Neglected reader sitting at the dinner table even quieter than usual, barely giving one word responses to any questions, picking at their food with a slight edge—like they weren’t sure of its contents—and giving an awkward purse of their lips whenever anyone accidentally made eye contact with them.
Neglected reader cautiously excusing themselves to go to bed and who is let go with little fuss, though when their back turns some eyebrows furrow in either confusion, concern, or both.
Neglected amnesiac reader who shuts the door gently behind them, pumping their fist in victory after having made it through the entire dinner without knowing a single person’s name.
HI I have a request for you, please check it out and see what you think and hopefully you'll like it.
Fem oc OR female Reader whicheveryou think is better. She is Jace's younger twin sister, her egg didn't Hatch but she claimed vermithor at a very young age, when Luke is sent to storm's end worried for her little brother she disobeyed her mother and follows Luke, arrives right as vhagar was about to kill her brother so she attacks saving her little brother just in time commanding her brother to flee while she keeps Aemond distracted, with vermithor bring the second largest dragon its a more even fight, both dragons get injured but vermithor took a lethal bite to the wing and her dragon tried to save her by flying away as he died but he couldn't fly any further and crashed into storms end taking the brunt of the fall as she with broken bones crawls to her dragon wailing as she feels half her soul die before collapsing from her wounds, as Borros Baratheon and his guards come out Aemond lands walks over to her and picked her up claiming her as his hostage even though everyone could tell by the look in his eye and the way he looked and held her that she is way more to him than a hostage. When she wakes up in the red keep with Aemond talking to his mother by her side she interrupted them asking as who they are and who she is as has no memories, and Aemond before his mother can tell her the truth takes full advantage of her memory loss and says he is her husband horrifying Alicent especially when she lets him kiss her before going back to sleep.
Tw: injuries, manipulation, amnesia.
Female reader, reader is described as having curly hair, dragonrider reader. Rhaenyra's daughter and Jacaerys' twin sister reader.
Part 1.5 here
Part two is here
Part three is here
Something didn't feel right. The moment Lucerys flew off to Storms End, your stomach churned and dropped.
Your mother's orders were clear. You were to stay on Dragonstone to ‘guard’ the island, but you were sure that was just your mother's excuse to keep her precious daughter home.
Especially since there was no war that had started.
The pit in your stomach never left, never once eased so you mounted your dragon, the second largest dragon, the dragon you had claimed, not having the same luxury as your egg hatching as your brothers did.
You took to the skies, flying off before you could be spotted, you soared through the skies, wind blowing through your curls, ones that had never flattened nor straightened unlike your twin's.
You soared through the darkened clouds, ignoring the claps of thunder that boomed through the now darkened skies.
Your mind was on one thing; find your precious younger brother and make sure he was alright.
Your head perked up hearing the familiar roar of Arrax, urging your own larger dragon forward to follow the sound and to your horror you spotted Vhagar, your uncle's dragon, flying towards Lucerys.
It was clear what was about to happen.
You made a split second decision, directing Vermithor towards the war dragon you screamed,
“Angōs, Vermithor, angōs! (Attack).”
You gritted your teeth, leaning forward as Vermithor's claws clashed against Vhagar, snarling and attempting to dig its teeth into the other's rough scales.
You couldn't risk commanding him to burn the violent dragon and rider, not when Lucerys was so near to the clash of the two dragons.
“No!” You screeched, catching a glimpse of your younger brother about to turn his dragon to join in on the battle against Vhagar and you knew that his smaller dragon and he would never survive it.
“Luke, go, flee!” You ordered him, your voice cracking in the middle of it, hands grasping onto your reins tighter as Vermithor dug his claws into Vhagar, tearing through the rough scales that had been hardened from various wars.
Lucerys paused, you could see that, battling between his worry for you and fleeing to gather help. At your beckoning you saw him turn hesitantly and fly off, disappearing in the howling wind and unforgiving rain.
“Coward!” You heard your uncle's cruel hiss over the crackling of thunder, his teeth gritted and you could only assume his words were for your brother's ears, but that hardly mattered to you.
Lucerys was a child, he may not have been too much younger than you or your twin brother, Jacaerys, but he was a child. In your eyes especially. His life was worth you battling your one-eyed uncle, it was worth every brutal, bloody second of it.
A sigh of relief escaped your lips before a sickening crunch reached your ears. Your head whipped to the side only to see one of Vermithor's large wings fall through the sky.
“Vhagar, no!” Was what you heard be desperately shouted before you were lurched to the side.
