content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names; drug abuse and overdose; lots of chess terms
wc: 3454
note: I FREAKING LOVE THIS NETFLIX SHOWWW!! this is a character study i’m trying to do to make my female y/ns less.. idk meek? wimpy? it’s such a writing pet peeve of mine and i absolutely loved beth harmon’s character so here it is :))
the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2
It was quiet in the orphanage basement. With the exception of the dull thumping of childrens’ feet on the basement’s ceiling. Pensive, and tense, the air felt pregnant with strain.
Your eyes flitted back and forth, from black to white and then back again. They went over the ridges of the standing pieces, and down the curves until it met the checkered board. A criss-crossing maze full of infinite possibilities for strategy.
Finally, your delicate, little fingers wrapped around the stem of your rook, pushing it so it slid all the way across the board.
“Check,” came your raspy voice.
The janitor’s bald forehead creased into more folds, and he raised up a finger to push up the frame of his glasses. “Not anymore.” His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against concrete.
The young girl’s brows furrowed, “Wait, how can you do that? You never taught me-”
The buff man stood up suddenly, interrupting her rhetoric. “That’ll be for next time. Clean up the board now and get to class.”
“Wait-” you stuttered, feeling confused and cheated, but Mr. Lee's back was already turned on you, already moving in between the aisles of paint. You sighed, letting her gaze brush over the stationery pieces on the chess board once more, before sweeping all of them off into a velvet bag.
The school bell rang shrilly.
Soonyoung liked to win. Even at the young age of five, he liked crushing his opponents with a gummy smile on his face and curved crescent eyes.
They called him lots of names: the best chess player in the country since Yoon Jeonghan, the chess champion, etc.
But he figured he liked the title “Innocent Tiger of the Chessboard.” Soonyoung thought it made him sound powerful and glorious. He used the name “Hoshi” a lot after the Times magazine coined him that way.
“You’re all a bunch of-”
A girl, whom you did not know, was getting dragged from the cafeteria. A teacher yanked her forward by her long, curly afro harshly. One hand held the girl’s hair, and the other hand, you barely noticed, was holding a yellow-tinted soap bar.
You walked into the cafeteria, naturally standing at the back of a long line of orphaned girls. She moved forward, hesitantly, taking the spot in line from the previous girl. You looked up at the male vendor with large, unblinking eyes, expectantly. His eyes held a glint of remembrance, and slid a small, white paper cup toward you.
Your fingers reached into the small cup and grabbed the object inside. Small, oval shaped pills rested at the bottom of the paper cup.
“Ooh, those ones are best saved for the night. Don’t take ‘em all at once, either. Save ‘em.” You turned around. It was the black girl from before. “My name’s Ruth, by the way. You’re new here, right?” Ruth’s voice was sultry and teasing; her brown, chocolate eyes hid a twinkle of mischief that you could already tell made her a troublemaker. She had her own matching green pill in between her large hands. “You’ll see what I mean.”
Then, she walked right back into the cafeteria with the other girls.
The room where you slept was also occupied by the dozens of other girls in the orphanage. It had large windows with thin curtains, and stone ceilings and floors. The beds were identical with small dressers on the side of them.
Because the curtains were thin, they didn’t do much to keep the silver beams of moonlight from filtering into the room and onto the beds.
Your eyes were wide open, staring at the green pill twirling in between your fingers. You debated yourself internally for a few moments, before swallowing it in one gulp. Your eyes felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was as light as feather, swirling and swirling with thoughts. You finally cemented on one event in her day, zeroing in and latching onto it with no mercy.
The chess game with the orphanage janitor.
As the event seeped into the cracks of your skull, your eyelids slowly opened until you were faced with the dark, blank ceiling above you.
A spot appeared. Then another right beside it.
Then two more around those, and then more and more and more. They were alternating spots, some dark and some light.
You gasped, pushing herself to a seated position.
It was a chessboard.
