#The Gambit

[fandomaddictwut]

I’ve seen some people complaining about Channing Tatum/his accent in Deadpool & Wolverine, and I just want to set a few things straight.

Channing has been on the docket to play Gambit since 2005, but each and every time, the character was cut from the script, he had a prior contract, or the director kept getting replaced until the project was scrapped 4 years later with the Fox/Disney merger.

He has family in Louisiana and grew up in the bayous (albeit in rural Alabama). This character has meant something to him since CHILDHOOD when it comes to representation in media.

Gambit doesn’t speak SAE (Standard American English). He’s a street urchin from Acadia/New Orleans. He grew up speaking Cajun (a mix of Southern American, Canadian French, and España Spanish grammar applied to a mostly English vocabulary) and Louisiana French (an offshoot of Canadian French from Acadians).

Every person I’ve seen online who ACTUALLY GREW UP around people who speak Cajun, Creole, and/or Louisiana French has said that his accent is SPOT ON, maybe even a little too clear.

All this to say: if you can’t understand Gambit in Deadpool & Wolverine, you’re not supposed to. That’s the bit: unless you’re used to those dialects and accents, you’re shit outta luck trying to parse it out without help. Hell, even Rogue, who grew up in the South, doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time.

[atomicfoxx]

Your Honor I love him‼️

[jombenz]

silly silly silly guy

[choerypetal]

Hickeys / Wade, Logan and Remy

summary: small prompts, on how the xmen boys would be when given hickeys.

ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.

enjoy!

Wade: 

That man can’t resist keeping you in his sight and making sure to give you at least a kiss, or some small gesture of affection, before heading off to work.

This means his lips would form an adorable pout as he insists on leaning in. When you give in, his lips curl into a smirk, and before you can protest, you feel his hungry kiss.

Of course, it doesn't end there. His fingers slide around your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you onto his lap. "The boss can wait a little while," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with a hunger that demands to feel his teeth on your skin. That's how his habit of leaving hickeys began. "Not until I'm done."

"Wadee," you tried to protest, glancing at the clock to remind him not to be late, but his priorities were elsewhere. You knew it when you felt his tongue tracing the crook of your neck, followed by the slow press of his teeth against your skin. He left a few more bruises, as if the ones from yesterday weren’t already enough for him.

"Shh…" he purred, his eyes darkened by lust and the passion in his voice. "I need to finish my little masterpiece." You rolled your eyes, letting out a slight chuckle, but before you knew it, a moan escaped your lips as he nipped harder with his teeth. "That's it, princess, I want to hear you moan," Wade whispered, the desire and need evident in his gaze.

He finally stopped, as always, to admire his work—several new hickeys on your neck. Just the sight of them made him bite his bottom lip. When your eyes met his, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless, with pouty lips and fluttering lashes. "Oh, so now the princess wants more? It's a shame I have to go to work. And so do you," he teased. Typical bastard, you thought to yourself.

Logan: 

Unlike Wade, Logan isn’t the type to be vocal about what’s his. As the Wolverine, it wasn’t surprising when you ended up covered in hickeys. One time at the X-Men Labs, Logan immediately noticed a coworker checking you out. It wasn’t just the hickeys on your neck but also an outrageous comment that set him off. If those hickeys weren’t enough, you were in for a session where Logan would mark you as his—completely and everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Naturally, he chose the Lab as the perfect place to do it. Despite his wild nature, Logan is surprisingly traditional, which might catch anyone, including you, off guard. But with his Wolverine instincts, he didn’t hesitate to grip your waist, pulling you up from your chair despite your protests, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. "You really thought I’d let you leave work that early? That’s the kind of question that would make me feel ashamed, love."

Before you could say anything, his lips caught yours in a hungry kiss. His voice was hoarse, thick with the impatience and craving he’d been holding back all day—especially after seeing you with your coworker. When Logan’s jealousy flared, you knew there was no stopping him. “Logan…” you whispered, your soft, vulnerable voice a huge turn-on for him. He purred as he nodded at your call. “Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “I need you, so bad…” Your confession was all he needed. He began by nuzzling his head against your neck, his teeth sinking in without hesitation.

The neck was just the beginning for Logan; he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed more, which meant leaning you over your Lab desk. Your blouse clung to your curves as his fingers, both gentle and eager, began unbuttoning your jacket. The typical work attire—a short skirt, sheer lace, and a blouse that matched the color of your nail polish—was what truly captivated him. Even his own attire seemed to complement yours. One of the many things he adored about you, he murmured, “Man, you look gorgeous…” 

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” you echoed the words you’d whispered when you first met Logan. He adored this gesture, finding it endearing. Just moments before unbuttoning your blouse, he asked, “May I?” with the gentlemanly demeanor he always displayed. You smiled and nodded in response. “Since no one else will be coming to the Lab, my body is yours, Logan.”