Your hands grasped tightly onto the reins, the material digging into your palms, your thighs squeezing onto the saddle in a futile attempt to steady yourself.
You felt weightless as you fell through the sky, the sound of one wing desperately flapping could be heard whipping through the air.
You could feel the dragon beneath you turn and one last fearsome roar that echoed through the sky.
You didn't know when you had hit the ground, but you could feel searing pain travel through your body as you had tumbled from the saddle landing just a mere feet away from Vermithor, your dragon, your friend.
You felt something snap deep within, an overwhelming grief, an emptiness that ripped through you, causing a screeching cry to erupt from your lips, reaching the ears of each and everyone who had been in Storms End.
“Vermithor!” You wailed, your fingers grasping onto the rough stone beneath you, attempting to pull yourself, to crawl without the use of your legs, now shattered and useless.
The sight of your dragon mangled and lifeless on the ground caused more pain than any injury possibly could.
“Ver..mi..thor..” The words weakly left your lips as you whimpered, repeatedly, your hand outstretched, so close, your fingers could just nearly brush the scales of your beloved dragon until your vision faded to black, your body feeling all too cold.
Aemond landed Vhagar, sliding off of the giant war dragon, his boots landing on the ground with a soft thump.
His lone eye locked onto your limp body sprawled onto the ground.
This was all your fault. This would not have happened if you had not gotten in between them.
All your - no, all Lucerys’ fault. First he took his eye and now this, if you were dead.. if you no longer breathed, Aemond swore that no other Strong would ever do so either.
Aemond took steady steps over to you and no one dared speak to him nor try to intervene.
He knelt down to the ground, his finger skimming your cheek, before his light touch traveled down to your neck, checking your pulse, slow but steady.
Thank the gods that his mother daily prayed to.
Aemond brushed your drenched locks from your face, viewing your exhausted expression, his chest clenching painfully at the sight.
His foolish, brave niece, lying there broken and unconscious stirred something uncomfortable, something dangerous within him.
Aemond carefully lifted your form into his arms, your head limply laying against his chest.
He spared a glance over to the Baratheon,
“Tell my sister,” He hissed the word, no familiarity found in the cold word, “That I have her daughter, my hostage, and I expect bent knees.”
Though he could admit, at least to himself, that he had no intention of returning you bent knees or not.
Without awaiting a response he mounted Vhagar, positioning your head comfortably against his chest, buckling you into the saddle instead of himself.
His touch held a surprising gentleness while he handled you, a gentleness that did not belong towards a hostage and yet no one dared utter that fact aloud.
The flight to Kingslanding was silent, his fingers pressed against your pulse to check, to make sure that it did not stop or falter.
His other hand grasped onto the reins, his fingers twitching whether that was from worry or the fact that he finally had you all to himself was hard to tell.
Once he arrived to the Red Keep, he slid off of Vhagar, carrying you once again in your arms, strolling inside and demanding the maester to tend to you immediately.
The prince placed himself by your side, refusing to move, his hand grasping firmly onto yours even as his mother arrived to speak with him.
“Is she -”
“Of course not.” Aemond swiftly corrected, his fingers tightening against hers, a sharp breath leaving him at the mere idea of you being gone.
“For the love of the seven, what have you done?” Alicent questioned, her expression one of shock and anger.
She knew that Rhaenyra would come for her precious girl, her and the rest of the dragon riders they had.
“I have done nothing but save her from a regretful accident.” Aemond spoke, each word chosen carefully, spoke with a cold calmness that caused the air around him to chill.
“Who are you?” The frightened words of you caught their attention, Aemond's fingers tightened around yours.
Could it be?
Aemond studied your face for any signs of deception and yet he found none. No expression other than confusion and fear.
“Who - What is my -”
Aemond could see his mother's mouth open intending on telling you the truth.. he couldn't have that.
Not when such a perfect opportunity had fallen into his lap like this.
“My wife.” He stated with a casual calmness one that you, who could not even recall your own name, could argue with.
“Aemond -” Alicent's voice was cut off as Aemond spoke, his voice rising slightly in volume to be heard over the woman's.
“I am Aemond Targaryen. Your husband.” His thumb gently pressed into your knuckles before massaging them, his touch light as he watched each and every one of your expressions.
He watched you give a small nod and he knew. That you were his now and forever more.
Aemond leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste yet claiming kiss, savoring the brief moment of your soft lips against his.
