#Dr. Harrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jokeringcutio · 1 year

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His - DR. Harrow x Reader / Mature Ficlet

Fandom: Moon Knight (Series 2022)

Pairing: Dr. (Arthur) Harrow x (fem identifying) Reader, Slight Jake Lockley x Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Amnesia, unexpected husband, dub-con, betrayal, mature descriptions, 18+ content.

Summary: Reader had amnesia and forgot dr. Harrow was her husband before, dark twist. Written especially for @nicktremblaywayfu

HIS

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.”

“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.

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?

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.

“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 ]

#Doctor Harrow #Dr. harrow x reader #arthur harrow x reader #reader x villain #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #unrequited sorta #Arthur harrow x you #reader insert #older man x younger woman #amnesiac reader

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