That response alone pleased the Wolverine. As his fingers delicately and slowly unbuttoned your blouse, he took a moment to admire your breasts, beautifully outlined by the cup of your bra, before nuzzling his head against your stomach. His teeth sank into your flesh, leaving more hickeys than he had originally intended. “Now, I hope this will stop your coworker from looking…” he murmured.

Remy Lebeau: 

Of the two, Remy is undoubtedly the most proud when it comes to showcasing his affection. His love language includes plenty of flirtation, and he makes sure that most of your hickeys are prominently displayed. He’s also quite vocal about it, especially when your best friend, Peter Maximoff, notices the sudden marks on your neck and expresses his concern. “Geez, Y/N, someone was feisty last night. I’m curious who the lucky one is.”

In no time, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, with Remy’s shadow looming over your petite frame and a smug look of pride on his face. “Ma chérie, you look a bit tired today,” he remarked, prompting you to shoot him a death glare. Despite your effort to remain professional, Remy’s public displays of affection made Peter gulp silently. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “See you at lunch?” 

That question was an offer Remy was inclined to refuse, as he had other plans in mind. Everyone knew it, especially you, which surprised him when you agreed to join. His grip around your waist tightened, and a smile spread across his face. As polite as ever, he said, “It would be a shame if Y/N didn’t join us. But my chère has other plans. Sorry, mon cher Peter.”

Wanting to protest or suggest otherwise, it was clear that Remy had different plans. Sneaking out of work hours only seemed to please him more. As he planted a few kisses in the crook of your neck, his silhouette lingering behind you, Peter took the opportunity to excuse himself. He shared a glance with you, his expression teasingly reflecting his amusement at Gambit’s protective nature.

“Now, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse and his accent more pronounced. His fingers gently caressed your waist. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong. Your eyelids grew heavier as his teeth sank in, a soft moan escaping your lips just before he covered your mouth with his hand. “No, no, no,” he purred. “Not here.” Yet, he continued, and when he finally stopped, his fingers intertwined with yours, leaving you breathless. With a look of typical smugness, he found you adorable and said, “Alons, y.”

[ranputation]

remy lebeau pulling up to the function

[noodelak]

Gambittttt 💜🩶🖤

[queenxxxsupreme]

Before the Storm

(Remy Lebeau x reader)

A/N: This is just a super tiny little drabble because I wanted to get a feel for Gambit’s character. Please if any of it (or all of it) seems out of character for him, let me know. I just wanna do this man some justice

Warnings: cigarettes and alcohol, a little bit of angst but mostly fluff

Summary: It’s the night before the ragtag group of forgotten heroes goes to fight Cassandra Nova, and you share a little moment with your Gambit.

“What took you so long, mon coeur?” Remy spoke from where he was laid out across the bed. To even call it a bed was probably an overstatement. It was just a mattress on the floor, but it was all you had in the Hell that was quite literally the Void.

“Had to find a good bottle.” You held up a bottle of rum.

”Why, I think that’s a fine choice, Miss Y/L/N.” He grinned just a little, then beckoned you over with a wave of his hand.

You kicked off your boots before climbing into the bed. Remy adjusted himself so that he was leaning against the wall. You made yourself comfortable, tucking yourself under his arm.

You twisted the bottle of rum open and took a swig of the sharp alcohol, then passed the bottle to him.

“How do you think tomorrow is going to go, Remy?” You spoke quietly, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I don’t know. But I do know one thing for sure, mon coeur. It ain’t gonna be pretty.”

You shifted yourself around so that you could see his face better.

“You got a smoke?” You asked him. He reached behind him on the bed, blindly feeling for wherever he had set the pack of cigarettes down last.

Remy picked up the box and flicked it open, holding it out for you to take one.

“Thanks, mon amour.” You took the cigarette from him and placed it between your lips. You dug around in the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a lighter. You lit the cigarette before tossing the lighter down on to the bed.

“Are you scared, Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet, almost like he was afraid to even ask the question.

”Yeah, Remy. I am.” You admitted, blowing the smoke from your lips. He took the cigarette from you to take a hit of it. ”We’ve never gone up against Cassandra Nova before. We just fight her little pawns and stay as far away from their territory as possible.”