“Rest now, ābrazȳrys. (Wife).” He spoke before withdrawing from the softness of your lips, ignoring how his mother's expression twisted in horror.
It was of little concern of his, all that mattered was that you were his.
Summary: Reader had amnesia and forgot dr. Harrow was her husband before, dark twist. Written especially for @nicktremblaywayfu
HIS
1.
The beeping of machinery was the first thing your mind registered as you were slowly pulled out of deep darkness. You blinked your eyes open to find whiteness surrounding you. Your first thought was that you had passed into the afterlife. But then you realized you could see lines on the walls, and that you were in a chamber. You couldn’t remember your own bedroom being this bright. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of anything.
“You’re awake,” a male voice sounded, near to you, and you did your best to turn your head – which was hard to do. It felt as if you’d bumped it and moving it made you all dizzy. Your neck felt stiff, as did your spine. But you managed. “I’m glad.”
Your eyes found the shape of a man, only several feet away from the side of your bed. When he saw your eyes had opened and were lain upon him, he took a careful step closer. The corner of his lips trembled as if emotions pulled at the smile he held. Why? You should have wondered. Why did he seem so shaken by seeing you awake?
“You’re a doctor,” you stated, seeing the white clothes he was wearing. The typical doctor’s uniform. There was a slight mustache on his lips and silver-rimmed spectacles on the tip of his nose. His greying hair was pulled back. Somehow, it made him look all the more distinguished. He must be outstanding in his field, you thought. Though you had absolutely no idea if he was – or even what his field of work was. You presumed it had to do with one of your injuries. Perhaps even all of them. He was a doctor, he’d be able to mend most of them, right?
“I am,” the man calmly confirmed. You realized for the first time now that he used a cane as he walked, but only because he placed the cane in between his legs to stabilize himself, holding onto it with both of his hands now as he watched you. He was standing awfully close, you thought.
“Are you my doctor?” you asked. A frown slid on your face when you heard how your voice lolled. It sounded like you were drunk. Must be the medicines, you thought. Perhaps they’d given you something against the pain. You knew those types of drugs could make your mind hazy.
“I am your doctor,” he paused and seemed to think about what to say next, then merely nodded in confirmation. “Yes.”
A small smile played on his lips and there was a glint in his eyes, hidden behind the glasses. What was that emotion you had spotted? Relief? Because you were awake? Or was it something more? You found it hard to tell.
“You seem a bit,” you tried to tilt your head to the side but found it hard to move. Your neck felt all stiff. “Odd,” you finally concluded.
“Odd?” he asked in turn. You thought he was remarkably professional, the way he stood next to the bed, hands upon his walking cane, expression one of calmness.
You wanted to nod but found it hard. Instead, you ran your tongue past your teeth before you spoke again. “Cute though,” you admitted.
At this point, it did not surprise you that those words came out on their own accord. Under any normal circumstances, you would have blushed madly at such a confession. But it was as if the filter had been removed from your brain. As if any words you thought came tumbling out with no way to stop them.
The man chuckled and shook his head. He looked friendly enough, you thought. A friendly, professional, and skilled doctor. And he was all yours. Guess it is my lucky day.
“Why are you smiling?” you asked, seeing how the man tried to hide his smile from you.
“It’s because,” he hesitated, then shook his head again. His eyes, which had been cast to the floor, slowly slid up to meet yours.
“Allow me to let you in on a little secret,” his words were whispered and sent a warm tingle down your spine, all the way between your legs. Such an effect this man had on you. This stranger. This doctor.
You watched with eyes wide as he leaned over the bed, the cane was placed to rest against the bedside, his hands were now free. What was he doing? You felt how he brought one hand to your shoulder, fingertips grasping you firmly yet gently, while the other was used to support himself on the bed as he bend over you.
And then his lips descended upon yours. Softly, like the touch of a feather. Lightly begging for entrance. Shocked by this sudden descent, your lips parted on their own accord, allowing him to dip in and roam his tongue past yours.
He tasted funny but nice. Warmth tingled down your spine and ignited your core. You felt yourself grow wet under his touch. And then, all of a sudden, he was gone.
You were panting rapidly, staring up at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Not even that far away, but still the distance felt as if it were too great. You wanted him near again, wanted to feel his warmth seep through your hospital gown.
“So,” you gasped, still catching your breath. “What is your little secret, doctor?”
The man’s lips curled upwards into a smile. “You might not remember it due to the amnesia, little one,” and here you frowned because this was the first time you heard what was wrong with you. Amnesia, eh? Forgetfulness? But for how long? You frowned and looked him in the eyes.
