Set on You

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Written by: Hazel_Witch

Summary:

A scuttle of dice. The swift shuffling of cards. Crystal champagne flutes clinking together and the trill of tinkling laughter.

"Put it all on black."

Katsuki was feeling lucky.

Across from him, Izuku lowered his brows, green eyes glinting in the sparkling light of the chandelier. He looked gorgeous and deadly, and Katsuki wasn't having any of it.
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At twenty-five, Katsuki Bakugou is living the dream. Household name, superstar actor, a starring role in the next up-and-coming big budget gangster flick. So why for the life of him can't he remember his motherfucking lines when his goody-two-shoes co-star is around?

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A scuttle of dice. The swift shuffling of cards. Crystal champagne flutes clinking together and the trill of tinkling laughter.

"Put it all on black."

Katsuki was feeling lucky.

With a sideways smirk at the dealer (flat-faced lookin' kinda guy, weak behind the eyes), he leaned forward and pushed his stack of chips onto the dark, felt square.

Across from him, Izuku lowered his brows, green eyes glinting in the sparkling light of the chandelier. His hair was arranged in smooth, oily curls, swept back from his face so that each and every freckle was on display to the world. He looked gorgeous and deadly, and Katsuki wasn't having any of it.

"I'll match it," said the little green bastard, folding his arms, gaze trained steadily on Katsuki. "On red."

Oh, so he wanted to play dirty, huh.

"Yeah right, hot shot. As if you got what it takes when the stakes are this high."

Katsuki made his tone intentionally more taunting than usual, taking a long, emphatic drag from a Montechristo and leaning back in his chair.

Maybe others found it hard to stay poised in the swivelling stools that encircled the roulette table, but not Katsuki Bakugou. Nah. Because he was fucking cool.

Defiance flashed across Izuku's face.

"I think you'll find I've got exactly what it takes. The only real question is whether you can keep up with me."

Jeez. He was a feisty little fucker.

Katsuki opened his mouth and let smoke coil out into the air, savouring the aroma of sharp cedar and spice. Just to be petulant, he blew the remaining wisps directly in Izuku's direction.

"Oh, I got it alright, sweetheart. I got exactly..."

He coughed.

"I'm exactly the kinda guy..."

Ah, fuck.

"Cut!"

The lights rose up, the scene blanched in overhead fluorescent spotlights that made Katsuki squint. Several poorly concealed sighs huffed from over his shoulder - a telltale sign that the production staff were getting restless.

Okay, so it was nine-thirty p.m. on a Sunday when they'd all rather be at home with their families. It wasn't his fault the scene was taking so long. Yeah, sure, he was the one fluffing his lines, but it was Deku that was being so goddamn distracting. How was Katsuki supposed to fucking concentrate?

"The line is 'I got everything I need to keep up with you, sweetheart'," Mina said on her approach, flapping the script in Katsuki's face. "We've been over this a thousand times, Blasty, how many takes are we gonna need?"

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