The pieces slowly materialized on the ceiling. You could make out the distinct shapes of the king, the rook, and the many other pieces that she didn’t know the names of. You knew of the pawn, pieces with a rounded sphere as its head. Mr. Lee had taught you about them the first day she played chess with him.
“The opening,” he had called it. “Openings are the first moves of the game. Learn some.”
The pieces flickered on the board, teleporting from place to place, mimicking a real chess game.
You almost overslept for breakfast the next morning.
The teacher paused for a moment in her lecture, her hand moving automatically toward the chalk erasure. Her fingers brushed metal and her eyes saw an absent seat.
“Check.”
A piece moved.
You let out a breath.
“Checkmate.”
Mr. Lee leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his bloated stomach. He said nothing, instead pulling out a rectangular box from his back pocket.
“I know all the pieces now.” You stood up, your arms bracing yourself against the table. “And how they move.”
Again, he refused to answer. His muscled, long fingers nimbly hooked under the latch on the cigarette box. You watched as Mr. Lee lit the cigarette and turned away.
Your internal question remained unanswered.
“Tomorrow,” he finally replied. “Tomorrow, I’ll properly teach you how to play.”
Your breath hitched in excitement, “Really? You’ll teach me-”
“You should learn the Sicilian Defense,” came his gruff voice. His back remained turned on her. You stood as well, seriousness filling the gap between the two of you.
Mr. Lee finally turned.
“To tell you the truth of it, child…” His lips curved upward. “You’re astounding.”
It was the national championship. Reporters and news outlets were crawling around everywhere, shoving their microphones into every chess player’s face. Soonyoung smirked in amusement, letting his gaze drop back down onto the chessboard in front of him.
“Oh, you moved already?”
Chan huffed, “It’s been two minutes, you’re gonna run out of time at this point.”
Soonyoung chuckled, sliding a piece away from him. His aura remained confident and unsettled by Chan’s warning. “I’d be more worried about yourself, brother.”
Chan’s eyebrows furrowed as he analyzed the board. At first glance, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. All of his pieces were set in motion and Soonyoung-
His eyes snapped open. Soonyoung was already one step ahead of him. Except this step was a mile in front and already at the finish line.
“H-how did you-” he stuttered in disbelief.
Soonyoung interrupted Chan, “Next move is Anderssen’s mate.” His eyes held a small twinkle of triumph, but anyone who had played Soonyoung before knew that he was never truly surprised about the outcomes of games he played.
Chan let his head hang low in defeat. “Alright, then.” His hand reached up to knock over the long column of his King. “You win.”
A crooked grin spread across the face of the young champion.
“Don’t worry!” He smirked. “You’ll always have next time.”
You had been falling behind in math class. You hardly ever paid attention when you were in class, and when you were out, math was hardly even at the back of your mind. Mr. Lee had gifted you a book to read called Modern Chess Openings. Soon enough, you had mastered not only all of the openings in the book, but also the art of hiding a book under your desk and reading.
One day, Mr. Lee had a visitor in the basement. Another man, leaner and taller than the janitor. He was dressed formally and wore a hat.
“Beth,” Mr. Lee greeted her. “This is Mr. Choi. He’s a representative of the chess club I play at.”
You stared at the stranger, unmoving and unresponsive.
“Hello, (Y/N),” he said, smiling. Mr. Choi was a friendly looking man, youthful too. “Would you care for a game of chess?” He took the chair next to Mr. Lee, long fingers already moving the pieces to their correct positions. His poise was confident and his eyes were shrewd. A completely different player from Mr. Lee was in front of you.
You won in three moves after the opening. Quick and precise, with no room for error. Mr. Lee looked on from the side of the table. His face showed neither surprise nor pride, but his eyebrows stayed furrowed.
“Well,” Mr. Choi raised his gaze from the board, turning his head toward the elder janitor. “She’s exactly how you described, Jihoon. I’m certainly impressed.” You waited patiently, unaware of the relationship between the two men. He turned his attention to the young girl in front of him. “(Y/N), how old are you?”