He leaned a little closer again. Forget the professionality, you thought when he brought his right hand up to your cheek. You felt the coldness of a ring when he pressed his palm against you. His finger traced your skin gently, sending more warmth to gather in your core. “There’s something really important you need to know,” he whispered, thumb gently brushing past your lips as he looked at you with longing. As if he wished to kiss you again.
“You are my wife.”
2.
“Doctor Harrow,” the nurse said while she folded the clean linen and put it in the cupboard ahead of you. “Of course, he is one of our finest doctors.”
You pursed your lips while you thought about this. She hadn’t been the first nurse you had asked about your forgotten husband. Apparently, he wasn’t the doctor treating you. That was a lady, in fact. And she had been very nice. She’d explained to you that you had suffered trauma to the head and that it had made you forget a lot of your memories. To your idea, most of them were still there, you had just forgotten some of the more recent days.
But that could not be right, because how could you have forgotten your own husband?
It must be more than days. Weeks or months perhaps even?
You vaguely remembered Doctor Harrow’s face from somewhere before all of this. Or Arthur, as you found out he was called. He seemed to be a very respected man in the hospital, a psychologist working in a different department than where you were. But most nurses and medical staff seemed to know him and they always smiled and praised him when you asked about him. You hadn’t mentioned that you were married to the man yet. Though you knew the nurses at least were aware. Arthur had been visiting you many times during the day. He’d made sure to come by on his lunch breaks, and he had rescheduled certain appointments just so he could be with you during the day.
All the scattered moments together had made you grow more and more fond of him. He always spoke in a gentle voice and was kind and polite to the nurses and other doctors. He brought you books and sweets and made sure there were fresh flowers at the head of your bed. The stranger you had married had slowly become a friend.
You also had overheard him discuss his schedule with one of the nurses. He was trying to arrange for someone to replace him for a couple of days when you were discharged, just so he could take full-time care of you at home.
You loved the thought of that. He was your doctor all right. Your loving husband.
Your eyes fell upon the ring you now wore. Arthur had brought it for you on the second day of your stay at the hospital. He said it had been taken off because you had been through the MRI scan, which sounded logical. The ring fit perfectly and had both your own as well as Harrow’s initials in it.
To take away your doubt, he had even shown the inside of his own ring – which came off with much more ease. And though his ring was one with a big nub, much clumpier than yours, it bore the very same initials on the inside. Wedding rings, all right. There was not a doubt left on your mind.
His kisses began soft, but grew more and more demanding as the day of your discharge grew nearer. You knew Arthur used some of the authority he had in the hospital to get you discharged faster, eager to have you home again.
And when that day came, he was the one who pushed your wheelchair to the car. He was the one who drove you to an unfamiliar house he claimed was your home. And he was the one who lay you upon the blankets of an unknown bed, kissing you as if the world could come to an end any day soon now.
You trembled slightly in his hold, shy to reveal yourself to your husband, though you did not know why. Surely he must have seen it all before? He pried your hands away from your chest, admired you once he saw you in all of your glory, and the gaze in his eyes took the last of your fear away.
This man adored you, you could tell. By all the tiny gestures, by the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, by the way he claimed your lips in a kiss. This man worshipped you, you could tell. Because his fingertips placed featherlight touches upon your skin and all was done with such reverence, it felt as if you were a goddess and he was the high priest, bringing you the ultimate sacrifice.
His hips fitted snugly against your own, his pubescent hair tickling your skin. The sharp gasp that escaped you had him frown in concern, and he paused to ask if you were all right. Such a considerate lover. “It’s been a while,” he explained. “I will have to be gentle with you.”
He started a gentle pace, and soon he had you arch your back and moan his name. Your hands traced past his shoulders and chest. Wet sounds echoed through the bedroom. He became too eager to hold back and apologized for this as he started to slam into you harder. You did not mind though, it felt good to have him in you. And when he came, not much later, he kissed your neck, mustache tickling your skin. He whispered sweet little nothings in your ear and promised that next time, you would be orgasming together.
The blood on the bed made him groan, and as you stared at it in surprise – it wasn’t much but still – he quickly turned to you again and explained that he must have been too rough. “We’ve been days without, after all,” he said, a hand nervously running through his hair.
He made true of his promise that same evening and brought you to your own climax, along with his. The joined orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and it left you love him even more. This was your husband. The kind and gentle man who poured you your drink and brought it over to you. The one who would sit next to you on the couch and cuddle with you under the blanket, while snacks were at your side, provided for you both, and a video was playing on the touch-screen laptop he said was your own.
