#cuphead fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholy-screeching9 · 11 months

Note

Hi!! First, I want to say that I love your writing style. So much detail! I also LOVE your art!!! Absolutely amazing.

I have a request! I’d like to see King Dice x reader, their first meeting. Game and show, or whichever you prefer! I’m not picky! I’d love to see how the two first met and how or when they fell for each other 🥰

You have free creative liberty with this!!

Feel free to message me if you need any ideas!

Thank you so much, sweetheart! Your kindness means the world to me. A lot of time and effort is put into my work, so I'm very glad it brings you joy. So sorry for the long wait! As always, if these aren't up to your tastes, let me know. I'll revamp them for you.

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting"

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (GAME)

King Dice loves to work in the casino. He has to, otherwise, his life would be absolutely miserable. His deal with the Devil really left him with no other choice.

There’s nothing more satisfying to him than watching those who are stupid enough to walk inside the building lose everything they had worked for. He relishes in the tears of the foolish.

He also basks in the attention he gets from the ladies, the gentlemen and everyone in between. No matter who has fallen in love with Dice’s looks, the man accepts it wholeheartedly. Enjoys it, even. Multiple times, he’s found himself sitting in the head chair of the Grand Hazard table, with one person on each arm, two behind him with their hands on his shoulders, and even the occasional one sitting in his lap.

There is rarely ever a dull moment in the Devil’s casino. There’s always something to keep Dice entertained, whether it’s a tussle between the drunkards, a particularly exciting derby, or even some new drink concoctions the Tipsy Troop came up with. There’s always something.

Except… those things start to bore Dice.

Sure, they’re enough to grab the manager’s attention, but the time span that these things keep his attention has slowly been dwindling.

As invigorating as the job is, the routine has started to become too predictable. Get up. Go to work. Fawn over the attention. Sign soul contracts. Go home. It’s like clockwork. Every single day.

It’s not to say that Dice is getting tired of his job. Oh, no. Not even close. The man just wishes that things could be a little more exciting sometimes. The shifts are long and tiring, it’d be nice to see at least a little change, to make the day pass by faster.

Eventually, though, Dice gets his wish.

The day you started showing up.

Oh, hell, you are captivating. Your confidence as you strut through the double doors, catching every eye as you mosey your way down to the bar. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor. The way you shoot a warning glare at anyone who tries to make a move on you. Good heavens, you’re a feisty one.

Dice likes that. A lot.

His legs sneakily carry him over to the edge of the bar, where he eavesdrops on your conversation with Ginette as she takes your order.

You order a glass of the Old Fashioned, on the rocks. A strong, yet simple drink that hits all the right notes.

What an excellent choice. Dice didn’t take you for someone who liked the liquors. He was expecting a classic red wine, or even a martini.

How… unpredictable you are. Just what Dice needed, to bring back the spunk and glitz the casino had lost.

You take your drink, and you brush past the manager, not even noticing him as you make your way past the slot machines. Past the derby area. It seems you have your heart set on something that requires more than just luck.

You take your seat at the Poker table, sipping at your cocktail with the dealer casually sliding you a hand of cards.

You’re after what skill can bring. You’re one of the intelligent ones.

You certainly know the way right to King Dice’s heart. And now, he’s just GOTTA have you.

He watches you. Intently. From a distance, at first. He doesn’t want to scare you away from intimidation, but in all honesty, the looks you cast his way tell him that scaring you should be the least of his worries.

Those looks also let him know that you know he has his eyes on you. You know you’ve fallen into his spotlight. But unlike the others, you aren’t pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. No… you have other things on your mind.

Like the poker game in front of you. You’re so concentrated and determined; you know damn well what you’re doing. Dice can see it in your eyes, from his position at the bar.

You’ve got a good poker face, but those beautiful eyes of yours are very telling. You think you’re about to win big. And goodness, when you glance up from your hand and cast him a suspicious look from your seat?

He’s gotta get your name. He needs to know just who you are. To let you slip between his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life.

While you’re focused on your cards, Dice slowly makes his way over to your table, momentarily looking over the other players. ‘Watching for cheating,’ so to speak. Then, he steps behind you, smirking delightedly as he gets a peek at your hand.

Looks like you’ve got yourself a straight. Not a terrible hand, but there certainly are better hands out there. But it doesn’t look like you’re making any moves for replacement cards. And, your bet seems to be rather high.

