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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 years

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The Gym Membership - Part 10 (Tech)

Summary: Tech tells Hunter about his date with Kamarie

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I know I just brought this back but this will go on a quick two week hiatus as I will be on vacation, so rather than leave you all on a cliffhanger, I thought I’ll share the next part of Tech’s story. Don’t worry I’m still writing Tech’s story so there may be another two parts or three coming. Definitely two for sure.

Please note I am not a medical professional in any way shape or form, every mention of medical procedures or topics have been researched, as such some information may be inaccurate. If you are experiencing medical concerns please seek out a medical professional for help.

Chess game that is played through out Tech’s portion, is the game played by Kasparov vs. Topalov - played Jan 20 1999, at the Hoogoes A tournament. Please note I am not a chess player, I do not watch chess, hence why I focused on an already played game.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Flirting, angst, grief, anger, inappropriate comments, medical discussions, mentions of illness, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of medical diagnosis, crying, abandonment, veil threats, bullying, mentions of infidelity, feelings of not good enough, realization of future, I think that’s it, the warnings are a little vague, otherwise it would give too much of the story away, however if I did miss any please let me know.

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“I’ve not had the privilege of eating here before, however Crosshair, Hunter and Zaina have and they all seem to enjoy the food.”

“I’m sure it will be quite delicious, I know several others I collaborate with enjoy this restaurant as well”

“Would you prefer to discuss the problem the coding seems to be having before we order our meal?”

“If you are not opposed to the discussion”

“Not at all, I find it quite fascinating”

“Excellent” Kamarie reached for her iPad, pulling up the coding for the hydraulics, “as you can see” she handed Tech the iPad, watching him as he took his time examining the coding, “the code is working, in fact the code is …”

“It’s elegant”

“Oh … uh … thank you. I didn’t think you …”

“Believe me. It’s as elegant as you are beautiful” Tech watched as she glanced away smirking, even her eyes appeared to be shine with enthusiasm at his statement.

“Are you always this complimentary?”

“When it calls for it, yes” Tech glanced from her eyes back to the iPad in hand, “I think I see the issue with the coding”

“Already?” Tech nodded shifting a little so he could show her the issue, when the waiter came over asking what they wished for, they quickly put in their order, focusing back on the coding before them.

He took his time to explain the issue and how he would go about fixing it, he couldn’t help glancing over to her every few seconds as he spoke. He noticed whenever he pointed out the problem to Kamarie, she would twirl her fingers back and forth over her left earring, and when he pointed out a solution to that particular issue she shifted closer to him, almost encouraging him to keep finding solutions. When he complimented a particular section, she moved her other hand lightly grazing his. It was all done subconsciously, it appeared she had no clue as to what she was doing while he spoke.

In those moments, watching every single one of her movements, captured him. He felt his heart was climbing and ready to jump from his throat. Even his cheeks begin to flush and feel warm, yet he felt a chill run down his spine as the smell of her perfume wafted over to him. It was simply ridiculous how just being in her presence made his heart flutter and his pulse race.

Tech looked over to Kamarie and noticed her eyes glancing from the datapad to both their hands, he wondered what had caught her attention. When he looked, he was shocked to see that at some point they had intertwined their hands together. He wondered at what point had this happened, how had he not noticed, and who took the initiative. He looked from their intertwined fingers to her face, there was a smile he couldn’t quite describe. It was full of mirth, shyness, adoration, and something else, it made him feel as though he was the most powerful man ever in existence. Tech reciprocated as best he could, smiling at her hoping to convey his feelings of admiration for her.

“Well, there’s a face I haven’t seen in quite some time” a smug voice filled the air around them, pulling them from their moment.

Kamarie’s face lost its sense of calm as soon as the first word was issued and reached her ear. Even the smile she had on her face seconds before fell. Tech felt her fingers tighten around his, she seemed frightened at hearing the sound of that voice.

Tech watched her intently, as she slowly and cautiously turned her head towards the voice, he followed her movement with just as much precision and care. When he looked to the direction of the presence that had intruded on their evening, even his breath hitched in his throat, upon see a certain pair of eyes standing beside the voice, someone he had not seen since his senior year in high school all those years ago.

“Pre Vizsla” Kamarie began, her knee pressing against Tech’s, it was as though she was doing her best to absorb his strength, “it’s been some time.” Tech didn’t miss the way the muscles on her neck jumped every so often, or the fact her hand began to feel a little cold and sweaty. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms, to tell her there was no reason to fear, he was here for her.

“I’m surprised to see you … here” Vizsla stated slowly and deliberately, his eyes locked on to Kamarie’s, a smile etched on his lips, as his hand tightened on his companion’s waist, “please allow me to introduce my date.”

“Oh don’t worry my dear” the girl draped on his arm rested her hand on his chest, caressing it tenderly, “Tech and I know each other, don’t we my dear”

Tech didn’t want to look at the woman on Vizsla’s arm, he didn’t want to deal with this woman from his past, yet he had to give Kamarie some explanation, he focused on her as he did his best to provide some clarification to her confused expression, “Christie was my …”

“I was his ex, dear” she directed to Pre Vizsla, “actually, I’m pretty sure I was his first girlfriend, isn’t that right T?”

Tech simply ignored her, he never spoke to her again after the incident, and had no desire to entertain her questions.

Vizsla smirked as his eyes locked on Tech, “Well, is that not just a strange coincidence, Kamarie here is my ex. Granted, she looks remarkably well and … very much alive.” He turned to lock eyes with Kamarie, “Last time I spoke with you, you informed me you had only six months, surprised to see up and about” the smirk turned into a grin, “and not six feet under.”

“I beg your pardon” Tech spoke up to the man, his hand clenching against his side, “Are you shaming her for a diagnosis?” His eyes narrowed on the man.

“Maybe you should mind your own business, glasses, or at the least wait till you hit puberty”

“Name is Tech” he stated as he stood from his seat, his hand falling away from Kamarie’s, his other hand clenching into a fist, his breathing steady as his eyes laser focused on the man in front of him. “I suggest if you are quite done with your meal, you should walk away, or I can make sure to call your transportation ahead of time”

“Really?” Kamarie’s voice pulled Tech from his focus.

He looked towards her a smirk appearing on his lips, “Of course, it always take the ambulance at least ten to fifteen minutes for them to show up” he turned back to Pre Vizsla narrowing his eyes once more.

“Listen you …”

Christie pulled on Pre Vizsla’s arm, “Pre, maybe we should go my dear,” her eyes meeting Tech’s, there was no doubt, Tech could see the hesitancy resting in her eyes along with fear, before she focused back on the man beside her.

Tech saw her expression, he had no doubt she was remembering he could handle himself, probably better than the man on her arm right now. After all, she had attended one or two of his martial arts tournaments.

“I’m not scared of him”

“My dear, please, let’s go” Christie looked from Pre to Tech, the tension palpable between the two, “You don’t want to start something with him. Please my dear, let’s go, we still have your friend’s party to attend” Tech watched as a smile appeared on her lips, it was a smile he had to admit reminded him of the times she pretended to be interested in him back then, and how easily he fell for her.

Pre simply nodded, “Very well, out of consideration for this lovely creature” Pre’s knuckle tapped Christie’s chin, “we will head off, enjoy whatever time you have left with her, glasses. After all, I had all the best years.” Pre shifted his hand guiding Christie outside of the restaurant, it had taken every ounce of self-control for him not to jump over the table and throttle the man to pieces.

Once they were gone Tech let out a controlled breath and retook his seat. He glanced over to Kamarie, her eyes were glistening with tears, her shaky hand was covering her quivering lips, she almost seemed to curl in on herself. Tech rested his hand on her back gently, rubbing circles.

“Kamarie, are you all right? If I overstepped or if I scared you …”

“I …” her voice was shaky as she cut him off, the waiter came by hoping to ease the couple at his table, “Sir, Ma’am is there anything I can get you?”

“A glass of water, please” Tech answered without even looking at the waiter, yet he could see from his periphery the nod of understanding as he headed off to wherever. Truthfully, he could have cared less, directing his full attention back to the woman who was a sheer ghost of the strong woman he had come to know over time.

“Cyar’ika, what is it? I apologize if I did not step in as quickly as I should have or if I overstepped in some way.”

“No. It is not that that has upset me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I did not want to discuss this on our first date but it appears I have no choice in the matter now, since my ex-husband just …”

“Is this in regards to what he stated about …” Tech cleared his throat, “about your life expectancy?”

Kamarie nodded a tear slipping down her cheek, he took a quick glance around the restaurant, most patrons were busy, however a few were watching the two of them like some soap opera, others were pretending to focus on their dining companion, while glancing over towards them equally enthralled with the situation that had just transpired.

“Would you prefer if we went somewhere less public?” Kamarie nodded again. Tech left several bills on the table, guiding Kamarie out of the restaurant and towards his car “Are you comfortable traveling with me in the same car?”

“I arrived in an Uber, therefore I am without transportation at that moment. However, I trust you, Tech. I’ve always trusted you.” The look in her eyes, when she locked on to his, told Tech everything he needed to know, and he valued that trust and would treat it with the absolute privilege it was, he took her hand gently, as he guided her into his car.

He sat in the driver seat, taking a moment as the car warmed up a little before he decided to drive anywhere, which reminded him, “Do you have a preference where we go?”

He watched as the tension in her shoulders began to ease, “There is a location that holds deep meaning for me” Kamarie pulled our her phone, texting the address to Tech.

The ride to their destination was quiet, filled with tension and discomfort, an almost eerie silence that seemed to have landed between the two of them.

Tech hated it, he knew he should be doing something, saying something, after all he wanted to provide comforting words but his words weren’t like Echo’s spoken from the heart full of meaning and even poetic, they weren’t like Wrecker’s full of fun and care, or like Hunter’s full of purpose and direct, or even like Crosshair’s who could make anyone blush when he turned on the charm.

He was just him, and the only thing he could offer was his mind, yet despite his fantastical orthography, his myriads of knowledgeable information he kept stored in his three pounds of tissue, everything failed him. All he wanted was to just say anything in order to get her out of her own mind set.

Set.

That word and that word alone struck him with pure genius as a smirk appeared on his lips.

“King C1 to B1”

Kamarie glanced over to him, he took a chance to glance over, and there on those beautiful lips he had memorized and studied all the times he spoke with her had the beginnings of a smile. She quickly wiped away a stray tear as her smile grew.

“Pond A7 to A6”

“Hmmm” Tech took a second to think of his next move, “Knight E2 to C1”

“Queenside castling”

“Knight C1 to B3”

“Pond E5 to D4 capturing pond”

‘Your destination is on your right’ the GPS voice cut through.

By the time Tech had parked the car, the dense cloud that had been hanging over Kamarie had lessened. He could once again see that strong, intelligent, bold, capable, and absolutely brilliant Doctor sitting beside him.

He got out of the car, heading to her side to open the door holding his hand out for her; he wanted her to know he would always be there to hold her hand. There was a small smile on her lips as she stepped out of the car taking his hand.

She wrapped her coat around her tighter not due to the weather, but no doubt due to the uneasiness of the discussion they were about to have. Tech followed quietly, still holding her hand, helping her sit on the bench.

He’d done stealth missions before, but somehow they all seemed to pale in comparison to how important it was for him to remain as silent as possible as he took the seat beside her. He didn’t want to rush her, allowing her to take her time, to gather her thoughts, and to determine exactly how much or how little she truly wanted to or needed to tell him.

They’d been sitting for ten minutes, before Kamarie was ready to open her mouth, she shifted closer to Tech wanting his warmth and strength as she was about to reveal a hard truth to him, almost instinctively he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in closer and that’s all she needed at that moment, she took in one final breath before she started.

“Pre was my husband…” Tech didn’t know what to do, obviously someone as amazing as her would have had a previous paramour, yet, that man, really? “… We were married for five years, yet we’d been together for nearly eight. At the time, I thought … I was under the impression he loved me. We just celebrated our third anniversary as a married couple, when we learned about my diagnosis.”

Kamarie’s hair wafted in the wind as Tech watched her expressions, every shift of her face, every movement of her lips he burned into his memory, and tried to calculate the answer behind them, to search for hidden meanings and clues, still doing his best to remain as silent as possible beside her.

“It started about a year before, I had begun to notice some health issues I was having. Difficulty breathing when I overexerted myself, even just something as simple as walking up a few steps made me feel as though I had run a marathon. I developed a cough that seemed to worsen as the months passed. Eventually, I seemed to have lost my appetite, foods that were once something I craved held no joy for me. Extreme tiredness and weight loss soon followed …” Kamarie fidgeted with her hands, “it took a few months, several tests, but my doctors were able to make a diagnose.”

She cleared her throat, turning to look him in the eye, “I have squamous cell carcinoma”

“Lung cancer? What was the diagnosis?”

“When I was diagnosed, almost five years ago now, the doctors informed me I had M1A Lung Cancer, the most if not one of the most severe forms of lung cancer. When we first found out Pre was inconsolable, he was struggling for a long time with my diagnosis. I’m not excusing his behaviour at the restaurant, but you have to know he was there beside me for every treatment, every appointment, every bout of sickness that came with the radiation and chemo. It all became too much and eventually broke him.”

She reached up wiping a tear, “He was a strong man, physically, mentally, emotionally, there was no obstacle he couldn’t overcome, but seeing me so sick, seeing me get worse and worse, with no hopeful diagnosis, it became all too much for him. At some point, he started having an affair with his coworker, I had just finished the third round of chemo when I found it, he told me, he just needed something good in his life. About a week after I found out about his … his extramarital paramour the Oncologist informed us there had been no change, he couldn’t … he couldn’t handle it. It was just too much for him.”

“It doesn’t excuse what he did, then and now; especially since you were the one diagnosed.”

“I know, but being with someone who has less than a 40% chance of survival, and that was ‘if’ the radiation and chemotherapy worked takes a toll on anyone. Especially, when the average survival rate was 34.3 months from date of diagnosis.”

“Yet you were the one who was suffering. Yes, I understand that it was difficult for him, but was it not especially harder for you? To see the man you loved, who you looked to for support, hurt you and abandon your side?”

“I won’t lie to you, it was excruciating, there were many nights when I cried myself to sleep. However, I’m glad he did leave, otherwise I wouldn’t have known how strong I was without him. Despite my ups and down, I am happy. I’m happy to have met you. I’m happy I have lasted longer than the two years and eight months the expected life expectancy I was supposed to have. Yes, each day since then has been my own ticking time bomb, but it has also given me the opportunity to make sure each day is not wasted. I travelled around the world, visiting and seeing everything I wanted to see. Completing everything on my bucket list, and now all I want to do is help those who I can with the time I have left.”

He didn’t know what to say, he wanted to be strong for her, he wanted to kick the living daylights out of Pre if he was being honest, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was “How are the treatments progressing?”

He internally screamed at his own failings, this was not the way to go about this. He wanted to tell her he was happy for her too, he wanted to make sure she knew he was going to be there for her every step of the way. Whatever may come, he was going to be there, and he was going to make sure she was happy; as he looked into her eyes he vowed within himself, every day for the rest of her life, he was going to make her happy.

“Well, … not good,” she chuckled, biting her bottom lip, when she realized there was nothing funny about the situation before them, “my doctors informed me two months ago, none of the rounds of chemo or radiation have worked in shrinking the tumours. They’ve slowed their growth … and since surgery is out of the question, due to the size and the various locations of the tumours, I have been informed there is nothing more that can be done. My doctor was very sweet and kind, and advised me to enjoy the life I have left, however long that might be.”

Tech couldn’t believe all of this, that was … he usually enjoyed learning new and interesting pieces of data, there would be times where he would lose track of needing to sleep, eat, shower, even sometimes forgetting to go to work because he was busy reading and researching new and interesting topics that drew his attention, but this … all of this … the only thing that came back to his mind was Pre leaving “He refused to stay by your side?”

She didn’t flinch or even chastise him for simply focusing on what her ex-husband did, in truth that had occupied a lot of her cognitive thinking in the past, it would only be natural that Tech found himself focused on the same topic of discussion, “As stated previously, I could not blame him for his failings, it was a tremendous amount of pressure, stress, and heartache, he did the best he could in the time he stayed with me. Watching someone you love, slowly pass away, and in the most difficult way possible is not something everyone can handle.”

There was a silence that fell upon the two of them, as Tech took his time analyzing her words. They weren’t words said to protect the man who had been her husband, they weren’t words said simply to fill the silence, they were words she had analyzed and examined herself. She said them because she believed them, and he couldn’t help but respect her all the more for it. Despite how Pre treated her in the restaurant, she really had no ill-will towards the man. He wondered if that was because of her love for the man, or her own reasoning.

“Are you upset with me?”

Tech furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “What possible reason could there be to be upset with you?”

“For not being angry with Pre”

He simply shook his head ‘no,’ “How can I be upset about how you decide to view your ex-husband? I simply met him today, and not in the best light. I am not such a petty man to believe my own experience is the only answer to the character of that man. Does it make me upset on how he treated you? Yes, most assuredly, yes. Does it make me upset with you? No. He was your husband, your paramour, and your friend, regardless of what actions he may have taken later on in life, do not negate the memories you have of him from before.”

“Are you always this understanding?”

“I aim to understand and see the logic behind one’s reactions; it makes it easier for me to understand others.”

“Thank you for being a man who forms opinions based on logic”

“Kamarie, there is something I wish to tell you”

“Which is?”

He took in a deep breath, this was no light matter, and what he was about to say would prove he thought about this in depth, “I wish to remain by your side for as long as you choose. I know you did not wish for me to learn of your diagnosis so early on in our relationship, however, I am glad to know. It will help me to appreciate and treasure every moment I have with you.”

Her eyes shifted away, “Tech, please do not feel as though I told you, simply to make you obligated to stay by my side because Pre had difficulties handling my illness. If this is too much for you to handle, if this is too difficult …”

He shifted closer reaching out, taking her hand in his, there was something about her statement, something about the way she stated her sentence that made Tech focus on the present, the here and now, the fact that what she needed most was not someone to fight for her on a feud that was long over with, she had precious moments and he needed to focus on her.

“I understand the significance of my statement and declaration, cyar’ika. I do not feel obligated, I stated my intention with freeness of speech” Kamarie shifted her head to look at Tech.

She didn’t need a saviour, she didn’t need anything, she had known this was a lonely road to take when her doctor informed her about the diagnosis all those years ago, and in fact when Pre left they had just learned she may have had at most six months, but she beat those odds. She beat them by almost three years. However, this time her diagnosis was final, there was no more last minute efforts to try and for now she felt relatively fine, a lot better than what she felt when she was on chemo and radiation.

No one really knew how much time she had left, but that didn’t matter.

All she really wanted was someone to love in the time she had remaining, something she didn’t think was possible, yet here she was with the most amazing man she had ever met, someone who clearly stated he wasn’t afraid to take on her burden, and for that someone to be Tech, was a gift from the universe she wasn’t going to throw away.

“Tech you understand there will be a lot of things I cannot give you if you choose to stay by my side? I cannot have children, the chemo and radiation have made that impossible. I will not be able to live a full life with you, my illness has made it very clear each day could be my last. There may be times in the near future, where I will be so sick, it will be impossible for me to even get up to use the bathroom to relieve or even clean myself. If you stay by my side, it will be one filled with pain, sickness and eventual death.”

“Kamarie, I am not leaving your side. Every day could potentially be our last day, I do not want to waste a single moment from this day forward. Since the first day I met you, you … I should’ve said something back then. You are everything I could want cyar’ika, your brilliant mind, your melodious laugh, your fetching eyes, your ability to follow my thinking, and your beauty. The more I’ve gotten to know you over these past two years, the more I’ve realized I’d fallen in love with you. Let me be there for you; give me the privilege to make whatever time we have left together the most enjoyable I can. Allow me to love you as you deserve. If this is truly not what you want, we can part ways here, and I will be by your side as much as you let me.”

Kamarie’s hand shakily reached up and cupped his cheek, could he really give her everything she hoped for? She wished and prayed that in that moment she was making the right decision, “I want this, Tech, I’ve wanted it since you came into my life. However, I will not force you to stay by my side, if at any time you find it is too difficult…”

“Kamarie” Tech leaned into her hand, raising her other hand to his lips pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles, “I am not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere, you’ve captured my heart from the moment you protected me, your brilliance, your beautiful eyes, your cunning wit, your kindness, and your charming face were all things that drew me towards you. I only regret that I did not speak up sooner.”

“Let’s not squander any more precious moments with regret, instead let’s fill them with memories we can carry in our hearts for as long as possible.”

She simply nodded, as Tech’s lips closed on hers, she reciprocated his kiss deepening it, hoping to convey her gratitude, her admiration, and her respect for the man beside her. Tech tilted his head hoping to deepen the kiss or extend it further, he hated that he waited so long to tell her the truth, he hated that he could’ve been by her side sooner. Eventually, both pulled apart, needing to breath, she rested her head against Tech’s shoulder, curling herself into his side, as she held on to his hand. Tech was grateful she couldn’t see his face, she wouldn’t be able to see the tears that had begun to escape down the side of his cheek.

“I dropped her off at home and aimed to head home, I honestly don’t know how I ended up here”

“Tech, are you sure this is what you want?”