Your new life seemed perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
3.
From the start, you noticed little things that seemed odd. The moment you arrived at the house – your house, which you could not remember – you noticed that it was glaringly empty. Arthur did not own many items, as he had been at his work most of the time. But he had his closet with clothes, his golf gear, a computer he used for personal stuff, and a game console he claimed to use mostly to stay fit. It had worked for his fingers, you thought amused. Because damn, he knew how to use them.
And then there were the gardening tools, as apparently he loved to be outdoors taking care of his plants. And there was a whole lot of cooking equipment in the kitchen, because your doctor appeared to be something of a homemade cook. Though his recipes weren’t showing spectacular skill, you knew he cooked with love and delight, and you were all too happy to be pampered by your husband.
But then, there was your shared room. Part of the closet contained your clothes. And you had noticed rather quickly that you did not seem to recognize any of them. They all looked new, mint-conditioned items, and you wondered if you had ever worn them before. Some of the items didn’t fit as nicely, like a bra that was the wrong size. But Arthur had assured you he would get you a new bra the right size. And he had. But still, it made you suspicious.
You had a laptop that was worryingly empty. Not even a browser history could be found, everything dated back to the day Arthur had brought you home.
There were some plushies that he claimed were yours, but they too brought forth no memories. And the makeup in the bathroom included items you knew you would never use. Just like the bottles of perfume, which you singlehandedly dumped in the bin the very same day you found them. Arthur had merely smiled when he found them there, and said you didn’t need them either way. Your own scent was alluring enough. The comment had made you blush.
Apart from the lack of personal belongings that related to things like hobbies, there were other tiny things that roused your suspicion that something wasn’t quite right. When Arthur had to go to work again, you had filled the day by playing games on the game console. When you told him which ones you had enjoyed, he replied that they were yours. Bought specifically for you. He never mentioned this in advance, only after you claimed to like them.
There was an array of hygienic products that you did not recognize in one of the cupboards. The wrong kind of hygienic pads, for instance. You’d bought those to try them and didn’t bother to throw them away. He had said that. But upon inspecting you noticed the packaging had never been opened.
There were books you did not like that were swapped for ones you did enjoy. New items popped up around the house as if Arthur had forgotten where they were until he found them again. This usually happened after you had a conversation in which you revealed some of your interests to him. It was as if he was slowly learning to know you.
But that could not be, could it? You were his wife. The rings proved it. The nurses at the hospital knew this.
Then why, why did you not remember your life with him as days turned into weeks, and weeks slowly turned into months?
4.
You looked at the screen in horror. “Does she need to know, sir?”
“No one needs to know.”
Arthur was visible from the side. Unmistakable. It was him. Donned in different clothes, hair loose instead of kept tidy at the back. His mustache was gone, but you recognized him.
The man in front of you looked up at you expectantly. His hand hovered over the now ejected videotape. Brown eyes that pierced into yours. The man’s chest was rising and falling rapidly and sweat covered his brow.
One of the asylum patients. You would have tried to avoid him like Arthur had told you to – these patients could be violent and suffer from delusions that could turn them into dangerous men. Especially this one. This Jake.
Your hand automatically flew to your belly, protectively laying upon it. Jake’s eyes didn’t follow the movement. He didn’t have to. He already knew you were carrying Arthur’s child.
“How did you get that?” you asked, mouth suddenly dry.
“I’ll tell you something else,” Jake said, sitting up again. He raised his hands and for a moment you feared he was going to get out a weapon, like a gun or a knife. Instead, he removed a ring he had been wearing on his finger, turned it around in the air, and showed it to you.
Your eyes widened at the initials inside.
“No,” you gasped. Surely, they could not be yours?
But a pang of clarity shot through you. You’d recognized Jake the first moment you’d seen him. His face was familiar to you, even if you had difficulty telling why.
“An engagement ring. I suppose they took away yours,” Jake sounded sad. You glanced at it, studying it for authenticity “We were to be married,” Jake said, voice harsh through gritted teeth. “Then that bastard took you away from me. Took you as his own.”
Jake clenched his jaw, eyes averted, as if looking at you hurt too much. He tried his best to get his breathing under control. The anger seeped out of each and every one of his pores.
“I remember,” you softly whispered. “I remember now.”
Jake, your friend. Jake, the man you promised to marry.