”It’s gonna be real interestin’. That’s for sure.” The smoke that left his lips as he spoke fanned over your face. You leaned further into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Your fingers wrapped around the glass bottle of alcohol and you took a sip. “Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

”You ain’t losin’ me no time soon, mon coeur.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Just don’t go doin’ anythin’ stupid tomorrow.”

”Me?” You raised an eyebrow and turned your head so you could admire his features. “Honey, we both know I’m not the one going and doing stupid things on a whim. That’s all you and Johnny’s bad influence.”

He chuckled quietly, bringing his arm that was behind you around your shoulders to pull you close enough so he could seal a kiss on your cheek.

“I miss that fella, Y/N.” The smile that had been on his lips slowly faded.

“I know. Me too.” You took the cigarette from Remy and put it between your lips. “We’ll do it for him, and all the others.”

“To Johnny.” Remy lifted the bottle of rum up as if to toast his dear friend.

“You think we have a chance at beating her, Remy?”

“I think that whatever does happen tomorrow, we’ll be just fine, mon coeur.”

[ladybekool]

In Deadpool & Wolverine when Deadpool says "Who taught you to speak English? The minions?" to Gambit. ... IT IS SUCH A CLEVER JOKE because Gambit is from Louisiana which was a French colony so the Patois still has a strong French influence AND the minions language was co-created and voiced by a french man. Big brain moment, me love it.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-nine

Well well well 😏😏😏

Warnings: oh dear god where do we begin, stop reading rn if you want to be surprised (/srs), A (not) DATE PT 2????, this is not heavy smut but still mdni 18+ only pls n thx, heavy petting, making out like horny teenagers, grinding, hands just everywhere and yet nowhere

You stretch your arms above your head so hard that your spine cracks. Aaron’s eyes flick to yours with an amused glint. 

“What?” you laugh, your arms dropping to your sides. “We’ve been at this for hours.”

You have, even though you said you didn’t want to think about it. But it just pulled you to it, like it always does, and the two of you clearly needed something you could both focus on that wasn’t…awkward.

Or whatever the weird tension you’ve got going on right now is called. It’s been simmering below the surface ever since he came in from his call with Haley. And it’s only gotten worse as the two of you have rehashed the details of the case, occasionally bumping hands when you both go to point at a sentence at the same time. Brushing arms when you step just a little too close. Your faces occasionally just inches away when you turn to reach across the table.

Or, the most damning, when Aaron goes to walk around you, to a separate pile on the table, and he places a gentle hand on your waist as he goes. Your breath hitches just slightly, feeling his fingertips there, only your thin shirt separating him from your skin.

You turn your head to look up at him as he settles at the pile he was looking for. He glances just briefly at you, but the smile you share is genuine.

And you both move on. You go back to discussing the case. Discussing what’s comfortable.

What interrupts you a while later is Aaron’s stomach growling. Loudly.

“Okay, come on,” you laugh, shoving his arm. “We have to take a break.”

He’s still leaning onto his hands on the table, and he hangs his head with a laugh shaking his shoulders. “Right. Okay. What time is it?”

“You’re the one with a watch?”

He gives you a sideways glare, turning his arm to check. He curses. “It’s almost four.” He pauses. “Why don’t you ever wear a watch?”

You smirk. “Why would I, when I can pester you instead?”

“Right,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “Should we call it for tonight?”

“At least so we can figure out something to eat,” you say. “What are we ordering?”

“What, you don’t want to destroy Rossi’s kitchen?”

“Not exactly in the mood for shitty pasta, no,” you laugh. “Trust me, it would not go well.”

Aaron straightens up, shrugging. “How hard can it be?”

You give him an incredulous look.

+++

Turns out, it’s extremely hard to make pasta from scratch without David Rossi’s expertise. Aaron even tries calling Rossi at one point out of sheer desperation, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“He’s probably in a meeting,” Aaron says.

“Told you,” you mutter with a laugh, scraping the failed pasta mixture into the trash. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Okay, you win,” Aaron replies, though he doesn’t sound happy about it. Part of him knew it wouldn’t work, but he still wanted to try. It was still fun to try with you. “Still want Italian?”

“Sure,” you shrug, reaching down for some paper towels to wipe the counter down. “There’s a place not far that Rossi loves, he knows the owner.”

“I know the place,” Aaron says. “I’ll order. Your usual?”

His chest warms and expands when you look up at him and nod, a soft smile on your lips. “Yeah. Please.”

“Got it,” he nods, grabbing his phone from the counter to search up the place.

He walks over to the dining room to take the call, eyes scanning the files as the line rings. Eventually, it connects. He places the order and then—

“Is this a romantic dinner?”