“I have been in love with her for the past two years, I wasted all that time, Hunter. I am not wasting another minute without her, even if it’s for a short time”

“You know it’s not going to be easy, I remember how hard it was for you when Wrecker and Echo were in the hospital and you were stuck in Afghanistan. You almost lost your mind Tech, you practically threatened an entire military base in order to get back home. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I understand where your concern is coming from, I do. However, the thought I keep returning to: what if I’m not by her side for every moment and chance I have. I want to be there, Hunter, I want to be the one she leans on, during the difficult times ahead. The only place I belong is by her side, there is no doubt in mind about it.”

“Then we’re here for you. For the both of you.” Hunter reached out grasping his younger brother’s shoulder, he didn’t miss the determination in Tech’s eyes, he could see the man had a plan up his sleeve to make every moment with Kamarie special “Are you guys going to tell the rest of the family?”

“I’ll leave that for her to decide” Tech appreciated his brother’s hand on his shoulder, he appreciated it even more when his hand shifted and rested on top of his head, it was a simple gesture but it brought him an immense sense of comfort every time. It was a gesture that had been developed since they were kids, a silent promise that Hunter would be by his side always.

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unknowncountrygirl · 1 year

Text

Curse Breaker’s Gambit Ch 8

Final Chapter

The team clanked their glasses together.

“Thanks for the drinks, Murphy!” Iris smiled after taking a sip.

“I should be the one thanking you, I still can't believe we're wizard chess champions! When we set out to compete, our odds were 10.6%!” Murphy cheered.

“Shows you how far those predictions will get you.” Tulip chuckled. “Because Celine and her team have been unseated, and we're the ones with the large trophy.” She patted the five foot tall trophy that was sitting on the table. “It really is large, isn't it?” Iris laughed looking up at the large trophy.

“I wonder if it was hand sculpted or if they used a mould.” Badeea pondered as she ran her fingers over the joints of the trophy.

“Either way, it's ours! And I think we can all agree, it's all thanks to Iris.” Tulip cheered.

“Thank you Tulip, it wasn't easy to defeat her, but somehow I pulled it off and I think the only reason is because of the three of you.” Iris lifted her glass of butterbeer. “To our chess team.”

“Here's to you Iris, and those lucky enough to have you at our side.” Tulip cheered as they all raised their glasses and clanked them together again.

“Badeea outfoxed her opponents by using her imagination.” Murphy said. “Tulip proved playing from the heart is as important as playing with your head.” He looked to Iris, “and you helped me realize my dream without letting my enthusiasm get in the way of the team.”

“And just like those fickle little pieces on the chess board, we needed a leader, a Queen if you will, who understood our unique abilities well enough to turn them into strengths.” Badeea added happily, looking towards Iris.

Just as she was about to say something, the door opened, and a bunch of Hogwarts students came in, cheering loudly, Penny leading the way.

“Your Patronus said you won! I thought you guys deserved a party!” Penny smiled as she walked up and gave Iris a hug. “It's party time!”

The party was loud, everyone was happy that Hogwarts had brought home another trophy for the case and had taken it away from Beauxbatons. Murphy talked t anyone who would listen about how the team had managed to come up with a way to counter the dreaded Dragon defense, and how Iris had executed it beautifully.

Skye was currently drinking the Slitherin boys under the table with spiked butterbeer, and Iris was chatting with a few of her female friends, along with Tulip and Badeea. Murphy's eyes happened to be burning and he more then likely had bloodshot eyes to match how lousy he was feeling at the moment.

There was a lull near the fireplace, and he took the opportunity to roll himself near the fire. Murphy parked himself in the corner by the fire, and transferred from his chair to the booth, and leaned back. He had hardly slept the night before and just wanted to close his eyes for a moment.

“Sleeping during a party?” Iris asked him, and he peeped one eye open.

“Well, I didn't exactly sleep well last night.” He admitted to her as she slid in next to him. “I like your skirt.” He grinned.

“I know you do.” Iris smiled, taking a sip of her extra sweet butterbeer before pulling at the bottom of her sweater, pulling it over her head to show that she had worn the matching top underneath. “I also know you like this top too.” She winked, and Murphy could do nothing but smile like a fool. His favorite outfit, on his favorite person, in the glow of a fire... It all was just everything he could have ever imagined it would be. He was just about to lean in and try to give her a kiss when she said, “you know. I wish it would have been you.”

“What?”

“That faced Celine. It was you who had the dream of playing in the tournament, and you were such a fan of hers. I wish you could have had your moment in the spotlight, to show everyone how great you are for once.” She told him.

“Well, regardless, you took her on and you won with grace.” He told her, “and I'm proud of you for being not just my friend, but for making your name in the Wizarding chess world.”

“I wouldn't have done it without you-”

“Iris!” Murphy and Iris's attention was pulled from each other to the wizard coming their way. Archie Brewer, captain of the Slytherin team, beater, six foot five inches of muscle, and hair of a golden retriever. “You're looking good as ever.” He greeted, pulling up a chair to sit across from her and Murphy.

“Hey, Archie.” Murphy said through pursed lips. He knew that Archie had a thing for Iris, well, most people had a thing for Iris so that wasn't the only reason he didn't like the guy. It was he was charming, and handsome, and the kind of guy that all the girls swooned for.

“What's up?” Iris asked kindly.

“We're about to take this party upstairs, gonna' do spin the bottle.” Archie smiled at her.

“That's a problem, since I can't go up the stairs.” Murphy pointed out.

“I was talking to Iris, not you.” Archie explained further. Murphy felt Iris let out a long huff and sat her drink down with a clank.

“Now, Archie.” She began, and Murphy saw her sit up a little straighter and place her mug of butterbeer down. “Why would I go upstairs, and take a chance of kissing the guy I want, when's he's right here?” Archie's smile grew from ear to ear, and Murphy felt increasingly uncomfortable. “Murphy?” Iris looked over at him, leaning towards him, “you want to snog?”

His brain. Shut. Down. He knew he sat there for a second, lips flapping in shock at the blunt question, before his brain caught up with the rest of him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to him. He had heard the ballads of first kisses feeling like fireworks and the palpable energy one feels and he thought that it was all just blowing smoke.

Until he kissed Iris. He swore he saw stars.

He felt one of her hands on his chest, and then the warm fingers of the other caress his face. He tried not to get distracted by that, and focus on her soft lips. With that said, he also had to squelch any temptation to open his lips and french her straight away. So he pressed his lips against her's, alternating between light brushes of and more powerful kisses, the latter Iris seemed to enjoy a bit more.

Murphy's head spun when he felt a light brush of Iris's tongue along his lips, a non-verbal way of asking permission to take the kiss further. He weighed the response of continuing in public, or if he wanted to sneak away somewhere a little more private.

“Do you... Uh, want to-” he tried to articulate the words he was looking for but found himself just starring into Iris's blue eyes.

“Do I want to...?” She asked.

“Uh... Privacy. You want to find somewhere more private?” He finally asked.

“Well,” Iris looked around the tavern. “It looks pretty dead in here since most everyone went upstairs.” Murphy peered around and indeed, there was just a few people in the pub, none of which were looking their way.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat, “before we get back to that, does this mean... You and I are... Ya know....”

“Well I sure would like to think so.” Iris told him, running her fingers over his cheek, her nails lightly tickling his skin. “You?”

“There is nothing I would like more, my Queen.” He winked, wrapping his arms around her tightly, just enjoying being close to her.

“Just so long as you never call me that again.” She said in his ear.

“No guarantee's, afterall, chess is what finally brought us together.”

“Then it's only fair I call you the King.” She joked.

“I think it's fitting since the Queen is more powerful then the King.” He pulled back enough just to press a kiss to her forehead. She smiled, but shook her head, instead of keeping the conversation going, Iris pressed her lips against his again. They sat cuddled in the corner until Madam Rosemerta kicked them out and they had to return to Hogwarts, trophy in tow.

In Murphy's mind, he had two trophy's to show off to the world, one was meaningless metal, and the other was Iris.

His Queen.

#hphm #hphm murphy #hphm murphy mcnully #hphm hphm murphy mcnully murphymcnully #murphy mcnully imagine #hphm mcnully #Murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully x jacob's sibling #murphy mcnully x mc #Iris Rosewood

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magics-protector · 2 years

Note

Hey there I read a few of your ships and it seems really cool. Could I have a narnia, shadow and bone (tv series) and marvel ship please.

I’m an INFP, hufflepuff with libra sun and cancer moon. I am questioning( I think I'm bi ) so it would be great if you could give me a male and female ship. I'm sorry if it takes you long. Its OK if you give any one too.

I’m about 5’6, I have brown eyes, and black wavy hair. I’m from India and have brown skin tone.

I use daydreaming as a coping mechanism on a daily basis ( guilty 😅 ). I love reading books, listening to pop and Indian music and I love to dance. I have done several shows and am known to be a good classical dancer. I also am a good chess player and have been to several international chess tournaments. I also love to draw cartoons.

My love language is affirmations and quality time. I am loyal to my family. I am kinda religious.

I'm extremely shy, reserved and introverted. I don't mingle with people rather quickly but I'm not blunt either. I try to be nice with everyone and try to make small talk, tho It usually comes out as terribly awkward. I was emotionally and verbally abused by my friend of 5 years so I take time trusting new people. I have generalised anxiety. I also tend to overshare about myself when someone shows the slightest interest in me ( I kinda wish I could change that 😭 )

I sure can. I haven't really watched Shadow and Bone yet but I have done enough research I should know the basics - I have an original character for an original story I'm working on who looks like The Darkling (I think Ben Barnes is a very pretty man <3) and he has similar powers to the Darkling, so I have some knowledge.

And don't worry about the daydreaming bit, I do it too. I generate so many fanfic plots and original story ideas I have no idea what to do with them lmao!

NarniaI ship you with...

Susan Pevensie

Lovely Queen Susan the Gentle. Gods, I'm jealous.

Susan is not one I would ship as opposites attract like I would with her brother, Peter. I tend to believe that Susan belongs with someone who can converse with her on nearly the same level of intelligence. When I think of Susan, I tend to lean more toward book Susan rather than movie Susan. She is far more kind and lives up to her name - the whole thing about her character is that she doesn't like violence and has never taken a life yet movie Susan has killed a man and probably would again.

You and Susan are very similar and that romantically works out for you both.

I think you and Susan are quite a match. Almost a perfect one.

Shadow and BoneI ship you with...

And, I'll try my best with this one

From what I know about Kaz, he's like Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders but like, somehow different. So, I do apologize if I get something wrong. But Tommy I can work with.

This is different from Susan as this time, opposites attract. Kaz, from what I can tell, is very cold and off-putting. But I do believe that the right person can bring out the best in him. He avoids people and often tries not the mingle and silence is key with him.

But I believe that even just spending time in a room with him, letting him work and just being in each other's presence, that is what makes this relationship worth while.

You'd bring out a side in him that he had forgotten was there and that is all that would matter.

Marvel

I ship you with...

Bucky Barnes

Ah, one Sergeant James B. Barnes reporting for duty.

Bucky's a good man. A little broken and in need of some TLC. I think you and Bucky can work through what problems you can together and honestly be the best thing that has happened to each other.

Give him time and he will give you time.

Honestly, Time will make this relationship stronger than anything that can be thrown your way.

I hope you liked it!

A/N: I've done this before with Marvel ships but underneath, if you are interested, I've put my face casting for Bucky. It's just something I do to get in better touch with the character because I'm more used to my casting rather than the actual casting - but feel free to ignore it. I'm just prepping for when i start and drop my MCU fic.

Bucky Barnes - My Face Casting

Diego Luna

He makes my heart happy. <3

#ship requests #request #submission #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #susan pevensie #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #mcu fancast

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miniconsuffrage · 3 years

Text

kasparov: i have to get out of here immediately

#idk anything about these people really but this cracks me up #anatoly karpov loses his title and then is second best in the world for nearly a DECADE before getting it back #kasparov plays karpov at 5 championships in 7 years and says 'you know what? i'm outie'#wish i could know what happens at chess tournaments #wish someone would let me have that information. instead of every single move made by the players and nothing else #i need the historical details :(#chess

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wheninitalyy · 3 years

Text

France is no escape - part 2.

A/N - Here’s part two!! Wooo!

I’m working mainly on working for readers to feel close with their character and their thoughts, I’m more comfortable writing about conflicts and getting to know characters on personal levels. Sorry if this is a bit rushed toward the end, I had been thinking about writing part two to this ever since I wrote part one, but- uh yeah thank you for reading!

Click here for Part One :]

Pairing : Benny Watts x Reader

Word count : 2749

Warnings : drinking, smoking, (some fluff this time though :] )

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I threw the blanket that covered me to the side, “And I said- Well, buy me a drink first!” the show’s laugh track played.

“Stupid,” I mumbled as I switched the television off, I peeled my eyes off the television for the first time in a couple hours. I thought being a photographer would make me busy, but it seems impossible to get any good shots when everyone important is hiding away in their rooms.

I left my room earlier to look around, I took a few shots of the hotel and some of the chess tables for inside of the magazine but there wasn’t enough to keep me out and about for longer than an hour.

I needed a drink, something to help me relax or take my mind off the pressure of having absolutely nothing for the magazine. I haven’t even met up with my co-worker who was writing an article for this event, I called the magazine author before I came here but weirdly I haven’t seen them all day.

I threw myself off the couch not wasting anymore time, dusted myself off, making sure I looked somewhat presentable in case I ran into anyone.

I centered my watch on my wrist as I read the time, 5:47 pm.

I had a couple hours to get a drink before the bar filled up with men throwing their money out the window when they lose a 5th game of speed-chess.

I tripped over air as I closed my door behind me, pulling the heel of my shoe on.

I turned a corner and got into an elevator just as a couple exited it, they looked like any other couple whose trip was likely crashed by a bunch of chess players this weekend.

I let out a little ‘whew’ sound as I spotted the bar, get in and get out, no small talk tonight or so I thought.

“One cocktail please,” I told the bartender behind the bar, he nodded and started making my drink immediately.

I pulled off my coat, laying it down on my lap.

It was a nice bar, nothing like the ones back at home I used to go to.

Strings of lights under the tables, lighting up the ground. About four silk covered chairs sat at every table in the restaurant. A few couples or families having dinner and, in the corners, sat some men and their chessboards.

I missed playing chess at dinner, upsetting the waiters as we decided to throw their perfectly set out plates and silverware to the side so we could order our drinks and question every play and move in our games.

I hadn’t been able to have moments like that in a long time. Sure, I get to dance around carefree and smoke in my apartment alone acting as if I owned the world, but eventually you get tired of living that life.

I wanted to live my old life.

I can’t tell you what I would give for one piece of normal in this place, my normal.

“Here you are,” the bartender placed my drink on the bar table in front of me, placing a napkin under the drink to catch the condensation.

I gave him a smile as I caught myself wishing my life different, I need to stop doing that. I’m content and happy here, just lonely.

I put the cup to my lips, wanting to pull back at the simple taste of the sugar around the rim of the frosted glass.

One sip turned into a couple and soon I was done with the whole drink. If I’m being honest- I couldn’t drink another, too sweet. Maybe a beer or something, just one before I go back up to my room.

I turned around to look out on the grand room full of elegant looking lights strung from the ceiling, there was a large window with a glass double door to the right of the room. On the other side of the glass was a simple patio, metal chairs and tables with umbrellas. I could see the end of the sunset from where I sat, a little clearing between the buildings where the sun dropped into the road, I’d like to walk around out there when its light.

Over the time I was sat at the bar, the restaurant filled. Chess players at each table trying to balance their food with their perfectly placed chess pieces and trying not to disrupt the games as they ate.

It was strange but I enjoyed watching them interact and curse when they realized they had lost, its possible that my fascination with watching people play chess is why I got into photography for chess. Catching shots of people deep in thought, not posed, just some strangers playing chess- it’s the best.

I wish I had brought my camera down here.

“Ahem,” a man cleared his throat behind me, I swirled my chair around to him,

“Matt?!” I was shocked to see someone like Matt here of all places, he smiled and pulled me out of my chair and in for a hug before I could protest.

“Hey, my favorite photographer,” he greeted me as he pulled me up off the ground just a bit,

Matt was an older friend, back in high school kind of older friend. I hadn’t seen him in years, longer than most of my friends back in America.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned him as I pulled back, keeping my hands tight on his upper arms,

“I came with Benny believe it or not, I wouldn’t have gotten into some big tournament like this without him,” he laughed as he ruffled my hair, him being taller than me by only a couple inches. “Benny told me he saw you here this morning. I had a feeling you would be down here around this time,” he looked out at the tables.

I smiled at him and exhaled as I looked up at the ceiling, thank you Benny.

“God... I’ve missed you Matt,” I pulled him in for a hug again ignoring all worries about being on the job, because surely I wasn’t on the job at 7 pm.

“Jeez, a little homesick, are we?” he asked me as he patted my back and let out a short laugh.

Matt pulled me off him and sat down at the bar beside me, “What’re you drinking? A beer?” he grabbed my drink and looked at the label.

He got the bartender’s attention easily, “I’ll have what they’re having,” he gave the man a smile.

He turned to me and snickered at my tendency to get lost in my thoughts. He tapped my shoulder to get my attention, “So- what’s new?”

“You know, you got to talk to him. He’s probably up in his room sulking right now,” Matt joked,

I nudged him with my shoulder and let out a huff, “I will, just not tonight,” I told him as I finished my beer.

“Who’s sulking up in their room?” a voice came from behind us; I knew that voice.

I looked over my shoulder to see Benny wearing his Benny Watts smile with the same clothes from earlier today, without the hat this time and his coat hung over his arm.

Nice timing Benny.

“There he is!” Matt greeted him,

Benny flashed me a smile and then gave Matt a hug, I turned back to the bar to gather myself. I heard the Matt insult Benny’s hair and it started a pointless quarrel within the minute, I snorted and ran a hand through my hair.

They had small talk that sounded more like Matt parenting Benny, asking where he was, who he was with and such.

Matt flagged down the bartender for another drink and I picked up my beer and looked through the glass deciding if I was going to have another, but my thoughts were interrupted as Benny threw his arms over my shoulders. He loosely put his hands in each other, a poor excuse for a hug but I wasn’t complaining.

“Hey,” he greeted me leaning his head in near my ear, I felt my body tense up as he spoke so close to my ear.

“Hi Benny,” I said softly putting down the bottle,

“No more Mr. Watts?” he laughed,

“No- that was,” I paused as I laughed shallowly at my stuttering, “No, you’re Benny,” I told him as I looked down at my hands on the table.

I already knew he had his ‘I won’ smile spread across his face.

“And you’re Y/N,” he said softly, his way of forgiving me in a way.

I smiled and put my hand on his, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently.

He had come over here and treated me as if we were friends again, he gave me that feeling I had been craving- feeling normal.

I missed any affectionate he gave me, it was rare in public that he gave more than handshakes and short hugs, but right now I held his hand in mine and I couldn’t be more content with this moment that I had to stop myself from smiling to the point where my cheeks hurt.

I missed Matt and Benny, and even Benny’s friends who would come over on late nights to play speed-chess for me to lose to them, then them losing to Benny. All I had for months on end was work, and days to waste away. I had no one to spend my days with and when I did, the memories lingered for hours divided between days.

This felt right.

Being here with a man I could compare to a puppy and another who used to be my best friend is the most right my life has felt for a while.

I flinched as Matt raised his voice suddenly.

“Alright! Let’s play some chess!” Matt got out of his chair and put a hand on each of our shoulders, we both looked to him.

“The alcohol is kicking in,” I whispered, Benny heard me and lightly nudged me as he smiled.

I smiled and shook my head, this felt right.

“Let’s!” Benny entertained Matt’s excitement, he pulled his arms back and spun me around to let me off the stool.

Matt nearly pull me out of my seat as he tugged us over to one of the only empty dinner tables, it hadn’t even been cleaned yet but clearly, we didn’t care.

I laughed at his eagerness, but I wouldn’t ask him to stop, this was the thing I had been begging for. The thing I was sitting here at the bar alone daydreaming about was happening, its like they heard my thoughts.

Chess had become an important part of my life at an early age, and even more important when I met some chess players during high school. Chess was the go-to to cheer everyone around me up, yet it was also what made so many people around me fall apart or go mad.

I got into photography senior year and couldn’t let go of a camera until, well- never. The world was beautiful when you looked past all the flaws and ruins, even then it was still beautiful with them.

Photography only became who I wanted to be when I met Benny, Benny showed me what it was like to have more than one road to capture memories on. Benny showed me what it was like to take pictures without a camera- to play memories in my head whenever I wanted to.

Benny never forgot anything, so when I met him, I decided I wasn’t going to either.

“Wait- just one more round!” Matt begged trying to redeem himself,

“No, its getting late. You know I have a real tournament to win tomorrow, right?” Benny sighed and kicked him chair back as he stood up,

“Wow, fine,” Matt mumbled a couple swears and turned to another man who was sitting at our table, he didn’t let the man get in a word before he set up the chessboard in front of him.

I snorted and looked up at Benny next to me, “Walk with me?” he asked offering a hand to me. I hesitated at first but grabbed him hand as I stood up, pushing my chair back into the table.

After I said my goodbyes to Matt and made him promise he wouldn’t drink anymore, I followed Benny out to the patio.

A rush of cold air hit me as Benny opened the door in front of us, he held the door open as I walked outside into the cold city-life. You could hear distant chatter on the streets and horns honking every couple seconds.

“Maybe I should move to France too, seems nice,” Benny said quietly, he lit his cigarette. I looked over at him lean against the building wall, “Want one?” he offered me a cigarette as I leaned on the wall next to him.