Dice wonders if you’ve got little faith in your fellow players, or if you’ve just never played the game before. Maybe if he offers a bit of advice, he’ll be able to make you melt, just as he had with all the others who played hard to get.

“You sure you wanna keep these cards, dear?” The die whispers sweetly, fondly. “It looks like you’ve got a rather low hand, with a high bet.”

To Dice’s surprise, you let out a soft chuckle, leaning over and whispering right back, “thank you for your input, sir. But I’m quite alright. It seems that you may need to look into buying some glasses, though…”

Ohhh, ouch. What a blow to Dice’s ego. He can’t believe you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner, all for trying to give you a little tip. While he’d usually go after those who speak like that, he just loves your attitude. It drives him nuts.

He’s gotta see where this goes. What exactly drove you to refuse his advice? What kind of tricks do you have up your sleeve?

The dealer calls for the players’ hands. You confidently set your cards down, the other players groaning softly in defeat, as the winnings are pushed towards you. Confused, Dice takes another glance at your cards, and his stomach does a somersault at the sight.

A straight flush. All spades.

How could he have missed that?!

Dice looks over at you, and is met with your confident eyes staring right back at him. Aw, hell, you’ve got him hooked.

“Spades and clubs do look rather similar, don’t they?” You smirk, amusedly patting his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. It took me a little while to get used to the symbols when I first started out.”

The manager is at a loss for words. He knows damn well the difference between a club and a spade, he’s worked these casino floors for over half his life. But how could you be so condescending, and yet… so oddly kind at the same time? And how in hell are you so good with your wit?

He needs to introduce himself, before he loses his composure.

“That was a very swell game indeed, my eyes must have missed the symbols… I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m—”

“Oh there’s no need for that, sir. I know exactly who you are.” You smile, calmly. Coolheaded. “The legendary King Dice of the Devil’s Casino. Anyone in the Isles who doesn’t know who you are would be a fool.”

With his heart skipping several beats, the King quickly forms a smooth reply.

“Well, since you seem to know so much about me, what about telling me about yourself? How about putting a personality to that pretty face of yours, doll?”

You smirk, shaking your head and finishing off your liquor. Standing, you grab your winnings and hand him your empty glass, straightening up Dice’s bow tie for him.

“Now, why would I talk about myself with a stranger, Dice? You of all people know the dangers of slipping out too much information.”

“Aw, you’re hurting my heart, sugar. Not even your name? Something so simple?”

“Hm… Alright, King of Hearts. The name’s (y/n). Don’t use it too much now, or you might just grow tired of me.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Dice speechless, longing for more. Just how he had left so many others before.

Good god. Now he understands what he’s put them through. It hurts. It hurts so damn good. There’s no way he could ever be tired of you, especially with a name like that. He needs to see you again. As much as possible.

He can’t wait for your return. And thankfully, he doesn’t need to wait for long.

You come back again, the next day. And the day after that. And soon enough, you’ve become a regular, slipping into the mundane routine Dice had gotten so bored of.

Except… you take away the normalcy. Every day you come by, the routine is just slightly different.

Sure, you walk in, ignore the peepers, grab your usual cocktail and make your way to the poker table. One game. You win, every time. And then, you leave. It’s like clockwork.

Except… the conversations you have with Dice. Those are slightly different. Every time.

He tries to learn more about you. You shut him down, with a slight tease. You laugh as he fails to form a coherent reply. You leave, with Dice watching you. But every time you talk, you humor him just a little more. Driving him closer to what he wants.

The more you come by, the more crazy he gets about you. He switches his tasks around on the schedules, making sure he is always available at the poker table and the bar. Just so he has an excuse to see more of you. To learn more about you.

Dammit, all you’ve given him is your name. That, along with the small details he’s picked up just from watching you, is not very much to work with. He needs more.

He needs to take you out of this suffocating atmosphere. To bring you somewhere nice and quiet, where you can get to know each other outside of your casino affiliations.

A date. He needs to take you on a date.

He tries to be straight forward, at first. The next time you come by, during your usual conversation, he asks you to indulge in his fantasies, just for one night.

“One date, darlin’. A night away from this casino’s chaos and craziness. Let me find out more about what makes those gears in your head turn.”