Aaron sputters. “No, it’s— It’s just a dinner.”

The man chuckles. Definitely a friend of Dave’s. “Sure thing. It’ll be over in forty-five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Aaron says, shaking his head.

He glances back at the table. It’s not a romantic dinner.

But it is dinner. And it's pasta, and bread, and wine. It’s not pizza. So you two should eat at the table. Just to make it easier.

That’s all.

So, he pockets his phone and begins to clear the table off. He keeps the piles separate, especially the newer ones that you made, stacking them at angles so they’re neat. He hears your footsteps coming closer, lifting his head to meet your quizzical gaze.

“What are you doing?” You don’t sound angry, mostly amused, even if a bit confused.

“I figured we should eat at the table, like civilized human beings,” he jokes. “I ordered our usuals, and some garlic bread. And some wine.”

“What, Rossi’s wine isn’t good enough for you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he laughs. “They uh…insisted.”

“Insisted?” You raise an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, they thought it was a date.”

Aaron lets out a nervous laugh, and he can’t look at you. He can practically feel his neck heating up. He just continues stacking the files.

“Guess I’ll go put something nice on, then,” you say, ever so nonchalantly. “You know, since it’s a date.”

Aaron turns his head toward you, trying to figure out if you’re joking with him still. If you’re just messing with him.

But your face is dead serious, a little smirk tugging at your lips, and you flash him a wink before you turn and head up the stairs.

His lungs forget how to work. His heart, too. It won’t stop trying to jump out of his chest.

He turns back to the table, the last few files waiting for him. 

Shit. If this is a date, he needs to fix this. He needs some sort of table runner, candles, wine glasses, forks, knives.

He practically jumps into action, glad you’re upstairs getting ready so you aren’t witnessing him running around like a madman to gather everything. He hasn’t been on a date in years. What the hell is he supposed to do, if this truly is one?

This is not how he expected this weekend to go — let alone tonight.

Dave is absolutely never going to let him live this down.

+++

What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?

You stare at yourself incredulously in the mirror, throwing your hands up at yourself. Did you seriously just joke with him about the restaurant thinking it’s a date? And then seriously tell him that if it is, you need to look nice?

You don’t even have anything nice to wear here. You have work clothes, and pajamas, and some casual clothes, but you don’t have anything nice. Not nice like you’d wear on a dinner date.

Oh my god. You have lost your mind.

You settle on the nicest (ish) thing you can find at the bottom of your suitcase. You still have yet to actually unpack your clothes here, aside from your work clothes that you don’t want to get wrinkled.

You fix your hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror. You want to walk the line of looking like you’re trying but not trying too hard. Yes, this might be a date. If it is, you want to look nice. If it isn’t, you don’t want to look like a complete idiot.

This is a bad idea. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Or it’s the best one. And it’s scaring you because you’re excited.

You sigh at yourself. Get a grip.

You hear the doorbell and decide you’ve taken long enough, so you pull yourself together and head downstairs.

Aaron is setting the table when you reach the dining room. You take a moment just to admire him. He’s changed clothes, too. Still in his dark jeans, but his t-shirt was swapped for his black dress shirt. He styled his hair.

He’s so handsome. You’ve always known it. You’ve just never let yourself really admit it before, you guess.

When he finally turns toward you, his jaw drops just a little. His breathing stops.

“Hey,” you say, dumbly, trying (and failing) not to smile. “Dinner ready?”

“Yeah,” he says, gesturing to the table where he’s plated your entrees and poured some wine. “Here.” 

You watch curiously as he turns and pulls a chair out for you, the one at the head of the table. Slowly, you step forward and take a seat, letting him push you in.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he takes the seat to your left. You’re glad you’re not sitting at opposite ends of the table; that would be too awkward. It’s much easier like this, next to one another. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, reaching for the basket of bread. “You look…breathtaking.”

You let out a choked noise of surprise, so involuntary that there was no chance at hiding it. “Um. Thank you.” You take a piece and immediately take a bite.

He laughs, taking his own piece. “Did I shock you?”

“Maybe just a little,” you admit. “Thanks for ordering.”

“No problem,” he says. “Least I could do after the disaster.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work!”

“Yeah, yeah, you did,” he shakes his head with a smile. “I didn’t listen.”

“You never do,” you joke, stabbing a few pieces of pasta.

Dinner is easy. Easier than you ever thought it would be, but neither of you mention the “date” part again. It would just ruin the comfortable conversation. Because then you’d have to talk about it being a date, and that’s not something you can do. At all.

