Gambit X Reader - Blog Posts

Remy LeBeau (Gambit) x Reader

Warnings: Gender not specified, short

X-Men Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(GIF not mine, I found it on Pinterest)

Finally. You’re home. Charles has been working you to the bone. It’s not your fault that your Mutant ability is so awesome, but your energy does pay the price. You can hardly register what or who the kids are that run around the halls of the school as you make your way to your bed. You're so tired that you chuck your bags and shoes to who knows where in your room. With a groan you flop onto the bed, desperately trying to sleep but your mind just doesn’t want to shut up.

Time is an illusion as you lay there trying your hardest to sleep but with no success even though you are beyond your limit. Your door gently opens and the sound of someone walking around catches your attention. Their voice is low and soft as they hum a calming tune. You can hear things being moved, light switches being flicked, and the wood floor occasionally creaking. You feel the bed dip as hands gently touch your face.

They don’t move your face, the person does lean down to look at you though. Remy, your sweet boyfriend is the one who greets your gaze. He carefully lays down and pulls you on top of him. Your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. His hand gently stroking your back in calming patterns. Thank goodness for your Remy.

Can we please have more of him. He’s one of my favourites and there’s not enough.

Eat up children, gambit memes have dropped 🙏🏻

Playin' Hearts

Synopsis; A playful game of pickpocketing with Gambit turns into a quiet evening of jazz, dancing, and stolen moments. As the teasing gives way to sincerity, you find the courage to make the first move, discovering that some risks are worth taking. Warnings; None kits! <3

You frowned as your hand brushed against something unfamiliar in your coat pocket. Fishing it out, you discovered a playing card—a queen of hearts—marked with a small, flourished "R" in the corner. You turned it over, puzzled, trying to figure out how it had gotten there.

“You dropped somethin’, chérie,” came a familiar, honeyed voice behind you.

Spinning around, you found Remy leaning casually against the doorframe, twirling another card between his fingers. That trademark smirk of his was firmly in place, a glint of mischief lighting his red-on-black eyes.

"Did I now?" you asked, holding up the card. "Care to explain how it ended up in my pocket?"

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Can’t blame me for wantin’ to stay close to you, non? Thought you might enjoy a lil’ reminder of me.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer, card in hand. “You’re telling me you pickpocketed me just to leave… this?”

“Not just any card, chère.” He tapped the queen of hearts with his fingertip. “It’s got a meanin’. You’re sharp; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You couldn’t help the warmth rising to your cheeks, but you refused to let him win so easily. “If you’re so good at sneaking things into my pockets, guess I’ll have to start keeping them zipped.”

“Aw, now don’t do that,” he teased, his voice a low, velvety drawl. “Would make my job so much less fun.”

Shaking your head, you tried to hide your smile as you walked away, but his chuckle followed you down the hall. When you reached into your pocket later that day and found another card—a joker this time—you couldn’t help but laugh.

Gambit always had a way of leaving an impression.

Later that evening, you wandered into the common room to find Remy sitting on the couch, shuffling his deck of cards with practiced ease. He looked up as you entered, that perpetual smirk softening into something warmer when he saw you.

“Evenin’, chère,” he drawled, sliding the cards into a neat stack and setting them aside. “Come to accuse me of more mischief?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. “Depends. Find anything else to slip into my pockets?”

He stood, hands raised in mock innocence. “Now why would I risk it? You’d catch me red-handed.”

“Maybe I’d let you off easy.” The words escaped before you could think twice, and the flicker of surprise in his expression sent your heart racing.

Remy stepped closer, his movements fluid and unhurried. “Careful, mon cœur. A man could take that as an invitation.”

You tilted your head, trying to keep your composure. “And what if it is?”

For a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes shifted to something deeper, more earnest. Without a word, he reached for the old radio on the shelf and turned the dial until soft jazz crackled through the room.

“Dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

Caught off guard, you hesitated. “I don’t—”

“Don’t matter if you can,” he interrupted gently, taking your hand in his. “Just follow my lead.”

Before you could argue, he pulled you close, one hand settling lightly on your waist while the other held your hand securely in his. The warmth of his touch and the way he swayed with effortless rhythm made it impossible not to relax.

