Amelia Shepherd - Tumblr Posts

The fear on Amelia's face, once again I'm not okay. My babies 😭

Grey's Anatomy 19x12: 'Pick Yourself Up'.

KAMELIA

Grey’s Anatomy 18x12 ⎸ “The Makings of You”

AMELIA SHEPHERD

Private Practice | 6x11 

the sheer thought of addison montgomery (then shepherd) having amelias school pictures on her desk at her and derek’s practice (right alongside her ever growing collection of her nieces and nephews photos) is rotting my brain

(or in her wallet, they had those little mini photo album things in the 90’s, or in her locker during her internship and residency years)

hey google tell me how to stop feeling a crippling and deep seated fear of abandonment

I thought amelia's firework scrub cap just represented that's she's got an explosive personality. bold, loud, delightful (a little destructive in the wrong hands), etc.

OK YES BUT THEN TIL that as a kid, amelia had a phobia of loud noises because of her father's shooting, so she took a ton of firecrackers and set them off until the sound didn't bother her anymore. 

she was always badass.

TOP 5/10 CHARACTERS PER SHOW (as voted by my followers) ↳ grey's anatomy edition #12. Amelia Shepherd portrayed by Caterina Scorsone

i need an amelia shepherd character study fic where she is an unreliable narrator bc of all the drugs and alcohol i need it to be so devastatingly angsty (and gay)

hey, could you please do a Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader where the reader is jealous because of Edwards and Amelia reassures her that she only loves her etc...? (they've been together for about 3years)

Jealousy

Amelia Shepherd x gn!reader

Summary: when someone constantly tries to get at your girlfriend it can be irritating, very irritating, but thankfully Amelia doesn't care about anyone else.

Warnings: sexual talk at the end but nothing happens

A/N: I combined this with another request, ("Amelia Shepherd x reader where an intern keeps looking at Amelia in a OR and reader gets mad")

also because I don't write fem reader I changed it to gn reader

Word count: 1247

-

-

It happened again.

You and Amelia had another surgery together.

Which is great, you loved working with your girlfiend. You two operated on different parts of the human body so whenever the rare opportunity of working together presented itself, you always took it. This man had a puncured lung so you had to act quickly and asked the neurosurgeon to make sure the brain never stopped receiving oxygen.

What you didn't particularly like was working with someone else.

Amelia chose Edwards to work on this man with her, because of course she did. Your girlfriend was an excellent surgeon so you trusted her judgment and never tried to change her mind about her residents.

You just wish she did about this one resident.

Edwards wasn't bad at her job per se, but it just bugged you how her attention was half on your girlfriend and only half on the things she was supposed to be learning. It was highly unprofessional.

"right answer Edwards" Amelia chirped from behind her mask after the woman correctly answered her question.

"thank you, doctor Shepherd" you rolled your eyes at that, you were surprised at how she even got it right, since she never stopped looking at her face.

Your feet were starting to ache for how long you've been standing but thankfully the surgery was almost over. "Edwards how's his blood pressure?" of course, she didn't hear you. So you repeated the question.

"uh" she hesitated for a second, probably because the vitals weren't written in Amelia's eyes "110 over 70" she turned her head to look at you, as if she was expecting a scolding "it's good" she added.

"yea I know that, I'm a surgeon" you bit back, your eyes never leaving your patient's lungs. Amelia gave you a look from her spot behind the man's head, but said nothing.

After a minute of silence you breathed out a sigh of relief as you could finally take your hands out of his chest.

"forceps and gauze" you weren't talking to Edwards this time, since it wasn't her job to hand you what you needed, but when your free hand still felt empty after a second and you were about to yell at the intern, he frantically shook his head and pointed at the assistant, who held the tools in her hand, while talking to your girlfriend.

"Edwards!"

You raised your voice to the point even Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at the shift in your behaviour. It wasn't loud enough to be called unprofessional, you have seen much worse under Bailey's guidance. But you were never one to scream without a valid reason, especially in an OR.

The woman instantly whipped her head to look at you with widened eyes, while her shoulders visibly tensed.

"I don't know if you have noticed since you've been staring at Dr. Shepherd all this time" you vaguely pointed at her, your other hand never leaving the chest tube, keeping it in place between your patient's lungs "but we are actually in the middle of an operation. So I'd really appreciate it if you gave me my tools so I can close him up and go tell his family he survived."

You clenched your jaw when silence fell into the room right after your words, only now realizing the tone of your voice. But you didn't regret it, not really.

Especially when your hand was still hanging empty in the air.

