Remy Lebeau/Gambit x Fem Reader One Shots

"Royal Flush" Part One

The night in New Orleans was warm, carrying the scent of delicious Cajun cooking; Jazz was drifting through the streets along with the drunk hooting of tourists... but all that was lost on you. All you were interested in was the heat in the little back room of the bar, the tension between the opponents, the ragged breathing of those afraid to lose, the disappointed sighing of those who knew that they had already lost.

And the wicked grin of the man in front, the stranger across the table.

Admittedly, everyone in this bar was a stranger to you, but this one... he had piqued your interest. And not only because he knew damn well how to play a decent hand of poker.

"That's it, I fold.", another man who had overestimated his poker face - and the contents of his wallet - threw the cards onto the table, got up and left. You never looked up. Your eyes were fixed on the man across from you. His eyes were dark, his grin even darker. You knew he was dangerous, but heck, that was the fun about all this.
"What do you say, another game?", the stranger asked you, and even though there were two other guys with you in the back room, the intense, almost glowing gaze from his dark eyes never left yours.

"I'm game.", you murmured and licked your lips. The man could as well see that you were interesting. He chuckled to himself, then shuffled the cards as quickly, gracefully, and efficiently as you had never seen anyone do it. Made you think what his skillful fingers might be able to do beyond that...

But as soon as you had your hand, you focused on the game, but that did not mean that you looked at your cards immediately. No, you preferred to watch the other players. The middle-aged guy to your right slightly raised an eyebrow, not much, but enough to tell you that his hand sucked, big time. The guy on your left, a young man with obviously filthy-rich parents but not a single shred of knowledge about this world, he tried hard to hide his grin. He had a decent poker face, but you were exceptionally good at what you were doing: Stripping strangers their last shirts off their backs in just about any game of cards, especially poker.

You loved poker because it was not as much boring counting of the cards and probability as Black Jack was, but poker required skill and luck... as well as nerves of steel. You had all of that, but apart from you, only the stranger across from you seemed to know his way on the green of the card table.

So it came as no surprise to you that the middle-aged man to your right folded his cards about ten minutes into the game. He left without a word, but you knew that the stakes had just gotten too high for him.

Grinning to yourself, you thought that his wife would flay him alive anyway for losing so much money, but you did not comment. The stranger across from you, however, he said, without letting you out of his sight: "Boy, leave us adults to a proper game of poker."

"B-but...", the boy objected, yet he was cut off, as the stranger grinned at him, smooth and dangerous like a shark, "I can strip you of your last coin, if you want me to. But what would Mommy say to that?"

"That's...outrageous!", the boy yelled, and you snorted derisively, so he rounded on you, "What?!"

"It's just... you kinda proved his point with that outburst."

"I did no...", he protested, but the stranger looked at the raging boy and chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, "You heard the lady, you did. So go on, be a good little rich boy and leave us to our game."

"I will not just go, you idiot.", the boy raged, and you sighed; dumb mistake, a rookie mistake. So, you just folded your cards to take a break, leaned back, and put your feet on the table, smirking as you watched the two men. The rich boy had jumped to his feet and was staring down at the stranger in a trench coat who then looked at you: "Would you mind, cher?"

"Not in the slightest.", you replied, "Be my guest."

"Thank you.", he said politely, then he got up and, in a movement faster and more graceful than you had seen anybody move, ever, he had twisted the boys' arm behind his back and, pulling it up, got the boy to stand on the tips of his toes.