The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, moving together in the soft glow of the room. You found yourself smiling as his fingers gave yours a playful squeeze.

“You’re a natural, chère,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety.

Your eyes met his, and suddenly, the teasing facade he so often wore was gone, replaced by something vulnerable and inviting. Heart pounding, you gathered every ounce of courage you had and leaned up, brushing your lips against his.

For a moment, the world stilled. Then, his hand tightened gently at your waist, pulling you closer as he returned the kiss with a slow, deliberate passion that left you breathless.

When you finally pulled back, his lips curved into a grin that could only be described as triumphant. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d make the first move,” you countered, your boldness surprising even yourself.

Remy chuckled, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “Chérie, if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time with cards.”

And with that, he spun you back into the dance, holding you close as the music played on

(GAMBIT CONTENT YAY!)

A Taste of Spice

Synopsis; While cooking jambalaya together, Remy and you share playful banter, a little dancing, and a growing connection simmering as warmly as the dish on the stove. With every shared glance and teasing touch, the flirtation turns into something deeper, until one kiss finally seals the promise of what could be.

Warnings; None, enjoy kits! ♡♡♡

Requested by @hulkingharbor

The scent of spices fills the kitchen as Remy guides you through the ingredients for jambalaya, his Cajun accent thicker than usual, adding to the warmth in the room. He's leaning close, too, his arm brushing yours as he reaches for the chopped bell peppers, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You keep stirrin’ it like that, chérie, we’re gonna end up with mush,” he teases, eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you hand him the spoon. “All right, show me, Mr. Expert.”

He takes it, giving the pot a confident stir, his hands moving with an ease you can’t help but admire. “See? It’s all about finesse,” he says, glancing at you. “But I guess that just comes natural to some of us.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Finesse, huh? Next time, I’ll let you chop the onions with that ‘finesse’ you’re so proud of.”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Now, now, don’t get jealous, chère. Tell you what—if you chop the next round, I’ll let you have the first taste.”

“Deal,” you say, sliding him a sly smile as you reach for the knife. As you start chopping, you can feel his gaze lingering, warm and appreciative.

When the jambalaya is finally simmering, he takes a spoonful and offers it to you, his gaze softening as he waits for your reaction. You take a taste, savoring the rich, spicy flavor.

“It’s perfect,” you say, smiling. “Must be that ‘finesse’ of yours.”

He raises a brow, pleased. “Or maybe it’s just the company.”

Remy grins, his gaze holding yours for a beat longer than usual. Then he sets the spoon down, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart skip.

“Y’know,” he says, his voice low, “this ain’t half as fun when I cook alone.”

You glance up, feeling your cheeks warm. “Is that right? I didn’t know cooking could be so… entertaining.”

He laughs, the sound soft and smooth. “Depends on the company, chérie.” His hand reaches out, a little smudge of flour on his finger, and before you realize it, he dabs it gently on the tip of your nose, his grin widening as he watches your reaction.

“Remy!” You laugh, reaching for a dish towel to swipe at him, but he sidesteps with a fluid ease, his laugh deep and genuine.

“Don’t worry,” he says, still chuckling, “I’ll make it up to you. How ’bout a dance while we wait?” He extends his hand, his fingers warm and inviting, his eyes glinting with that playful, dare-you look.

You hesitate, glancing at the stove where the jambalaya simmers, but something in his gaze is too hard to resist. So, you take his hand, and he pulls you close, his other hand settling comfortably on your waist.

With a practiced grace, Remy leads you in a slow sway across the kitchen, his hand never leaving yours, his eyes locked on yours like you’re the only person in the room. For once, there’s no playful teasing, just a quiet sincerity that catches you off guard.

“You’ve got a good rhythm, chère,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Feels like I could dance with you all night.”

Your breath catches, and before you can think twice, you lean in, your lips brushing his cheek, then lingering at the corner of his mouth. Remy’s breath hitches, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your waist, his gaze falling to your lips.

For a moment, the kitchen fades away, and it’s just the two of you, close, warm, and wrapped in the quiet promise of something more.

“Hope you like spicy,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble against your skin.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper back, smiling as he finally closes the distance, his kiss as warm and full of sweetness as the jambalaya simmering on the stove.

(I fuckin love Remy)