Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader
warnings: smut, kinks talked about/explored, fingering and oral, squirting.
Could be set anytime, honestly, i dunno. I kinda picture it college roommates/friends, or like, her PP, kinda messy era, but it could also be more current. picture what you'd like.
3.5k
It was your mistake, leaving Amelia alone in your room while you ran downstairs to pay for the takeout, you were more than well aware of that. It was days like this you hated the fact that you had roommates, otherwise you would have been watching the movie in the living room like normal people. Instead, the two of you often got cozy on your bed, probably a little too close together considering it was a queen but there was always someone toeing the line, pushing the boundary, wondering just how far they could go until the tension snapped. You’d been pretty confident that line might just snap tonight, that things were going fabulously well, until you stopped in the doorway and Amelia had moved from your bed.
She was standing in front of your bookshelf, and judging by the smirk on her lips, she’d found your collection of adult romance novels. The ones filled with so much smut you were reading porn more than half the time. Not that you were ashamed of that, book type people shared their favourite recs to each other all the time, the dirtier the better. You just weren’t sure if Amelia was that type of person or not.
You’d barely taken a step into the room, just about to part your lips and say something about dinner being here when she let out a dark chuckle, flipping the page. Then your heart dropped out of your chest before beginning to pound so loud you could barely think. It wasn’t a book in her hands; it was a hot pink spiral notebook. One that you’d filled with your favoured new found kinks, snippets from the dirtiest of sex scenes, the occasional time you’d taken your imagination for a spin and twisted your own words into sexy little snippets.
One that you never wanted to see the light of day.
Ever.
And now there it was.
Open.
Wide.
In Amelia’s hands.
She raised a brow at you and you swore her eyes darkened. The takeout in your hand dropped to your make up table and you gulped.
“I—it’s not—I mean.” The heat was creeping up the back of your neck, tickling at the skin of your chest as you fumbled around for an excuse that it was clearly someone else’s little notebook stashed away in your room. Amelia laughed, her lips curving up into a smirk that made you pulse and you forgot what you were trying to piece together, “Fuck.”
“Who knew you hiding such a dirty mind.” She closed the book, tilting it back and forth in her hand almost like she was taunting you.
“No! I wasn’t, I just—” you took a step forward, trying to swipe the book away from her and suddenly she was very entertained by this game of keep away.
“Really?” Her brow raised again, “you’re telling me you just have a list of kinks written down for… calligraphy practice?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, “it’s not what it looks like.”
“Okay.” She flipped through the pages again, “but this page looks like a scavenger hunt to me.”
“A what?” The heat continued to crawl its way up your body, wrapping around your throat and into your cheeks, your chest beginning to heave in an attempt to even get air into your lungs.
“A scavenger hunt.” Grinning, she slowly closed the space between you, not breaking eye contact until you were practically sharing the same breath. She lifted the book, pointing to the list, “breath play,” her hand brushed over your collarbone and slid up your neck, fingers delicately squeezing at your skin. Her eyes flitted up to yours, and a sparkle flickered through them, “think I found that one right here.” Her eyes shot back to the book, searching through the list, “spanking?” Her hand slid around your shoulder, trailing down your side until she curved it around your back, pulling you closer to her, her lips practically brushing over yours. Her fingers walked downwards until her palm curved around your ass, “I think that one’s right about here.”
“Jesus Christ.” You muttered when she squeezed your ass, your breath hitching as the need for more burst through your body.
Amelia simply smiled in return, her nose bumping yours, “have I mentioned that I really like scavenger hunts?”
“Oh?” Gulping, you finally found your voice, “I’m down to play if you are.”
“Baby, I am so fucking down.”
Having gotten all the consent she needed, Amelia finally surged forward, her lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss. The hand she had on your ass stayed put while the other one wound behind your neck, fingertips slipping into your hair. As you sank into her, relishing in the feeling of her lips on yours, your hands slid up her arms, looping behind her shoulders. You felt like putty in her hands and she’d barely touched you, you knew that no matter what, this was absolutely going to be worth it.
Her tongue slid over the seam of your lips and you instantly parted them, eager to feel her tongue against yours, to get a better taste of her, to let her know that you were hers to check off anything on the list she wanted. A groan came from the back of her throat as her tongue swiped through your mouth, not leaving anything unexplored, sucking all the taste of you she could get.