Neither of you drink much wine. One glass, maybe another half, but not more. You want to remember this. 

Maybe he does too.

When the food has run out, you move to the couch, taking the wine with you.

“The couch is more comfortable,” you say, setting everything down on the coffee table. Aaron hesitates beside the chair. “Don’t be awkward and sit over there, come here.”

He looks like he wants to argue with you on it, but he doesn’t. He sits next to you, but he does put some space between the two of you. Not much, but noticeable enough.

You don’t comment on it, though. 

You tuck your legs underneath you, turning your body just barely toward Aaron’s next to you. He’s facing forward, but he’s watching you. Almost like he’s trying to predict your next move.

Unfortunately for him, you don’t even know what you’re doing.

Except that you kind of do.

You lean one elbow onto the arm of the couch, propping your head up as you look at him. “Thank you for today.”

He turns toward you this time, stretching one arm across the back of the couch. “What about?”

You shrug, smiling at him. “Just— It was a good day. I haven’t had a good day in a long time, not like this.”

Sadness crosses his face, but so does something else, something you can’t place. “I’m glad it was good.”

“Did you have a good time?” you ask, suddenly a little too self-conscious and wondering if you’ve just been annoying him this entire time. That he’s only been putting up with it, and you, because he sort of has no choice.

He squashes all worry instantly, though. “Of course I did,” he says, voice shaking just a little. “You have no idea.”

“You could tell me,” you murmur. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I— I don’t want to cross a line or—”

You drop your hand to rest on top of his on the back of the couch. His eyes immediately find yours, confusion swimming there, some disbelief too, like he just can’t believe that your hand has found his. 

You wrap your fingers around his. “You’re not crossing a line. I’m asking.”

He breathes deeply, like he needs as much oxygen as he can get. Like it still isn’t enough. “I wouldn’t know how to put it into words.”

You squeeze his hand, whispering, “Then show me.”

His eyes bore into yours, almost like he’s making sure you’re certain. You stare back at him, your gaze unwavering. You’re serious. He has to be able to see that.

He does.

He moves closer, closer, pauses just breaths away from your face. 

You keep watching him, unable to take the suspense. You give a small smile, hoping it’s the reassurance he needs. “Aaron…”

It’s all he needs to hear, apparently. With almost zero hesitation this time, his hand cups your jaw and he brings your lips to his. He moves slowly, savoring, coaxing, and you’re putty in his hands.

A tentative bite on your bottom lip has you whimpering, and when your mouth opens, he takes the opportunity, tongue meeting yours. It sets something off inside of you. Your hands that had once been idle now move, desperate, grasping for some sort of grounding. One finds home on his bicep, the other tangling in his hair, tugging.

Aaron almost growls into the kiss when your hands find his skin. He shifts, hands gripping your hips and hauling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. You melt into him, wanting, needing to be closer.

His hands pull you into him, and it isn’t long before you feel why. It’s just like before. You in his lap, him hardening beneath you. You smirk into the kiss and he feels it, nipping at your lip again.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks, breathless, no doubt already knowing your answer.

“Nothing,” you giggle, pressing your hips down harder, widening your legs. “Someone’s enjoying this.”

He moans, low in his throat, breaking off into an almost hysterical laugh. “You drive me crazy.”

“I know,” you whisper, lips attacking his, taking the lead now, and he lets you. His moans are beautiful melodies to your ears, and you want more, so you move to his neck, finding out just how sensitive he is there when his fingers tighten on your hips. He just might bruise you, and it’ll be the prettiest sight. 

His hands move, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, clinging to you as you kiss and suck at his neck. 

“God,” he breathes. One hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and you grin. His hand lowers to the back of your neck, just barely holding you there, using his grip to lift your face back to his. “You.” 

“What about me?” you ask in between kisses. He’s taken the lead again, and he is not giving you any time to catch your breath or even think. “Fuck.”

“Exactly,” Aaron almost snaps at you, all teeth as he kisses you, hand just barely squeezing on the sides of your neck. “You drive me insane. You—” He pauses to kiss you long and slow, dragging it out, like he’s savoring the taste of you. When he stops, he leans his forehead against yours. “You make me feel like I— Like I have no control over anything—”

You nod against his head. You know. You get it. You feel the same.

“You make me lose my control,” he continues, still breathless, still pausing in between words to kiss your lips, your nose, your jaw, wherever he can reach. “I don’t know if I can hold onto it—”

“So lose it,” you say, not caring, and starting to rock your hips again as you kiss him, desperate. “Please.”