I looked at the small pack he offered to me, I put the backs of my fingers against my lips for a moment as I tried to resist the urge. I wasn’t a huge fan of cigarettes. Sure, one is nice sometimes, but they just make me feel... bad.

I pulled my hand away from my face and gently grabbed the cigarette out from in-between Benny’s lips, I took a smoke.

“Or steal mine,” he smiled as he reached for another,

“Don’t,” I coughed as I blew out the smoke, handing the cigarette back.

We stayed there awhile, silently listening to the city thrive outside, watching the lights in buildings flick on and off.

“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered just loud enough for Benny to hear,

It had been on my mind all night tonight; I shouldn’t have left him, I needed to leave but I didn’t mean to leave him in the process.

“After my mother passed, I needed to be somewhere new. I needed something new,” I said looking down at my feet,

“Ouch,” Benny laughed shallowly,

“No, not you. You were- are my best friend, you were the best thing in my life, Benny. I didn’t want to leave you nor did I want to ask you to run away to France with me,” I explained, I looked over at him. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as his other fell beside him holding his cigarette in-between his long fingers.

He didn’t respond or say anything for a couple minutes, and why would he? Those were poor excuses for skipping the country.

“I miss you,” he said softly taking another smoke, he threw his cigarette on the ground and put it out under his boot. “It wasn’t fair,” he turned to me.

“I know,” I whispered.

It almost felt like everything went quiet as I waited for him to say something else, anything else.

I wanted some clue on how to go back to not being viewed as someone who ran away from their life scared, I wanted a hint on how I could make him look at me like I didn’t break his heart.

“Y/N,” he pushed himself away from the wall, I looked over at him. “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said as he already had started walking.

I walked beside him down the hallway to my room, I hadn’t said anything more than directions on our way here. I was scared to say something, but I had to eventually.

We got to my room, I unlocked my door and turned around as I pushed open my door with my back.

Benny stopped and stared at me; I wish I could know what he was thinking. I wish I could hear his thoughts. He smiled as he looked up at the ceiling, clearly talking himself out of doing something, I do that all the time.

I pulled his arm toward me till I could grab his coat and pull him into a hug, “This is what I meant to do this morning,” I told him. I rested my chin on his shoulder waiting for him to hug me back, he wrapped him arms around me tightly.

“Yeah, it is,”

I shut my door and put my back against it, I slid down until I hit the floor.

I sighed wrapping my arms around my legs, my legs pressed against my chest and I almost sunk into the floor.

Shit.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Part Three !

#benny watts #benny watts imagines #benny watts x reader #the queens gambit #the queens gambit imagines #imagines #thomas brodie-sangster #thomas brodie-sangster imagines

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Regular (Part 1.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Geto is back for more, but innocence and sincerity isn’t something you’re used to.

word count: 2k

tw: none

a/n: This is just a brief interlude between part 1 and part 2! It will get steamier in part 2 for sure.

The squeal of the hinges alerts you to someone’s presence in the dressing room, and you look up from your phone and into the blue eyes of Mrs. Lampton. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin and holding out a wad of cash, obviously very excited to speak to you. “This is for you! VIP room tonight. You know the deal.” Before you can stretch out your hand to warily accept the cash, you raise a brow in question. “Oh, it’s the man from last night.” She answers quickly, a blush fanning across her fair cheeks.

Geto.

You stand to take the cash from the manager, noting the thickness of the stack and the way that the bills were pressed smooth - not crumpled like the ones thrown at you in haste. Someone had counted this money and stacked it with you in mind.

“This is--”

“It’s more than enough to cover the nightly operating fees for a week,” Mrs. Lampton waves away your observation, disappearing as soon as she finishes speaking. The hunter green two-piece you wore was no longer appropriate, and you take a look at the small offerings of clothing you had at your disposal. He had already seen the red lingerie, and that left you with the only other thing you had bothered to bring: a baby blue silk slip dress. Sliding the flimsy thing over your head, you think about his intentions tonight. Would Geto touch you? Would there be any sign of his arousal beyond the uncomfortable shifting? Or would he perform the “I’m going to save you from this place” act? You didn’t want to be saved from the club, that much you knew. The club had saved you. This environment provided you a well-needed distraction from the constant chaos that was your daytime life. Compared to that, the strip club was absolute heaven, and nothing would change that. Not even the wads of cash you were bound to receive from the mysterious man.

It’s the main reason why you empathize with your clients: escapism isn’t just a luxury they could afford. It’s one you desperately need, and they just bring the money for you to enjoy the feeling of being someone else for a change. On stage, you were someone everyone looked at with lust and desire. The attention on you there was rarely negative and if you could trade your daytimes for your night times, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Before you can slip back into your true self, you look at yourself in the mirror and fluff your natural hair. No wigs, that’s one of Geto’s rules. You take one more look at your reflection, decide it’s enough, and slide the thin black robe over yourself before exiting.

“Come here.” The request is met with immediate obedience, and you feel your legs magnetically pulled to the man sitting cross-legged on the couch, dressed in a dark blue shirt and black slacks. The top three buttons on his shirt are open, letting you catch a glimpse of the strong, pale chest beneath. “You look alluring, as always.”

Geto extends a hand out to you, and you tenderly take it, sliding your fingers into his large palm. Surprisingly, the pads of his fingertips and palm aren’t rough and calloused. That’s the sign of a man who doesn’t have to work hard for his money, your aunt would say. And you found that to be mostly true. Yuma never had calloused hands, not with his late father’s money cushioning him from any hard labor.

When Geto pulls you into his lap, you perch yourself on his right leg precariously, letting his right arm wrap around you and settle onto your hip. Instinctively, you lean into his frame, resting your head on his massive shoulder. His smell is different tonight. It’s earthen and full of some essential oil you can’t quite identify, but it suits him.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs over the soft music. He had the selections changed, you notice, the usual songs sexual and explicit. Now, you were surrounded by jazz, which changed the entire environment of the VIP room. You no longer felt like you would have to dance around sensually for him. Now, you felt like you were in a fancy, upper class yacht club, except in a robe and a night slip with no shoes on. Was he trying to save you? “Tell me about your day.”

“I’d rather not,” you whisper, thinking of the tension-filled morning and the afternoon you slept away. “Tell me about your day.” Geto rests his cheek against the crown of your head, inhaling deeply before exhaling; his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly.

“I’d rather not.” A moment of understanding passes between you, but he squeezes your hip suddenly, laughing a little. “Tell me, y/n… you seem well-adjusted. Did you choose this career path or did this career path choose you?”

“Well…” you think about the question deeply, and choose accordingly. “I chose this.”

“Do you enjoy what you do?”

“I do,” you breathe, remembering Yuma for a second. “I enjoy it here. Do you enjoy what you do?” When the man doesn’t answer, you lift your head off of his shoulder and look into his onyx eyes. There’s a certain stare in them - not a long stare, but enough to make you wonder - and it isn’t until he blinks that his lips part to answer.

“I do what I have to in order to survive.”

“You make it sound like you’re a mobster.” The laugh that resonates in his chest is deep and thoughtful, like he was just considering the prospect of it all. He reaches out a hand to touch your cheek, which you shy away from slightly. It isn’t unusual for a man to attempt to touch you in a more intimate way, but all of this coming from Geto feels too familiar. He clears his throat and drops his hand, looking away from you and at the lamps on the wall.

“If I said I was, what would you do?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “There’s not much I could do. Who would I tell?” The thought that this man could actually be a mobster just needing a break sticks a little harder than it should. It would explain the cash, the nice outfits, the need for privacy…

“No, I don’t associate with the underbelly of society. It’s not my game. Gojo, though…” You frown at the name, and he looks at you with a blank stare. “My bad; my friend from the night before.”

“Blue eyes?”

“Yeah,” he begins, looking away. “He brought me here to ease my nerves… I thought a few drinks would do the trick. But here I am.” He gives you a half-shrug, lips turning back up into a smile. That’s when the question you’ve been dying to ask falls out of your mouth without caution.

“Why do you pay more than you have to for... this room?” For me, you want to add, but decide that’s a step too far into personal details. Geto blinks, no doubt sensing your unspoken addition, and tilts his head to the side. “I mean, you could have an escort come to you every single night for the amount you pay for all of this…” You wave your hand around at the furnishings as if to prove your point. “And you could have sex with them.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for right now.” He replies, and you squint in disbelief, moving off of his leg.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to have sex.”

“Is that a question or a statement?” He asks, chuckling a little at your wary expression.

“Both.”

“Can’t I just get to know a beautiful woman in the privacy I can afford?”

“You could date a rich woman and take her out to fancy dinn-”

“That’s a lot of commitment.” Geto interrupts, holding a hand up to cut you off. “I don’t think that’s something I want splashed across every gossip rag.”

“And this is?”

“No one comes here to gossip. The focus is you and your co-workers, and they know what I come here for. It’s not as headline-inducing as taking out the heiress to a billion-dollar company to eat overpriced scallops in a five-star restaurant that pays its workers too little.” He hasn’t raised his voice a single octave, instead looking at you with a soft gaze and planting his hand on his now-abandoned leg. You take in all of the information he’s offered, uncrossing your arms and now standing akimbo, unsure of how to respond.

Gossip rags… Heiresses… Headlines…?

Geto wasn’t just rich. People had their eyes on him. Why hadn’t Mrs. Lampton warned her? Who else knew about his status in a world that she couldn’t truly occupy?

“Please,” he begins, stretching his hand out once more. “Sit with me. I enjoy your company.” You take his hand again, and this time he slides you in next to him, your bare leg touching his soft pants. “Now, tell me about the day you wish you had.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Your alarm goes off at exactly seven am. It isn’t ideal, but you know that in order to even get to your aunt’s flower shop on time, you had to give yourself an hour head start. Waking up was hard enough, and with the situation you were facing, it seemed like times would be getting even harder.

It isn’t until you get into the shower that you recount the details of the last night.

“I’m going to be away for a few days, but here’s a little something that might warm your hands while I’m gone.”

The impossible had happened yet again, and the thick stack of twenty dollars bills Geto handed you sat in your safe - untouched, uncirculated, and the seal around them remained unbroken. You had tried to look him up and find out what exactly he did during his day life, but the search results turned up absolutely nothing but an article from four years ago proclaiming the winner of a chess tournament in India named Geto. When you clicked on the article, you couldn’t read it, but the thirteen-year-old champion was absolutely not the man that had lavished you with cash.

You tried looking up his white-haired friend, Gojo, but found nothing on him as well. Whoever they were, there was not a single gossip rag that published a photo, quote, or mentioned them.

Because they paid them off, stupid.

You nod to yourself at the realization, and wash yourself completely before toweling off in the steamy bathroom. You’re in the middle of wondering what kind of people actually paid to have their names taken out of magazines when the door shudders violently under someone’s fist.

“Fucking hurry up,” one of your housemates yells from the other side, and you gather your things before rushing past the man in the doorway, ducking your head so he couldn’t accost you. But you’re roughly yanked to the side, making you drop your dirty clothes to the floor. Rough, calloused fingers bite into your arm, and you gasp, staring at the unfriendly face of the only male in the house. “Stop using all of the damn hot water in this house, y/n. I’ve told you that you get only three minutes of hot water, or else you’re paying the entire water bill, got it?”

“Sorry, Ryo…” you shrink away from the man’s harsh gaze, and he lets go of your arm silently, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. This. This is what you needed saving from.

Ryo’s girlfriend, Hasia, timidly shuffles into the room and gives you an apologetic look. She always did that, coming behind Ryo to apologize with her face and never her words. But it was almost over. Soon, you’d have enough to move out and be on your own - and if Geto was going to stay, then all of his money would trickle into your savings for rent, utilities, and new furniture. As it stood, you had enough to purchase something halfway decent, and with the rest of the incoming money, you would be able to fix it up to appear quite nice. You just had to time everything right, and keep your new regular coming back for more.

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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bxthharmon · 3 years

Text

Pink Champagne (1) - Benny Watts x Reader

Words: 2154

Series Warnings: Drinking, substance and alcohol abuse, addiction, smoking

Pt. Warnings: implied alcohol abuse, smoking

A/N: idk how regular updates will be and idk where tf this is going but here we are lol

“masterlist”

“You’re a woman.”

The twelve year old looks up at the speaker, her mother, apprehensive. She does not consider herself as a woman, not yet anyway. Besides, the older woman was drunk - but then again, when wasn’t she?

“Not only that, you’re a pretty woman, with a kind heart. You’re just like I was.” the mother props her head up with her hands, elbows on the table as she faces her only daughter. “Men will use you. They will hurt you and bring you down and they will break you because they can. Don’t let them. Don’t let them hurt you, be strong. You have brothers, and they are strong, but not like me and you are strong. They fight with their fists and think with their dicks. Us? We fight with our words and think with our brains. Keep your head up, don’t let them push you around.” the women, staring at each other in a conflicting sense of understanding and resentment, stay silent. The mother, resenting her child for still having the opportunities that she missed, and adoring that her daughter could still be something. The young girl, resenting being told how to live her life, but adoring the fact that her mother cared enough to tell her things like this.

The mother, always the first one to break, stands, stretching, then reaching for another bottle.

Paris was everything that was expected. Y/N shopped and drank and fucked in that oddly cinematic way that everything in Paris happened, wasting two months of her life partying. She did a photoshoot for a new advertising campaign for a fashion house she is the ambassador for, and as always, got bored. After six weeks, she wound up in the same position she had been in so many times before, stocking up on months worth of wine, then finishing it within two weeks. After two months in Paris, she lay on top of the covers of her bed, wondering if she should have taken Beth up on her offer. She hadn’t spoken to any of her American friends since she left, and of the people she had seen in person, she knew that they had no connections to her American friends, so she felt safe.

Out of alcohol and cigarettes, she considered sending the door boy to get some, or even going herself, and decided to do neither. It was at this point that she realised that she had eaten a sum total of four things in two weeks, all of which were snacks, and was drinking herself to death. She decided that she wanted French toast and that overly fancy Columbian pressed coffee from the cafe down the road. She would get cigarettes on the way. So she dressed and left, greeting the surprised door boy on her way out. She bought her cigarettes, ate her French toast, drank her coffee, then considered her next move.

London was out of the question - she’d only just remembered that she’d sold her apartment. That left New York, Los Angeles or Beth’s offer of Kentucky. Los Angeles never ended well, and she didn’t want to get dragged into anything by her manager. Kentucky or New York? She would have to call Beth to decide.

So she traipsed back to her glamorous apartment and dialed Beth’s number, letting it ring out a few times before giving up. So Beth wasn’t at home, was she just out, or in New York? She knew the only way to find out would be through Harry or Benny. She chose Harry. Things between her and Benny were… well, she didn’t know what they were.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am though - you never call.”

“Phone calls are so much hassle.”

“More hassle than seeing people in person?”

She paused, unable to outwit him, especially given the hangover she could feel creeping up on her. “Is Beth in Kentucky at the moment?”

“Beth? No.” he answered, “Why?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She doesn’t have any tournaments, so New York, why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why didn’t you just call Benny?”

“Don’t worry, thanks though.”

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. Bye.”

“Bye?”

She slammed the phone into its holder, sighing loudly.

She’d always known she would have to see Benny eventually, but even after over two months since that night, she wasn’t ready. Besides, what was to say he wanted to see her? She slumped down into the armchair next to her phone, surveying her room and realising that he had been right - so had Beth - her drinking was getting out of hand. She stood with determination, picking up clothes from around the room and stuffing them into her wardrobe, which was already overflowing, and picking up all the bottles she could find to fill a couple of large paper bags. When she was done, the room felt cleaner, and she dragged the two paper bags out of her apartment and pushed them down the rubbish chute. She returned to her apartment, rummaging around to find a bag in the depths of her wardrobe. Once she had, she carefully picked out clothes, knowing that once she was back in America, the press would be all over her. She had clothes at Benny’s anyway, but she hated travelling without a suitcase - it made her feel bare. Before she left, she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and straightened herself out, checking that she was definitely wearing shoes and that her outfit all matched.

She carried her suitcase down with a little struggle, gave a couple of euros to the door boy for no reason in particular, and caught a taxi to the airport. The taxi driver, having recognised her instantly, seemed restless and kept telling her about how his twelve-year old-daughter wanted to be a model just like Y/N. She brushed it off, paying him well and buying the next flight she could at the front desk, rushing through customs to catch it. She tried to ignore the looks and comments she got as people realised who she was.

She didn’t sleep on the flight, instead ordering drink after drink, wondering what her mother would say if she could see her only daughter. Or Beth for that matter. She didn’t have to wonder what Benny would say, he had said it plenty of times before. When she left the airport, a crusade of reporters were awaiting her, and she had almost forgotten how the press could be. She persevered to a yellow cab, and let it take her to Benny’s. Standing outside, the harsh cold of autumn pushed her towards the door. She descended the steps, pausing when she reached the door, hearing four or five voices inside. Jesus, the whole gang was here. She steeled herself, knocking sharply and stepping away. The door opened abruptly, Beth appearing, at first confused, and then elated. She launched herself at Y/N, the two clinging to each other. Beth stepped back, scanning her friend over, and glancing towards the door. “You look more put together.”

“I don’t feel it.” Y/N admitted, hating the analytical look everyone seemed to give her these days.

“Why are you back here?” Beth murmured, her words kinder than they sounded, “I thought you were in Paris.”

“Well, I was. Then I ended up spending two weeks drinking myself half to death without leaving the room, and thought maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

“You can’t keep running from yourself, it’ll get you nowhere.”

“I know that.”

“Beth!” the two girls turned, “Are you alright out there? Who is it?”

Benny’s voice, so recognisable, turned into the actual person. He was standing, jeans, a black top and layered necklaces, shock registering on his face. Y/N, who hadn’t proper registered that she was seeing him until that moment, looked like she wanted a black hole to appear beneath her. Pink tinged her cheeks, embarrassment unfamiliar to her, and she stood up straighter, faking confidence.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Benny.” She glanced back at Beth, who looked away.

“Wait, is that Y/N?”

Arthur and Hilton appeared, and then Cleo, grinning with a drink in hand.

“You’ve been in Paris, eh?” she said, “Of course, you always seem to be there when I am not.”

“I wish you had been.” Y/N grinned, hugging Cleo tightly.

Benny, having come to his senses after the initial shock, stepped forwards, “A drink?”

Y/N looked at him pointedly, “You never have alcohol in this place.”

“But these three always bring some.” he nodded to the three stood next to her with drinks in hand.

“You not drinking at home really sucks ass.” Y/N groaned, concocting herself a makeshift cocktail with the ingredients she had to hand.

“You know, most people don’t usually have those in pint glasses.” Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not most people.” she took a lengthy sip, ignoring the worried glances that her friends shared.

“So,” she looked up from her drink with a bright expression, “what’s going on in the chess world?”

“Well, we’re training Beth.” Benny explained.

“What for? She’s better than all of you.” Y/N frowned, and Beth smirked.

“Paris.” Hilton clarified, the prideful chess players ignoring your comment.

“Let’s do a simultaneous!” Benny offered.

“Cleo, Y/N, are you joining?”

“You know we can’t play.” Cleo reprimanded, the pair of you sitting down near the game and watching with interest.

“All of our friends are nerds.” Y/N sighed, “Look at them!”

By the time Beth had beaten the other three chess players eight times, Benny gave up. He had decided that Beth could ‘do it’, but was also getting distracted by the fact that Cleo and Y/N had found his records and were blasting The Doors as loud as they could and dancing around his living room. When the game was finished, the apartment was filled with the sound of Soul Kitchen, and any ability to concentrate on the game was impossible. Y/N was standing on his coffee table, eyes closed, bottle in hand, hips swaying. Cleo had her arms in the air, swaying with the rhythm, and the two girls seemed so lost in the music that the four surveyors were almost scared to interrupt. Y/N, murmuring the familiar lyrics, took a swig of the bottle and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag, only then noticing that her friends had stopped playing. “Join us!” She laughed, reaching over, grabbing Beth’s arm, pulling her up onto the table, and trying to get her to dance. At first, the woman only swayed, but found herself dancing more excessively. Cleo took the task of dragging the boys in, and soon the party of six were all laughing and dancing. The song began to draw to a close, when Alyssa turned to Benny, “Got any of The Beatles?”

He pointed to the stack of records, preoccupied with trying to stop Cleo from spilling her drink. Y/N found the Abbey Road album and the dancing picked up as the apartment began to fill with cigarette smoke and Y/N retrieved some whiskey. She drank straight from the bottle, and continued to dance, pushing off the gently guiding hands that Benny was attempting to provide. At some point, Cleo, Arthur and Hilton took their leave, and Beth turned the music down, leaving Y/N with her bottle and cigs as she joined Benny in surveying the drunken girl.

“I haven’t seen her like this in a long time.” Benny observed, and Beth sighed.

“She tries to hide it from you, she knows how you feel about it.” Beth explained.

“I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

Beth looked back at her friend, “She’s worse than I was.”

Benny scoffed a little, “I don’t know how to help her.”

“Wait,” Beth raised an eyebrow mockingly, “You, Benny Watts, wanting to help someone? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

“That’s different.”

Benny sighed, “Where are you going to sleep now that she’s here?”

“I can find a hotel?” she offered.

“Not this late. I’ll sleep on the blow up, you two sleep in my bed.”

“Okay.”