“What a direct approach, King. But I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that. There’s just not a reason for me to accept your offer.”

Your voice is smooth, confident, with a hint of teasing. But there is something that Dice catches—something you had hoped he wouldn’t. Longing.

The man is so. Damn. Close. He just needs to figure out a way to tip you over the edge.

You take his hand, guiding it towards your empty glass so he can take it back to the bar for cleaning.

Even with the gloves Dice is wearing, he can feel just how soft your skin is. It’s warm. Comforting. Addicting. Good gracious, you’re driving him insane.

He watches you leave with a spring in your step, his eyes trailing down to the casino’s glossy marble flooring. After some deep thought, the man gets an idea. And for him, it’s brilliant.

If he’s going to grab your attention for good, he needs to catch you off guard. Like a game of cat and mouse.

You’ve always been great on your feet—you haven’t missed a step once in the time you’ve come to the casino. Dice wonders… What if you weren’t so good one night? What if something were to cause a simple slip, and who would catch you if something like that were to happen?

Well, there’s an easy answer to each of those questions.

When Dice orders for Wheezy and Chips to grease certain spots on the floor during cleanup, well, the two underlings know better than to question their boss. Still, it is rather peculiar how Dice only wants part of the floor to be greased.

But there’s a method to the King’s madness. A method that only he can really understand. And you know what? That’s alright.

The next day, before his shift, Dice sands the bottoms of his shoes. It breaks his heart a little, these shoes are expensive, but it has to be done. How is he supposed to be your knight if he slips right along with you?

To make a damn good impression, he pulls out the finest suit he has; one he saves only for special occasions. To him, this is certainly important enough. His choice of clothing, paired with the finest cologne he has is perfect for this night. Everything is in its rightful place.

Now, all he needs is you.

And when you arrive, it’s the most beautiful hee ever seen you.

You’ve got such a fantastic choice in fashion, he wonders if that’s part of your line of work. The way your hair is done is just that much more striking, and that award winning smile to top it all off?

Goodness, Dice better not mess this up.

You immediately notice the slipperiness of the floor as you walk over to the bar, thinking nothing of it. You’ve walked in worse things before, and you haven’t tripped. Surely, you think, you can handle some tile that’s been cleaned a little extra.

You grab your drink of choice, and carefully make your way to your favorite table, sitting in your usual spot. Your favorite dealer looks especially handsome today, you think to yourself as your eyes linger over Dice’s looming form for longer than they should.

The man simply chuckles warmly in response, shuffling his deck with the occasional card trick thrown in before passing out the hands.

You call, raising the open bet with that familiar confident gleam in your eye. The one that Dice had fallen in love with all those days ago. None of the other players have that confidence.

Looks like your skill and luck take you far, yet again.

Your royal flush steals the show, and you’ve gotta say, that’s probably your biggest win yet. You watch in satisfaction as the chips are slid towards you, finishing off your glass and setting it off to the side.

Well, that’s the game of the night. You stand, acknowledging Dice as you trade in your heaping pile of small chips for a few large ones, for you to keep in your pocket. The man seems more assured than usual today.

You cast him a wink before stepping away from the table, walking off with your winning chips in your pocket. Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve forgotten all about the greased floor.

Before you know it, your foot slips from under you, and you start to fall, bracing yourself for a harsh contact with the unforgiving tile.

That contact never comes.

Instead, something else catches you nearly halfway. Something soft, silky, and smelling of Caron Poivre. Oh. Oh.

That something is King Dice himself, grinning warmly down at you, his arm behind your back, and his free hand sweetly cupping your face.

Now, it’s his turn to tease you, after all this time. It’s his turn to catch your aching heart, as you had done to him that first day you arrived.

“Goodness, sweetheart. I know I’ve been trying to grab your attention for a while now, but I never figured I’d have to physically sweep you off your feet. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch after all this time, because of one measly drink…”

For once, you’re frozen. You’ve got no retort, no comeback. Nothing to say. You just… stare. You take the time to look into his eyes, and inwardly scold yourself for avoiding them all this time. They really are a pretty sight for sore eyes.

Those pupils of his are expanded so much you’re surprised you can still see a bit of those famous bright green irises. And they are just sparkling with want. Infatuation.

You can’t look for long. Otherwise, you just might never be able to stop. Finally, you try to form some type of response, so he doesn’t have to stand there and hold you inches from the ground forever.