And suddenly, everything became clear. The items that suddenly appeared in the house and the way that Arthur seemed to want to pamper you, coaxing out more and more about your interests. It explained the blood on the bed that first time. You had been a virgin, saving yourself for the marriage night, for Jake. This explained why every friend of Arthur that you met had to be introduced. It wasn’t due to your amnesia. It was because you had never seen them before.
Arthur Harrow had lied to you. You had been promised to another.
“We fought him,” you said as memories started to flash in front of your eyes. “We fought Arthur. And we lost.”
“No,” Jake reached for your hands and took them in his own. His eyes were wild, the darkness in them glistened with anger and despair and love. “No, we did not lose, you hear me.” He was desperate to undo what had been done, to be together with you again.
“I might have lost you, but I will get you back. Harrow used your amnesia to make you believe you are his wife. I’m not sure why he did that, but it must have been to hurt me,” Jake gritted his teeth, and then you saw realization dawn on his face. “To hurt me, and because of you.” His voice softened. One of his hands slipped free to cup your cheek gently. “Look at you, my beautiful butterfly. What man could resist you?”
You had to suppress a wry laugh. What man indeed? You never thought you were something special, but to Jake, you had been. You still were. Perhaps it was the same for Arthur. Perhaps this was more than just a pitiful plan for revenge.
“But first, I need to get out of here. Harrow has me locked up under false charges. He has me pinned down like a madman. Once I get out, we can get back at him. I can defeat him, I am sure. And you will be free again.”
For the first time, his eyes slid to your belly, and you saw he swallowed hard. “I will take responsibility. After all, it was because I could not protect you that night, that he could lay his stake.” His hand hovered over your tummy, not quite touching, while his eyes searched yours for permission.
With a careful nod from you, he slowly lowered his hand until his palm rested warm upon the baby bump, and you closed your eyes and imagined it was his. That life had gone the way you two had planned it. That you had managed to defeat the villain who now claimed to be your husband, and who was the actual father or your child.
“I will love the kid,” Jake whispered, slowly pulling you in for a hug. “I will love the kid because it is yours.”
You reluctantly pulled away, knowing that time was sparse. Arthur could come out of work any moment now. He must not find you in the concierge’s office, not with the man he had set out to destroy and not with the tape that showed the evidence of his betrayal. A recording of the conversation the day when you had been brought into the hospital, and he decided to lay claim on you. No one needed to know. Well, you did know now.
There was no going back.
5.
“How long have you known?” Arthur stood in front of you. His spectacles balanced on the point of his nose, his eyes upon you. He looked like an angry teacher in front of the classroom.
Your shoulders sagged. Nevertheless, you cradled the baby in your arms closer to your chest. He certainly wanted to punish you, you thought. Perhaps take away your child. You could admit defeat, but you would not lose your child. Not like this.
“A while,” you answered. Your eyes pricked with unshed tears. The child seemed to feel your distress and started to cry. Even as a baby, the little fellow looked like his dad. Upsetting, really. You wondered if Jake could ever have kept his promise to you. You thought it impossible with how much the boy resembled his biological dad.
“Will you kill him?” you asked.
Something dark flashed in Arthur’s eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. He pushed his glasses back on his nose with his thumb, then sat himself on the edge of his desk while he watched you carefully rock your child. You were trying to calm the baby down. It worked a little.
“Jake is taken care of,” he said, and you assumed he was forever gone. The man you helped escape, the man you had once promised your heart to, had been murdered by the man in whose house you now lived. And whose child you were now holding.
You did not know that Jake had escaped Arthur’s clutches. And if Arthur had his way, you would never find out. He deliberately let you assume the worst. He did not need to lie to you. Your mind provided you with false answers that would only bring you closer to him again. He was certain of it.
Tears started to fall down your cheeks and Arthur tutted. He held out his arms, ready to collect you in an embrace. And having grown used to his touch and affection, you slowly stumbled over to his awaiting arms. The baby calmed down once he felt he was held by both his parents. And Arthur was smiling down at him, happy to hold you both.
“It is good to cry,” he murmured, lips against your hair while you cried against his shoulder. “Let out the tears, let out all the fear and tension. It’ll bring you relief.” You felt how he placed a gentle kiss on top of your head and how his embrace gently tightened.
He let you cry until the tears faded and held you through it all. His voice remained a gentle whisper, his touch light, despite the betrayal on your behalf. You had let Jake escape, and you knew that Arthur knew this now. Yet he did not grow angry.
There was only his smile. Gentle and soft. A glint of victory in his eyes.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured against your temple, lips brushing gently past your skin. “I forgive you.”
