though, which is shocking considering he’ll drink Leander’s concoctions. The thought of those “drinks”, if you can even call them that, make you shiver. They always look thick, and you suspect they taste worse than sewage. There was a red smear on the rim of his glass, and you felt like a rabbit staring at a snake.
You swallowed the urge to back toward the door. Ais’s lazy grin sharpened at the edges as he lifted the glass to his mouth. “You look nervous sparrow, you should smile more. It’s more appealing to your customers.”
You don’t know why he’s taunting you, but the best solution in your mind is to castrate him. It’s a two in one, he won’t ever be able to do one of his favourite “activities” again, and his ego will literally be cut off.
“I work in a theater,” you said. “I see strange men every night.”
“Mm.” His gaze dragged over you thoughtfully, “And am I strange?”
You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You’re drinking mystery liquor alone in a locked room. What do you think?”
Ais hummed thoughtfully, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. The red smear along the rim stretched with it.
“Fair.”
You moved to straighten the bottles on the tray just to give your hands something to do. His eyes tracked the movement instantly. His eyes made everything look predatory. “I can practically hear your mind wandering, Sparrow.”
You side eye him. “You’re unsettling.”
“And yet you came in.”
Is he serious right now? “I’m forced to, it’s literally my job.”
Ais’s mouth twitched like he knew exactly what you were thinking and found it entertaining.
“Oh, poor Sparrow. Can’t handle a little staring?”
“You say that like you aren’t the problem.”
“I usually am.”
His honesty threw you off more than the smugness did. Most men puffed themselves up, danced around accusations and pretended they were misunderstood. Ais wore his flaws like expensive jewelry. Openly, proudly, even. He seems that he would rather scare people off early than deal with the disappointment of losing them later.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You know, most people try not to sound incriminating.”
“Most people are boring.” The room had gone quiet except for outside. Muffled music from the theater drifted through the walls in warped little bursts. It all felt very far away from this shitty room. You lied, it’s actually a very nice room. But you’re sick of these so-called “luxuries” Elyon has to offer.
You became acutely aware that the door had shut behind you at some point. Your gaze flicked toward the door, and Ais noticed immediately. “You wanna leave?”
The question should’ve sounded mocking. Instead, it came out flat. If you said yes, he’d let you. You still hesitated to answer. That was the wrong move. Ais’s mouth curved slowly at the edges. “Thought so.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You’re the one still sitting there.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. In a. attempt some to end this pointless conversation, you’d finally stood up. You start to question your choices. Was it really a good idea to work here? Maybe you should have just stayed broke and leeches off Leander. Ais’s grin widened slowly, sharp enough to cut. “There it is.”
You mentally roll your eyes, here we go. “What is it?”
“That look again.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow against his knee. “Whatever realization you’re having is amusing.”
You narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly am I realizing?”
“That you like me a little.”
You barked out a laugh so sudden it startled even you. “Oh, you are insufferable.”
“Mhm.” He looked deeply pleased with himself. “Not denying it though.”
“You want honesty?” you shot back. “I think you’re weird, vaguely threatening, and probably one bad day away from killing everyone in Eridia”
“And?”
“There is no ‘and’, that was it.”
Ais tilted his head slightly. “You do this with everybody?”
Why does he as so many questions? You’re sick of his nosy ass. The banter is kind of fun though. “Do what?”
“Act like you’re one inconvenience away from biting them.”
“I’m not biting anybody.”
“Shame.”
Oh! alright then. Heat crawled up your neck so fast it almost hurt. As annoyed as you were, you couldn’t bring yourself to spit out a smart quip. You narrowed your eyes at him in what you hoped was a threatening manner. Judging by the way his grin widened, it absolutely was not.
“You’re disgusting.”
You grabbed the tray from the table just to create an excuse to leave for a while, or better yet, an escape plan. The second you stood taller, Ais’s gaze dropped slowly to where your sleeve had slipped slightly down your wrist.
Ais leaned back into the couch, watching you like you were the only interesting thing in a room full of knives. The candlelight caught the edge of his glass, the faint red smear still circling the rim when he tilted it. You hated that your attention kept drifting there.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re waiting for me to do something stupid.”
Ais’s smile tilted. “I’m always waiting.”
You scoffed and shifted your weight, setting the tray down harder than necessary just to break the tension he kept building on purpose. This poor tray, you don’t know how many times you’ve fiddled with it today. You wouldn't be surprised if it's scratched at the bottom. The sound echoed in the tight room. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his gaze dipped briefly to your hands again, then back to your face.
“You’re braver when you’re annoyed,” he said.
“I’m not brave. I’m employed.”