“I… well, I just…”

“What’s the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?”

Dammit, he’s gotten good at this. He looks at you so expectantly, waiting for a response, but with that strikingly handsome face? You’ve lost the words you had been trying desperately to gather up.

He’s got you, after all this time telling yourself you wouldn’t fall for his trap. He’s got you good.

“I… t-thank you, King…”

He chuckles warmly, sending a few butterflies right into your stomach.

“Don’t mention it, baby. I’d never blame you for slipping on these floors—the grease is always hard to walk over. It’s caught me a few times before, even.”

Slowly, he helps you stand on your feet once again, and you brush yourself off, not making any move to leave. Not anymore. You’ve gotten so hooked, your caution has been thrown out the window.

“I guess I owe you a drink, for saving my life like that.”

Dice laughs. And fuck, it’s beautiful. It’s loud, deep, and so so powerful. It takes everything in you not to lock your lips onto his right there. Fuck.

He’s hooked you tighter than anyone else he’s ever had.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that. It’s on me, doll. But only on one condition.”

“And what would that be, King?”

“You let me take you out to The Ritz for dinner.”

Damn him. Damn that no-good, rotten, sleazy casino manager, always making deals. Tempting deals that are hard to say no to.

Aw, hell. What’s the point in life if you don’t take any risks once in a while?

“Alright, lover boy. I’ll indulge you with that date. Now come on, an Old Fashioned seems to be calling my name over at the bar.”

That deal turned out to be the best decision of your life.

King Dice x Reader - "First Meeting" (SHOW)

If there’s anything a master of ceremonies like King Dice loves most, it’s attention. Power. Influence. Money. Especially money. What else is supposed to pay for his high maintenance lifestyle? The term “money doesn’t buy happiness” is utter bullshit to the star.

And boy, does Dice get what he wants. All the time. The spoiled Devil’s lackey NEVER hears the word no. It’s really not in his vocabulary. If the King says jump, the servants say “how high, sir?” If he says bow, his fans are on their knees. Some even kneel down before he can finish the word.

A beautiful penthouse separated from the rest of the “common folk” of Inkwell. The top show on the radio, that plays for hours, every single day the channels run. An adoring and loyal audience, who would do absolutely anything he would ask of them.

The finest clothes money can buy. Five star meals from only the most expensive and high end restaurants. Endless jewels and other expensive trinkets to keep the showman happy. A simple card butler at every door, and several laying out his carpet. His own limo, and driver. Staff that take care of the home duties while he relaxes.

Really, how could you get any more fulfilled than that?

Well, King Dice could certainly tell you how.

Everything he has is fantastic, and he wouldn’t trade any of it away, sure. That’s a given. He does love his extravagant life he’s signed a contract to. However, after so many days, weeks, months, years of doing the same damn thing, over and over again, things start to get pretty old. Pretty fast.

And sure, the parties, acting/musical gigs, and other various events of celebrities do bring about the variety to spice up the day, but even so, something is still missing.

Of course, being the fantastic actor Dice is, he’s learned to hide his boredom when on the air, or in front of an audience in general. He’s learned to lie, very easily. Though, that may just be part of his nature. Dice has always been a good liar.

But god, he needs some change to his luxurious yet excruciatingly boring life. Something to keep his attention.

Thankfully, his prayers start to get answered.

Dice’s audience switches up in terms of people and their seating arrangement, every night. The variety helps bring some newness to his beloved show, when things start to get a little too dry and repetitive.

However… Recently, there’s been one person who’s started showing up to the show every night. In the same exact seat, without fail. Always the first one to arrive, and the last to leave.

You.

But although you are there the longest, loyally sitting in your seat with all the others, you aren’t as overly enthusiastic as the rest of his fans.

No… it’s like you’re watching a movie by yourself. You sit, silently, with a small smile on your face. It’s oddly comforting to the star, seeing you watching him intently. Not making a damn scene, like the other folks who just can’t get enough of him.

You’re there for the after-show, when Dice is surrounded by his overly excited fans, BEGGING him for autographs and pictures from the press. But you don’t smother him. You simply watch behind the crowd, with that damn smile on your face.

You’re the final one there, but before he can offer an autograph or even just a chat, you’re walking off. It confuses him. You confuse him so much.