You answered mechanically, without any hesitation. You remained unfazed, an almost bored tone in your voice. “Nine years old, sir.”
Mr. Choi leaned back in his chair. “Nine years old, huh,” he echoed in disbelief. “That’s amazing. Say,” Mr. Choi reached down beside him. “(Y/N), would you be interested in competing against some other people?” He straightened himself, this time holding something in his hands. “I run a chess club at a high school near here, and I’d love to have you come play with us.”
You stared at him, shock and curiosity filling your gaping mouth. “Me?”
Mr. Choi chuckled, finally bringing up the object in his hands for her to see. “You can think about it for awhile, I’ll also be in contact with your headmistress. In the meantime, here’s a prize for your win. Nine year old girls like dolls, right?”
Your mouth refused to answer. You looked helplessly at Mr. Lee, but his gaze was fixated on the ending board pieces.
“Well then,” Mr. Choi breathed. “I’ll be off.”
You watched as he grabbed his leather briefcase and his hat, then strode straight in between the shelves and up the wooden, creaky stairs. Then, you turned your attention to the doll in front of you.
You hesitantly grabbed the plastic body, running your thumbs over the cheap polyester clothes.
Then, you promptly threw it in the trash.
The next time you saw Mr. Choi was not in the cold basement, but instead, in the headmaster’s office. The headmaster was a bitter woman with strict ideals that were brittle and unbending. You had only met her once, and you had hoped that they would never come so close again.
“Well, Miss (Y/N). Is what Mr. Choi telling me true?” Her wintry voice chilled you down to the bone, leaving your head numb and you palms overheating. Without waiting for a response, Headmaster Kim turned her attention back to Mr. Choi. “Mr. Choi, we appreciate the offer and would love for the orphanage’s many talented students to compete with others, but going to a school by herself? I worry for the child.”
Mr. Choi nods, compromising with a soft tone, “Of course, I will be with her at all times.”
“Hm,” the headmaster pondered. “I’d rather her go with another girl actually.”
He relented immediately. “Absolutely.”
The Headmaster stood up from her seat. “Well then, it’s decided. Young (Y/N) will be accompanied by a fellow student from the orphanage.”
Mr. Choi complied calmly, leaving without another comment. Quietly and rapidly just like the first time you had met him. Your nerves spread out like spindly branches of a tree, bumping against each other until it filled the entire room.
“(Y/N)?”
It was only until the Headmaster called your name that you realized your gaze had dropped to the floor.
“You’ve been playing chess in the basement, I hear.” There was a pause, and you quickly recognized that the woman expected a response. You dipped her head slightly into a nod of acknowledgement. “I must say, playing chess in the basement is highly irregular.” Your heart rate jerked upward. Would the Headmaster forbid you from playing chess? A sense of dread pricked her heart. “Ask Mr. Jun for a chess board from the game closet, I’m sure we have one or two. You can play out in the open from now on.”
A wave of relief crashed over you. “Really?”
The Headmaster dismissed you, “It’s lunch time now. Hurry back to the cafeteria, Miss (Y/N).”
You left without any refusal, your steps hurried and rushed as your shoes clicked against the cement floors.
The cafeteria had its usual vibrations of friendly chatter, and the line to the pill vendor was just as long as the day she arrived. Inching closer and closer to the vendor, you buzzed with anticipation for your daily collection of green pills.
The man slid the snow paper cup toward you, and habitually, you looked inside for the strange green pill among the scarlet ones.
It wasn’t there.
“Where’s the green pill?” you asked, bewildered.
The vendor sighed, clearly annoyed and frustrated with you. His voice was thin and gruff, an unattractive timbre. “New state laws, kid. No more tranquilizers. Now move on, more people waitin’ behind you.”
You furrowed your brow, but moved aside regardless.