To you, it meant the world. To him, it was easy. He knew that Jake had lost and he had won. Jake hadn’t stolen you from him, despite having tried his hardest. And even if Jake wasn’t defeated, he would have a hard time getting his hands on Arthur’s little family. Because that day, when you had been knocked out and brought to the hospital, and he had looked upon your unconscious form, he had decided that Jake would never get his hands on your pretty form ever again.
And that decision, to claim you as his own, had been the best decision he had ever made.
You might have stolen his heart, but he had stolen you instead.
AN: Hope you enjoyed this twisted little villain x reader tale <3 Love myself a bit more Dr. Harrow content, so hit me up if you have suggestions or prompts.
For a sweeter version of Amnestic reader x Arthur Harrow : [ click here ]
The room is dark - it’s still early, and there’s an unfamiliar weight slung across you waist, a stranger cuddled up behind you-
No. Not a stranger, you remind yourself, but your husband. Hawks - Keigo, as he keeps telling you to call him.
He stirs as you shove his arm off of you, pushing yourself up into a seated position and curling your arms around your knees. You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your breath ragged as your heart pounds trying to catch up.
“Baby?” Keigo calls, his voice is heavy with sleep as he sits up and rubs his eyes, running a hand through his messy bedhead. “You okay? Another nightmare?”
You nod, wordlessly staring at the wall on the opposite side of the room as your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. It’s been like this every night since the accident, nightmares that plague your sleep. It’s the middle of the night and you’re running - driving through the pouring rain and there’s something chasing you, a shadowy figure that keeps getting closer and closer until you’re sure that it’s going to snatch you up and devour you whole-
But then you wake up, gasping for air like you can’t breathe and trembling like a leaf.
The Doctor said it’s a side effect of the crash, that it’s your brain’s subconscious attempt to make sense of what happened. Disconcerting, maybe, but nothing to be worried about.
It’s not so much the dream itself that scares you, but the feelings it evokes - the terror that sinks its icy claws into you, the blind panic that slithers around your throat and squeezes until you’re choking on it.
You flinch as his hand comes down on your back, rubbing it soothingly as he scooches closer. “Hey, it’s just a dream. You’re okay, you’re safe here with me, you know that right?”
You nod, but it’s more out of habit than because you actually believe it. Hawks watches you with those golden eyes for a long moment before the corners of his lips twitch downwards into a frown and he sighs. Clearly, he’s not buying it. Gently, he lays his head against your shoulder, letting one of his wings wrap around your back and nudge you into his side.
“Talk to me, you know I can’t stand it when you shut me out,” he murmurs quietly.
A flash of guilt stabs at you. It’s not his fault that you can’t remember, that this whole thing feels alien and strange. He’s your husband, he loves you.
You take a deep, shaking breath and force yourself to relax against him. “I- the shadow, the one chasing me in the nightmares, it’s getting clearer every night. I think… I think I can almost see it.”
Hawks tenses, fingers curling around your chin so he can tilt your face to meet his gaze. “Baby, you know what the Doctor said. Don’t force it. The memories might come back and they might not, but the dreams - they’re just that. We’re working on leads, actual leads. The Villain who did this to you, baby, we’re gonna catch them, I promise.”
A small part of you deflates, but you just nod once again. Keigo’s right. Of course he’s right, but you just can’t help yourself. You feel so inadequate, so useless.
You know it’s not your fault, but still.
Waking up in that hospital bed, your body wrapped in bandages, sensors and needles scattered across your skin with no memory of how you’d come to be there had been terrifying. And Hawks - Keigo - had been by your side the whole time, his hand wrapped snugly around yours.
He’d tried to hide it, but the hurt, kicked puppy look in his eyes as you’d slowly pulled your hand back and innocently asked what the Pro Hero was doing in your hospital room wasn’t one that you’re going to be able to forget any time soon.
Physically, you were okay - a few broken bones and some stitches, but that wasn’t the real damage dealt. Two whole years of your life - gone. Including the entirety of your relationship with the crimson winged Pro. A whirlwind romance, he’d called it, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he told the story of how the two of you met.
“We’re married?” you’d asked him shyly, staring at the pretty rock on your ring finger.
Hawks had smiled, probably the first real smile you’d seen since you’d woken up with half your memories missing. You had to admit, it was a good look for him. “Yeah. Six months now.” He’d given you a cavalier shrug, but his eyes were decidedly soft and affectionate when you glanced up, “When you know, you know I guess.”