Beth walked up to Y/N, gently prying the bottle from her hand, Y/N turned to her, taking her in with wide eyes - she was always childlike when she was drunk. She watched curiously as Benny began to pump up the blow up bed, and Beth turned the music off. She let Beth sit her down on Benny’s bed, pulling her own clothes off and replacing them with one of Benny’s shirts while Beth helped Benny get all the leftover bottles in the bin. By the time Beth was back in the room, Alyssa was passed out on the far side of the bed, curled up into a tight fetal position. Beth lay down next to her friend, the familiar scent of alcohol conflicting her in both comfort and disgust.

#the queens gambit #the queen's gambit #beth harmon #elizabeth harmon #benny watts #benny watts x reader #benny watts x you #benny watts x y/n

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javajunkieao3 · 3 years

Text

Beth/Benny Fic: Stay With Me

Summary: Several months after Russia, Beth finds Benny in her doorway.

In the wake of her Russian win, Beth found contentment at the seat of a battered chess board, the usual spectators in their suits and horn-rimmed glasses replaced with heavy overcoats and ushankas. In that crowded Russian park, the cold wind whipping against her face, she was brought back to hours spent with Mr. Schiable in the Metheun basement. Back when it had only been about the game and not the useless pageantry that seemed to only grow with the esteem of the venue. She still beat them all. That hadn’t changed.

When she returned to the States, it was a flurry of activity with interviews and invitations to speak at this engagement and shake hands with that diplomat. She even received a special commendation from President Lyndon B. Johnson, but she didn’t particularly enjoy any of it, the entire process feeling laborious. The problem was, she didn’t have anyone to enjoy it with. Alma had always been with her before, and after her mother’s death, she had effectively sunk all other relationships and she hadn’t quite had the time to repair them before her so-called national tour started. She talked to Benny here and there, but it stalled somewhere between congratulations and asking her what was next. Beth could sense that he was hesitant to push things farther, and she was equally hesitant to try herself, which made it all the more surprising when he showed up at her door in Kentucky.

It was almost half a year after her Russian win and the national curiosity had tempered enough that she had been home for just over three months without interruption. Beth had come home from the grocery store and she braced the heavy brown paper bag against her hip as she walked up to him. She hadn’t seen him since before Russia, and she noticed that his hair was shorter. His usual black leather duster was traded in for a leather vest over a simple t-shirt for the Kentucky summer heat. He still wore the same worn-in jeans but, thankfully, appeared to have retired the holstered knife.

Nervous energy coursed through her as she asked, “Benny, what are you doing here?”

She had a pretty good idea, considering Kentucky wasn’t exactly a prime destination on its own, but she needed to hear it from him. Her heartrate picked up in anticipation.

“Just in the area,” he said evasively.

For such a remarkably gifted chess player, he was a terrible liar, and Beth couldn’t stop herself from pressing him with, “In the area for what?”

She knew for a fact there were no tournaments happening, since she, herself, would have received an invitation, and Benny swallowed hard, no doubt weighing his options, before he said, “The Kentucky state fair.”

“The Kentucky state fair?” Beth repeated. “You’re here for the Kentucky state fair?”

He nodded. “I figured I’d stop by on the way. Say hello.”

It was incredibly stupid, and it struck her that somehow Benny Watts, with all of his swagger and bravado, was spinning some story about going to a state fair to see her. All of it made her want to cry and laugh at the same time because she knew she sowed the seeds of his insecurity, but also he was here standing in her doorway, after so many nights of her wishing for the same but being too afraid to ask, and so she said, “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“You’ll go with me?” he repeated, clearly surprised by this turn of events.

“Yes. To the state fair. I’ll go with you.”

Benny looked confused, likely because he had no idea if there actually was a state fair nearby for them to go to, and she handed him her keys and asked, “Can you get the door for me?”

“Yeah, sure.��

He unlocked the front door and she walked in with him following. She had a million questions going through her mind, but she didn’t ask any of them. Instead, she set her grocery bag on the kitchen table and began to unpack it. Benny was quiet, uncharacteristically so, watching her put away the groceries and then she turned back to him and said, “Are you ready?”

He nodded and they walked back outside to embark on the road trip to Louisville that neither of them had planned on taking that day. But they did, and when Benny parked in a field in front of the fair after being directed there by a cantankerous older man in a cowboy hat, he sat stock-still at the wheel for a moment before looking over at Beth and saying, “I probably could have said this before we just drove an hour, but I’m not actually here for the state fair.”

She smiled slightly. “I figured.”

“I panicked. Which, I never used to do. But, since…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m not used to feeling like this.”

“Feeling like what?” she asked gingerly, although she knew what he meant. She remembered how it had felt when she first met Townes and the rush and terror of feeling parts of herself so entirely unmoored. She had been more prepared for it with Benny. Less scared. However, it seemed Benny hadn’t been.

Benny looked over at her, face open, and said, “There has not been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought of you, Beth. Not a single one.”

His hand rested on the console between them and Beth hesitated before reaching forward and covering it with her own. He turned his hand over and interlaced their fingers, his thumb running along her knuckle. There was still a lot that needed to be said, but Beth decided there would be time for that later. Right now, they had a state fair to go see.

And so, they got out of the car and headed toward the fair, and as they walked Benny captured her hand with his again, and he didn’t let go. They shared a funnel cake and demonstrated surprisingly poor hand eye coordination during a series of ring-toss games. On the drive back, Beth realized it had been one of the best days she’d had, and they hadn’t played a single game of chess.

When they returned home, he followed her up the steps to the house without the need for an invitation, and then up to her bedroom. It seemed things would go a certain way, but both were tired from the day and too much sugar, and they fell asleep instead, her body tucked against his beneath the covers. Beth woke up somewhere in the early morning hours and she listened to the steady course of his breath until she fell back into a dreamless sleep. Some hours later, sunlight filtered into her bedroom from the half-open blinds and she began to stretch, inadvertently ramming her elbow into Benny.

“Ow,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” she said, turning on her side to face him. They were almost nose to nose now, and she felt her breath catch at the closeness of him. Although they had slept together before, something about this felt more intimate. There had always been a casual feeling to what they had done before, but this felt purposeful. Meaningful.

A bit of his hair had fallen down below his brow and she reached forward and smoothed it away from his face. His eyes bore into hers and she moved even closer, close enough to brush her mouth against his, but she held back, eyes searching his and she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too.”

And then he kissed her, and it felt better than any one of her wins. He pressed her back against the mattress and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. It had been almost a year since they were last together, but their bodies remembered. When they were finished, she rested her head on his chest feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Beth said. And when that felt too casual, she looked up at him and said, “I want you to stay.”

He smiled slightly before he said, “Okay.”

She rested her head back on his chest and closed her eyes. “Okay.”

#the queen's gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #Beth x Benny #The Queen's Gambit fanfiction

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years

Text

“Letters to Charlie”

Summary: A selection of letters from Ron to his brother Charlie, throughout Ron's first four years at Hogwarts. Includes some mild Romione mentions.

Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

[1st October 1991]

Dear Charlie,

How are things at the reserve? You said in your last letter that you’ve been getting a lot more burns than normal; have you asked mum for her recipe on salves?

Anyway, I’m settling in okay at Hogwarts. Really glad I was in Gryffindor; my friend Harry was really worried about it, I think. He’s doing fine, but I wish everyone would stop gawking at him all the time. He’s a good bloke; bit quiet but, considering what his aunt and uncle seem to be like, that’s not surprising.

Also, there’s this girl in our class who’s pretty annoying. She treats everyone like they’re idiots and she’s such a teacher’s pet! Her name’s Hermione Granger, and she’s always butting in whenever me and Harry are chatting. She’s not all bad, but I wish she wouldn’t be so uptight about everything. You’d think that someone with hair that bushy would be a bit more fun-loving, but she’s very straightlaced. But I saw her laughing the other day at a joke I made, so maybe she’s not so serious all the time? She has a cute nice laugh.

Don’t tell the twins I said that, or they’ll never stop going on about it.

Anyway, hope you’re okay and that everyone at the reserve is doing fine,

Love,

Ron

[12th November 1991]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear that that the Common Welsh Green pair are doing okay. Things have gotten pretty weird at Hogwarts; someone (probably Peeves) let a troll into the castle at Halloween! Me and Harry had to rescue Hermione Granger from the troll; she covered for us, so we didn’t get punished. McGonagall even gave us some points for Gryffindor!

Hermione’s alright, I think. Bit intense, but she’s not as stuffy as I thought. I mean, it was kind-of my fault that she ended up getting caught by the troll, so I’m glad she didn’t hold a grudge about it. She’s always asking me about stuff, probably because she’s never grown up in a magical family. You wouldn’t think it if you saw her in class, though; she gets so many questions right and she’s apparently memorised the textbooks! Barmy, I know, but she’s alright.

Speaking of dragons, do you know if there’s any way of getting a baby one out of the country? Hagrid has a baby Norwegian Ridgeback in his house, but it’s dangerous for the baby to stay here.

Love,

Ron

[16th August 1992]

Dear Charlie,

We managed to rescue Harry from the Dursleys! Mum went mad when we got back, but no harm done. Harry’s aunt and uncle had bars put on his window! I told mum we had to get him out quick; good thing I noticed he wasn’t responding to my letters. Apparently, a house-elf was trying to stop him going back to Hogwarts; weird, right?

Hermione’s saying that she’s hoping to meet up with us in Diagon Alley; I hope so. It’ll be nice to see her again. Apparently, she’s already done all her homework, but that’s what she’s like. What do you think I should get her for her birthday? I asked Harry, but he suggested one of the textbooks (the poor bloke’s never had to buy any presents for anyone ever). I was thinking maybe some of her favourite long-lasting quills, but I’m not sure. Do you reckon I should get her something more… girly? Her best mates are two blokes, so maybe she’d like something to make it clear that I we don’t just see her as another boy? What do you think?

I’m looking forward to Hogwarts this year; hopefully, it should be a bit quieter than last year. How’s your summer been going? You mentioned about the Chinese Fireball having fang rot; has that been fixed yet, or is she still having troubles?

Hope all’s good with you,

Love,

Ron

[6th January 1993]

Dear Charlie,

You’ve probably heard the news already about the attacks happening at Hogwarts. The teachers don’t seem to know who’s doing it. Me, Harry, and Hermione have been trying to figure things out, but we haven’t got any leads lately. We thought it might have been Malfoy, but turns out he’s not doing it (still too happy about the attacks, though, the little git!).

I’m really worried about Hermione, to be honest. The attacks are always against muggle-borns and I’m scared she’s gonna be attacked. Do you know if there’s any creature that can petrify someone? I would ask the defence teacher, but Lockhart can barely tell one end of his wand from the other. Can’t see why Hermione likes him so much; can’t she see how much of a stupid twerp he is?

Like I said before, I’m really sorry about breaking your old wand. I know you said you don’t mind and you’re just glad I was okay, but still. It keeps making weird bubbles whenever I try and cast any spells. My own fault for breaking it, I guess.

Hope you’re well,

Love,

Ron

[8th May 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione got attacked. She’s been stuck in the hospital wing ever since.

I’m scared. Harry’s managing to keep his head screwed on straight, but I can’t concentrate in lessons. I keep expecting Hermione to be sat next to me, and whenever I turn to look at her, I remember where she is. All pale and cold, like she’d dead or something.

What do I do, Charlie? How do I help her?

Love,

Ron

[1st June 1993]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione’s okay! The mandrake stuff finally got given to her, and she’s back to normal! I haven’t smiled this much in months! She gave me and Harry a massive hug each when she turned up in the great hall; me and her couldn’t quite look each-other in the eye afterwards, but I think we both got a bit overwhelmed, you know?

Turns out, this was also because Lucius Malfoy was trying to stop dad’s muggle protection law being passed; people could have died!

Confused as to why none of the teachers bothered to ask Myrtle, since she was a witness to the last time the chamber has been opened, but I guess we’ll never know. Were the teachers like this when you were here?

Anyway, got to go; I insisted that Hermione play some chess with me, since our exams have been cancelled (can you guess which Gryffindor was upset about that?).

Love,

Ron

[3rd September 1993]

Dear Charlie,

We’re all settling back in at Hogwarts; I’m still using those quills you got me in Egypt (thanks again, by the way). Everyone’s talking about Sirius Black, and Malfoy won’t stop being smug about how he knows something we don’t (arrogant little twerp as always).

Hermione’s cat is a bloody nightmare; he’s spent every evening trying to get at Scabbers, but Hermione won’t hear a word against him! Honestly, I don’t get why she can’t just keep the cat away when I ask her to. But she’s always had this thing about being right about everything, so it’s not unsurprising. I just wish she’d stop acting like it’s normal; Hedwig’s been around for three years, and she’s never attacked Scabbers!

Having said that, the first Hogsmeade visit is something to look forward to. It’s gonna be a bit different because Harry can’t go (his aunt and uncle refused to sign his form), but me and Hermione are going to make sure we take back lots of stuff for him so he doesn’t feel left out.

I am a little nervous about going, though; me and Hermione spend loads of time together, so why would this be any different? Probably nothing. Maybe it’s just because we’re bickering more because of our pets? Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve already got her birthday present, so hopefully she’s not too angry at me and won’t mind me giving her a present.

Let me know how the Chinese Fireball baby is doing,

Love,

Ron

[4th January 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hermione just can’t keep her nose out of things! She reported Harry’s firebolt to McGonagall, and now it’s been confiscated! She says it’s because it could have been sent by Sirius Black. I know that’s a possibility, but she didn’t need to go behind Harry’s back about it!

I swear, this girl is driving me nuts!

Love,

Ron

[13th February 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Me and Hermione have made things up; she even apologised about Scabbers. She must have been really upset, because she started crying and hugged me! Is it normal to get all flustered when a girl hugs you? Cause it didn’t the same as it did when she hugged me at the end of second year.

You’ve probably heard from Hagrid about Buckbeak being executed. We’re trying to get an appeal plea sorted; it’s mostly me and Hermione doing it, since Harry’s got other stuff to worry about. It’s nice being friends with Hermione again; I hated it when we weren’t speaking. It’s still a bit awkward (we both can’t quite look each other in the eye at times), but that’s probably normal, given what’s happened.

Remember to put that salve mum made on your new scars,

Love,

Ron

[14th July 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Hope you’re enjoying the summer so far; it’ll be great to see you again, mum’s organising the room situation, so I think you’re sharing with Bill. Can’t wait for the world cup! Do you think Ireland will win against Bulgaria? I’ve been saving my pocket money all summer for it, so I can buy some souvenirs! Are you gonna bring some stories about the dragons when you get here?

Mum’s said I can invite Harry and Hermione over, and they’ll be coming to the world cup with us! It’ll be brilliant to see them again; Harry deserves a break from those horrible people he lives with, and Hermione could do with a break from work in general (she’s already finished all her summer homework, but that’s what she’s like).

It’ll be great to have both of them here for the summer; I hope Hermione doesn’t mind sharing with Ginny, since Gin’s more of a Quidditch-head than Hermione is. Mum keeps on at me to tidy my room before Hermione arrives, but it’s not as if she’s staying in my room, is it?

I did clean up my room a bit, though. Hermione’s a bit funny about mess, and I don’t want her to think I’m a slob.

See you soon,

Love,

Ron

[30th October 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I’m still angry at mum, dad, and Bill for keeping us in the dark about the Triwizard Tournament; half the other kids from wizarding families knew! Speaking of the Tournament, the students from the other schools have arrived. You won’t believe it but Viktor Krum’s a student at Durmstrang! He’s a bit grouchy looking, but I guess he gets sick of people treating him different all the time. I didn’t know he was eighteen; he looks way older. The Slytherins are trying to cosy up to him, but he’s knows exactly what they’re doing; I saw him telling a few of them off for being unpleasant to the muggle-born first years. So I guess he’s alright.

The students from Beauxbatons are all nice enough but one of the girls has some sort of Veela charm thing. Hermione keeps glaring at me whenever I get caught in it, but it’s hardly my fault, is it? Harry gets affected too, but does she yell at him? No, of course she doesn’t. I swear, Hermione’s been weird ever since the term started; the other week I caught her staring at my hands for no reason. She got all flustered when she saw I’d noticed, and yelled at me to concentrate on my work. I’m worried about her. Did that ever happen between you and your friends at school? Is this something that happens around our age? I know that mum said things start to change after you get into your teenage years.

Speaking of change, I hope I can get some new dress robes before I ever have to wear these ones. Do you think Bill has any old ones he can let me borrow? I don’t get why mum didn’t just remove the lace and change the colour. I was going to ask Hermione to do it, but I don’t want her to think I’m whining. I just wish I could have some decent robes like all the other boys have. I know money’s tight at the moment, but even the twins have got alright-looking robes to wear I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t stuck wearing rubbishy clothes for once.

Apparently, the tournaments due to start tomorrow evening. Me and Harry did have a think about entering, but it’s probably too high security. Fred and George said they’re gonna enter, because they turn seventeen in April, so they won’t need to use much aging potion. Should be interesting to see whether they succeed. I just hope we get a decent Hogwarts champion; Cedric Diggory’s alright, but half the girls get giggly over him and it’s bloody annoying. Hermione says it’s because he’s a prefect, but she’s a bit funny like that. If I ever end up a prefect, I bet I wouldn’t have girls giggling and getting flustered about me.

Got to go now; Hermione said she wants to go over our Transfiguration homework in the common room.

Love,

Ron

[25th November 1994]

Dear Charlie,

You should have told me you’d be here for the first task! I know it was secret, but it would have been nice to catch up! Glad the trip over was safe and that the dragons are all okay. That Hungarian Horntail was a nasty piece of work; Harry almost got hit by it!

Speaking of which, me and Harry are best mates again. I’m glad; it was miserable when we weren’t speaking. Funnily enough, he said he didn’t even need an apology; just told me to forget about it. Weird bloke, but it’s great to be friends with him again. Hermione got all teary and told us we were being stupid, but she’s never really understood things like this, so there you go.

Love,

Ron

[17th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

Glad to hear the dragons got safely back to Romania with no issues. I almost wish I was there instead; ever since this ball thing got announced, half the school’s gone mad about it. Everyone’s asking everyone to it, and I don’t get it. Why can’t we all just go as friends and have fun? But the boys keep going on about dates, so I said I best go with someone good-looking. Yes, I know it’s dumb, but how else will I get everyone to not laugh at my robes? I even asked McGonagall if I could go in my school ones, but she insisted that I use my official dress robes (although she did look sympathetic while she said it, so I guess she understood where I was coming from).

Flitwick’s doing alterations to people’s robes, but he was so swamped with requests that there isn’t any room for me to get mine changed. I swear, I can’t wait until the ball is done and I won’t have to worry about this stuff anymore.

I’d happily stay behind in Gryffindor Tower with the first, second and third years, but I can’t leave Harry in the lurch. He’s got to be there to open the ball, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave him on his own; the poor bloke isn’t good with crowds, especially since half of the school still gawks at his scar every day.

Hermione doesn’t seem to take much interest in the ball, so maybe she’s also planning on staying behind. She got angry at me when I mentioned about going with a pretty girl, which is understandable (it was a dumb thing to say). Hopefully, she’ll have forgiven me by the time Christmas swings around, and we can just go and have fun at the ball. Just as friends, obviously. Maybe if we’re having a laugh, I won’t have to think about my robes looking so awful.

Love,

Ron

[27th December 1994]

Dear Charlie,

I swear, if I ever have to go to another ball again, it’ll be too soon! Hermione’s still angry at me about it; which makes sense, since I was a bit of an arse. But, well, she went with Krum! Seriously, he’s eighteen and she’s barely fifteen! Why didn’t any of the teachers think that was creepy? Why was I the only person who got irritated by it? Is it really so bad that I don’t want my friend being pursued by some creepy eighteen-year-old git? I know what the twins are saying about it, but it’s alright for them, isn’t it? They had decent robes and could actually ask a girl without the girl glaring at them like they’d only just realised the girl was a girl! Gits. They don’t get it.

Ginny had a nice time with Neville, at the very least. Neville’s a good bloke, and I’m glad he treated her well. Apparently, she borrowed a dress off a friend for the ball. I wish I was shorter so I could have just borrowed something off Harry; that would have at least made things a bit easier. Then I wouldn’t have already been a bad mood before we even got to the ball.

Seriously, I’m never wearing those robes again. I don’t care what mum says, I’d rather go in my normal school ones that those frilly disasters.

Me and Hermione are being more polite to each other than normal, which is probably for the best. I hate the fact that I got so angry at her, but I’ve learnt now to not act like that again. I mean, considering she got Krum, I don’t think she’ll need to worry about me acting like that again. It wasn’t as if she even said she wanted to go with me, either; how was I supposed to know? I’m not a mind-reader!

Hope your Christmas is going better than mine, and thank you for the burn-proof socks; they’ll come in handy against the Skrewts.

Love,

Ron

[27th February 1995]

Dear Charlie,

It was nice getting some of the limelight for a while; everyone was asking me about what it was like during the second task. I even had Padma Patil hanging on to my every word about it; I even managed to apologise to her properly for being such a berk at the ball (she was my dance partner, but we didn’t do any dancing). She seemed pretty okay with it.

Fleur Delacour (you remember, the champion who used the calming charm on her dragon in the first task) is being very nice lately; I think she got the impression me and Harry helped saved her sister in the second task. She even gave me a kiss on the cheek after we were all out of the lake! It’s nice to get attention from girls for a change.