Ais barks out a laugh, it’s sounds like more of a scoff than anything. But it’s hard to tell with him. “That doesn’t make any sense.” For a moment, Ais went still. It felt like the air shifted, and his face almost became more… feminine?
“Ais?” you said, more carefully now. He didn’t answer right away, his eyes unfocused. Not away from you this time, but away from everything. Like something else had stepped into the space behind his gaze and briefly taken the lead.
His voice became softer, with an almost airy tone. “Hello.”
Ais blinked once, slow, and exhaled through his nose like he’d been mildly interrupted mid-thought. The tension didn’t vanish, but it folded back under his skin.
His voice went back to normal for a moment. “Iris,” he muttered.
What? Iris? like the cute and slightly creepy girl with the braids? “Is she invading your body right now?” That sounded way worse than you intended.
Ais stared at you for a second like you’d just said something wildly incorrect. To be honest, you didn’t blame him. That didn’t sound right at all.
“Don’t phrase it like that,” Ais said again, quieter this time. But the twitch at the corner of his mouth stayed, like he couldn’t fully decide whether to be amused or annoyed.
You narrowed your eyes. “Then how am I supposed to phrase it? "Congratulations, I’m being perceived by your haunted brain passenger’?”
Ais huffed under his breath. “That’s one way.” His eyes were unfocused again, then he spoke. “Hello” Judging by the tone, that was Iris again. This is getting confusing, it was way easier to tell when Ocudeus was around. At least his sclera were black. Now you need to scrutinize Ais’s face for tiny details. Like fuller lips and slightly larger eyes.
“Hey, Iris.”
Ais, or, Iris smiles at you. “You look nice, dear.”
Your stomach did a small, unpleasant flip. “…Okay,” you said slowly. “That’s new. Thank you though.”
“We don't get to speak very often,” Iris said. Her voice came through him cleanly now. She’d finally settled in. Ais’s fingers rested loosely around the glass again, but he wasn’t really interacting with it anymore. More like holding it out of habit.
You frowned slightly. “And Ais is… aware of this?”
“He will be after.”
That alone made your skin prickle a little. You actually didn’t mind Iris, but she was a little scary. You studied him, or her, or whatever this was. The expression was still soft, but it had a strange precision to it.
“I don’t like that answer,” you said carefully.
Iris tilted Ais’s head in response. Or she tilted her head? You weren’t quite sure.
You hadn’t seen Ais or Vere in a week.
That should have been a relief to you. Every time the theatre doors opened, your eyes flicked up before you could stop them. Every private booking made your stomach tighten for half a second. As much as they pissed you off, you almost missed them. Even Basilea had stopped by twice during the week, and you hadn’t even ran into Ais or Vere in lowtown.
Now the theater buzzed louder than usual. The air was thick perfume and cigar smoke thick enough to choke on. Someone important was attending tonight, which meant Elyon was in an unusually “pleasant” mood. That alone was enough to put everyone on edge.
Your manager, like usual, intercepted you from halfway down the corridor.
“Room six.”
You blinked. “I thought six was closed tonight.”
“It was.” They shoved a folded note into your free hand. “Change of plans.”
You unfolded the note, all it said was “Private Request.” with no name on it. Your stomach sank instantly and you frowned.
“What?” your manager snapped.
“Nothing.”
The hallway to Room six sat was tucked deeper into the upper floor where the richest guests preferred privacy over being able to actually watch the play. By the time you reached the door, your pulse had already started climbing. You knocked three times, then entered the room.
The room was dimly lit, all of the candles were pink with red flames. Elyon loved using magic to flare up his establishments, but your attention locked onto the two figures inside almost immediately.
Ais lounged across one couch like he’d been poured onto it, his arm was draped lazily over the backrest. Across from him was Vere. His legs crossed neatly and his pink eyes already fixed on you with terrifying interest.
The second you entered, both of them smiled. One was mischievous, the other was cocky. They were both different expressions, but still equally awful.
“…absolutely not,” you said immediately.
Vere laughed first. “Oh, this is already better than I imagined.”
Ais tilted his head slightly from the couch. “You look disappointed.”
“I feel ambushed.”
Vere looked at you through his lashes, "Aren't you happy to see us? We certainly wanted to see you.” Great. He’s mocking you.
“No shit.” You hold up the note your manager gave you.
Ais’s mouth twitched immediately. “We considered writing something friendlier.”
“You, considered writing a threat,” Vere corrected lazily. “But as usual, I had to be the voice of reason and stop you.” He says that as if he actually did something, but whatever. You narrowed your eyes at both of them before setting the tray down carefully near the table. The glasses clinked softly in the heavy silence. Neither of them stopped staring at you.