That night, you counted the leftover tranquilizers you had saved up. There were only five left. You’d have to ration them and not take them frivolously.
The ceiling remained a blank canvas without its usual checkered illusion projected.
“Chess is getting kind of boring,” Soonyoung noted one day. He was 18 at the time.
Chan glared at him from his peripheral vision. “God damn it, Kwon. Maybe you need to get a life or something.”
He laughed, sweeping the plastic chess pieces off the wooden board. “Are you suggesting a get laid, or that I go on a date? Because both are well within reach.”
Chan grinned cruelly, “Like hell they are. The only thing you’ll ever love more than yourself is chess. As if a girl could even compare.”
Soonyoung rubbed at his nape sheepishly. “Maybe if she was a girl who played chess..”
“Well then you’d just see her as another bad player who couldn’t beat you.”
“Jesus, Chan. Way to make a guy feel motivated,” he sighed. “I guess I’ll just have a steamy date with my chess books instead.”
Chan huffed in annoyance and turned his attention away from the other male.
The drugs didn’t last you until the chess match and you began to feel the effects of it. Or rather, the effects of not having them. You mind would wander during class and you felt sluggish and tired. Ruth noticed.
“What’s going on, cracker? You don’t look so slick.”
It was true. Your hair was unkempt, your eyes were sunken and bruised from insomnia, and you no longer had the energy to hold up a conversation. Ruth sighed and moved closer so that your elbows were brushed up against each other. “It’s because of those green pills, ain’t it?” When you didn’t respond, Ruth huffed. “Alright then, I was gonna help you out with that by sharin’ some of mine, but if you’re gonna be so rude, then I guess I won’t!”
Your head snapped up. “You still have some?” you whispered.
Ruth smirked, her large lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. “Sure I do! Started savin’ these babies up a long time before you did.”
“Can I have some?” you hesitantly asked, your voice was low and soft. It was only a day before the chess game with the high school team and you were slowly going psychotic without the tranquilizers’ help.
Ruth denied you a verbal cue and instead, moved closer to slip two pills into your dress’s pocket.
It was your first time leaving the orphanage ever since you entered through the black, metal gates. Thus, when you, accompanied by Jamie Park, ambled through the high school halls, along with Mr. Choi, you were noticeably a little startled. It was noisy, crowded and ever so chaotic. Kids of all sizes were ravaging the school, lockers were haphazardly open and some closed, there was no sense of the eerie order at the Methuen Home orphanage.
You found that you didn’t mind the disarray much after all.
Mr. Choi led the duo into an empty classroom filled with desks that had been arranged into a circle. Only a few kids lingered in the room. You could count the amount of girls with your fingers. He directed you and Jamie toward the edge of the room.
The pair watched as student after student filed into the room in a steady stream of people, like tap water flowing out until only the last few drops fell.
Mr. Choi stood in the middle of the classroom and spread his arms dramatically. “Welcome, everyone! Today we have a very special guest,” he announced. Mr. Choi motioned toward you. Feeling compelled, you shyly stood and walked forward. “This is Miss (Y/N). You all will be playing a simultaneous against her!” He paused. “Please take your places.”
The students shuffled amongst themselves, the sound of feet thundering crescendo-ed until all of the seats were filled. You looked around at all of the male students seated in front of chess boards, a somber expression pasted on each of their faces. Some even had smirks. You looked up at Mr. Choi, who had a smile on his face.
“Mr. Choi?” you questioned.
He nodded, ushering toward the first board from clockwise motion.
You stepped forward in front of the first board and looked down at the colored pieces in front of her. You took a deep breath, then moved the first piece.
It took only eighty minutes to win every single board, even the high school’s best chess player.
When you returned to Methuen, you first celebrated with Mr. Lee. The janitor had prepared a small treat for you when you returned. To the normal eye, Mr. Lee looked neutral and maybe even a little irritated, but to you, the pride in his eyes were as clear as the squares on the chessboard.
