X-Men One-Shots and Preferences

So Bad It's Good-Remy LeBeau

This here's my first Gambit one-shot, and I thought I'd add a bit of a twist to it. The reader is in Gambler's Anonymous when she meets Remy for the first time and has to decide if his lifestyle won't tempt her to fall back on old habits.

Some fluff, some angst, and mentions of addictions. Enjoy.

-----Three years ago----------------

"You did what?!" you mother exclaims in shock. "I...I'm sorry," you feel shame, "I just thought I could win it back with more money if I kept playing." "Unbelievable," your father starts to get angry. "Dad," you brother is about to intervene. "No, (y/b/n)," your father scolds before turning to you, "I've had it with all the secret gambles you've been doing, (y/n). You've always gave me a hard time about my drinking, while you go off  gambling your rent money, than your mother's money that was suppose to be my bail money, than your brother, and your friends, and now you pawned off that diamond necklace we all worked hard to get you for graduation."

"I said I'm sorry," you start to tear up. "No, no sorry," your father exclaims, "Every time you've asked for money, you end up betting, no, practically giving it away and you always say you're sorry and act like it's no big deal until you do it again. It's like...it's like you can't stop, (y/n), you...you have a serious problem, and you need help."

Tears streaming from your eyes, you turn and walk out the door.

-------The Present---------

Since that day three years ago, you realized you did have a serious gambling problem, and since then, you've been going regularly to Gamblers Anonymous meetings to  help in overcoming this addiction. You rarely ever missed a meeting, and whenever the urge came up you always called your sponsor. You also sent your parents  and friends you owed money you had gambled away in the past as a means to hold yourself accountable for the people you've hurt with your addiction.

On this particular night, you found yourself at a bar after work having a cocktail; you finally paid off your last debt to your parents and you wanted to celebrate. You hear several people cheering at a table nearby. You turn to see a group of people where playing what seemed to be friendly game of poker. You also took notice one of the guys at the table who seemed to practically take the other players to the cleaners with the way he was winning.
You couldn't help but laugh to yourself. Three years ago, you would've gave in and joined in after falling for the illusion that such high stake games were easy money...oh how very wrong you and many others like you were.

You turn your attention back to your drink and realized it was already empty. You were debating whether or not you should order another or not; you never really were a big drinker, though most of that stemmed from you watching your father battle an addiction to alcohol for most of your life.
It was then the bartender places another cocktail before you, the exact same one you just had, "Uh, I didn't ask for another one," you speak up. "Compliments from that Cajun over in the corner," the bartender nods in that direction. You turn and sure enough, the same man from the poker table, not too long ago, was sitting by himself sipping from a glass of whiskey.

He gestures for you to come to him; taking your drink in hand, you oblige. "You buying drinks for everyone in this bar from your winnings tonight or is it just for me?" you coolly ask as you take a seat. "So you saw," the man smirks, "guess luck was on my side tonight." "Yeah it always starts off that way," you mumble before asking, "This something you do all the time?" "Only during my spare time," the man shrugs, "I frequent this bar when I get de chance, and you, Chere, I couldn't help but notice dis is the first time I've seen you walk in here." "I don't exactly go out drinking that often," you explain, "Usually only on special occasions." "And what occasion would dis be?" he presses. "Paying the last of a debt I owed for the last several years," you vaguely answer, not quite wanting to disclose to a stranger that you were in GA. "Interesting," he tilts his head a little, as if studying you, "Name's Remy. Remy LeBeau." "(y/n) (y/l/n)," you say back, not quite feeling comfortable from the way he was gazing at you, but at the same time you couldn't help but be intrigued with his accent and unspoken charm.