“You booked an entire private room just to corner me?” you asked flatly.
Then Vere blinked slowly, expression smoothing into something almost offended. “Why would we ever do that? I’m sure there’s better people who could serve us.”
You stared at them. “You two literally sent a private request.”
“For service,” Ais replied smoothly.
“You requested me specifically, how else would I have gotten this note handed directly to me?” You huffed. This was going to be a long night.
Vere’s smirk didn’t fade, but his tone dropped to something softer, the kind that slipped effortlessly under your guard. “Maybe we missed your company,” he said, resting his chin on one hand while the other gestured lazily toward the table. “Be a dear and pour us something strong, won’t you?”
You eyed the crystal decanters waiting beside the glasses. They were expensive, Elyon only brought this out for guests he wanted to impress. You don’t know why he wanted to impress these two, but it is what it is. You could never question Elyon unless it was for a business inquiry. “You plan to drink yourselves senseless before the second act?”
Ais laughed quietly. The sound was low, amused, and worn with something almost fond. “Depends on how long you plan to stay.” He held out his glass without breaking eye contact. You don’t know what he was drinking before, but he must have chugged it while you weren’t looking.
You hesitated only long enough to make him wait, then filled it halfway. His fingers grazed yours just enough to send a spark up your arm. You withdrew before he could notice, but his crooked grin said he did.
Vere leaned forward next, holding out his glass with deliberate care. “Don’t pretend we’re the only ones enjoying this,” he murmured as you poured. The light caught on his pink eyes and on the smirk you wanted to wipe off his face.
“I’m enjoying the thought of leaving early,” you said, setting the bottle down harder than necessary.
Ais raised his glass “How about a toast to unexpected reunions.” there it was. That stupid devilish smirk again. Vere snickered across from Ais.
“Unexpected to me.”
Vere clinked his own against Ais’s. “And to ill mannered hosts”
You rolled your eyes, but the tension in the room shifted. It felt less like you were trapped and more like you were playing a game. They began to drink, and you caught the faintest trace of smoke and some sweet spice curling through the air.
Ais leaned back, watching you over the rim of his glass. “You could sit, you know. We won’t bite.”
Vere’s laugh was soft, too knowing. “Unless you ask nicely.”
“What’s with you two and biting?” you’re already exhausted. You wish you could drink, even if it wasn’t alcohol. Anything would be enough to distract you for a moment.
Ais pressed his lips together like he was physically restraining himself from answering that. Vere had no such restraint. "It's a very effective way to get someone's attention," Vere said pleasantly, as if he were commenting on the weather.
"You already have my attention, Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately." Ais repeated the word like he was tasting it. "Is that really how you feel about our company?"
You crossed your arms. "Yes. I can’t wait for the show to be over."
Vere tilted his head, pink eyes catching the low candlelight in a way that was frankly unfair. "And what would you call it if you were being honest?"
"Being professionally obligated to pay attention to you two so I don’t lose my job."
Ais made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "That's a lot of words to say that you’re entertained.."
You opened your mouth. Then, instead of speaking, you poured yourself a glass of water from the small side pitcher. "You two are exhausting."
"We've been told." Vere didn't sound particularly troubled by your comment.
"Frequently," Ais added.
You watched them and felt the traitorous corner of your mouth twitch. You smoothed it immediately. But of course, it wasn’t fast enough. Ais caught you trying not to smile, of course he did. All he did was scoff.
"What’s so funny?"
He gestured vaguely in the direction of your face. "That almost-smile you keep killing before it can breathe."
"I wasn't smiling."
"You were thinking about it very seriously." Vere pressed his glass to his lips to hide his own. "We'll take it."
“You'll take nothing."
Ais set his glass down and tilted his head toward the empty space on the couch beside him. The gesture was casual, like it meant nothing. You know better than to believe that though. "Sit down. You've been hovering by the table for ten minutes."
"I'm working."
"You're standing still," Vere said. "Which is not the same thing."
"Alright then I’m available to work."
"Then come be available over here," Ais said. "The couch is comfortable. I'd know."
You looked at the couch, then the door. You sighed and looked back at the couch. You’ve been on your feet for at least four hours without stopping, your shoes had slight platforms and they weren’t exactly the most comfortable. Considering your aching feet and burning back, you sat down. Your decision didn’t have anything to do with them of course, you were simply in pain.
Vere relocated immediately. He settled onto the couch on your other side. You registered the move just a second too late.
"You planned that," you said.
"We’ll look at you catching on to our tricks," Vere replied pleasantly. “too bad you didn’t catch on before.”