Why on earth would you stay so long and then just leave, without saying anything? Are you shy? No, you don’t seem like the shy type. Your smile isn’t from being flustered. You smile warmly. Boldly. Like you simply stick around to watch Dice for entertainment, and nothing more.

The man watches you leave, staying in place until you turn a corner, disappearing into the night. He stands, contemplates for a few moments, before heading inside his waiting limo, his mind still trying to wrap around you. To understand you.

Night after night. Every single show. You’ve become part of Dice’s daily customs, except he never gets bored. In fact, the more you show up, the more interested he gets.

The outfits you wear get prettier and prettier to him. That smile of yours starts to make him blush, right there on that stage. You start causing him to fumble a little, each time you catch his glance. Good lord, what are you doing to him?

No, there’s no question. Dice knows exactly what he’s feeling, but he’s too conflicted to admit his feelings. Dammit, he’s in love.

He’s in love with someone he hasn’t even properly met.

It’s unfair. It’s so unfair, how you know so much about him, and yet, he knows absolutely nothing about you. And you don’t even give him the chance to learn. You leave before he can say anything.

After a while, Dice can’t help but follow from a distance. Nothing too crazy, he’s no creep, but he just wants to see just where you end up every evening. The route you turn on doesn’t typically lead to any residences, so you’re not going home.

Dice discovers that you head to the nearby bar every night. The building is just a few doors down from the studio, really not a far walk at all. It’s where he finds you every night as he rides by slowly. He’s caught bits and pieces of you sitting at a stool by the counter, sipping away at whatever drink you fancy.

That’s the one thing he’s got on you. You like having a drink after his shows. Nothing super telling, but interesting nonetheless.

And with interest comes determination. Dice needs to find out more about you. He needs to hear your voice. Get your name. Anything.

You’re like a parasite that Dice welcomes with open arms. You latch onto his brain, taking complete control over his thoughts. The game show host is more distracted during his performances, only showing emphasis and charisma because he knows you’re there. In fact, he’s more passionate about what he does, as long as it keeps your attention.

Every laugh he coaxes out of you when he says something witty and funny. Every clap you give him after he finishes with his introduction and his signature exit. Every lingering stare, where you both lock eyes with each other. You’ve got beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and energy. He could get lost in them, if he didn’t have a show to run.

All of these things drive him to do his job well. As long as he keeps you of all people happy and entertained, well, that’s now enough for him. All he needs now, is who exactly you are.

Another signing session after his show. He runs through each paper quickly, honestly just trying to get everyone out of his hair fast enough to keep you still. His eyes search for you the entire time, barely even paying attention to his audience. He doesn’t care about them.

Just you.

They finally start to dissipate, and Dice finally catches your eyes again. Just as you’re starting to leave. Before you can get too far, this time, a gloved hand grabs your wrist.

“Wait-!”

You pause, your head turning back to the host who’s staring at you with unusual kindness, it almost breaks you. Almost.

“I… sweetheart, you’ve always been the last to leave, but you’ve never even said a word. You haven’t asked for a single autograph or photo. So tell me, why? Come now, just tell me a little about yourself.”

The look he gives you is so entrancing, you’re so close to caving in. You can tell he’s trying so hard, you’ve seen it since the beginning. As soon as he saw you.

But of course, you’re not stupid. King Dice is a showman at heart, and there’s nothing he loves more than his career. Some random, quiet fan wouldn’t change that at all.

“Sorry, sir, but I know your type. It’d be dangerous to say too much, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

You smile, taking his hand tenderly, and giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it from your wrist.

“But I will say, you’ve got quite the gig going on here. You’ve caught my interest, that’s for sure.”

And with that, you walk away, just as you have every night. Leaving the star to watch you disappear, wishing he had more. Leaving him with more questions than answers. Leaving him to his thoughts, which are riddled with your face. Your eyes. Your voice.

It was the first time Dice had heard you speak, and god, the sound is heavenly to him. It’s a shame you left so soon, before he even got the chance to hear more from you.

To the limo he walks, allowing his driver to take him home. He’s glued to the window, his eyes scanning the bar for your presence as the limo slowly makes its way through the busy streets. And there you are, in your usual seat, swirling a glass of your favorite drink. The view only lasts a few seconds, but those moments are precious.