“Honestly, I was most surprised about how bad they are. I mean, they made the most basic mistakes.” You paused to swallow a lump of dark chocolate. “Doubled pawns, queen trades, all of that. It was honestly kinda embarrassing to play against them.”
Mr. Lee didn’t interject your rant, watching as brown spread across your lips to your cheeks. He handed you a napkin and stayed quiet.
“Well,” you stood up, straightening our your skirt. “I’m off now.” The janitor nodded, eyes fixated on the chess pieces on the board as if they were moving by themselves. You looked down at the board and a question naturally floated to the top of her mind. “When’re you going to teach me end game, Mr. Lee?”
Mr. Lee looked up at the nine year old.
“Soon.”
Soonyoung was only 10 when he won his state championship. He won the country’s championship when he was 14.
He lost it when he was 23.
You ran out of the green pills in a day after the chess tournament. Once again, your body was thrown into withdrawal. It felt like a constant yearning for water. Every single day your gaze would linger on the glass jugs of pills behind the windowed divider. It became tantalizing. Each night you would salivate at the thought of breaking in and shoveling those pills into your mouth. It was a heavenly dream that nudged you closer and closer to reality.
It was during class that you found herself passing the open door of the cafeteria. The cafeteria room was a desert and the oasis was straight in front of your very own eyes. Self-control was a feeble wall that disintegrated under the wave of pent up yearning.
Your fingers trembled as you undid the lock, yanking it off and sliding over the divider. It was too easy.
Your heart pounded against the confines of her chest. The adrenaline rushed through your veins and your vision quickly became dizzy.
The second your fingers reached the pills, you were gone.
All those nights of dreams finally came true. You couldn’t even stop her hands from shoveling those pills into your mouth.
You couldn’t even stop as your fingers twitched on the ground, your body pressed against the cold tile floor.
“Rumor has it you were drunk while playing Minghao.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if I was sober anyway.”
41: Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone
~ A/N: hey everyone, just so you know, this is the LAST request we are taking from this specific prompt list. we are always taking requests based on your own headcanons though, so feel free to send those in! ~
soonyoung’s boundless energy catches you off guard, time to time, but it’s one of the things you adore most about him. you’ve gotten used to it over time.
admittedly, he’s overwhelming at times. but what makes you slightly confused and extremely grateful is that somehow, soonyoung just knows when to stay quiet and not to add to the chaos. from holding your hand in crowded spaces to changing the subject when he sees your shoulders tense, soonyoung has always known when to be subtle with his comforting. and it makes your heart glow with appreciation, especially when there is a chance he could make things worse.
today is one of those days. late to work, a disagreement with your boss, an argument with a friend – the day’s events have transformed into a stormy anger that sits on your shoulders, weighing you down visibly. soonyoung can almost feel your agitation as you walk through the door, which makes him refrain from launching into the funny story he was planning to tell you.
quietly, you put your things away and disappear into the bedroom. soonyoung desperately wants to follow you. but he knows you would have gone to him directly if you had really wanted his company. so, he stays put, giving you space.
an hour or so passes before you lay on your bed, calmer after a warm shower. you realise the silence surrounding you. almost as if on cue, soonyoung knocks gently on the open door, giving you a small smile. you beckon him over, and soon enough, his arms are wrapping around you, as if they are shielding any negativity from reaching you.
“you okay?” he mutters. you can’t contain your smile – there’s no one like him who knows and treats you so well. “yes,” you reply, pulling him down so you can lay together comfortably. you can’t help but kiss his arm and lean into him, his heart growing warmer at your love.
“is there anything else I can do for you?,” he asks softly.
[1:16] You could feel the tears starting to run down your cheeks as you started to gag. Soonyoung pulled out of your mouth while you gasped for air. "You look so beautiful like this" he cooed, rocking himself back into your mouth. "Now be a good girl and swallow for me"