That was when Ais stretched, a long, unhurried roll of his shoulders, and dropped his arm along the back of the couch behind you. That was so corny. You couldn’t believe that Ais, the man who was seemingly one of the smoothest people in Eridia, stretched just to rest his arm behind you. That’s got to be one of the oldest tricks in the book, but he’s not necessarily young compared to human standards.
"Comfortable?" he asked, and the word had entirely too much warmth in it.
"No."
"Hm." Ais didn't move his arm. Vere swirled his glass and leaned slightly closer under to reach for the decanter on the side table. Instead, his hand settled lightly at your waist. "You know," he said conversationally, "for someone who claims to find us exhausting, you're not moving very fast."
"I'm in pain and I haven’t sat down in hours."
"And?" Ais asked. “I’ve watched rabbits lose their shit trying to escape princess’s fangs and they’re already half dead.”
You looked left. Ais looked completely unbothered and there was a small smile sitting at the corner of his mouth. You looked right. Vere's hand rested at your waist with assurity of someone who has never felt shame. His pink eyes were watching you with that knowing look that you were beginning to resent.
You stared straight ahead at the flickering pink candles and said nothing. The sounds of the theatre drifted up through the floor somewhere below you. It was odd to think that there was a full house below you that was completely unaware that you were up here. being slowly cornered on a couch by two people with no concept of personal space and apparently infinite patience.
You were still holding your water glass. You hadn't actually managed to drink any of it, because every time you'd gone to raise it something had distracted you, usually one of them saying something that required an immediate response or you'd lose ground. Your throat was dry. The glass felt heavier than it should.
Ais noticed. He always noticed things in that quiet, unhurried way of his, cataloguing details before you even knew he was looking. Without a word he reached over, easy as anything, and took the glass from your hand.
You blinked. "What are you-“
He raised it to your lips.
The audacity. The sheer, breathtaking audacity of this man.
"Drink, Sparrow" he said simply. He was now holding the glass of water to your mouth. His eyes were steady on yours, and his other arm was still resting behind your head.
You leaned back half an inch. "This water better not turn red when I drink it."
Vere made a sound against your shoulder that was very clearly a suppressed laugh failing catastrophically at its job. Ais's expression cracked, just slightly, the corner of his mouth pulling up despite what looked like a genuine effort to stop it.
"Drink" he said, and his voice had gone rougher with the laugh he wasn't allowing himself to have.
You held his gaze for another second out of principle, then tipped forward and drank. The glass was steady in his hand the entire time. When you pulled back he lowered it without comment and set it on the side table within your reach. You’re shocked that neither of them even attempted to tease you.
Vere shifted beside you. It was a small movement, subtle enough that you almost didn't register it, but his shoulder pressed closer against yours and the arm around your waist drew you incrementally closer, closing the last sliver of distance that had still existed between you. He rested his head against yours, light enough that you could pull away, deliberate enough that you knew it wasn't accidental.
“You were not this close to me thirty seconds ago”
He let out a long dramatic sigh, and moved his head down to your shoulder “It’s freezing in here, and you’re warm. Is there a problem?” are we serious right now? You were basically half clothed and Vere wants to complain about being cold?
"You're a monster and you practically have a built-in blanket.” you gesture towards his tail.
"The room got colder."
"There’s like 16 candles in here."
"A good host shouldn’t question their guests's actions.” Vere looks way too pleased with himself right now. You couldn't tell if it was because of the quip, or how close he was to you. You decide not to argue with him, all that will do is cause a headache. The grass could be blue as long as Vere believe it pissed you off.
On your other side, Ais sank lower into the couch cushions, the arm behind your head dropping slightly so it curved closer to shoulder. The warmth of him bled through the space between you.
You were, you realized with a kind of tired resignation, completely trapped. Vere was at your side with his head against yours and his hand settled at your waist like he owned you. Ais sprawled with careless intention at your other side, his arm a loose, warm weight hovering just behind you.
"I want it noted," you said to no one in particular, "that I came in here to do a job."
"Noted," Ais said.
"And that I'm only still sitting here because my feet hurt."
"If lying to yourself makes you more comfortable, by all means, go ahead darling," Vere said pleasantly, his lips pressed against your hair.
You side eye him, then continue. "And that neither of you are as charming as you think you are."
A pause settled over the room, comfortable in a way you didn't want to examine too closely.
"That one," Ais said, "we're not going to agree on."
The silence that followed was softer than any of the ones before it. It was less like a standoff and more like quiet resignation. The play below shifted into something slower for the second act, the orchestra was composed of drawn out notes that bled up through the floorboards and settled into the room like smoke. You could barley see the show from here, but at least the music was good.