She squeezed your ass again and it was your turn to moan into the kiss, your body rocking towards hers. Then her hands were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, twisting it around her fingers, nails tickling at your skin.
“Can I take this off?” She husked and you nodded.
“Yeah, yes.”
She pulled the fabric over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside you, her eyes lingering on your now bare chest, darting across the newly exposed skin. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she grinned and you knew she liked what she saw.
There was a sudden need to get every single scrap of clothing off your bodies as you fumbled backwards towards the bed between breathless kisses and roaming hands. It was a flurry of movement, barely able to really grasp what was happening until the two of you were completely bare and tangling into your bedsheets. Her hands cupped your cheek in such a delicate way you were almost surprised with how fervently she was kissing you, tongue surging into your mouth with ease and precision. You slotted a thigh between her legs and when she ground down against it you could feel how wet she was already, not that you were one to talk, you were drenched.
Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, mouthing her way down your neck, “where did you want to start?”
“Anywhere.” You breathed back, your body already tingling at her touch, “whatever you want.”
She shifted downward, tongue swiping at your collarbone before pressing kisses in between your tits as her mind raced through the pages, trying to grasp even a single strand of focus. Amelia had long dreamt of getting you like this, of having you sprawled naked under her while she did whatever she wanted to you and now that she had you just like that she was on a high, scrambling to figure out what she wanted to do to you first. Her mouth shifted, lips wrapping around one of your pert nipples while she cupped your breast, squeezing softly. You let out a low moan, your head falling back into the pillows and she felt herself fucking pulse, she wanted that noise, over and over and over again. Her tongue flicked over your nipple before she let it go with a lewd pop, still mouthing at your skin when she spoke.
“You’ve really never squirted before?”
“No.” You shook your head, your back arching off the bed, wanting nothing more than her mouth back on your body.
“That.” She sucked your nipple back into her mouth, groaning into your skin, “that is where I want to start.”
“Fuck…” your eyes fell shut again as her fingers started to toy with your other nipple, pinching it, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger in a similar pattern her tongue was doing on the other.
You couldn’t help it, whining as your body shivered, the pulsing between your legs getting stronger each time her tongue brushed over your skin.
Amelia’s teeth sunk into your skin gently before she swapped the places of her mouth and hand, her fingers slipping on your spit slicked nipple. You shuddered underneath her, your leg pressing up into her pussy and she happily thrust against it, rolling her own hips in time with her tongue. She pulled back, blowing cool air over your hardened nipple, watching with a grin when you shivered. Both hands slid up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their path before they groped at your chest, rolling and kneading tender flesh. Thumbs brushing back and forth over overly sensitive nubs.
“’Melia…” you whined, your hips attempting to rock upwards and Amelia quietly swore under her breath.
If she thought your moans were bad, the sound of her name coming off your lips that way was enough to make her clench, enough to drive her wild, enough to never stop touching you.
“Patience.” She murmured, leaning over you to leave a kiss on your lips, “gotta get you nice and wet,” her lips met yours again, this time her teeth sinking into your lower one, “and fucking needy first.”
You let out a frustrated huff, attempting to glare daggers up at her while she continued groping at your chest, sending sparks fizzling through your entire body. She laughed softly,
“Don’t be a brat now, or you won’t get what you want.”
“Please?” You whispered with a pout and she smirked again.
“So fucking sexy when you ask nicely.”
One of her hands slid over your collarbone, sliding up your neck once more, but this time she continued, grasping your jaw in her hand, gently urging your lips apart. When your eyes darkened, she flipped her hand over, palm to the sky with two of her fingers resting against your lower lip.
Without even a second thought, you surged forward, sucking her fingers into your mouth, closing your lips around them as you slowly licked them up and down. Amelia practically purred, her eyes darkening as she began grinding down on your thigh again, bringing pleasure burning underneath her skin. She slowly started fucking your mouth with her fingers, matching the torturously slow drag of her pussy on your thigh.
“That’s it.” She praised, sinking the digits all the way in, her thumb tracing the outline of your upper lip and you moaned around her fingers, your pussy fluttering in anticipation. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
Two more pumps of her hand and her fingers disappeared from your mouth; you only had a second to gasp a breath in before her lips were on yours again. Her tongue swept through your mouth, rolling against yours with ease as she caged you into the bed.