Funnily enough, Hermione get glaring at me for the rest of the day. Funny how it’s fine for her to get attention from boys (that creep Krum had her as the person he’d miss the most; they’ve only been to the Yule ball together, the pervy git!), but I can’t do so much as talk to other girls without getting the cold treatment from her. Barmy as ever, but that’s what she’s like.

I think Harry’s really happy about the tournament just having one task left; at this point, I just hope he gets through it with no injuries or anything. Poor bloke’s had another rough year, and I hope he can take it easy after this is all over.

I wonder what I’ll get for my birthday this year. You think Hermione will get me anything? She’s so irritable lately that I wouldn’t be surprised if she just gets me a card and some chocolate frogs. Given what’s happened between us lately, that sounds about as much as I can hope for.

At least we’re still friends, though. I’m not that much of an idiot that I’d stop talking to her over this. I almost lost one friend this year; I don’t want the same thing happening with Hermione.

Love,

Ron

[29th June 1995]

Dear Charlie,

Harry left the hospital wing a few days ago. Me and Hermione are trying to help him as best we can, but the poor bloke still’s struggling. I’m not surprised, considering what he went through.

Dumbledore’s said that things are already changing. I just hope he knows what to do. But he’s still saying that Harry needs to go back to the Dursleys this summer. I hope we can pick him up as soon as possible; Harry’s relatives are bloody horrible.

After the third task, me and Hermione stayed up in the common room. We’ve both said we’re gonna help Harry with whatever happens in future. She also hugged me before she went to bed. It was different this time. It seemed like neither of us wanted to let go.

Stay safe,

Love,

Ron

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

#harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #ron weasley #charlie weasley #tw: food mention #tw: insecurities #tw: mental health #character study #pre-romione #romione #ronmione

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

Watts

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY X READER (KINDA) RATING: SAD + SWEET

Writers notes: My brain today : Hu? I wonder what’s benny watt’s backstory? who knows... Lets make him one! that's sad and tragic and kinda adorable... lets do this.

I sat against the harsh plastic chair, my feet against the ice cold stones of the basement floor, the chill coming under the door spreading across the whole apartment, the windows dark rain battering them every so often thunder cracking across the sky, I sat up a little in my chair and moved a piece playing the toughest game I could play, Against myself. I pulled my shirt over me a little more but not wanting to do up another button, it wasn't that cold. I was lost in my own world a while my mind started to wander.

One of the first things I can recall, it was a bright sunny day, the sky blue, the warmth of mid July in full swing, The tall buildings around all shaken and half broken, all the windows taped up, many of them blacked out, The sweet sounds of the radio playing some nice tunes, I was hopping along the tall fence posts jumping from tall wooden post to tall wooden post down the long garden, trying not to fall. I saw the door to next door open, her hair up in a bun, her dress half torn and repaired, the washing basket on her hip, she was shocked but then her face softened as she smiled at me

"Benjamin watts? what are you doing up there?" she laughs

"Playing" I told her

"what are you playing?" she asks coming over

"Frogs"

"Well alright," she laughs putting her basket down by her washing line string, she got her little cloth out her apron pocket giving it a lick and cleaning some dirt off my nose "You be careful Little man"

"I will Mrs Linley" I smiled hopping to the next post

"why don't you go out and play with the other kiddos?"

"There not as fun as playing by myself"

"Why don't you go with little Lilly take her to the park for an ice cream"

"Lilly's boring"

"BENNY!" I heard the harsh male voice yell so I quickly jumped down from the fence seeing him stood looming over the backdoor of the house in his usual suit with his cane, his belt done tight with his knife sat there as usual "Dinner" He says so I nodded heading inside sitting at the table where he set down a bowl of gross smelling soup I instantly turned my nose up at it "Eat it. You're lucky I even feed you" He says muttering to himself as he usually did "Ungrateful little bastard, You know I don't have to. I could have sent you to the poor house with the other kids, not out the goodness of my heart I look after you"

"Then why do you Papa?"

"Because your mother asks it off me." he sighed sitting at the table with his own soup and some bread "We've been over this" He says "I want nothing to do with my daughter, never was my business, and if she wasn't so busy I wouldn't be the one taking care of you, You little bastard"

"What's a bastard Papa?"

"You are a bastard benny. By definition, Maybe you wouldn't be if your mother kept her legs shut and had some idea who your father was" He sighed "if your mother wasn't so busy, taking care of the soldiers I'd leave you with her," he explained "eat your dinner"

"Yes papa" I sighed "when will mummy be back?"

"When the war is over," he says "your mother as much as we have our differences, she does a good job, and an important job. Nurses are usually good girls, your mother… happens to be an exception, but nurses are good girls, you'll marry a nurse one day"

"Will I?"

"Course you will. You'll get a war at your age Benny, you'll meet a lovely nurse, get married and have your own little kiddos" he says "Watts always have nurses"

"What if I don't wanna be a soldier?"

"Then you and your mother are dead to me" he says before the sound of the warning erupted across the city, he stood up and grabbed the bag by the door pushing me out the seat I nodded and ran out the house And into the garden as the sun was setting, he slowing followed as he locked the house up, I ran down to the shelter jumping on my little bed, he followed and locked the door up behind him sitting on his own. It grew terrifyingly quiet as for moments the world sat on the edge “Benny, Play” He ordered clicking his fingers pointing to the little chess board he had set up on the table between the beds, I happily smiled going and playing against him. He would often try to trick me but I always beat him “Good game kid” He cracked a smile shaking my hand

“Can I papa? Can I?” I asked bouncing my on the bed

“Alright, until the raid’s over” he says taking his hat from the side and sitting it on my head “Again?”

“Again” I smiled excitedly setting the board up again,

“But not to many, you need to get to bed”

I sat at the table the chess board set, waiting. It was getting so late now I wonder what was happening, Someone had come to the door before we had began our game I didn’t know why, My grandpa just took them to the other room I could heard talking, arguing even if I tried not to listen.

“Why can’t his father take him?”

“There’s no mention of him anywhere we can’t find him” “Well he has to be somewhere” “Noel. If you don’t keep him. He’ll get swept up with the rest of the kids, There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of them, homeless, lost there families, you know if he goes into the system, he won’t get out till he’s eighteen.”

“I don’t see why I should keep him

“He’s your grandchild” “He’s a bastard! I never much wanted anything to do with my daughter why should I clean up after her mess”

“Because she’s not coming back. Not for him. Not for you. You’re all he has in the world.”

The door opened moments later the woman from the door came over to me touching my hair moving it out of my eyes for me “Hi Benny”

“Hello” I answered not sure what was going on

“Benny, I need you to answer something for me” she smiled moving to her knee

“Okay” I nodded seeing my grandpa stood leaning on the door to the other room

“Would you Like to stay here? In this little house with your grandpa? Or would you like me to take you to a nice place with lots of other children… lots of nice children who, Have lost their mommies too”

I looked to my grandpa and he seemed to be waiting for the answer too, I didn’t know what they wanted from me…

“I would like to stay here with papa”

“Okay sweetheart” she smiled “Then he stays with you”

“What if I said… you’d be better off there Benny?” He asks

“I’d still rather stay”

“Fine. But I hear a word of complaint out your little bastard mouth, one tantrum, one teenage rebellion. You’re going. You choose to stay here with me, and don’t you ever fucking forget it” He warned

“Yes Papa”

“Go to your room” He ordered and I nodded going out the house and out to the little shelter, our house had only ever had one bedroom and there wasn’t much space for me, even so he would rather I sleep out here said I was safer to always sleep in here, were I couldn’t get hurt, My boards sat along the other bed, my trophies lines along the little wall, I shut the little door and got cosy in the little dark shelter.

I sat in the old beaten up pick up listening to the radio on low, I was going over the games of the people I was to play against, running through it all in my head.

“You gonna win?” He asks

“I’m planning on it” “Don’t get cocky.” He warns “worst train in the world cockiness. Gets you into trouble. Don’t write checks with your mouth that your ass can’t cash benny”

“I know,”

“I know you know. Doesn't it mean you shouldn’t listen” He says “You're going out after?”

“No, home. Do some work” “You’ve never gonna met a girl at one of these things” “I know,”

“..... If there’s a boy-” “I’m not Gay Papa” I laughed

“Aren’t you? You're fourteen, how do you know?”

“Because I like girls”

“You’re fourteen. You don’t know what you like. I thought alot like what then I was your age”

“And?”

“And. You shouldn’t set yourself up to fail, I was married when I was not much older then you. Don’t… rush yourself with things is all I’m saying” “Is that why you didn’t wanna be with grandma anymore?”

“Somewhat, there was a lot of things between me and your grandma. Don’t worry about it” He says as he stopped at the little hotel doing the tournament “Hey,” He says stopping me from opening the door “Good luck you little bastard” He laughs putting his hat on my head

“I thought I don’t get it till I win?” I asked fiddling with it

“You’ll win. You’re a Watts, Go on you’ll be late” He says

“Thanks Papa” I smiled

“Go on run along you little bastard”

I tried to force it all away, I didn’t want to think about it. I folded the letter up and left it on the table, the cold chill of the apartment starting to get to me. This place was small, dirty, cold, and depressing but… I liked it. It felt like home, all the years of sitting playing chess in bomb shelters because he was too scared to let me come out, I wish I could have seen him again… I wish we hadn’t lost touch, then again he never liked how I went on from there, much less everything else, I had seen him a few times at key moments but he rarely spoke much, or phoned much, he kinda just… backed off. Knowing I had my own life and my own things, I don’t think he minded, but still. I would have liked to have seen him again.

“Benny?” I heard making me sit up a little seeing y/n stood at the bedroom door dressed for work already in her little blue and white dress, her hair done up in beautiful braids, minimal make up as it would get ruined on her shift anyway “Can you settle him? Else I’ll be late for work” she smiled

“Course I can” I laughed getting up and taking our little baby from her sitting him on my hip “Hey kiddo” I laughed giving his head a kiss trying to make him settle down.

“He won’t stop fussing” she laughs

“Boys do” I shrug

“Ummm… are all watts boys such fussy little monsters?” she laughs

“We are assholes” I sighed

“Umm Have to make sure I have a girl this time then” she smiled tapping her tiny little tummy she wasn’t even a full three months yet, “Are you okay benny?” she asks

“Yeah, I’m fine” I shrug

“Alright, don’t get wrapped up about it okay,” she smiled giving me a hug “Milks in the fridge, I’ll be home for dinner” she smiled giving me a kiss

“See you later darling” I told her

“Love you” she giggled

“Love you too” I laughed giving her an extra kiss, she smiled back and gave his head a kiss too before she got her bag

“You boys have fun” she laughed as she opened the door and hurried off to work, I smiled taking him sitting in his high chair by the table, he liked watching my play chess even if was only just about a year old. He kept making grabby hands towards the side of the table where my hat sat so I laughed picking it up and sitting it on his head even if it was miles too big for him

“It’s okay luke. You’ll grow into it” I laughed “But you're not having it properly, till you win. That's the rules, same for you as it was for me. Hey. You’re a watts. And that's the one thing no one can ever take away from you” I told him

#tbs #tbs fanfiction #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #benny #benny x reader #benny smut #benny imagine #benny watts #BENNYWATTS #bennywattssmut #benny watts imagine #benny watts smut

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spideyanakin · 3 years

Text

Queen’s Gambit (3/3)

Arvin Russell x reader Queen Gambit’s au

Based on Netflix original series; The Queen’s Gambit

Synopsis; Until now Chess seemed to be your one and only obsession.

Series Masterlist 🍓

Normal Masterlist🧚🏻‍♀️

It would be a lie to say you remembered the slightest thing about last night. One thing led to another and you had found yourself in a stranger’s bed, somewhere in an unknown city, with all your memories wiped away.

The only thing you remembered, was that the tournament was in 2 days and that you had fought with Arvin over the phone again, especially about your slight drinking and pill problem.

You blinked a few times, trying to find where was your left from your right before attempting to stand up, breathing a thankful breath when you realized you were still fully clothed. “Where the fuck have I ended.” You whispered to yourself as you stood up, directly falling to your side and holding onto a wall in order not to crash to the floor.

“C’mon hold yourself together.” You told yourself as you felt helpless and mentally beated yourself up for not listening to Arvin. Your only wish was to be in his arms and cry until everything would go away, but no. You were in Paris, or so you thought. In a stranger’s apartment, hungover, and probably still stoned from last night.

You blinked a few times before looking around the room, spotting a girl that was laying on the wooden floor, an empty bottle in her hand, and what seemed like white powder all over her nose. She laid so still that you wondered for a second if she was still alive. You trailed your stare up to the other corner of the room, where a guy this time was laying in his own vomit, taking it as your cue to leave this place before anyone would wake up.

On the count of three, you pushed yourself off the wall and eyed what looked like the way to the living room. You limped towards it where an even worst sight played upon your eyes. Stripped people and bottles were at every corner, and you had to try your best not to step on broken glass or vomit as you tried to make your way out. Once you arrived in a small corridor, you finally spotted a door that looked like the exit, freezing when you spotted the handle moving.

For a few seconds, you stayed frozen to the core, wondering if you should fall to the floor and pretend you were sleeping, or stay and confront whoever that person was. But your decision-making was cut short when middle-aged women, wearing a sharp almost military-like vest accompanied with a jet clean knee-length brown skirt entered through the door. Her tight pepper and salt perfect bun and her dark eyes suddenly made fear bubble inside you.

“Que faites vous ici?” Her sharp french voice made you take a step back.

“Um-” You tried to speak but she continued angrily pointing at you. She took a new second to glance at you, your hangover state making her turn her head to the door to the living room, one glance at it and she turned to you, almost furious.

“SORTEZ DE CHEZ MOI!” The words you couldn’t understand made you scared to your core as she shoved you out of the apartment and onto the fancy Parisien hallway. She closed the door on your face, leaving you on the doorstep, clueless as to where you were or how you even got there.

“Alright Y/n, it’s alright” You took a deep breath before taking a step towards the elevator and pressing the one button, not even caring if it meant up or down. You opened the door and got inside once it stopped at your floor, pressing the 1 button and resting your head onto the cold wooden wall as you made your way down.

You closed your eyes and walked outside of it, loudly cursing when it wasn’t the lobby but the first floor. You stared at the elevator and the stairs, slipping back into the elevator and this time, pressing on the ‘Rez de chausser’ button, taking you one floor down.

You limped your way onto the marble floor, your heels dangling in your hands as you reached the outside pavement floor of the court, thinking of where the exit was for a few seconds, the confusion of the Paris architectures racking your brain. Once you spotted the large dark green door, you tried to push it open, quickly realizing you needed to press a button to open it. It took all your strength to push the large heavy door fully open, limping outside onto a busy street once you’d manage.

You took a second to look around, looking up you saw large arcades that surrounded your street walk, and in front of you; a park. You looked around seriously questioning your emplacement before patting someone on the shoulder

“Excuse me, sir, do you know where we are?” You pointed to the ground and the man looked at you with angry eyes before turning away and walking in the opposite directing of you.

“Great” You turned around before almost bumping into a lady with a purple blazer and short brown well-dressed hair.

“Sorry, do you know where I am?” You questioned and it took everything in you not to throw up on her, or fall on your side. But like the previous person, she looked at you as though you were an intruder and left, almost bumping into you as she did.

“Amazing.” You closed your eyes and placed a hand on your forehead, almost tripping towards the road, holding yourself to a parked car before throwing up everything in you.

“Even better.” You coughed before resting your back on one of the pillars of the arcades, taking a few seconds to breathe.

“You need help maybe?” A soft voice came from behind you, making you jump as you opened your eyes, vision turning blurry.

“Yes, I think I do.” You nodded, coughing in between your words.

“Bad hangover?” The man asked and it took your eyes a second to adjust to his handsome traits.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know if it was the fact that his smile reminded you of Arvin's, or that you were feeling like crap, or that he was a total stranger, but for once you felt like you could be totally honest, and no consequences would come with it. Or so you thought.

You’d have no lesson about your addiction or no lessons about how bad your drinking was. Just a perfect stranger, that was trying to help you, and a normal conversation.

“Happens.” He smiled, his British asking making you crack a small smile. “Here.” He grabbed a handkerchief from his brown blaser pocket that you thankfully took and wiped your mouth with, wiping your eyes with your fingers right after, flinching when you spotted the black traces of your makeup that rested on the tips of your manicured fingers.

"Where am I?" You chocked as you wiped your eyes again, this time to get them adjusted to the light.

"Rue de Rivoli. In the First." He nodded. "Not far from your hotel." he smiled.

"How do you have the slightest clue where my hotel is?" You wondered and looked up to him, his soft laughter ringing in your ear.

"I play chess."

“Oh shit.” Your head went right back onto the hard stone of the pillar. “Fuck-” Your voice cracked “I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood for autographs.” You pressed on and he chuckled.

“Don’t worry.” He shook his head. “I heard you speak English, saw you were a little lost and I was coming to help you before I even recognized you. I know your game against Borgov is at the ritz, barely 5 minutes away from here.”

"Thanks." you groaned as you pushed yourself away from the stone, your head spinning like a spinning top. "Could you tell me how to get there?"

"I'll bring you."

"Thanks," You told him once you were standing in front of the hotel, slightly looking up at the pretty building. "I'll take it from here." You pointed to the door with a thankful smile. "Thanks again."

"No problem. Im Luke by the way." He handed you his hand and you shook it. "I'll actually journaling for your game." He handed you a new charming smile and you internally rolled your eyes. "Would you mind if I met you at the ritz's cafe maybe later today?" He smirked.

"Today?" You raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to take any pictures?" You fixed your hair.

"No, don’t worry” He grin which made your skin crawl “just so I can have a better article for the game."

"Alright, meet me there at 5, I need some sleep first." You grumbled and blurted out a see you later before turning away and limping towards the elevator.

You opened the door to your suit, dropping your shoes in the corner of the room before falling onto the soft sheets of your bed - your eyes closing the second you made contact with your pillow.

You woke up with a nock on your door - and a headache to go with.

“Fuck.” You groaned pushing yourself out of your bed. You trotted towards your door and opened it.

“Hey.” Luke grinned when he saw your state.

“Oh Hi.” You fixed your hair as best you could “sorry- I forgot” You yawned. “How did you even know my room numver?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I asked the desk.”

“Oh.” Your eyes went wide. So much for security - you thought. “Alright - well if you can wait for-”

“We could do the interview in your room?” He finished your sentence and you froze.

“Um s- sure- Come in-” Your stumbled with your words, not liking the self invitation.

You jumped into the main part of the room before he could even take a step inside, pushing the covers as best you couldn't to make it look a minimum clean. You pushed the empty glasses away in a corner of your desk, tried your best to fix your hair, and finally said. “If you’ll excuse me.” before running to the bathroom after grabbing some clean clothes.

You did everything you could to fix the way you looked. Chugged down a glass of water and let out a large sigh before walking back into the bedroom part of your suit.

“So.. What did you want to ask?” You fumbled with your clothes making sure they were correct before sitting down at your desk. You saw Luke look around your desk, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at your pills, writing something down on his notepad.

“Does the world know about your little addiction?” He wiggled his finger towards the pill bottle before sitting in front of you.

“I don’t have an addiction.” You straightened up suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Those pills are for when I start getting a cold during trips.” You continued and he raised an eyebrow, eying the packet of something that definitely was not medicine. You saw it too and realized it hadn’t been there the night before. Probably one of your stops on the unknown night you had passed.

“What’s all this?” He pointed to some empty bottles that were scattered on the floor behind your couch. These weren’t there the day before either.

“What is this interview?” You turned your head. “You know I partied last night - you saw me this morning. What are you trying to get out of it?” You felt your voice rise as anger bubbled in your stomach from the audacity of this journalist.

“I do, don’t worry.” He gave you a small smile that was said LYING in large.

“Could you go? I don’t see this interview going well.” You locked eyes with him and he stayed frozen for a second. “Please?”

And before you knew it you basically kicked him out the door and screamed in frustration. You grabbed bottles, pills, packets of what ever powder was inside - whatever you felt like you had to throw out the way before you’d be tempted for more. You placed everything in a trash bag and kicked it to the corner of your room. Just when you wanted to scream and cry the phone caught you from a mental breakdown.

“Who is this?” Your bad mood was leaking onto your reply.

“Y/n?”

“Oh.. Arvin.” You sighed and sat on your floor with the phone in your hand. “What do you want...?” Your voice went quiet.

“I wanted to know if you were ok.” His voice was soft and it brought comfort back to you.

“I’m fine, thanks.” You huffed still mad about last night.

“Right.” He knew you definitely didn’t sound fine. “How was the party?” He dared to ask the trick question after a second of silence.

“It was alright.” You grumbled to ashamed that you couldn’t even remember.

“Did you see any cool celebs?” He tried to push out a chuckle.

“I don’t know.” You trailed on, not wanting him to know how bad you had partied the night before. “I’m going to go now Arvin. I’m going to get ready and maybe take a walk around the city.” You sighed. “I’ll see you later. I have to prepare for my game tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He clearly understood what had happened. You had drunk your soul out last night, and you weren’t ready to face him or anyone at that.

“Wait Arvin.” you called out before he could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“I made a mistake.” You admitted. “A stupid one. And I'm scared.” You bit your lip trying not to cry. “I’m really scared the world is going to know Arv.” You sniffed.

“What happened?” His voice was soft and that warm feeling you felt around him was invading you.