Vere's thumb moved again at your waist. You still weren’t going to say anything about it. Then he moved, lifting his head from yours just slightly, "You said your back hurts," he said.
"Wow really?” You pretend to be shocked.
"You've been tense since you sat down."
You had been. You hadn't realized you were so uncomfortable until he said so, and now you were acutely aware of the dull burn sitting between your shoulder blades that four hours on your feet in poor footwear had left behind.
"So?" you said.
Vere lifted his hand from your waist. You registered its absence for exactly one terrifying second before it settled on your shoulder instead, light and deliberate, his thumb pressing a slow circle into the muscle just below your neck.
The fact that you didn’t let out any kind of sound. You were very proud of yourself. It was embarrassing, but you truly felt like one of the Gods strongest soldiers.
His voice dropped an octave "I could…" his hand moved closer to your spine "fix that."
"You could keep your hands where I can grab them."
"They are where you can stop them." He pressed another slow circle, slightly deeper this time, and something in you made the decision to simply give up "I'm very good at this."
"I'm sure you tell everyone that."
His other hand joined the first, settling at the base of your neck with a patience that was almost worse than if he'd been obvious about it. "Let me."
You stared ahead at the candles. The flames swayed, unbothered. Ais had gone very quiet beside you, and you didn’t like it. Why isn’t he saying anything? He was a quiet guy but this was certainly out of the ordinary.
"I wouldn't mind you continuing" you said carefully, Vere’s tail perked up. "if I knew you weren't going to try and stick your hands between my legs."
The silence that followed lasted approximately five seconds.
Then Ais let out a raucous laugh. He tried to turn it into a cough with zero success. Vere's hands had stilled on your shoulders. When you glanced at him, his expression was caught somewhere between absolutely delighted and conflicted, which was a combination you had never once seen on his face and filed away immediately as a personal victory.
You were about to laugh, but a knock cut you off. The door swung open before you could stand up.
Elyon stepped inside and his gaze swept across the room.
You were trapped between Ais and Vere on the couch. Ais had one arm stretched along the backrest behind you. Vere was pressed against your side. Three half-empty glasses sat on the table.
Then, Elyon’s eyes landed on you.
Then on Vere.
Then on Ais.
Then back to you.
"...This is a surprise.”
You immediately blamed it on Ais and Vere.
"They dragged me in here."
"An outrageous accusation," Vere replied.
"You booked the room."
"Ais booked the room."
Ais lifted his glass. "In my defense, it was available."
Elyon's eye twitched and you were suddenly very aware of your position between Ais and Vere. You stood so fast that it almost made you dizzy.
You had worked for him long enough to recognize the warning signs. Unfortunately, Ais and Vere either didn't notice or didn't care. Vere looked genuinely delighted and Ais looked seconds away from laughing.
"I leave you alone for twenty minutes," Elyon said carefully, "and somehow you've turned a private suite into a brothel."
“You mean a hostage situation?" Elton knew you weren’t brave enough to work in the brothel, but as usual, he’s feeling petty. A part of you wonders if it’s jealousy. Of who, you aren’t sure.
Elyon pinched the bridge of his nose. The gesture carried the exhausted energy of a man confronting a problem he no longer had the strength to solve.
"Why," he asked nobody in particular, "do I continue allowing either of you into my establishment?"
"Excellent taste?" Vere suggested.
"We spend a lot of money," Ais added “and I do your dirty work for you.”
"Unfortunately, that's true."
Elyon sighed. Then his attention shifted back to you.
"You're supposed to be working."
You immediately glared at the men sitting on the couch.
"They trapped me."
"We invited you to sit."
"You manipulated me."
"Successfully," Vere corrected.
Elyon looked at him and Vere smiled.
"Five minutes," Elyon said finally.
You blinked.
"What?"
"Five minutes. Then you're back on the floor."
You sat up straighter.
"Really?"
"No."
Your hope died instantly.
"But watching you squirm and try to blame everyone has improved my mood considerably."
“What?”
“I was bored, and this is just as entertaining as it is troublesome.”
You buried your face in your hands. Elyon turned toward the door.
"Try not to cause any incidents while I'm gone."
"No promises," Ais said.
"That wasn't directed at you."
"It should have been," you muttered.
Elyon paused at the doorway. Then glanced back one final time. The sight apparently annoyed him enough that he immediately left without another word. Why won’t he pick a damn struggle already, how is he amused and annoyed at the same time?
The door clicked shut.
Then Vere leaned closer.
"I think he likes us." he considers the glass in front of him for a moment. “or you.”
"Not happening" you said immediately.
Ais took another drink.
"That's fair."
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