Finally, her hand found its way between your legs, palming at your inner thighs, spreading you open for her before her fingertips slowly dragged through your pussy lips.
“Fuck..” You breathed, pulsing when she did it again.
“Christ, you’re already soaking.” She murmured against your lips and you did your best to nod, “you like it when I touch you?”
“Mmhm.” You nodded, managing to focus just long enough to nip at her lower nip, pulling a groan from her before she rolled her hips again, continuing to lazily ride your thigh.
“Guess you really like your tits played with.” She teased, her fingers moving back and forth between your legs, simply rubbing at your pussy, taunting you with what you really wanted, “this drenched from my mouth on them? I bet you’d ruin the sheets if I put my mouth on your pussy.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah...” her fingers finally brushed over your clit, “bet you fuckin’ would.”
You whimpered into her mouth when she started rubbing your clit, still slow, but varying in pressure. Your hands slipped around her body, sliding down to her hips, to her ass, guiding her to keep grinding your thigh. When she picked up what you wanted, one of your hands slipped between your bodies, toying with her chest the way she’d done with yours.
Amelia groaned into the kiss, her wetness smearing over your skin while you began to pant against her lips. Her hand slipped further down, pressing into your pussy, smirking over the increase in juices already, spreading them across your inner thighs before returning to your clit. She pressed harder, this time going faster, quick little circles on the sensitive bud.
You gasped, hips rocking up off the bed, chasing the touch, dying for more, for harder, for faster, for Amelia to take you to your peak. Sparks were flying through your body, between the two of you, all heated, breathless and a little messy while she made your pussy pulse over and over again around absolutely nothing. Just as you squeezed your eyes shut tight, feeling your stomach tighten, her hand moved from your clit. A loud frustrated whine left your lips and she laughed softly.
“Relax,” she cooed, kissing her way down your neck, “I’ll make it all worth it. I promise.”
Her hand slipped between your legs again, this time two fingers finally sinking into your dripping cunt and she let out a low swear at how tight you were already squeezing her. Once again, she started slowly and it wasn’t until you squeezed at her ass again that she began to move her hips in the same rhythm. You squeezed again,
“Harder.” The husk in your voice was what made her realize you were talking about the pressure of her pussy on your thigh, not her fingers buried deep inside you and she whimpered. “Want you—ah—” your hips jumped, “to come first.”
“I’m not gonna say no to that.” She grinned, stealing your lips for another kiss, her fingers still moving inside you as she picked up the pace of her hips. Her pussy practically dripped over your skin, rubbing back and forth harder with each roll of her hips. You flexed your thigh just right, pressing against her clit and her fingers stilled inside you, “oh god.”
“You like that, hm?” You challenged, the game of tug of war continuing as you each tried to take total control.
“Do it again.” She instructed, finally gaining enough sense to keep her fingers moving again, rocking her hips in time with them. “Fuck.” Her head dropped into the crook of your neck, her hips moving faster, breath coming out in pants each time you flexed your thigh, pressing against her throbbing clit. “M’close.”
“Ride me, baby.” You murmured against her ear before leaving a trail of messy, wet kisses down her neck.
With a small groan she pushed herself half up, her fingers slipping out of your cunt, but continued to toy with your clit as she focused on getting herself off first. Each roll of her hips left another streak of wetness across your thigh, glistening in the light of the room and the sight made your fucking mouth water. Her thighs clenched, shuddering around yours and you took the opportunity to surge forward, wrapping your lips around her nipple.
“Fuck!” She cried, the double sensation just enough to bring her right to the edge, she was nearly tumbling over when your teeth sunk into her skin, gasps of air leaving her lips. But it was when you spoke again that really sent her flying.
“Come for me.” Your words, murmured against her wet, hot skin and Amelia was lost in you, orgasm shooting through her, juices flowing out of her pussy, soaking your thigh and the sheets underneath you.
She collapsed over you, fingers only stopping their movements as her body shook with pleasure, a second later and she was mouthing at your neck again, fingers rubbing your clit back and forth.
“Shit.” She muttered, a laugh escaping her lips when she pushed upwards and you made to sit up with her, a gasp leaving your lips when she pushed you back into the bed, “get back down here, we’re not done yet.” Her hands shifted, pinning your thighs to the ruined sheets, “the goal was making you squirt, not me.”