What he wouldn’t give to be beside you, sharing a bottle of rosé wine, lamenting to you about just how hard it is to keep up a professional appearance all the time. How he sometimes feels jealous of you, someone normal, someone who never has to pretend.

Laughing with you. Joking around, and sharing stories from all of Dice’s career adventures. Hearing stories from you, about how you spend your time outside of coming to the show. Slowly scooting closer to one another, glasses in hand, your drinks clinging together in a toast. A toast to normalcy and good fortune.

A toast to love.

Hell, if you’d let him, maybe he’d even kiss you. How beautiful would that be, to taste the alcohol on your lips? To share a beloved connection with someone who seems to care about him?

Dammit, Dice’s feelings have reached a crazy degree. He can’t deny it to himself anymore, he needs you. You’re the piece that he’s been missing in his life. Maybe, with you, he’d finally have that sense of wholeness again.

The entire drive home, Dice thinks. Thinks of how to sweep you off your feet. How to get you to return his affection. What he can do to make his dreams come to reality.

A solution is a lot harder than he thought it would be. For the first time in a while, Dice is stumped.

You never leave his head, even when he falls asleep that night. You haunt his dreams.

The routine is the same, the next time you show up to his performance. You watch him host with a warm smile on your face. He meets you out front, after the rest of his fans have been taken care of. You move to leave, and he grabs your hand yet again, striking up another conversation.

“C’mon, doll, don’t leave me hanging like this. I don’t know how much more I can take. You know so much about me already, but what about you? Give me something to work with, here.”

You laugh softly at his insistence, and Dice isn’t sure he’s heard a more beautiful sound in his life. You’re more intoxicating than even the strongest whiskey he stores in his mini bar.

You take his hand like you had before, but this time, your touch lingers ever so slightly.

“I’m not sure what a brilliant showman like yourself is doing, trying to learn about someone like me. I’m really not all that special, sir.

Dice shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand, savoring the softness of your skin. The electrifying warmth you send through his hand, up his arm, right into his heart.

“There’s gotta be more to yourself than you’re letting on, I see it in your eyes. Humor me a little, here. At least put a name to that beautiful face of yours.”

You smile softly, turning towards him completely. Cocking your head to your side, you look at him in amused confusion, letting him continue holding your hand.

“It seems like you’ve got your heart caught up in a tussle, King Dice. Alright, I’ll give you my name, if you can answer this for me: why me, out of all these people? You’ve got fans who would bend over backwards to make you their groom, why have your heart out for the quiet observer?”

“I…you just interest me, is all. You’re different. Much different. You have that aura of mystery surrounding you, and I want to break it away. Now please, darling, your name?”

You smirk at his answer, kindly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles before letting go of his hand, turning away once again.

“You’re getting closer, sir. But you’re not quite there yet.”

With a soft laugh, you walk away. Again. Dammit, you’re making this so difficult, the suspense is driving Dice mad.

Slowly, hesitantly, he walks to his limo as usual, climbing inside. He stares at the hand you had held, intently, wondering just how he’s supposed to get you to crack.

The slow approach just isn’t working. Dice needs to be bolder. He needs to catch you when you least expect it…

He’s never accompanied you to the bar before. He’s always just watched you go, debating on whether or not he should. Well, now, he’s made up his mind.

This has to work.

That night was the last show of the week, giving Dice a day off in between. Normally, he finds joy in his time away from everyone else, using up his chance to have some alone time. But now? All it does is fuel his impatience. That day is the longest he’s ever had, with half of it consisting of clock-watching alone.

Finally, Monday comes. Dice is back in business. And today, he’s going to pull off a trick that will surely catch you. It has to. The showman is on his last leg.

His staff have never seen him practice so hard during rehearsal. Dice runs through the motions over and over again, even when he’s got the routine nailed down perfectly.

Makeup is the same way. Applying the eyeshadow and mascara. Removing it when it appears to be too cakey. Applying again, lighter this time, with a little blush for good measure. Better, but barely noticeable. Adding another layer of the purple shadow, along with fresh pigment over his pips.

With his makeup perfect, his performance perfectly memorized, and his suit straightened, Dice has one of the best show nights he’s had in a long time. His audience notices. His band notices. He’s sure even his boss notices, way down in hell.

You notice. And that’s what he cares about. He sees it in your eyes. That beautiful glimmer that keeps him motivated.

