antidote | chishiya shuntaro
Summary: A doctor is a lifeline. In the Jack of Hearts game, Chishiya strives to be yours.
yeah, i took the physician reveal and ran with it. i tried to get into his head to portray him as well as i could in writing this and accidentally fell head over heels. let me know if i did him justice?
warnings: large helpings of anxiety, chishiya-esque emotional manipulation, though affectionate. mentions of sex, fwb setup, my attempt at sounding medically educated.
word count: 2741
requested by: anon (thank you so much for this brilliant idea, i loved getting stuck into it. i donāt write smut, but i hope this still gets you a little riled.)
written by: archie
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Itās human nature to fuck up. He shouldāve known to expect it from you.
It was beginning to wear him down, your constant knee bouncing and nail biting since the third hour of this game. All he needed to do was watch. He was wildly curious to see how this would all play out, and he knew he was safe. Knew you were safe.
All things considered, it was a low-risk game: only trust was required, and heād scored that easily by taking you under his wing. However, The idea of the Jack of Hearts was a poison injected into the bloodstream of the prisonās population. The symptoms of distrust and paranoia would migrate through the ranks, and the masses would spiral and die.
It was a simple game. The key was to not let your protector get infected.
But the symptoms were visibly taking a hold of you. The cafeteria table shook with your anxious tics, the water in your bottle sloshing enough to disrupt his attention on the surrounding cafeteria. He wouldnāt complain though. You werenāt annoying, no, but you could soon put him on edge if he let you spiral like this, and then heād be infected too.
āChishiya,ā you called softly, clearly nervous to disrupt his spectating.
He didnāt tear his eyes from the scheming girl in the dress. She was particularly interesting in this setting; and by his deductions, not likely to be the Jack. āHm?ā
Your voice came meeker than normal. āWhatās my suit again?ā
He turned slowly, a brow quirked over a relaxed eye as he finally gave you his attention. āYou forgot?ā
He sighed silently through his nose, calculating your thoughts. To ask this after heād told you twice already, you mustāve been anxious about one of two things. One, that your addled mind would fool you into speaking the wrong suit. Or two, that you couldnāt trust him.
āHeart,ā was all he said.
And you nodded. Your eyes hardened, clearly visualising the shape before your eyes. āHeart,ā he could practically see your mind reciting. āHeart.ā
Orā¦ Was that a calculating look? He flexed his jaw. Were you possibly tallying up the likelihood that heād lied to you?
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