You wouldn’t have blamed him if he left afterwards - none of this has been easy on him, especially with the threat of the unnamed Villain hanging over the both of you. Hawks is sure that the attack was an attempt to get at him, which is why he’s kept you at an isolated safe house a little ways out from the city. Nobody comes in or out, it’s just you and him.
But he’s assured you again and again, he’s not going to leave you anytime soon. On the bad days, the ones where you can’t seem to stop the frustrated tears that spill down your cheek, he’ll sweep you up into his arms and hold you until the sobs subside.
He loves you - so, so much, but somehow that only makes things worse, because you don’t know how you’re supposed to deal with everything that comes with that.
One step at a time, according to Keigo.
It’s easy for him to say, but even though he tries to hide it from you, you know that with every touch you give, Hawks is left wanting more. He wants his wife back, and you’re still fighting not to flinch when you feel his semi hard cock brush up against your ass when he comes up from behind to kiss you as you clean the dishes after dinner.
“I just,” you break off with a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to banish the nightmare from your thoughts. “I just want things to go back to normal.”
I want my memories back.
Hawks’ fingers stroke your arm and he hums thoughtfully, “No matter what happens, we’re gonna get through this together. I love you, m’not going anywhere.”
The words should bring some semblance of comfort, but there’s only a faint, lingering sense of unease that teases at your gut - maybe the bad dreams are affecting you more than you thought.
“C’mon baby, let's go back to sleep. We’ve still got a few more hours before I’ve gotta be up,” he whispers, placing a soft, feather light kiss against your neck.
But you shake your head absentmindedly. There’s no way on earth you can just fall back asleep now, not wired as you are.
Hawks pauses for a long moment before he shrugs and kisses you again, decidedly less chaste this time - and your heart leaps when his tongue suddenly darts out to lap at your skin. “No?” he asks quietly, pulling back so that you can see the hazy lust burning in those golden eyes of his as he smirks. “Well if sleep’s off the table, why don’t I try and find some other way to make my beautiful wife feel better?”
if you could remember who these people were than certainly you'd be making much more of a fuss over the fact he's treating them as if they were mere threats instead of the mother and father in laws he'll eventually be related to by marriage, slamming the doors of your childhood home on your parents fingers and kicking them down stairs, doing whatever it takes to create the needed distance to get his vulnerable angel back in his arms, safe and sound even if your dad might be on the kitchen floor, alive but still dealing with the pain of getting his head bashed against the marble countertop
The person convinced to marry these fools son was scared off from the very beginning, and even when he carries you out with demands for you to keep your eyes closed it's been made clear from what you've heard from your locked room that no matter how much your parents fought they couldn't win.
As much as he's grumbling out rants in Spanish, not wanting to drown you in rather unkind comments towards your parents, Agapito will also set you down when far enough from the home they kept you trapped in. Head rested against your shoulder as the cars on the road pass by, apologizing for letting them try to steal you away, to manipulate you in a way he could never bring himself to. Agapito will make this better but for now he just has to get you away from the enemy he knows he can't just kill on the spot
lee y/n has been seeing a certain boy in her dreams ever since she woke up from a comatose. they were always together, almost as if they were a couple. months later, she saw the boy with her very eyes. yang jeongin is his name, and like her, he always dream about the other when he regained his consciousness. after finding out they both have a locket with each other's picture, they were convinced this isn't just some crazy coincidence. with their diaries as their map, they both worked together to find out what happened in the past.
A quick look around before questioning you a bit to ensure he's not getting into any trouble he doesn't know about before giving you a ride to the hospital. Jamari isn't a monster he wouldn't leave you there in a alley he just took a vicious job request in, especially like the forgetful mess you currently are.
He's not sticking around long afterwards, though if you do end up being admitted into a hospital room Jamari may or may not check up on you later, curious to how the stranger he picked up is doing.
Don't get him wrong, from the very aloof and vague conversations you two had on the way to and inside of the hospital he can say you're a pretty nice person. He doesn't not care about you, but it truly isn't until he realizes no one has visited you since you got here that he starts to care quite a bit, especially since you don't remember much about yourself or others.
While maybe he's not the best to take you into care as you recover he's definitely not the worst. Jamari will provide the basics until you remember enough about yourself to safely return home but until then he gets to spend all his spare time with the girl he found in the alley, learning about yourself and guiding you slowly through amnesia.
Jamari is a kind soul despite his many jobs and actions, you'll be safe in his home for now, better than nothing anyways.