“This chess journalist saw me when I was very badly hungover in the street this morning.”

“Well, that’s not that bad.” He tried to cheer you up, pushing the fact that you had drunk again the night before. But he wasn’t mad.

“The worst part is I agreed to an interview. When I didn’t show up he came to my room.” You gulped and Arvin was getting ready to hear the worst. “Nothing bad happened but I think he saw my pills and some empty bottles.” You finished explaining the rest of the odd encounter, especially going on about the fact that he self-invited himself and that you feared the worst for your reputation.

On the other side of the line, Arvin boiled up with anger.

“Alright.” He stayed calm for you. “Everything will be alright.” He reassured. “You want me to come over?”

You nodded quickly realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yes... please.” Your voice wavered too scared that he’d say no.

“I’ll come.” He gave a small smile through the phone, happy he was finally going to be able to hold you and reassure you. He never wanted to be apart like that from you again - it killed him every second since you stormed out of the house.

The tournament came quicker than you wanted. And before you knew it you were sitting in front of Borgov - having the worst silent mental breakdown of your life.

Your head was far from the game. It was far away rethinking your entire life. Arvin hadn't showed up that morning like he was supposed to - and with no warning phone calls.

What If he had changed his mind? Realized he deserved much better than you? What if instead of coming he had packed all his things from your shared house and left you alone?

You pushed the tears away and looked back at the board. Taking in a deep breath and ignoring the flashes of paparazzi’s around you.

You finally managed to bring yourself back to it - but it was too late. He was winning and you knew that. You wanted to cry right here right there.

But little did you know Arvin was in the audience, watching your every move and desperately waiting to take you in his arms, to tell you everything was going to be ok.

Borgov ended up winning. After a fair handshake, you pushed the tears away and smiled for the audience before bringing your head down and walking away. You continued your way through the hotel hallway, not expecting Arvin’s voice.

“Y/n! Wait.” You turned around not expecting that your eyes would land on Arvin’s brown ones.

“Arvin?” You asked like it was a dream.

“I’m sorry - my flight got delayed and then canceled I had to take another one and I couldn’t call you-” Before he could even finish his sentence you brought Arvin into the biggest hug you had probably given him.

"Arvin." You let the tears take over as you sobbed into his chest. he wrapped his arms around you.

"Hey it's going to be ok." He rubbed your back and tightened the hug.

"Never- Never let me leave the house like this again." You sobbed.

“Hey it’s ok.” He kissed your forehead. He smiled as he pulled your face away so he could look at you “I’ll never leave your side again, darling." He wiped a tear away from your cheek, titling your head so he could bring you into a long awaited kiss. “I should have followed you.” He whispered once he pulled away, crashing his lips with yours again.

“I love you, Arvin.”

The End.

Taglist @averyfosterthoughts @justifymyfeelings @slytherinambitious @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes @criminaly-supernatural @supernaturallover2002 @trustfundparker @tomhollandreads @prettysbliss @ksmy-99 @sarcasticallywitty15 @bi-lmg @nerdy-collector-festival @lovely-blackinnon

#Arvin Russell #Arvin Russell x reader #Arvin Russell x you #Arvin Russell x y/n #Arvin Russell imagine #Arvin Russel #Arvin Russel imagine #Arvin Russel x reader #tom holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #queen's gambit au

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midwinterblinder · 3 years

Text

This is me trying

Chapter 8: “She’s had a hard time?”

“I told Benny that Jo and I have been playing chess.” Hilton says to Gina when they’re hanging out a few days later. Josephine is at a small tournament in Jersey for the weekend, so they have the apartment to themselves. Gina sits up from her position of leaning against him as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“You did?” She asks and he nods in response. Gina can tell from his facial expression that there’s more to this. “How did he react?” She wonders as she turns around on the couch so she’s fully facing him. Hilton told her how hard Benny took it when Josephine left and she’s not sure how he would take this news.

Hilton reaches out to take her hand as he frowns slightly. “Not like I expected him to.” He tells her. “He wants to invite her over for a night of chess.” He says hesitantly, still a little confused by Benny’s reaction himself. “Do you think Jo would want that?”

“I doubt it.” Gina mutters as she looks down at their joined hands. She knows what caused Josephine to leave four years ago and she really wants to tell Hilton, but she promised she would keep it to herself. She believes that Josephine shouldn’t have left. Gina is sure that if Josephine had just told Benny about what happened they could have worked things out, but Josephine is still convinced that Benny would be disgusted by her if he found out what happened. “Look, Jo left for a very serious reason.” She tells Hilton as she looks back up at him. “And I don’t agree with how she handled it, but hanging out with Benny again isn’t really an option in her mind.”

Hilton watches her closely as he takes in her words. “You know what happened.” He states and Gina nods as her eyes move away from his again. “Benny drove himself crazy because he didn’t understand why she left and all this time you knew?” He tone is accusing and Gina tightens her grip on his hand as she feels it slipping from her grasp. He understands that she’s Josephine’s friend, but she knew how hard it was on Benny and Hilton can’t believe she just watched Benny fall apart.

“I didn’t know back then.” Gina assures him as she looks back up at him and Hilton’s eyes soften as he sees that her eyes are slightly watery. “If I had I would have tried to convince her to talk to him about it.” She goes on as Hilton slowly rubs his thumb over her knuckles to clam her down, but he’s not sure what else to do because he doesn’t understand why this is making her so emotional. “What happened to her was really awful, Hilton. But she only made it worse for herself by leaving. If she had just told Benny he could have helped her, but she’s convinced that if he finds out what happened he will hate her.” She sniffles as she thinks back to how she found out what happened.

Hilton reaches out to pull her into his chest, rubbing one of his hands over her back to comfort her. “When did you find out?” He asks softly as he feels her arms wrap around him in return.

“About eight months after she left.” Gina mutters against the fabric of his shirt. “I went to see her in Jersey because I hadn’t heard from her in a pretty long time. When I got there she hadn’t eaten in ages and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.” She sniffles slightly as she the image of how awful Josephine looked back then comes back to her. “She hated herself after what happened, sometimes she still gets like that but it’s a lot less than it used to be.”

“I’m sorry.” Hilton mutters against the top of her head. He’s not sure what to say. He still doesn’t know what happened, but it sounds really serious and he wishes there was something he could have done back then.

*****

Hilton decides that it’s best to avoid the topic of inviting Josephine for a night of chess for as long as possible, but Arthur seems to think differently because he brings it up the night after Hilton and Gina talked about it. “Have you talked to Jo about joining us for a few games?” Arthur asks as they sit around at Benny’s.

“No, she’s out of town for a tournament.” He tries to brush it off. After last night he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to invite Josephine right now. It could cause her to fall back into her previous pattern of not eating or sleeping and he doesn’t want to do that to her. After all the nights he has spent playing chess with her and talking to her, he has once again realised how nice it is to have her as a friend and the last thing he wants is for her to disappear again.

“What tournament?” Benny asks as he takes a sip of his drink. He knows there are no bigger tournaments this weekend, so she must be at one of the smaller ones. Those tournaments are obviously below her, but she probably just wants to get back into the swing of playing games against different opponents.

“A small one in Jersey.” Hilton answers as he glances up at Benny. “She wants to play as many games as she can before she has to face any big player again.” He explains what Benny already assumed.

“All the more reason for her to join us.” Arthur says. He got along really well with Josephine. She was always up for a chess problem and the two of them could spend ages discussing the problem if one of them came up with a different solution. “Just playing against you must get boring.” He jokes as he looks over at Hilton.

Benny chuckles, but Hilton once again doesn’t join in. He’s thinking of the best way to tell the guys that it’s not a good idea to invite Josephine. “I don’t think it’s a great idea to invite her right now.” He starts hesitantly as he looks at the board on Benny’s sad excuse for a coffee table. “She’s had a hard time and I think she needs a little longer to adjust to everything.” He tries to explain.

“She’s had a hard time?” Benny frown as he leans forward, his elbow resting on his knees and his hands wrapped around the beer bottle in his hand. “She had a hard time?” He repeats as his grip on the bottle tightens. “She’s the one that left, Hilton.” The words come out harsh and his jaw clenches. “And now I’m supposed to feel sorry for her?” He asks exasperated as he looks at Hilton.

“That’s not what I meant, Benny.” Hilton sighs as he looks at his friend. “All I’m saying is that you don’t know what she’s been through and that she has only just returned to New York, so we should give her some time to settle in.” He tries again.

Benny studies Hilton for a moment, wondering why he’s suddenly defending Josephine. “There’s something you’re not saying.” He mutters as he continues to stare at Hilton, who’s expression becomes more nervous when Benny says this. “You know.” Benny breathes out after a moment of silence as he leans back in his chair, shocked by the idea that Hilton knows but won’t tell him. “You know what happened, why she left.”

Hilton immediately shakes his head. “No, I don’t.” He tells Benny. “I’m still just as clueless about that as you. All I know is that it was something bad and that she was in such a bad state that Gina barely recognised her when she saw her a few months after she left.”

Arthur’s eyes shift from Hilton to Benny to see how he will react. He sees the look on his friends face soften slightly and Arthur feels for Benny, because it’s clear that even after all this time he still cares about Josephine. “Does Gina know what happened?” Benny asks, his voice softer now but his eyes still locked on Hilton’s.

Hilton looks away and nods. “She won’t tell me though.” He immediately adds as he looks back at Benny. “She promised Jo that she wouldn’t say anything. Gina thinks Jo handled it wrong. She told me that if Jo had stayed and talked to you about it, it would have taken time but things would have worked out.” He explains to Benny. “But Jo was convinced that you would break up with her if you found out anyway, so she left before you could.”

Benny’s eyes drift away from Hilton as he takes in his words. Why would Josephine think he would break up with her? He loved her and she loved him, at least that’s what he thought. He would have done anything for her and he can’t imagine that there’s anything she could have done that he wouldn’t forgive her for. The only thing that could be bad enough for him to break up with her would be if she cheated on him, but he refuses to believe she would have done that. She would never do that. Right?

#benny watts #benny watts imagine #benny watts fanfiction #the queen's gambit #the queens gambit imagine #the queen's gambit fanfiction

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

The Candescent King (GT Story)

Premise: Sequel to "The Clandestine Queen". Andres returns to the hotel and is forced to confront the reality of Lorelei's life as a trinket.

Hi, I am now fully obsessed with Andres and Lorelei and I would die for them.

Warnings: dehumanization and threat of sexual assault

The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie / @marydublin5 <3 Y’all have her to thank for the ending scene! The story almost ended much differently :’)

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

He had certain expectations when he returned to the Onyx Citadel Hotel for the fourth time in two years. It was nightfall when he arrived. The lobby was decorated tastefully in black-and-white to honor the winter tournament. He headed straight for his suite rather than stop and interact with the other arriving players. As expected, the staff had already dropped off his belongings in the room.

However, she was not there.

He had known this day would come eventually, so why was there an involuntary chill running down his spine when he thought of the most obvious answer for her absence?

Moving mechanically, he went for the door. He had to be certain.

The elevator ride down, his thoughts were an odd mix of racing and frozen. He wasn't upset, he assured himself. He had no reason to be. They had both known this day would come, so why did it bother him so much? He battled his confusion as he made his way through the lobby. In the center, he saw some familiar tournament players gathered around a chessboard loaded with trinkets. He averted his eyes, striding for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Where is the trinket?"

Her friendly smile wavered with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed. "I don't recognize you. My name is Andres Soto. I have competed in the last three semi-annual tournaments. The staff knows to place the trinket known as Queenie in my room along with my luggage. But she is not there."

"Oh! Aren't you the reigning champion?" When he didn't respond, she pursed her lips and frowned in thought. "Queenie... The orange-haired gal? I apologize, sir, but she isn't available."

The chill in his spine should have dissipated now that he had an answer. But it stayed locked in place. "I see."

"Shall I put in a request at the bar to have another trinket sent to your room, Mr. Soto?"

"No." Andres started to pull away, but he supposed he owed it to Lorelei to at least ask. "Tell me what happened to her. A careless guest?"

The woman blinked, then gave a startled laugh. "She's not dead, Mr. Soto! She's just occupied."

Relief and frustration mingled in his gut. "Occupied? Why wasn't she sent to my room?"

"I'm terribly sorry. There was a massive change in management and employment in the past couple of months. I suppose whoever was making your... trinket arrangements must not have passed on the instructions. I'll be sure to let the bar and restaurant know that Queenie will be prioritized to you once she's available."

"You're going to make me wait," he deadpanned rather than asked. You know I'm the champion, and you're denying my request? He clenched his jaw to keep the comment in. It would only cause problems. His tone and expression, however, worked wonders.

Her voice became even more placating as she pointed across the lobby. "If you'd like to see her, she should be right over there," she said.

Andres shoved himself away from the front desk without another word and approached the small group gathered around the center board that had been set up. Two players, three eager observers. Plenty of room for him to see. He walked up with his hands in his pockets, eyeing the board with a sneer. He had made it a point to never be in the vicinity of a game of trinket chess, and it looked precisely the way he had imagined.

It was the most trinkets he had ever seen gathered so close together. Thirty-two were on the table, each of them scantily clothed in colors that reflected their team and designated piece. Red pawns. Yellow rooks. Green knights. Blue bishops. Purple royalty.

In no time at all, his eyes zeroed in on Lorelei. She was the queen, naturally, wearing sheer black lingerie with purple accents.

And she spotted him, too. He suspected she would be smart and pretend not to recognize him, but to his surprise, she threw a minuscule hand over her head and waved it enthusiastically. Her stance was unsteady, a carefree grin plastered on her face.

Drunk.

"Hey!" she called. "Tall, dark, and scary! Hi! I had a dream about you the other night!"

Very drunk.

The players and the small audience followed her gaze with confusion. Their eyes widened when they realized who had come to observe them. He gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Lorelei's whoops for attention.

"Gentlemen," he murmured.

"Soto." Theo Jackson, the man playing black, did not bother hiding the irk on his face. Andres couldn't blame him; coming in 2nd place twice in a row did that to a person. "Thought you'd decide this little tournament was below your rating by now. What are you still doing, coming back here?"

Andres shrugged. "I like to win. But don't mind me. Carry on."

They settled back into the game. He tried to watch with a neutral expression, but at least any visible disgust on his face was to be expected from him. Lorelei was a mess, nearly stumbling into the neighboring square every time the board was jostled by the players' movements. The bishop beside her kept grabbing her arm to steady her.

The trinkets were plucked up and moved like pieces. Each one of them looked either frightened or entirely checked-out. But when they were captured by the opposing side and taken off the board, their relief was visible. That was, except for the pieces Jackson captured. His hands had a tendency to wander to his captured pieces while he thought of his next move.

Being the queen, Lorelei was likely to be in the game for the long haul. Andres thought about walking away. The front desk woman had promised the trinket would be delivered to him later, but something kept him rooted there. It was a strange stab of betrayal, having gotten to know her and now seeing her debase herself. It wasn't her fault, but he had the urge to correct obscenity nonetheless. Especially considering how hell-bent she seemed on getting herself killed.

"Psst." She turned around and waved both hands up at Jackson. "Listen! You've got an opening right there, and you don't see it, do you? You're blowing it. Move me to A4, c'mon!"

"Shut the fuck up." Jackson forcefully turned her back around and flicked her between the shoulder blades, sending her onto her hands and knees.

The bishop gasped and leaned down to check if she was alright.

"No, don't help her," Jackson snapped. The bishop straightened immediately. "Little bitch needs to learn her place."

Lorelei's shoulders wracked and she caught her breath. Andres was a live wire of tension, trying to talk himself down from lunging in and taking her away. The tension eased as she stood up and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the player on white looked remarkably nervous, staring at the board and obviously mapping out the plan Lorelei had offered.

Jackson went quiet, doing the same. Then he snorted, "Whaddaya know." He plucked up Lorelei and moved her to A6. The game was over in less than three moves after that.

Lorelei was the piece to catch the king in checkmate. She skipped over and looped her arm in his, raising her eyebrows at Jackson. "See? What did I tell you?"

"That's not right," the other player spat. "You had help!"

Jackson scoffed. "As if this was a real match. Besides, are you insinuating that a fucking trinket helped me? I was going to move her there anyway."

"Fuck you, I was about to have you cornered." The other player stood up and stormed off. He wouldn't last long in the tournament with a blatant temper like that.

"Who's next?" Jackson declared.

"I am," Andres said before anyone had time to take a breath.

He slid into the seat, glancing down as the pieces dutifully rearranged themselves where they belonged. Lorelei stumbled back to her spot and smiled right at him. At least she didn't wave or yell for him. He had seen her on a board plenty of times, facing him, but never like this. He could see the trinkets on his side casting wary glances up over their shoulders at him, trying to get a read on their current master. One split second of eye contact was all it took to make them face forward again.

Lorelei, in her idiotic state, turned to face Jackson and planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you're ready to get your ass whupped," she said.

His expression darkened, and Andres wouldn't have been surprised if she was broken in half right then and there. But Jackson slid a smirk to Andres. "Am I sensing some history here? Oh, Soto. You've always acted like some kind of moral paragon. No wonder you turn down every drink with a trinket. You've only got eyes for this little bite, huh?"

Andres regarded him coolly. "She was delivered to my room one night against my wishes and has plagued me ever since. Are we playing or not?"

"No one's stopping you from starting."

Sighing, Andres leaned forward and studied the untouched board. He knew Jackson's strategies well enough to put him away swiftly, but he would need a different approach this time. His hand automatically reached for the board, but he paused when he remembered these were not carved pieces of wood. Hiding a wince, he tapped one of the pawns on the back. The young man spun around and looked up, eyes wide under Andres' shadow.

"You, move to E4," Andres ordered.

The pawn swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know where—"

Gathering nonexistent patience, Andres tapped the board. "Move here. Two spaces forward."

The pawn hurried to obey, eyes trained down.

Despite his attempts to focus on the game itself, Andres couldn't help but wonder what each of the white pieces on his board had done to land their fate. Murderers, traitors, those who had no place in society. He glanced across the board at Lorelei, who was swaying to music that wasn't there. She perked up when they locked gazes, and he was almost saddened by the strange hope in her eyes. With her inhibitions decimated, it was all too clear how much she trusted him.

He glanced at the pieces on the board again and wondered, How many innocents?

His thoughts shattered when Jackson snatched up a pawn of his own without warning, seeming to savor the way the girl whimpered and squirmed in the tight pinch of his fingers.

"Settle down, darling," he crooned. "You're expendable. The game will be over for you soon." When he set her down on the board, she hugged her arms and trembled, tears streaking down her face.

Andres tore his eyes away from her. Nothing he could do.

He made foolish moves from then on, but they were perfectly calculated. His primary goal for once was not to win; he only wished to capture the queen. It was child's play to reach Lorelei, considering any player's strategy would focus on protecting the king. He ordered the pieces where to go, pointing and nudged if he needed to. When he captured Jackson's pieces, he made them walk to him rather than snatching them up.

Jackson smirked each time Andres refused to grab the trinkets, making a show of picking up his own pieces and taking an unreasonable amount of time to decide his move. He held them in his palm, toyed with him while deep in thought.

Finally, Andres captured Lorelei. He had to resist the urge to pluck her up. Jackson would undoubtedly notice the special treatment.

"Come over here," Andres said, beckoning her to move among the other pawns and the knight he had captured.

"Yessir." She pranced over to him, giving a clumsy twirl and making a rude gesture at Jackson so that only Andres could see it. She took a seat behind his side of the board, and he paid no mind to the triumphant smile she aimed up at him.

His next strategy was to make it a point to capture as many pieces as possible. Once he had a small crowd of black pieces on his side of the table, it was easy enough to discreetly drop a hand over Lorelei and sweep her away from the others. He moved her to his lap under the table. With people watching around him, slipping her into his pocket would be too noticeable. He let her go on his thigh, praying she wasn't foolishly drunk enough to fall off. He could feel her tiny weight, along with the slightest tremble. Not from fear, though—he had a feeling she was giggling to herself.

From then on, it was business as usual. He managed to corner Jackson and capture the king despite his seemingly sloppy plays at the beginning. With the queen gone, anyway, there was hardly a contest.

Huffing, Jackson glared at what remained of his chess pieces, as if they had anything to do with his loss. Then he turned that irked look to Andres. "You really shouldn't be here," Jackson said. "You know you're gonna clean up. Give someone else a chance, would you?"

"Maybe you should work on your strategies," Andres returned.

Before Jackson could snap back, someone from the group piped up, "Mr. Soto, can I play a round with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to my room to relax before the opening social." He cupped a hand around Lorelei so that she smoothly fell into his palm when he stood. He strode away, arm relaxed at his side, and his fist closely loosely.

He waited by the elevators until he could catch one alone. When the doors were sealed, he lifted his hand and unfurled his fingers enough to see her. Lorelei sat up and leaned back on her hands, a flirtatious smile on her lips that was entirely unlike her—at least when she was with him.

"Hello again," she slurred. "My hero."

"You're drunk," he said. "How disappointing. I was hoping we could play a few matches tonight." He shook his head, observing her unfocused eyes. "It would not be fair to you."

She waved a hand at him. "Ah, don't be so dramatic. I was on bar duty before the tournament players started arriving. I'm fine."

The elevator came to a stop. Lorelei scrambled to the edge of Andres' hand and vomited over the side. Some landed on his shoe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly at his unimpressed expression.

"My bad," she said. "I swear I wasn't aiming there."