“Guess I was going for extra credit.” You teased back, falling into the pillows as her mouth trailed its way down your body. With the attention fully back on you, you were suddenly more than well aware of just how fucking soaked you were, how much you needed her touching you. How much your pussy was throbbing, aching to be filled again.
And Amelia wasn’t about to make you wait any longer.
Settled between your legs, she ran her thumb up the length of your pussy lips, pressing into your clit, watching the way you pulsed before surging forward with her mouth.
“Oh fuck!” You threw your head back, a sheen of sweat bursting through your skin the instant her mouth was on you, right where you’d been dying for it to be. Her tongue was soft, lapping at you like you were the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, groaning into your cunt in a way that made you just know this was something she thoroughly enjoyed.
Amelia took as much time as she could tasting you, lips moving around, mouthing at your pussy, tongue dipping into you, pulling out as much wetness as she could, smearing it around her chin. She didn’t bother holding back any groans or moans as she did, wanting you to know how much she loved eating pussy, and that yours was her fucking favourite. She could feel your hands on her head, fingers tangled into her hair, pulling just enough to drive her wild, to have her fluttering again already. Her tongue swiped up, flicking at your clit and you cried out, your thighs squeezing tight around her. With a wicked grin on her lips, she wrapped them around your clit and sunk two of her fingers back into you.
“Oh god. M’ so close.”
Her fingers curled, dragging over your inner walls and three thrusts in she’d found the spot she was looking for, a silent moan on your lips as your pussy clenched around her. She sucked harder on your clit, tongue flicking against it as she fingered you faster, finger tips brushing the spongey spot each time. You squeezed around her harder, wetness trickling out, dripping down her wrist. Pleasure flew through you, your chest heaving, only able to pant, the tension deep in your stomach, deeper than you’d felt it before.
“Don’t hold back.” She murmured, slightly slurred since she could barely drag herself away from your cunt and you did your best to nod, thighs quaking around her. “Trust me.” Her teeth nipped at your clit, “I’m a doctor.”
The laugh was lost on your lips the moment her mouth was back on you, all warm, wet and hungry, a moan that came from the back of your throat replacing it. Her fingers pressed again, longer, harder and her tongue danced over your throbbing nub.
You were a whimpering mess.
A wet, whimpering mess.
And mere seconds away from coming.
Amelia’s free hand slunk up your body, pawing at your tits, her finger and thumb pinching a nipple between them in the same second she sucked hard, her other fingers hitting just where you wanted them and everything burst.
Your back arched off the bed, head thrown back as you cried out, a string of swears, muffled cries, and the chant of Amelia’s name.
Music to her fucking ears.
She couldn’t hold back the grin on her lips at the amount of liquid streaming out of your pussy, coating her fingers, smearing across her chin, streaming down her wrist. Mission accomplished. Number one checked off the list. With one last lick of her tongue, she lifted her face off you, slowly and gently fucking you through your orgasm, watching the way your thighs twitched, your body jolting until it shifted into a light shiver and she finally pulled her fingers from you.
“Well?” She asked, looking up at you with a wild grin and you huffed a laugh out.
“Maybe I should leave you alone to snoop around more often.”
She laughed, fingertips dancing over your puffy pussy, featherlight while she held your gaze. “Hmm, couldn’t help but notice you had face sitting on there too. Should I go again?”
“Oh, I’ve done that.” You replied with your own grin, “but get up here.” You tugged on her hand, “I want that dripping cunt on my lips.”
Amelia’s eyes darkened as need pulsed through her and she all but scrambled up the bed, more than happy to drop herself onto your face.
_________
If you have any thoughts for future parts of this one, and more things on the list for reader and Amelia to cross off, lmk!
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Knifepoint - Amelia Shepherd x Reader (Grey's Anatomy)
a/n: ignore this is a day late and also that i have disapperead for a week, work was high stress - i may upload previous days or i may disappear for another week. with me - who knows!!!
summary: You’re a trauma surgeon known for rocking black scrubs and keeping cool under pressure. When a tense situation turns dangerous and you get hurt, Amelia Shepherd steps in to save you and things get a little complicated. Between the hospital chaos and all the unspoken feelings, you both start to realise maybe there''s more to your rivalry than just work.
