Wrath (King Dice x Reader x Devil)

Stage Presence

A/N- Just going to mention that in this story you are an immortal, possessing similar reincarnation qualities to a Phoenix, therefore making fire like a healer for you! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Black and Red. Everything was Black and red. The combined scent of heavy smoke, cinnamon and myrrh rested upon you and you clamoured out of the thick suffocating ash that was threatening to consume you. You gasped for breath as you finally escaped your murky confines, layers upon layers of ash covering your fresh, new figure. You couldn't remember anything- nothing about how you had gotten into this situation, where you were or why you were there. All you had were these thoughts, that kept repeating over and over in your head: You had lived a long full life and then, like any other creature, you died. You had now risen from the ashes again, reborn. Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). This is your second life-span.

You were quite glad that your Dressing Room backstage was separate from the other performers at the Casino. Being able to get changed and ready without being provoked or hassled by the other's, due to the competitive nature of the stage and the need to be the best, was something that you were greatly appreciative of. Having stripped out of the waiting Uniform and slipping into something a bit more seductive- a long, sparkling red dress with a slit running down from the top of your thigh- you sat in front of your mirror, fixing your hair into an appropriately flattering style. You looked at the cut that ran neatly across your neck- one slender white line, with glimpses of scarlet still permeating through. It wouldn't do. No. You were meant to look perfect on stage, dazzling, flawless. You weren't flawless like this. You rummaged around your desk, searching for a lighter or match of any sort, unsuccessful in your pursuit.

"Three minutes (Y/N)!" A rasping voice called out to you through your dressing room door, which immediately prompted you to dart after said voice.
"Wait, wait! Wheezy!" You called after him, swinging your door open, in a dramatic flurry. He sighed, the cigars back to you at the moment before he turned to face you with a mocking look of uninterest. Truth be told, Wheezy was probably your closest friend within the Casino, one of the few employees who completely accepted your dramatic, hot-headed side.

"What do you need (Y/N)?" He asked in a bored tone. It was sarcastic and you both knew it. He was just teasing you for freaking out minutes before your performance.

"Your lighter. Pronto," You said extending you arm before smiling sweetly and quickly adding on a "Please?" to the end.

He quickly rummaged through the pockets of his suit jacket before passing it over to you, you immediately holding the burning flame up to the wound across your throat. The flames licked sweetly at the cut, what others would normally perceive as an intense burning sensation instead feeling to you like a mere tickle as your wound closed itself up and the scar healed to nothing.

"Yeah. I heard about that," Wheezy stated matter of factly, giving you an almost concerned look. "Tough job being a woman here, ain't it?"

You nodded, handing back his lighter, which he immediately slipped back into his pocket. "It can be sometimes..." you said with a slight gulp, images of the hunger in those three men's eyes flashing into your head. That hunger that you knew would be emulated in almost every man watching you perform tonight, the hunger you had seen in the eyes of all the men who had watched you every other night. Wheezy gives you a sympathetic smile, grabbing a black cardigan from a nearby hat-rack and tossing it at you.

"Put that on. Just to cover you up for a little bit of your show. Don't want them seeing too much of you, do we (Y/N)?" he said, his smile curling into a more knowing grin, almost as if he had read your mind and discovered your anxieties.

"Thanks, Wheezy," you rolled your eyes, sarcastically, pulling the cardigan on, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder as you walked passed him to the west wing of the stage. You were truly thankful to have an ally in the Casino amongst the employees. To have someone you could actually trust in this den of sin. The curtains were lowered, and you knew that was your queue to get into position, as you strolled onto the stage, positioning yourself on a velvet sofa that lay directly in the centre view. You could hear Hopus Pocus' voice announcing your presence and show from through the curtains, the cheering already beginning to start before you had even been seen. The curtain's raised and the stage lights, while blinding, didn't faze. Cat-calls and whistles filled your ears and became all you could hear, your own sweet voice not even registering in your mind. You tried to block out the intruding thoughts of what the men watching were thinking, tried to ignore their lustful stares boring straight through you, purely trying to concentrate on your performance. While you weren't a stripper, more of a classy burlesque performer, your cardigan did end up discarded on the floor- you knew what your audience wanted.

The stage was far more terrifying to you than the floors- being this exposed to everyone. But the fear you felt only made the experience more thrilling, more exciting and you knew that you could never go back to your simple life in the Isle. You loved the risk. You loved the feeling of being wanted, but never having to actually give out to your audience. Yes, working at this casino was the most terrifying and thrilling thing you had ever done, and you wouldn't trade it for anything else.

King Dice was hardly paying attention to the game of Craps he was running, his eyes solely focused on you. Sure, words of encouragement to his players still spilt from his mouth, but they were more of an automatic response rather than him actually concentrating on his game. The dress you were wearing was hugging your body in absolutely all the right places, your hair flowing perfectly, your face perfection in his eyes. His mind was racing with fantasies of you- of everything he wanted to do to you at this exact moment. He did wish that you were performing for him and him only- the others here didn't deserve to see your magnificence.

Scanning your audience, you caught King Dice's gaze and gave him a quick wink and grin, never ceasing in your singing and act. As your show grew to a close you blew a quick kiss into your audience. It crossed your mind that perhaps not all the lustful stares were bad.