Breathing out sharply, he exited the elevator and headed for his suite. He took her straight to the lounger by the coffee table, laying out a pillow and setting her down on it.

"Sleep it off, Señorita Lorelei. I have a social I must attend. Will you be fine in three hours?"

"Probably." She stretched her arms over her head and laid asprawl. "And for the thousandth time, call me Lore."

Despite the state she was in, he imagined she wouldn't stay drunk for long. Trinkets rose back to soberness much quicker than natural people. Andres wasn't sure if it was an automatic side effect of their size or an intentional feature of their engineering to ensure they couldn't soothe themselves with inebriation for too long.

He stepped into the bedroom to change his shoes. As he headed back for the door to leave, she waved her hand to get his attention.

"No blanket?" She pouted. "I'm cold, you monster."

He rolled his eyes. "Shall I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, too? You are demanding tonight."

"That's what you get for treating me like a person, Señor Andres. Now I've got all these sick and dangerous thoughts in my head about wanting to be comfortable."

"Well, stop it."

"No, sir. They're my sick and dangerous thoughts, and you can't take them away. Besides, you owe me."

He dug through one of his bags beside the coffee table until he found a silk handkerchief. "I saved you," he pointed out.

"Out of the kindness of your heart? Please. You owe me because you're going to get me in trouble, making me magically vanish like that. In fact, I'm sure there is sheer chaos downstairs over a kidnapped queen. They'll think I'm a runner."

"I'll tell the front desk I collected you." He braced his hands on either side of the cushion and leaned over her. "Would you like to write a script for me? Should I say you are too enchanting to resist, and I needed you all to myself tonight?" He dropped the handkerchief over her.

She squirmed under the fabric until she found her way out—which took twice as long as it should have. "Perfect, couldn't have scripted it better myself. Try to sound like you mean it, though." He snorted and started to pull away. "Wait!" she said. "Speaking of saving me. Can I tell you about the dream I had about you? Very quick."

He sighed. "What?"

"I dreamed..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer. "That you stole me away from here. And we played chess day and night. And you still never beat me. It was lovely."

He didn't know how to feel or what to say. She had never been like this. Never said anything like this. And the way she looked at him... Her little eyes bright and naive over the edge of his handkerchief. He did not enjoy this drunken version of Lorelei Weaver. Not in the slightest.

"Sleep it off," he murmured again. "I want you ready to play when I get back." Then he made his escape.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The moment she started to come to, her face flushed. She couldn't remember everything with clarity, but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Groaning low in her throat, she sat up and used the corner of the handkerchief to wipe the dry crust from the corner of her lips. Maybe if Andres wasn't too disgusted with her, she could wheedle a drop of mouthwash from him.

Footsteps thudded toward the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been roughly three hours since she passed out. Straightening her back, she smoothed her hair down and folded her hands on her lap. Although her head was clear, it ached.

"Oh, good," she said when Andres stalked into the room. "I thought I had only hallucinated seeing your grumpy face. How bad was the social? Did they make you..." She shuddered dramatically. "Mingle?"

"Well, you clearly feel better." He approached the lounger and didn't bother kneeling for her sake. He never did. More of the looming type. "What did you think you were doing, getting drunk like that?"

A faint, scalding smile perked on her lips. "I was forced to. The guest I was lucky enough to get saddled with likes his trinkets good and giddy. Is that fair enough for you?"

"Fair enough." His expression didn't change, other than something at the back of his eyes that was too far away to see. "It's good that you're fine now. They want to see you downstairs at the bar to make sure you have not escaped." His hand dove for her.

"Wait!" she cried. He paused, frowning. "I've had enough today. I'm not in the mood to be manhandled any more. Can't you... lay your hand down or something?"

"Why?"

"Easier on my ribs and my ego, believe it or not." She pressed her lips into a tight line and glowered straight up at him. "Doesn't seem like too much to ask for you to lay your damn hand down."

Looking like a kid forced to eat his vegetables, he dropped his hand beside her. She climbed on, and he swept her up not a moment after she settled. She grabbed at his fingers to keep from tumbling off. Already she missed the safety of the handkerchief, but the warmth of his skin was a fair substitute.

They didn't speak as he took her downstairs to the bar, where a few players were sipping on drinks, laughing, cutting up. She adopted her usual pose on her knees, shoulders back, eyes down. From her glances, she recognized a few of the players—both from her days as a human and from her evening of being their queen piece in the lobby.

"Here she is," Andres said to the bartender. "Satisfied?" He thrust her out in his open palm.

The bartender lurched back, looking from Lorelei to Andres, stammering. "I'll get the manager. Would you like a drink while you wait, Mr. Soto?"

"No."

As the bartender walked off, the man seated closest scoffed. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Theo Jackson. Lorelei kept her head turned away as if there was any hope that he might not recognize her.

Apparently tired of holding her, Andres lowered her to the bar counter. She nearly asked him to pluck her right back up, ribs and ego or not. She couldn't help but look at Jackson, going cold at the lust in his eyes as he tipped back his drink and reached for the other that had been laid out for him.

"What shame?" Andres asked boredly. She wanted to scream at him for indulging Jackson.

Jackson pointed at her with the hand that held his scotch. "Pretty little thing like that, and you don't even have a drink to put her in. I knew you swiped her. Figured you'd at least be putting her to good use."

"Mr. Soto." A woman interrupted, approaching from the other side of the bar and putting her hand out to shake. Andres had to step to the side to reach her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, about the trinket. An employee is retrieving a case. You are welcome to enjoy your regular trinket during your stay, but it's required that she remain in the case when you're not around—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules."

Despite that, she went on. Lorelei edged closer to where Andres had moved, feeling exposed. A second after the dreadful sensation came over her, a hand shot across the bar and snatched her up. Jackson covered her scream before she could let it loose, bringing her further down the bar, further from Andres. He hushed her gently, pinning her to the counter and keeping her muzzled. His fingers were cold from the chilled glass.

"What's the trouble, darling?" His voice was much sweeter now that he wasn't playing chess. "Soto doesn't know how to treat you right. And you've got my attention. Isn't that wasn't you wanted, pulling that cool little move during my game?" He brushed a fingertip along her side, controlling her with only one hand while the other lifted the drink to his lips for another sip. "You must get played with a lot at these tournaments to know the game so well."

While she squirmed and tried to buck her way free, he leaned down closer. The stench of whiskey wafted around her.

"Why don't we go up to my room, and I show you a thing or two in return?"

He reached under her lingerie. She bit the fingertip covering her mouth. It was barely anything, but he flinched all the same and allowed her to scream.

"Stop!" she yelped.

"What are you doing?" Andres barked.

A shadow descended upon them. The drink was swiped to the ground, Andres' hand crashing into it like a freight train. Glass shattered. The pressure of Jackson's hand vanished. Lorelei scrambled backward on her hands and rear, gasping for breath as she watched Andres and Jackson come to blows.

Jackson shoved Andres into the bar, making it rattle like an earthquake. Lorelei ducked down and covered her head, peeking over her knees as Andres landed a brutal punch to Jackson's stomach.

"Stop!" the manager screamed, backing away to the other side of the bar. "Stop now! Or we'll get security! You'll be arrested!"

Andres grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt and then shoved him away, seething.

Coughing, Jackson leaned on the bar. "What are you, a fucking sympathizer?" he spat, face contorting with disgust.

"Not in the slightest," Andres growled. "But she is mine."

"Mr. Soto," the manager said in a quavering voice. "You could be disqualified—"

"No," Jackson said. "No. I'm not pressing charges or reporting this or anything. I wanna face this fucker during the finals."

A very confused-looking hotel employee walked up holding a glass trinket case. Andres pulled away from the bar and snatched the case before reaching for Lorelei. There was no waiting for her to climb on this time. He closed her in a fist and stormed off. Even over the sound of his footsteps, Lorelei heard the manager offer Jackson a complimentary trinket for his troubles.

All the way to the room, Andres did not lift his fist from his side. She couldn't help but tremble, replaying the events of the fight over and over in her mind. These weren't the carefully calculated moves of a chess game; this was chaos. Utter chaos that she had never expected to manifest in him. She had gotten so used to his collected prowess on the board that she hadn't imagined what he could do in a physical fight.

He entered his suite and put her down on the lounger. She wasn't surprised at all when he immediately began setting up his chessboard on the coffee table. She would have asked him to do it if he hadn't.

"One match before bed," he said. "I need to rest before the first round tomorrow."

Lorelei stayed quiet, hugging her knees as she watched him arrange the pieces. With each clack of wood on the board, she pictured him driving his fists into Jackson. He glanced at her every few seconds, looking like he was working himself up to say something. Then he would think better of it.

Finally, when the board was ready, he spoke.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked without the smallest measure of apology.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you too distracted to play?"

"Never."

"Then it does not matter."

He walked around the coffee table to the lounger and reached for her. He stopped short and turned his hand over beside her, offering his palm instead. She chuckled mirthlessly and scooted over to climb on. "Well, look at that. He can be taught."

She took the white team and started the game. In no time, she felt at home among the light-up squares and smooth wooden pieces. There was no rust to shake off from her strategy. No uncertainty. Since his second visit, she had been given a reason to keep her chess mind sharp.

He, however, was the one who seemed distracted as she paced around the pieces. She was well on her way to beating him in less than twenty-five moves.

"Your move," she declared when his expression stayed distant for too long.

He blinked at her, then pushed a hand up his face with a heavy sigh. "Lorelei..."

"Lore."

"Lore. When I said you were mine..." He heaved another sigh. "I want to make something perfectly clear. I hope you don't really have any fanciful ideas about me taking you away from here. I will not put myself at risk like that."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the board. "Your move."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Lore. This is the last time you'll see me here. You understand?"

She did understand. She understood that this was the first time he had seen her life outside the safety that his visits provided. She understood that he had seen the aftermath of a regular afternoon on bar duty for her. She understood that he had seen what people like Jackson did when they got their hands on her. She understood that none of it was enough to make him take the risk for her.

"This tournament is far below your rating," she said, folding her hands behind her back and strolling along the edge of the board away from him. She peeked back over her shoulder. "I was surprised you showed up at all."

"I have you to thank for my improved rating. But you are correct. I have no business at this tournament anymore."

She turned around, wishing so badly that this didn't hurt the way it did. "Then why are you here?"

His eye contact did not waver. He straightened up and looked down at her. "Because you are the best I've played in my life. Perhaps the best I ever will play. I am determined to beat you before the tournament is over. I have lost sleep over you, Señorita Lorelei. I would like to sleep soundly again. Please don't ruin it with your fanciful thoughts."

"They're my fanciful thoughts, Señor Andres. And you can't take them away. They're all I have." She pointed at the board once more, determined to memorize every last turn of their final games together. "Your move."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The morning after the tournament finals, Lorelei awoke unsure of her surroundings. She wasn't in the hotel room. Not in the cylindrical container the staff supplied Andres. She should have awoken to the sound of housekeeping knocking at the door, but instead she heard a cacophony of voices.

Motion caught her attention. Swaying. Footsteps.

Realizing she was in a pocket, she all but shot to her feet to get a look at who was holding her. Had Andres left her outside the room for some random guest to sweep up and torment? That didn't seem like him, even if he had been particularly sulky during their last night together when he still failed to beat her.

Bracing herself, she peeked up from the coat.

A familiar face. His dark eyes shot from the phone in his hand to the fact poking out of his jacket. Andres shot her a sharp look, then typed away at his phone. He lowered it enough for her to see.

"Don't get excited. This is not a rescue, I'm stealing a private tutor."

She had only half a second to read it before his hand filled her vision. He pushed her back down, one finger pressing her belly as if to tell her stay. Then his hand withdrew, and his steps resumed. Her heart hammered as the sound of an airline announcement caught her ear.

Finally, he had made a move she did not predict.

#giant/tiny #gt #g/t #giant #tiny #gt writing #gt story #print universe #the candescent king #lorelei #andres #mywriting

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Note

I really really love that your one chapter fic became a two chapters fic and that maybe it could turn into a three chapters one. I also love you are taking prompts. So one, what about Benny and Beth being themselves while Benny prepares to face Borgov and he actually wins this time? Ofc just an idea...

Copenhagen Revisited

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 3165

Summary: Two years after Beth beat Borgov, it's Benny's turn to face him. They make Cleo's West Berlin apartment their headquarters as Beth prepares Benny for the match.

Benny travels like Van Helsing—staring out the window of the plane with an expression of feverish determination. The fact that he’s compared Borgov to Dracula more than once may be what’s leading Beth to her own character association. Mostly, she’s just watching him and wishing he’d taken the aisle seat. He’s blocking the view.

“I can practically feel him breathing down my neck,” he complains, shifting in his seat and drawing his jacket closed protectively across his chest.

Beth rolls her eyes and sips their Coke through her straw.

“He’s never even beaten you that badly,” she remarks, passing the drink to Benny, who sucks absently at his own straw.

“But he could.”

She scoffs.

“How? You’re better than you were the last time you played him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” she says firmly, “you’ve played me a couple hundred times since then. Borgov’s not as tough to beat as I am. I proved that in Moscow two years ago.”

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t heard.”

Narrowing her eyes at him for his snark, she takes the Coke back and sets it on her lowered tray.

“You weren’t this nervous in New York.”

“We weren’t flying towards him in New York.” Benny tugs his jacket again. “And I’m not nervous.”

“Right. Well,” Beth reminds him, “you’ll have time to acclimate. That’s why we’re going early. And it’s not like Borgov’s going to be nearby. I don’t think being a celebrated chess player is enough to balance out his nationality in the eyes of West Berlin. Not exactly warm feelings towards Russians.”

“Is this a good idea?”

She looks at him carefully. He doesn’t usually ask her questions unless they’re rhetorical, teasing, or both.

“Yes,” she says decisively. “It was a good idea for Cleo to offer her apartment and it’s a good idea to go early. When we fly to Copenhagen in three weeks, you’ll be ready to give Borgov the same treatment you gave Najdorf.”

“You know journalists still ask me about that game?” Benny says, finally swiveling his face away from the window to meet her eye. “I was eight. I don’t even remember it. All I ever say about it is something I remember saying before. It’s just me quoting me quoting me—” He makes a rolling gesturing with his hand. “—all the way back to something I can only assume is the truth.”

Beth makes a dismissive noise.

“They print what they want anyway.”

“It’s lousy.”

“What is?”

“Feeling like a pawn. Can never move backward,” he mumbles.

“I’ve never chaperoned you to a tournament before,” she observes. “I didn’t realize the anticipation would make you so dramatic.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Maybe you’re not irreversibly out of touch with your eight-year-old self.”

He stares sulkily out the window.

“I get airsick,” he finally admits in a low voice.

“That’s what’s wrong?” Beth laughs. “No wonder you drive to all the domestic opens.” Taking pity, she passes him the Coke again. “Here, the carbonation will help.”

Benny drinks, then rests his head back against the seat with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Vampire bastard,” he groans.

Beth holds the bottle for a minute, then places her cold hand against his forehead.

“It’s his slicked-back hair, isn’t it?” she guesses.

“Could be.”

—

Cleo isn’t at her Berlin apartment. She’s not in Berlin. She was planning to be, when she volunteered her place as Benny’s training ground, so Beth and Benny are doubly stupefied to hear that she left three days earlier for a job in Milan. Cleo’s neighbour tells them this—another model, Beth would guess, based on her arty haircut and the smudge of hazy blue eyeshadow around glazed eyes. She’s higher than they were when they flew over the Atlantic, but thankfully functional enough to press Cleo’s key into Benny’s hand. Her stoned, accented English stomps the ear like a heavy tread, then grinds the words like a cigarette beneath a boot heel. She also invites them to a party at her apartment later. They don’t make it; jetlag strikes and they collapse on Cleo’s bed, dragging the scrappy, colourful assortment of decorative shawls serving as blankets over themselves and falling asleep.

Unlike when Benny trained Beth in his underground apartment in New York, they can’t count on ’round the clock silence here. It’s a loud building, boisterous and bohemian, and the parties of Cleo’s neighbour seem to occur nightly. Beth confronts a startlingly hungover teenage girl tottering up the stairs one morning as she’s going down. She jumps. The girl is a reflection. The girl is a ghost. The girl is possibly swearing at Beth for staring, judging by the scowl accompanying the words that come grating from her dry throat.

Fortunately, nightly parties also mean that the place is quiet most of the day as people sleep off whatever they drank, smoked, injected, or otherwise ingested the previous evening. Quiet is good. Quiet is perfect. She and Benny take slugs of strong German coffee (Benny is especially pleased, though he only hums softly to show it) and play match after match until noon at the small table under Cleo’s kitchen window. With the window propped open, they listen to the rush of traffic below. Beth breathes deeply and watches Benny chew his lip as he contemplates his moves. Their focus is the endgame—Borgov’s specialty.

When she promises they won’t get up to anything like the neighbours next door, Beth’s able to coax Benny out some evenings. They take in the culture; she does it for the memory of Alma and suspects that Benny does it for her.

She scrunches her eyebrows together in confusion as they prepare to depart on a Friday and he’s not wearing his hat.

“You’re not forgetting your head,” she says carefully, “but it’s almost as serious.”

“I don’t want it getting in the way.”

Beth stares at him, waiting for clarification.

“Come on, kid. I’m taking you dancing.”

An hour later, in his arms, she says, “As your trainer, it should’ve been me forcing you to take a break.”

“Ah, it might not be your tournament, but you’re just as intense. You love to study.”

“Maybe I would’ve studied less if I knew that you knew how to dance.”

“Yeah, I’m sensational. Just don’t look at my feet.”

They laugh their way through it and, though she can’t actually hear them laughing over the volume of the band at the hole in the wall Benny dragged her into, she’ll recall the way his eyes squinted and his teeth showed and fill in the laughter after the fact. Their hands clasp and release and their fingers misalign in a haphazard grip and she laughs. She sways against him, clutching his half-unbuttoned black shirt, and feels his shudder. They hurry back to Cleo’s apartment and have sweaty, desperate sex against the wall just inside the door. Beth rakes her fingers through Benny’s uncovered hair, gasping. When they’re done, they receive a muffled cheer from the neighbouring apartment. She drops her forehead to his shoulder with a smile.

The time flies and, at Benny’s behest, their play becomes more disciplined. They only replicate Russian matches to reenforce the coldblooded style he’ll meet when he sits down across from Borgov. They begin to use a clock; up to this point, their exchanges were untimed, to allow for contemplation and debate following each move, if necessary. They even—finally—get fed up with the neighbours. Benny walks out of the apartment for fresh air and comes back with a bloody nose and reddened knuckles that are beginning to swell because, apparently, some hazy partygoer staggered into him in the hallway and they got into it for no good reason. Thank god he didn’t pull his knife. Beth’s witnessed enough nasty little fistfights behind Mrs. Deardorff’s back at the orphanage to assess that Benny’s nose isn’t broken, though the skin under his left eye very quickly begins to purple. Great. He’ll face Borgov looking like a pugilist. She prepares him a nice bundle of ice and accidentally drops it onto his hand to communicate her contempt for his stupidity. Reckless asshole.

“You could’ve at least told me you were really going out to pick a fight.”

“What would you have done?” Benny wonders, shifting the ice from his knuckles to his face with a wince. “Taken a couple swings yourself?”

Beth puffs up, straightening her spine.

“Of course.”

“Nah, honey, your nose is too pretty to chance it.”

She can’t decide: it’s either the endearment she doesn’t know what to do with or the implication that she’d be witless enough to stand there and take a jab to the center of her face that makes Beth rise and kick the leg of the chair Benny’s sitting right on the edge of. He looks mad enough when his backside hits the floor, but he sighs and glances up at her.

“You want a game?”

She smiles.

“I’ll play black.”

The night before they fly to Copenhagen, she sees it’ll take more than fresh air, yet another chess match, or a bop on the nose to calm him. He’s pacing, pointing, and lecturing—each habit sufficiently annoying on its own, but in conjunction? He’ll drive them both crazy if she lets him carry on.

“Come on, kid,” she says, and makes him sit on the edge of the bed instead of the chair.

Beth’s efficient at undoing buttons, even from behind, and has her back-buttoning blouse stripped off before Benny’s redirected his thoughts from the game they left set up on the board in the other room to what’s happening in front of him. When she starts unzipping her skirt, he catches her hands and takes over. She sits on his lap and rubs him through his jeans until he rolls her onto her back. Breathless and fumbling at his belt, Beth tells herself Cleo had to know they wouldn’t just be using her apartment to play chess. If there’s one language Cleo speaks more fluently than the others, it’s sex. Feeling absolved, Beth hooks her legs up around Benny’s hips.

—

“Well, well, well, look who’s still famous,” he mutters to her after jerking open the door of the venue to the sudden flutter of flashbulbs.

“I’m sorry,” Beth offers with a smirk. “I wore sunglasses and everything. I was trying to be inconspicuous.”

Benny grins back because that was never going to happen. She hasn’t exactly kept her head down for the last two years, steadily working her way through American Masters, felling them. It’s kind of a hobby. Still, she’s chosen an active chess career in the States over the spectacle of European tournaments, so for the international press, Beth’s appearance today is quite an occasion. But it doesn’t trouble Benny. He’s never struggled with monopolizing the spotlight.

“I’ll answer five questions before my first match,” he announces, arm around Beth’s waist. “Who’s first?”

“Mr. Watts, what’s it like to be back in Copenhagen?”