Part of May Prompts (a black scrub top) AND Maylancholy 2025 (held at knifepoint - @may-lancholy) - that's right, we have a combo one in day sixteen!
Early on in your career, you made a choice to wear black scrub tops.
Not charcoal. Not navy. Not a trendy graphite hue that someone from plastics might mistake for fashion. Just black. The kind of colour that takes no prisoners.
They drape like shadows around you, absorbing everything, blood, questions and grief. You make no explanation for them, and in your silence, everyone else fills in the blanks.
Some say it’s a trauma thing, a symbolic mourning, whilst others think it’s rebellion. A way to set yourself apart from the chaos of surgical life, from the rainbow of department colours that try to make life-and-death look less... well, less like death.
You don’t confirm or deny. You just keep moving.
There’s something in your gait, unapologetic and smooth, that makes people step aside before they consciously decide to. You walk like someone who’s already memorised the next fifteen steps. Your stethoscope is always coiled neatly, and there is not a strand of hair out of place.
The residents know not to chatter around you. The interns whisper your name with reverence and fear, as if you’ll materialise behind them with a glare sharp enough to lacerate.
You’ve heard the nicknames: The Void, Reaper in Reeboks. One ICU nurse calls you death in Danskos when she thinks you’re out of earshot.
You don’t mind. Better that than someone trying to make small talk.
Only one person doesn’t keep their distance. Amelia Shepherd.
It didn’t begin as antagonism. More of a clash. She barreled into the scrub room mid-glove up, her ponytail swinging. Her badge hit her chest as she moved, the words NEUROSURGERY catching the light. She stopped short in front of your locker, her arms folding across her chest.
"You’re not hijacking my OR just because you’ve got seniority and a God complex," she snapped, voice sharp with adrenaline and annoyance.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even look up from the chart in your hand. "My patient is crashing. Yours is stable, sedated, and prepped."
"So that’s a yes on the God complex, then?"
"I’m trying to save a life," you said, calmly sipping from your water bottle before slamming your locker shut. "If you’d like to argue about it with the chief, be my guest. But I’ll be done before you even know it."
She narrowed her eyes. "You better or you can be the one to apologise to my patient's family."
You met her gaze finally, with the slightest quirk of your eyebrow.
You’d been circling each other ever since.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
It was a few weeks later. The hospital had finally quieted to a dull hum, most of the chaos seeping into night shift rounds and whispered consultations. You sank onto the cracked leather couch with a sigh, unwrapping the worst vending machine sandwich known to mankind.
"You know," came a familiar voice, dry as desert air, "I’m starting to think you enjoy suffering."
You didn’t look up right away. "Big talk from someone eating back-to-back protein bars."
Amelia Shepherd let the door swing shut behind her with a soft thud. She was still in her scrubs, top untucked, sleeves pushed to her elbows, hair escaping in every direction. She looked like someone who hadn’t slept in twenty hours, which, given the shift schedule, was probably accurate.
"They do the job and at least they taste somewhat alright," she said, biting into her bar without a flinch. "You, however, look like you’re one bite away from a stomach pump."
You risked a glance at her, brows arching. "Did you come in here just to roast my dinner, or…?"
Amelia’s lips twitched. "I came for silence. I stayed for the opportunity to roast your dinner, obviously yes."
You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward. You tore a piece off the sandwich, then paused, glancing over at her. "Rough day?"
She gave a noncommittal shrug, flopping into the chair across from you. "They’re all rough days lately." You didn’t respond right away. Amelia tapped her thumb rhythmically against the side of her protein bar wrapper. "You haven’t been sleeping."
You blinked at her. "Is that an observation or an accusation?"
"Just an observation." She leaned back, regarding you with that unnervingly perceptive look she had, the one that always made you feel a little too seen. "You’ve got the whole haunted-in-the-hallway vibe going."
You bristled slightly. "You don’t exactly radiate sunshine and puppies yourself."
"Touché," she said with a smirk. Then, after a beat, "But I’m not the one deflecting by working double shifts and pretending it doesn’t bother me."
You met her gaze, something sharp and vulnerable flashing across your face. "And what would you suggest I do, Shepherd? Meditate? Journal? Scream into a pillow between rounds?"
Amelia didn’t flinch. "No. I don't have an answer yet. I wish I did."