He’s still fighting it, and you don’t know how to get him to break through it. So you just keep doing what feels good, kissing each other senseless, going where he guides you with one hand on your waist and one on your neck. 

Your hands wander just a little lower, getting to his belt, and he guides you backwards, giving you more room to unbuckle it. And to unbutton his jeans. He hisses when your hand goes under the band of his boxers, just to feel his skin. You don’t move any further than that, not wanting to push him, not knowing what it is that’s holding him back.

You sigh into his mouth, letting out a happy whimper when he rocks you harder against his erection, tongue coaxing yours softly.

“Aaron,” you gasp.

“I know,” he whispers, the hand on your waist moving under your shirt, finally touching your skin, finally cupping your breasts. “I know, honey.”

“Please,” you murmur, hands wandering again, this time under his shirt, lightly scratching at his back. “Take me upstairs.”

He groans into your mouth, kissing you harder, slowing to a stop for both of you to catch your breath.

“Please,” you say again, not sure how much begging you have left in you. “Aaron—”

“Wait.”

You whine again, “I can’t—”

“No, I’m serious. Wait.” Aaron lifts his head from yours, eyes looking around the room. He’s alarmed, and that look in his eyes is like a bucket of ice water over the both of you.

You’re off his lap and standing up in a second, and he’s up with you, one arm protectively stretched across you.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I thought I heard something.”

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know, stay here.”

“Hotch—” you start to say, but you stop, because he fixes you with a look telling you to stay put and stay quiet. 

You don’t even have your gun on you. Neither does Hotch, as far as you know. You’re both off the clock; your weapons are sitting, useless, in Rossi’s safe.

And now you’re standing alone in the living room, the previous minutes flashing before your eyes. The moans, the sighs, the rocking. The desperation. The urgency.

But you— He’s your boss. The two of you have never gotten along. Having the reasons out in the open doesn’t mean anything. Those confessions don’t mean the two of you are meant for each other; none of this does. 

Especially not him escaping from underneath you after you asked to take it upstairs. He practically sprinted from the room over a noise that you didn’t even hear.

You fall back onto the couch, putting your face in your hands. You’ve got mere seconds before he comes back, and you need to set both of yourselves straight when he does.

[fandomaddictwut]

Here’s a video from The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, where Channing Tatum goes more in depth about his love for Gambit and how long he’s been waiting to play the character.

[atomicfoxx]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jittering, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos-

[tourturestarradio]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌

"𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐢'𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬."

"𝐃𝐨 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦?"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Vampire reader (platonically)

Prompt: You lost him...he was gone, so why was he here how was he here?

Warnings: Angst with no comfort, Deadpool 3 spoilers, Wade being Wade. (this is connected to Enjoy the silence)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Was this a joke? Blinking you stared at him fingers twitching. He was gone, you watched him die, right in front of your eyes. You'll never forget that moment, you lost him, you lost the single most important person in your life and you lost him.

So how?

How was he standing here right in front of you, the rest of the group looking at you wondering what you're gonna do.

Wade gasped as he looked between the two "is this the start of a found family trope-oh nevermind."

You tackled him down in an instant catching him off guard, growling in anger. Growing your nails out you stabbed into his sides "ah fuck!" prompting him to release his claws stabbing them into your side as well, just like old times.

"Well this is NOT how I thought this would go...oh gosh"

Wade gulped the others trying to pull you off of Logan as you two continued to claw at each other "it's like watching a cat fight." Blade looked over at him "will you quit your yapping and help us!" Wade nodded dragging Logan away from you.

"The fuck is your problem! You asshole!" Logan shouted yanking his arm away from Wade.

You hissed at him again, prompting Laura to speak up "they can't talk. Well at least not that well" Logan glared at you and you did the same.

"Well nothing can be worse trying to hear this guy try to do a public speech?" Wade said lightly patting Gambit's shoulder, Blade and Elektra letting go of you.

"L...iar ..."

Logan looked at you "the fuck?" he muttered his wounds slowly healing, your scratchy rugged voice calling out again.

"...L..iar"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Wade nodded "I agree with peanuts here I can't really understand, you need some whiskey to clear out your throat since we don't have a drop of water anywhere." he joked.

You could feel tears bubble up in your eyes as you hissed again turning and leaving too angry to get a grip on yourself.

"Well that went about as well as a priest going to a school playground."

Elektra rolled her eyes "shut the fuck up" she groaned, Laura followed you out, Wade trying to make small talk "So...anybody up for uno..." he asked

The silence lingered for an uncomfortable amount of time as no one was in the mood for talking.

