Dead Poets Society - Imagines and preferences

Checkmate - Gerard Pitts (Queen's Gambit Crossover AU) pt. 2

Cameron had a sly look on his face that you did not like. No wonder Neil and Meeks don't particularly hold much sympathy for him, you thought. Not only that, but he was tremendously easy to beat. You wondered how he even got qualified in the first place! It was like playing against Townes all over again.

With a groan of deception, Cameron knocked over his king, signaling he gave up. Then, without bothering to shake your extended hand, he brutally stood up, letting his chair fall back, and stomped away, leaving you there a bit shook.

"Ah, I see our friend Cameron is being a sore loser again," snickered a voice behind you.

You stood up as you spun around. Meeks had a satisfied smile on his face. "Thank you for beating him, Y/N. He's always acting like he's better than all of us at chess."

"It was too easy," you admitted. "He plays like a beginner. I'm kind of surprised he even got qualified for the US Opens."

"All of us are, believe me. C'mon, let's go to the bar and get a drink."

You made your way to the ground floor and took a seat next to Neil, who was waiting for you there and pushed a cold drink towards you.

"So? How'd it go?"

"Cameron was an easy one. I hope the next one is more challenging."

"I saw the board," said Meeks. "You're playing against the California state champion, Jackson. He's a tough one."

"All right." You sipped your drink and stood up. "I should probably go watch him play. Where is he?"

"He's already done, actually. You're up against him in fifteen minutes. Table number six."

You bit your lip. This was going to be the second you'd play against a state champion today.

"C'mon Y/N, don't make that face," said Neil as he rolled his eyes. "You're a goddamn chess genius, you're gonna ace this! And just because Jackson holds a pompeous title like state champion doesn't mean that he's gonna obviously be good, if you know what I mean..." He glanced over at Cameron, who was angrily complaining to someone else on the other side of the room.

"By the way, when's Pittsie coming along?" frowned Meeks. "Haven't seen him all morning."

"He told me he's going back to his hotel room upstairs between games. To practice," said Neil.

Ah yes, you thought, the infamous Pitts. When were you finally going to meet him? You'd totally forgotten about him, and neither of the boys had mentionned him up until now - at least in your presence.

"Right, I guess I should go. Are you guys coming?"

Meeks and Neil nodded, and the three of you headed to your next match.

Jackson was already sitting there. Judging by the small wrinkles on his forehead and at the corner of his eyes, he probably was in his forties. A lock of his messy, curled black hair fell above his nose, and when he saw you arrive, his face scrunched itself into a snarl.

"Dammit, they let girls compete here? Next thing you'll know, these damn women will be running for president..." He shook his head in disbelief.

As much as your hand was itching to violently connect itself to his cheek, you managed to contain yourself and forced a tight, polite smile on your lips.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you." You extended your hand, but he disdainfully ignored it - instead looking you up and down, apparently judging every inch of your clothes.