"Ah, so you dish out this empty advice for free, huh?"
For a long moment, you sat there, two people balancing on the knife’s edge between pushing each other away and pulling each other in. Then Amelia sighed and stood, tossing her wrapper into the trash with unnecessary force.
"I’ll bring you real food next time," she muttered, already halfway to the door. "Try not to die of sodium poisoning before then."
You looked up, surprised. "You cook?"
She paused in the doorway, turning her head just enough to send you a small wink, "No. But I have very convincing delivery menus."
And then she was gone, leaving the door swinging quietly in her wake and something strange in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was annoyance or interest. Maybe both.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Another three weeks later, you’re mid-chart, back hunched at the nurses’ station, eyes moving too fast over patient notes that make you wish you could just go home, when you feel it.
A presence. Off-kilter.
You look up.
The man standing in the lobby doesn’t... belong. That much is obvious from the way his body holds tension. It's coiled, like a spring waiting to snap. He wears a hoodie too thick for the weather. His eyes dart from nurse to wall to floor. Sweating, fidgeting, vibrating with something that doesn’t match his surroundings.
You’ve seen that look before, where someone balances on the edge of unreality. A place where people either break down or break through.
Then you place him.
Angela Vasquez’s brother.
Angela, seventeen, who came in with a sudden thunderclap headache and collapsed in the elevator. You’d operated for six hours, cut and clamped and prayed with every ounce of precision you had. But the bleed was too fast. Too much.
She never woke up.
You were the last one to touch her. You’d stayed after the code was called. Sat beside her body. Pressed your palm against her cooling wrist and whispered her name.
Now her brother is here, standing across the atrium with that look in his eyes.
You push back from the desk and murmur low to the charge nurse, "Call security. Quietly." But it is too late.
He’s already moving. Three strides, maybe four. He closes the distance with a speed you don’t expect. There’s no time to back away. His arm rises.
Metal flashes.
The folding knife is cheap, dull silver with black tape around the handle. It catches the light for half a second before pressing hard into your chest.
There’s a shout. A dropped clipboard. Somewhere, someone screams.
But all you see is him.
His eyes are red-rimmed. His breath comes in short gasps. He’s not a killer. But he’s grieving.
"Say her name," he growls.
You exhale, slowly. Keep your body still.
"Angela," you say. "I remember. I was there."
He breathes harder. The knife digs in. You feel the press of it, sharp enough to pierce fabric, bite skin. "She walked in here. Alive."
"I know."
"She had a headache. That’s it."
"I know," you repeat. "I’m sorry."
The blade jerks. He presses it harder. Blood wells and there's a sting, then warmth. You'd hardly be able to see the liquid bloom through your shirt but you feel it become damp.
"Say it again!" he shouts. "Say it!"
"I’m sorry."
His eyes glisten, fury cracking into anguish. The whole hall is still. No one dares move.
And then- "Hey!"
The voice slices through the tension. Amelia.
She’s standing at the end of the corridor, wide stance, hands half-raised, eyes locked on the man’s trembling grip. She’s wearing her normal clothes and must have just come off shift. But her presence shifts the air.
"Don’t move," she says, calm and razor-edged. "It's just us."
The man twitches. The blade shifts slightly. Your blood spreads slightly wider beneath the black.
"She didn’t care," he says, voice cracking. "Didn’t even say sorry till I made her."
Amelia takes a step closer. "You’re right. It wasn’t enough."
You shoot her a glance. She doesn’t look at you. Her focus is entirely on him.
"Hurting her won’t bring Angela back," she says, voice thick with compassion and authority. "You don’t want to carry that weight."
He trembles. The muscles in his forearm twitch. "She was my baby sister."
"I know," Amelia says. "And I’m sorry. I should’ve caught the bleed. I’m the neurosurgeon. Maybe I missed it. Blame me."
Your heart spikes. "Amelia. No."
She finally looks at you, just for a second. And what’s in her eyes is not fear. It’s fury. It’s fire. It’s something too big to name.
"I’m not letting him kill you."
The man is confused now. His rage flickering, not knowing where to land. You feel his grip loosen. And so you move. It’s instinct. You slam your elbow into his ribs. The knife slices downward as he staggers, leaving a hot, burning trail across your chest.
Then you’re falling.