“Great. It’s been a while. The flight was quick with no turbulence, exactly how I like it.”

“Your eye—have you been in a fight?”

“Chess is a rough sport.”

“How are you feeling going into your first match?”

“Prepared.”

“Do you plan to meet Borgov in the final on Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“What is your relationship with Miss Harmon?”

Benny glances sideways at her. Above her sunglasses, Beth raises an eyebrow. Some people might be thrown by the abrupt switch in subject matter, but the moment of hesitation as he parts his lips to answer is mischievous.

“Waiting for her to make an honest man outta me. That’s five, boys,” he points out, lifting a hand that does double duty as an acknowledgement and a brushing aside motion; it parts the small crowd and he guides Beth through.

“Well now they definitely won’t print anything about you.”

“Sure they will. My name right alongside yours: ‘Watts and Harmon.’ Maybe ‘Harmon and Watts’—sounds a little better. Anyway, they’ve got enough to suggest that we’ve been working together and that’s the edge that’ll get to Borgov.”

“If he picks up a paper between tomorrow and Saturday,” Beth clarifies.

“He will. Or somebody’ll do it for him. One of his KGB babysitters, probably. They seem like they’d be gossips. But Borgov’ll hear about it and the mention of your name will put the fear of god into him.”

“Oh, it will, will it?”

“No question.” He halts and looks at her seriously. “You mind if we find someplace quiet to sit down for a minute?”

She checks her watch, the cracked glass face long ago replaced.

“Yeah, you’ve got a few minutes, but wouldn’t you prefer to go in and, how did you put it? Breathe down the neck of your competitors?”

“Cute, but I’m a little worried I’d be sick down the neck of my competitors.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily. “Ugh, that plane ride.”

“But there wasn’t any turbulence!”

“Beth, please. Don’t even say the word.”

He plays two games that day, with enough turnaround time in between that they go for a walk and she takes a few non-press photographs of him in front of attractive backdrops. Behaving like real tourists seems to distract him. Benny even allows Beth to charm him into surrendering the end of his sandwich so she can use the bread to feed the little birds in a park they walk through.

The following day, the schedule tightens up. Lesser players are vanquished and Benny is presented with more people to beat, each one smug from their recent win until Benny shuffles things around on the board with exchanges so swiftly conceived and executed that it might be sleight of hand, one complex magic trick until—ta da!—he’s hemmed their king. He’s fucking brilliant, Beth thinks as she observes him, occasionally shaking her head in amazement. Her pulses races each time he sits down across from someone with a look on his face like, I hope you’ve made peace with your god. They screened too many movies of a biblical bent at Methuen. Prayer and faith certainly never lifted her high, but watching Benny does.

The next day is the second to last and Benny plays once, in the morning, with adjournments and the deciding of third and fourth place of the tournament in the afternoon. Winning his game isn’t anything special to him; he was always looking ahead, intending to square off against Borgov. In Benny’s style, Beth considers, it’d be a gunslinger draw at high noon. In Borgov’s (via Benny’s perception of him), Van Helsing advancing on a crypt with a garland of garlic bulbs and a raised crucifix.

She sits patiently with him in their hotel room. Unlike the night before they departed from Germany, he isn’t stressed. He’s calm. Beth asks if he’d rather stretch his legs, go find some of his friends that played at this tournament (and lost) and talk to them, work the room in a way that simultaneously captivates her and makes her roll her eyes. No. He prefers to stay with her. They sprawl on the bed and play out a couple of his slickest games, then the last twenty moves of the ‘68 Moscow final: Borgov v. Harmon.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he says softly, when she’s dozing with her head on her arm. He’s been staring at the board in silence for a long time.

“Are you sure?” Beth yawns before continuing, “I could order up some coffee?”

Benny’s already gathering the pieces and folding the board.

“You can’t do any more for me than you’ve done, and I can’t learn any more tonight than I have.”

“You’re prepared,” she agrees. That might not be quite what he meant, but she figures even Benny Watts needs a little reassurance.

“For most things he could do.”

Beth pulls her pajamas out from under the pillow on her side of the bed.

“You know how he plays. It’s clean. You just have to keep your eyes open. Borgov isn’t the sort of player to pull something creative out of nowhere.”

“You say that, but once, I had an opponent threaten to kick me in the crotch.”

“Mm, well, that’s not Borgov. Like I said, no creativity.” She watches for a minute as Benny strips his shirt off and flings it onto the chair. “By the way, it wasn’t a threat, it was posed as a question—rhetorical, even philosophical—and only because that opponent felt she wasn’t being taken seriously.”

Benny smiles and walks around the end of the bed. He cradles the back of her head and gives her a slow kiss.

“Will you kick Borgov in the crotch for me if I lose?”

“Now you want me to fight your battles for you? Where was this attitude in Berlin?” She grabs Benny’s butt as he walks back to trade his jeans for pajamas. He turns to look at her inquiringly. “I won’t have to.”

He spends all the next morning proving her right, not succumbing to how Borgov’s pieces shoulder their way across the board. They knock Benny’s aside some, but he hangs in and they adjourn in the afternoon for an after-dinner resumption. Though the reprieve is nearly three hours, they don’t go back to their room. There’s no international call to wait for—every bit of encouragement from their friends was given before they left New York. Benny has a drink with dinner and when that doesn’t loosen him up enough, Beth gets a little fresh under the table as she’s adjusting the napkin in his lap, just until she’s sure he’s in a new mindset.

At seven o’clock, the jacket, the hat, and the man are back in position opposite Borgov. Benny makes the move he sealed earlier, then leans forward by his shoulders. In that gesture, Beth knows Benny’s got him. He confirms it sixteen moves later and Borgov concedes the match in a gracious bow of his head. Benny dawdled a little, not dropping the guillotine blade the way she did with her swift Ohio victory over him, but he’s a different player. An admirer of historic matches, a showman with quick fingers and no better place to be than in front of a chessboard. That’s what she’s always guessed his mentality to be. Where she loves to win, he loves to play.

He rises from the table to a roomful of applause. His eyes find hers and she whistles with her fingers in her mouth, the way he taught her one night in his apartment. The sound is shrill enough over the rest of the noise that the photographer beside her turns to glare and tell her to shut the hell up. He begins to apologize when he recognizes her, but Beth shakes her head impatiently and points past him.

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “Look at him.”

#thanks for the prompt!#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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mistressaccost · 3 years

Text

Beth’s Move (Chapter 3)

NYC to Lexington

Summary: They guys celebrate Beth’s victory with a little too much spirit.

Benny and Harry take a ride.

A/N: TW for mentions of death.Also, (and I should have said this last time too) thank you so much for all the nice comments! The support seriously means so much to me!! I wasn’t expecting it and I was so wonderfully overwhelmed! Thank you, my loves 🧡

Word count: 3073

Other chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Benny can’t even remember the last time he was this hungover. The pounding in his head was like a jackhammer. His mouth was sandpaper. Opening his eyes didn’t even feel like an option. If he did then the sun, that was surely leaking in through the small windows in the back of the apartment, would cause his head to explode. So he kept his eyes shut tight and tried to roll over to shove his face into the pillow.

Tried being the key word, because as soon as he moved half his body was on the cold cement floor.

There must have been some rustling because a voice spoke then. “Oh good, you’re awake. Take a look at this.” Harry.

Benny heard shuffling before something light landed on his back. He didn’t make a move for the object, just let out a painful groan.

“What the fuck happened to me, Beltik.” Benny called out in a horse voice, coughing at the end. “And get me a goddamn water.”

“What? You don’t remember? Not even the Gibsons? Starting with those was a bad idea, man.”

Right. It had started with a round of Gibsons at a bar in Greenwich Village. The six guys went out to celebrate Beth’s monumental win. And a Gibson was Beth’s favorite. They had to toast to her with her favorite drink.

It sounded harmless enough at first. But considering the drink was nearly entirely gin (six parts to be exact), and considering that it was more like two rounds of Gibsons (she beat Borgov, FUCKING BORGOV) then the chaos of the rest of the night started to make more sense. And perhaps Harry had mentioned that a Gibson had been Beth’s late mother’s favorite as well. So maybe it was closer to three rounds. The drink felt like a way to pay homage to the two ladies. Well, it felt that way last night. Now it just felt like shit.

After the (first) bar, the guys had stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of champagne.

Each.

Yeah. Six bottles of champagne. Benny, Harry, Mike, Matt, Arthur, and Hilton all running around wild with their bubbly. Maybe that was a bit excessive. But Beth had just beaten four Russians. FOUR.

So the party walked to Washington Square Park to pop their bottles by the chess boards there. It wasn’t a violation of the open container law if they didn’t get caught, right? Exactly. And by some miracle they didn’t.

“Wait. Where did we go to after the park?”

“Which park?” Harry said as he handed Benny a glass of water.

“We did not go to multiple parks. There’s no way.”

“Are you kidding? We went to Columbia.”

“COLUMBIA?” This felt like a sick joke. Benny took a moment to think as he sat up and pounded his water. “How the hell did we get all the way up to Morningside Heights? That’s on the other side of the fucking world.”

“The professor drove us. Who we met at Washington Square. He recognized you and wanted a game. And then he was bending over backwards for us when he found out we knew Beth.”

“Right. I remember him. Shit.”

Benny set his empty glass down and put his face in his hands. “Hey can I have some aspirin to go with this water? And more water.” When Harry just stared at him, pathetic and pale and sprawled on the floor, Benny said “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. So you, me and the twins went up there with him. Arthur and Hilton headed home.” Harry walked over to the sink to get the pills and water and brought them to Benny.

“Lucky bastards.” Benny popped the pills and chugged the new water. “Thanks, man.”

“Then we were at his office. The professor. That’s where his board was. He was pouring us bourbon and just gushing about Beth’s game. He read about it in the paper. Kept calling her Elizabeth though, and you kept correcting him.” Harry chuckled. “The twins were running down the halls. They’re the most energetic drunks I’ve ever met. Couldn’t keep track of them. And you were annihilating the professor at speed chess. It was brutal.”

“That sounds familiar. Don’t remember the speed chess though. Huh.” Benny said and fell back into the partly deflated air mattress. “Ouch.”

“Well you beat him every time. Completely inebriated. It was honestly impressive. Then we walked across Central Park. Where Matt wouldn’t stop chasing the ducks, it was ridiculous. And you three were singing that new Beatles song at the top of your lungs. I was trying to calm you all and find a way out of that damn park.”

“Sorry.” Benny muttered.

“Then we took a long train ride back here, had a final Pabst at your local dive down the street, and the bodega for snacks, then home sweet home. I fell asleep to three drunks snoring on that pile of pillows on the floor you call a couch. Granted I was drunk as well but not like you.”

“And why, praytell, am I on my own goddamn floor as well.”

“Don’t blame me. You insisted on sleeping on that thing, man. I tried to put you in your bed but you kept jumping out and yelling about this shitty blow up mattress.”

Benny definitely didn’t remember that. It seems that even when he’s wasted he couldn’t get his mind off her. He looked down then at the object Harry had thrown at him when he woke up, a newspaper. Not just any newspaper, The New York Times. And smiling up at him from the front page was none other than Beth Harmon herself.

He held her gaze. Just stared at her in a way he felt too self conscious to do in real life. A smile this big from her was such a treat. Like when she found a mistake in that Fine match. Even her eyes were twinkling. She was so gorgeous he felt sick with it.

“Harry.” Benny grumbled.

“What now?”

“I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying. You’re dehydrated and—”

“Over my dead body are you dying, Benny Watts!” Screamed a voice with equal amounts of raspiness and conviction. Was it coming from his own room?

“That doesn’t even make sense—” Benny shot back with another grumble.

“You are not dying before you tell Beth Harmon you love her!” Matt. Or Mike. He couldn’t tell. And why the hell were they sleeping in his bed? And… what did he just say?

“Huh?” Was all Benny could muster.

Mike walked out then. He was pale and had bags under his eyes. He made it to the doorway before he got a queasy look on his face and decided to lean against it rather than continue into the main room. After a few labored breaths he spoke. “That’s all you could talk about last night. Unrequited love and shit. You said you were going to drive down to Kentucky and tell her. No more shitty phone calls. You said that she was the only person you’ve ever really loved.”

“Oh. Actually I’d prefer death then. Bye.” Benny shoved his face back into his pillow then.

“No, man. You have to go to Kentucky. This is like the most noble cause! Fairytale shit!” Mike said with a huge grin on his face.

“I’m not going to buttfuck Kentucky or wherever she lives.” Benny groaned into his pillow. “I ditched her and she went to Moscow without a second. All alone. Because I wouldn’t go with her. I'm an idiot. She doesn’t want to see me.”

“But you told everyone at Walter’s Bar you were driving down!” Matt said excitedly as he ran out into the room, breathless. “You can’t let them down!”

Benny looked up at him. “I did what.”

“You got on the bar and started yelling it. It was so rad. People were cheering for you, man! Mad applause. Everyone wanted you to go! Even the bartender! She did kick us out after that stunt, though. Understandable. And ban you. But she was really nice about it!”

“I got banned?”

“For life, yeah. But she wished you good luck! And I got her number.” Matt and Mike high fived then.

Benny was way too hungover for this. He turned over on the air mattress and closed his eyes. Would Beth even listen to an apology? And would she forgive him after that? Did she even care about him at all?

When he’d told her that he missed her all those months ago he’d been left with silence over the wire. But he missed her now more than ever. And the way she said his name over the phone the last time… it was enough to make him dizzy.

Now he was thinking about it…like actually considering it. Driving to Kentucky. Was this actually a good idea or was there still alcohol in his system?

“Beltik.” Benny said, sitting up slightly to see Harry sitting at his kitchen table. “What do you think.”

Harry sipped his tea and considered the idea for a moment. “Sometimes alcohol makes you do dumb shit. Like chase ducks or stand on bars. But sometimes it brings out the truth. And the way you talked about Beth… that was honest.”

“Well there’s no well in hell I’m doing this shit over the phone.”

“No, definitely not.” Harry agreed.

“If I’m doing it, I’m doing it right.” Benny looked over with a smirk. “Want a ride home, Beltik?”

The car had been coasting down 81 for a while before Benny finally asked.

“So. You go over Beth’s a lot? Since you know where the spare key is and all.” He cranked his window down a little so the smoke from his newly lit cigarette could drift out of it.

“Uh. Not anymore, no. She cut me off right after Paris.”

“But before?” He was trying to be casual but this was coming off more like an interrogation. And it was making Harry nervous.

“Yeah. It was, uh, after the tournament in Mexico City and before the US Championship. I moved back here to start school. I gave her a call, offered my condolences for the Borgov match, offered to help her train. She said yes.”

“Right. I knew you were coaching her.” He just didn’t know this coaching happened in Beth’s home. Interesting.

“Her mother died in Mexico, you know. Alma. Beth just wanted, needed, company. I helped her train but I also helped her bury her mother.”

“Wait her mom died in Mexico City? Like at the tournament?” Benny was shocked.

“Ya, she found her body right after she lost to Borgov.”

“What the fuck.” Benny knew that Beth’s mother had recently passed but the rest of this was all new. Beth had always shied away from the topic and he’d respected it. But now he wished he knew how much she was hurting, this was a new level of fucked up.

“Then she was back in Lexington all by herself.”

“You’re serious? There wasn’t anybody else there? Any of her mother’s family? What about Alma’s husband? Or—”

“No one. She had no one. Beth and Alma were all each other had. Beth went to Mexico with Alma and came back all alone. It was heartbreaking.”

“Shit.” Benny took a long draw of his cigarette and stared at the taillights in front of them.

“I couldn’t leave her. Not like that. The state she was in— I mean it wasn’t obvious on the surface, she’s good at hiding things like that. But I could tell she was hurting… and afraid. I was worried about her. Especially when I found her pills. And I won’t lie, taking care of her was a welcomed distraction for me.”

“What kind of pills?”

“Some kind of tranquilizer. A downer. And she had hoards of them. It was like a pharmacy in there.”

Benny didn’t say anything. He felt like a total asshole. He should have driven down here months ago. She could have died. Shit.

Harry continued. “She asked me to stay with her. So I moved in for a bit. In her spare bedroom. Beth and I were there for eachother when we each needed someone. We were both lonely. I don’t think I was her first choice as a roommate but it just fell into place. She needed someone to stay with her and I wasn’t ready to face reality yet. And somewhere in there we started something like… a relationship.”

“Elaborate, Beltik. I’m waiting.”

“I wouldn’t even really call it that. It wasn’t love or anything close. Deep down it was pretty selfish. We each wanted to make ourselves feel wanted. Emotionally and…” Harry looked away then, out the window.

“You slept together?” It wasn’t meant to sound accusatory. It was shock in his voice, really. Was Harry Beth’s type?

“Ya…” Harry trailed off slowly, beginning to pick at his fingernails. “A handful of times. It was never… uh.. romantic or well…” He took a deep breath then, obviously flustered. “It was pretty awkward most of the time. Always awkward after. We didn’t even sleep in the same bed.”

Benny was glad Harry still had his gaze fixed out the window because he didn’t mean to let the sides of lips curve up like that. Smiling at a guy’s awkward and clearly unsatisfactory sex life… that would come off as too much of a douchebag thing to do, even for Benny. This was clearly a time of crisis for the two, he should emphasize with them. Still, Benny couldn’t help but think of Beth’s soft moans and the breathless way she said,

“So that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Ya, Benny was losing the fight to keep the smile off his face now. He tried to hide his face with his arm by messing with his hair. But he knew if Harry looked over he’d be caught grinning, looking cocky as hell. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but his ego had just been inflated like the Grinch’s heart. And the former prodigy wasn’t fucking modest to begin with.

But Harry continued talking, unaware. Eyes still out the passenger window. “We were using each other. Maybe the sex happened just to push those feelings away, a charade of sorts. To try to convince ourselves we had something and that we didn’t have to stop playing house to go back to reality. I liked her more than she ever liked me. Or maybe just the idea of her.”

Benny nodded, listening intently now.

“I really liked her but it became clear I’d never be able to keep up with her. She’s too quick. And she never looked at me the same way when we realized that. It felt shitty for a little bit. And I kind of feel foolish now because I’m obviously not her type.”

“Hey. You’re a good guy, Harry. Seriously.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he asked. “What’s her type then?”

Harry looked over and grinned. “Washed up chess pirates?”

Benny laughed and shook his head. Then he took out the pack of cigarettes and threw them at Harry, along with his lighter. All while trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Harry took out a cigarette and lit it as he continued to speak. “But the way you talk about her—”

“No we don’t have to go there. Just hand me a smoke.”

“Come off it, stop complaining. I know I'm about to get mushy just shut up and let it happen.” Harry raised his voice to speak over Benny’s grumbles. “The way you talk about her and your face lights up, damn. It makes me sick but it also makes me happy for you. I want that someday. To be so crazy for someone I make everyone around me sick with it.”

“I can pull over if you need to throw up.”

“Listen. That wasn’t me and Beth. Not even close. But I love Beth and I want that for her. She's been through hell. Worse than hell. And it seems that she’s risen from the ashes. So be a fucking a knight in shining armor or I’ll be over there, man. You’d probably beat me in a fight faster than you check me in chess but that’s not going to stop me.”

Benny laughed at the sheer conviction in his friend’s voice and said, “I believe you.” Then took a long drag before he continued. “Thanks, Beltik.” Another drag. “Thank you for telling me. You're a good friend. To me and more importantly to Beth. I’m really glad you were there for her. That you could be there for eachother.”

Harry nodded at him and they sank back into comfortable silence. Then Benny reached over and cranked up the radio and they drove and drove.

“You sure she’ll be okay with this?” Benny cocked a brow at his friend as they pulled up to the blue house. “This sounded like a good idea way back in New York. But now it feels… invasive.”

“It’s Beth, Benny.” Harry said. As if the obvious somehow solved everything.

“That’s exactly why I’m freaking out. It’s fucking Beth. She’s going to chew me out. She’s going to eat me alive.”

“Maybe if it were anyone else but… I think you underestimate how much she likes you.”

“Fuck off, man. Seriously. I’m starting to feel real sick about this. I need another pack of smokes.”

“You said you only smoke when you drive.”

“I’m starting a new habit. Where’s the nearest drugstore?”

“No more cigarettes. Stop freaking out, it's not going to help.”

Benny let his head fall back on the headrest and didn’t respond.

“Okay, Okay. See that funny rock under the picture window? That’s what the key is in. Just unscrew it.”

“And then what? Trespass?”

“Sleep in the pink room. Pick up some groceries tomorrow, maybe I’ll be working. Then wait. She should be in London by now and then she’ll be here in a few days. Chill out.”

Chill out? Was Beltik out of his fucking mind?

But Benny took a breath and tried to listen to Harry, to believe him. He trusted Harry but these things were easier said than done.

Regardless, he dropped his friend off on Circle Road, went back to Beth’s (without a stop at the drugstore), and threw himself on the couch.

And waited.

A/N: thanks for reading! i tried to add a touch of humor within the serious car ride just to break it up a bit. I hope benny didn’t come off as too insincere and shallow.

also how do we feel about harry being the mom friend lol it just felt right i can’t explain it.

the phone call is up next, then they’ll meet up I promise! and that’ll be the fifth and final chapter here 😝 (unless the meeting is two chapters idk it’s going to take me bit tbh)

#benny watts #benny x beth #beth harmon #beth x benny #queens gambit #the queens gambit #the queen’s gambit #beth harmon x benny watts

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