"Dear God the author needs to change scenes. I can't keep making jokes to fill this awkward silence" Wade said shaking his head.

.

The night drew close as you stayed up on a tree branch sitting staring at the moon your nails tapping against the tree bark, dried tear streaks on your face. Your brain remembering everything about him and the comfort he gave you, that void he filled.

He was the father you never had, he cared about you even when no one else did, even when everyone turned their back on you after the accident. He was there, you stuck like glue to his side never thinking the man you held so dear to your heart could ever die.

He was a hero? He wasn't supposed to die.

He was your hero.

And he left you.

He promised he wouldn't leave you.

He promised.

And he lied, he lied right to your face. You'll never forget the anger you felt after he took that final breath, the hate you felt. But it wasn't towards him, it was towards yourself. You let the one person who meant the most to you die, you let him slip through your fingers just like that.

But now. He's here again. Your eyes glued to him as he drank and talked with Laura for a little bit before she walked away. You didn't understand it, you wanted to lash out you wanted to scream and shout at him for leaving you but you couldn't. You had so many questions, so much you had to tell him about what happened in your life, there was so much to say but you just couldn't say it.

"I know you're there."

Blinking you stared at him, how did he know...?

"I can smell you. Come out."

You jumped down from the tree slowly walking up to him you sat down keeping your eyes on the flames, "what do you want, here to stab me again?" he asked glancing over at you.

You shook your head, signing 'sorry' to him. He looked at you confused and you signed it again, "I don't understand that." he commented, you cocked your head to the side, maybe he just forgot?

So with the best you could you strained out a small "s...orry" Logan looked at you, as you continued "..f..or. hur...ting" he only waved you off.

There was silence before you spoke again "..h..ow?" it hurt to speak but you did so anyway, Logan knew what you meant regardless "look kid. I'm not who you think I am." he started, you gripped onto your pants "I'm not him." he finished.

You shook your head getting up walking away for a second before coming back, you had a picture in your hand showing it to him, it was a bad picture you took of your first mission, it was you and Logan you had a grin while Logan was trying to swat away the camera.

Logan looked at it "that's not me." he stated firmly, you pushed the picture towards him again "kid listen to me. That ain't me," you didn't believe him.

Were you gone too long? Why didn't he remember?

Showing him another picture he swatted your hand away making you drop the picture into the fire, your eyes growing wide as you scrambled to grab the picture.

Logan quickly grabbed you seeing as you were burning yourself to grab it "hey! hey! damn it stop it!" you faught against him to grab the picture burning your hand in the processes.

Putting the fire out you looked at it half Logans face was burned off. Looking at the male you shoved him with a shout "stop that." he commanded, annoyed just hoping you'd go away.

You shoved him again "w..hy!" Logans claws shot out pointing at your throat "look kid I already fucking told you i'm not him! Get that through your thick fucking head!" snatching the two photos away from you he held them up shouting at you "we are not the same person! I'm not that fucking man you used to know! That man is dead!" he yelled.

You could feel more tears fill your eyes, not wanting to believe what he was saying. "He's gone! You've seen it for yourself! He's Dead! And there is nothing you can do about it!" He shouted throwing the pictures down before shoving past you angrily.

You hurried to pick up the pictures holding them close to your chest as hot tears ran down your cheeks, sitting on the ground you pulled your legs up to your chest.

He was right about one thing he was nothing like the Logan you knew. He may have looked like him but he was nothing Logan, he was an imposter, a fake, a lie. The Logan you knew and loved was dead.

And no one could bring him back.

.

.

A/n: This was a tough one, should I do a part two?

[choerypetal]

Mon amour / Gambit

summary: a little prompt, of gambit loml who is a brat when it comes to love, after a hards day at work. (also the deadpool hyperfixation is REAL y'all this movie was so good)

ps ; english isn't my first language so i apologize for grammar errors.

enjoy!

“Merde,” 

Gambit's voice echoes in the recesses of your mind, a hauntingly familiar presence. You hear his distinct footsteps approaching, drawing your attention away from whatever occupied you. Gambit, indifferent to your preoccupation, lets out a sigh as he leans in close, his voice a seductive purr, "Mon amour."

He craved attention, no doubt about it, which brought a smirk to your lips. Your eyes stayed fixed on the book you were reading, resisting the distraction of whatever scheme Remy had concocted. But it was obvious—today, he wanted you all to himself. His hands, bloodied and crusted with remnants of his victims, spoke of a hard-fought battle. Growing impatient with your silent treatment, a slight edge of frustration in his voice, he murmured, "Why ignore such beauty?" 

You scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. How thoughtful, you mused, leaning back to meet his gaze. With a pout, you sighed, "Pity," pausing briefly. Remy 1, You 0, he mused with a matching scoff. Rolling your eyes, you continued, "I was going to offer to help you clean up, but..."

"Oh sweetheart, you know you've already lost the bet." You knew it too, of course. Even as you wanted to silence him, you couldn't help but admire and love him. His fingers lightly caressed your waist, tempting you to melt into his embrace. After all, you were his. Undeniably. 

Closing your book, you swiftly tucked it aside and turned to face him, your gaze challenging. You noticed his lips curving into a smirk. "But what?" he asked, his eyes never leaving you, his fingers trailing from your waist to your chin, holding you captive. "But maybe instead... we can still have a little bit of fun?" After a moment of silence, your lips formed into a pout once more. "Pretty please..." Your sweet voice, so magnetic to him, drove him mad as he leaned in, his lips craving yours. “And then after… I can clean us up.” 

Oh, he loved the idea—every bit of it. His purr turned into a heavier groan as his fingers gently gripped your chin. "Oui, ma chérie, I am all yours." When you stood up, wiggling your hips with your hands intertwined with his, Remy's hand delivered a swift, delectable slap to your arse, and he followed you like a lost puppy.

[lavendervulcan]

hooimbouttamakeanameformyselfhere

[gh0stsp1d3r]

M-May I kindly ask for a Gambit x Reader headcanon but the reader is a mutant who can travel through the shadows but due to their lack of control over their sanity it restrains them from staying in the shadows too long as it drains their awareness and mental stability? And the Reader usually suffers from anxiety and is always so paranoid so they put up a sassy sarcastic persona to hide it from all except Gambit?🥹

Def not inspired by an oc naw naw

A/n: love this so much, the creativity is so just 🤌🏽🤌🏽

remy masterlist ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

��❀᧓ he finds your mutation super fucking awesome and cool. He finds it interesting.

𝜗❀᧓ the both of you quickly became friends when you first joined the school, he was actually your first friend. He quickly falls for you. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him and his charm.

𝜗❀᧓ you both got together after about a year or two of pining for each other !

𝜗❀᧓ He is pretty observant when it comes to you, and he is quick to pick up on how drained you feel after using your powers. He notices the dark circles under your eyes and the way your smile fades when you have to use your powers during missions.

𝜗❀᧓ he questions you about it, but you just tell him everything’s alright, brushing it off as nothing. You crack a joke, hoping it’ll get him to change the conversation.

But he can see it in your eyes that your lying. He knows you too well. He brushes it off for now, deciding to wait until you both were alone to ask again

𝜗❀᧓ finally, you tell him. You tell him why you barely use your powers, why you don’t use them when you don’t have to. The giant weight being lifted off of your chest feels amazing after you confess and confide in him.

𝜗❀᧓ let’s just say, one time, you’re on a mission with him. There’s an enemy, and you’re lurking in the dark warehouse. He and some of the others are watching from behind, unable to tell what’s going on. It was supposed to be a recon mission.

Something happens, you end up getting hurt before Remy can even reach you. As soon as it happens and he hears your screams, he’s running out faster than anyone else. Running to you.

Basically, he feels horrible, as if it’s his fault. He’s carrying you back into the jet after he takes out the enemies.

“Stay with me, cher.” He’s mumbling out to you when you’re slipping in and out of consciousness.

He knew that traveling in the shadows was dangerous and lessened your awareness, but he let you do it anyways. He felt terrible for a while. But you had to reassure him it wasn’t necessarily his fault, and that you knew the risk and took it.

𝜗❀᧓ safe to say he doesn’t let you go alone after that.

𝜗❀᧓ your paranoia and anxiety also get worse when you’re in the shadows. When he notices your nervous face and your fleeting eyes, he puts his hand over yours. Your hands jerk a bit, flinching at the sudden touch, ready to almost fight him, but you relax, remembering it’s just Remy.

𝜗❀᧓ he also makes sure that you know you don’t have to put up a front in front of him.

“You don’t needa do t’at wit’ Remy.” He tells you quietly when you try to push him away, telling him that he’s being dramatic and that you’re okay when he expresses his concern.

yeah, I’d cry in his arms.

𝜗❀᧓ he’s glad that you feel like you can share a part and pieces of yourself that you can’t share with anyone else. He always is going on about how lucky he is to be yours.

𝜗❀᧓ he also always keeps a lil night light in his room for you. Makes sure that there’s always some sort of light in the room <3