But you don’t hit the ground.
Arms catch you, steady, strong, too warm. Amelia's hands are on you, pulling you back against her body, her breath right against your ear. "Okay. Okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe. Stay with me."
You feel her pressure against the wound, fingers trembling just slightly. Blood soaks into her sleeves. Her hair brushes your cheek.
"That was monumentally stupid," you whisper.
"You’re a fucking idiot," she chokes. "A stupid, noble, infuriating idiot."
You wince. "Didn’t know you cared so much."
She huffs a broken laugh. "Don’t flatter yourself."
But her hand never leaves your chest.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You wake up in post-op and feel sore. Slow. Heavy.
And you’re not alone. She’s there. Curled in the corner chair, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, her cheek resting on her fist. Her eyes are closed but not asleep.
You whisper, "Did I ruin your day?"
Her head jerks up. "You ruined my fucking month."
You give her a tired smile. "That dramatic streak. Neurosurgeons really are the worst."
"You bled on my sweater. And almost died. You don’t get to talk shit."
You reach out. Your hand finds hers. "You stayed."
"Yeah, I never left."
There’s a silence. Then, "Why?"
She swallows. "Because I didn't want to. Not when you owe me for that takeout. It's your turn to buy me food."
"That makes sense." You smile softly and she shakes her head.
"Maybe I want to keep you around to see what happens too." She hums, a slight anxiousness in her eyes. But you are too blunt for this.
Your voice barely makes it out. "Say it."
She leans in, forehead brushing yours. Her breath is warm, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.
"I care about you," she murmurs. "More than I should. More than I ever wanted to."
You close your eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, maybe longer, it doesn’t hurt quite so much to feel.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Three weeks later, you’ve been back on rounds for almost a week. You turn a corner and stop.
Amelia’s waiting for you and she is in black scrubs.
She raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Well? Do I look intimidating?"
You glance at her, lips twitching. "You look like my evil twin. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
She smirks. "I can think of some other things."
Teddy walks past, gaping and tilts her head, eyeing both of you, one brow lifting. "Okay. You can’t both wear black. People are going to think you’re in a cult."
Amelia didn’t even look up from her coffee. Her tone was bone-dry. "We are. It’s called the surviving trauma and deflecting with sarcasm cult."
You leaned back against the nurses’ station, a grin spreading slowly as you raised your coffee like a toast. "And caffeine. Don’t forget the daily sacrifices to the coffee gods."
"You need a catchier name, there's no way that'll catch." Teddy came to a stop next to Meredith, who was leaning on the opposite side of the counter. Meredith lifted her head and blinked at you both and deadpanned, "You two realize you’ve been matching every day for a week now, right?"
You shrugged with mock innocence. "Coincidence." Amelia, at the exact same time, replied, "Solidarity."
That earned an amused snort from Teddy, who shook her head. "So… solidarity in looking like you’re two seconds away from scoring a record deal with a broody indie hospital soundtrack?"
Amelia finally turned toward her, her grin blooming slowly. "If the scalpel fits."
Meredith took a slow sip of her coffee, clearly savouring the moment before droping in her next line, "Honestly, I just want to know how long until you two finally stop pretending that this is just a trauma bond."
You choked on a laugh and pretended to clutch your heart. "Meredith Grey with emotional insight? Who are you and what have you done with our queen of avoidance?"
Teddy leaned in, stage-whispering to Meredith with a gleam in her eyes. "I give them two more days before Amelia ‘accidentally’ kisses her in the elevator."
Amelia didn’t miss a beat. "Please. It’ll be the supply closet. Have some respect for tradition."
"Just for the record," you said, voice lower now, intimate in a way that made Teddy raise her brows and Meredith pretend very hard to be engrossed in her phone, "if it were the supply closet... I wouldn't exactly object."
Amelia tilted her head, mouth curving upward into that mischievous little half-smile she wore when she was two steps away from doing something reckless and brilliant. "Noted," she said, her voice just as soft.
Teddy cleared her throat, "Well. That’s my cue to make myself scarce before someone violates HR policy behind the linen cart."
Meredith finally looked up, smirking. "Just make sure someone actually does kiss someone before I waste another bet on emotional repression."
Amelia chuckled, stepping close enough that your shoulders brushed. "No promises," she murmured.