And the performance isn’t even Dice’s main trick. This is going perfectly.

Granted, due to the fantastic night, Dice was kept back just a little longer than he’d like, greeting, signing, and smiling for photos. His cheeks are throbbing by the time he takes care of the last person.

But this time, you wait. When you would usually be gone by this time, you decided to stay just a little longer. And Dice almost forgets his mission out of surprise.

“You did great tonight, King.” You smile warmly, grasping his hand in yours.

You both stand there for a little while, smiling warmly at each other, just silently enjoying the company. And then, like all the other nights, you let him go, and you leave.

And this time, Dice is okay with that.

Stepping into the limo, he directs his driver towards a parking spot at your favorite bar’s side door, where he won’t be noticed by the public. The last thing he wants is for the press to butt in on this moment. He needs peace for once.

Quiet and humble, Dice walks inside the bar, immediately looking at where you usually sit. A lonely stool, in front of the bar counter. Surrounded by empty seats. Perfect.

You swirl your glass of scotch in your hand, eyeing the drink as you contemplate to yourself. You wonder if you should let go of your danger sense, and take the risk.

Should you give him your name the next time you see him? Should you let him show you a different side to his charismatic persona? A side that only you would ever get to see?

“Scotch, hm? An interesting drink of choice, but I think it fits you. You’ve got the strong boldness that comes in the drink.”

Looks like you’ve got a choice to make.

You look over to the side, smiling fondly when you see the very same showman you had just walked away from, sitting beside you as the bartender whips up his drink.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. I never took you for someone who goes to the bar, King Dice… you seem more of the type to have the servants make your drinks.”

The man laughs as his martini glass is slid his way, picking it up and carefully swirling its contents. You really do have such a way with words.

“Don’t be fooled, that’s usually how I take my alcohol. But the bar does offer something that I don’t have at home.”

The man looks back up at you, slowly leaning forward, wanting to get lost in your shining eyes.

“It gets pretty lonely without someone to share the alcohol with, doll. But here? Well…”

You ignore the heated feeling in your cheeks, taking a drink from your whiskey, watching him closely.

“Well what, sir?”

“Why not try a drink in a place where there’s a little company? Some good-looking company, to boot. You seem to like it here very much—I see you sitting here with a drink in your hand every time my limo passes by the bar.”

It’s your turn to laugh now, as you take another sip of your drink. Alright, he’s got your heart’s attention and you know it. It wouldn’t take much more than a little nudge from him, and your shell would be broken.

“I don’t know if it’s very safe for me to share a drink with a complete stranger, handsome as he may be.”

Dice smiles, his hand reaching forward and tilting your chin upwards, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. He also gives you a chance to examine his facial features up close, and boy, he’s even better looking than your view from your seat in his audience.

“Well then, let’s stop being strangers, shall we? I know I ask you this every night, but this is the last time I’ll try. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

You chuckle softly to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you tip back, finishing off the last of your scotch, letting an ice cube fall into your mouth. You let it melt on your tongue slightly, swirling it around in your mouth as you contemplate your answer. He has been waiting very patiently for—!

Every thought in your mind comes to a halt as a soft, sweet pair of lips takes over your own, an arm wrapping around your side to bring you closer. You blink in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the one responsible for the sudden gesture.

It’s King Dice. And he’s kissing you.

Slowly, you set down your empty glass, cautiously leaning forward, accepting the affection. You know he had been working hard to earn your love, but if you’re honest with yourself, he has already had it since the beginning. It just took him a while to unlock it.

His tongue slides into your mouth, finding the ice cube you had been sucking on, and swiping it from you so quickly you barely even notice it’s missing by the time he pulls away.

He smirks down at you, the ice resting against his cheek as he laughs quietly at your speechlessness.

“Your name, doll. What is it?”

Completely enraptured, you finally utter out the word that Dice had been dying to hear ever since your first conversation with one another.

“(Y/n)… my name is (y/n).”

With a victorious grin and a raise of his glass, Dice happily responds to your lovestruck mumble.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). It seems now that we are no longer strangers.”

He taps his fingers on the counter, and the bartender slides you a brand new drink, filled to the brim.

“So, how about that drink, then?”

You take it slowly, raising it up so it’s just underneath your slightly sore lips. You smile once again, laughing in disbelief, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“Whatever you say, showman.”

And from there, it’s history.