Truth was, Edwards didn't hear you the first time and was afraid to give you the wrong tools.

"forceps and gauze." you repeated, your voice lower but still firm "now."

"right yea, sorry"

- - - -

Once his wound was properly sealed and Amelia assured you his brain was completely fine, you instructed your interns to take him to his room and keep an eye on him, and quickly stormed off.

Stephanie took her mask off and approached her mentor with the intention of apologizing for her behavior, but Amelia stopped her, and went looking for you.

She found you in the waiting room, talking to the man's family. "no need to thank me, I just did my job" she could only see the back of your head but she knew you enough to recognise the smile in your voice. "your husband is strong and he's going to have a quick recovery"

Your girlfriend stopped behind you without interrupting your conversation, and kindly smiled at the family as they walked away.

"okay what was that?" she searched for your eyes once they were out of earshot.

"what?" you run a hand through your hair, finally free from the surgical cap "people hug us all the time" and it wasn't a lie, but you knew it wasn't what she was referring to.

"no, not that" she shook her head and crossed her arms.

You opened your mouth while your eyes moved around the room, but the only thing that came out of it was a sigh.

You sat down on one of the chairs, looking up at her "I don't, I don't like Edwards"

"she's good at her job" Amelia didn't waste time defending her resident, but her tone wasn't aggressive.

"I know that, I know she is" you took a big breath, trying to find the right words. This whole thing has been bugging you for months now and you never said anything because you didn't want to sound controlling or irritating. But you couldn't hide it anymore.

"I don't like how close she is to you."

Amelia uncrossed her arms and slid her hands inside her pockets. She had a feeling of where this was going.

"She's fascinated by your work and by your mind and I get it, I love it too. And I get that she wants to learn so she assists your surgeries but she follows you everywhere."

Somewhere along your words, Amelia took a step closer and was now standing between your legs, looking down at you.

"Every time I want to talk to you she's always there, we can't even have lunch together without her sitting with us and asking you questions."

One of her hands came up to rest on your cheek to make you look at her "you're jealous of Edwards?" and despite the amused tone, her smile seemed gentle.

"You don't have to be, (Y/N)" she continued after a small silence "she's interested in my work and yes, she asks a lot of questions. But it's just that"

She saw you shake your head and took both of your hands in hers "and even if it wasn't, I don't care. I'm your girlfriend, not hers. You're my partner, she's not. I'm sorry if it made you jealous, but there's really no reason to worry. I love you, just you, okay?"

You softly nodded your head, and your smile quickly mirrored her own when she squeezed your hands "okay. thank you"

"of course" she muttered. Then she pulled on your hands, pulling you up "come on, I think we need to get our heads off of it and I know just the place"

You chuckled at her words and raised your eyebrows "you want to have sex in an on-call room?"

Amelia's smile never left her lips, if anything, it only got bigger "yes, and please stop acting like it hasn't happened already" she shrugged her shoulders and started guiding you to the room "besides, I need to show you who I stare at all day"

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist - Grey's anatomy Masterlist

General Masterlist

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist

-smut will be marked with ꕤ-

● jealousy

Headcanons

● Amelia dating her intern

Grey's anatomy Masterlist - General Masterlist

I see you people in my ask box asking for Amelia fics and I'm having sm fun

Amelia shepherd dating her intern headcannon

Amelia Sheperd x gn!reader

● The first thing she noticed about you were your hands

● She didn't even notice there was a change in interns until she saw how your hands were much steadier than her other intern

● She immediately started asking for you whenever there was a delicate surgery

● And as soon as you started dating she always told you about her surgeries ahead of time so you could participate if you wanted

● Did it make you look spoiled by the department chief?

● Maybe, but she didn't care. You were good and she wanted you in her O.R.

● She would pull out the "I'm your boss" card whenever she wanted

● Wherever she wanted

● You want to go home after a 12 hour shift? Well Amelia wants to take a nap in the on-call room, so you will take a nap in the on-call room with her

● Why? because she's your boss

● She always checks up on you after a surgery with other attendings

● "did everything go well?" "did you remember every step?"

● She's amused at the kind and the amount of gossip you interns have going on

● She doesn't know their names and doesn't recognise most of the faces, but she remembers what they did

● But sometimes she messes up

● "oh oh! is that the one who slept with the department chief?"

● "..no, that's me. You're the department chief"

● Meredith and Maggie may have found it weird having an intern in their house at first, but they had their own fair share of 'prohibited' work relationships over the years (especially Meredith)

● So they never really said anything

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist - Grey's anatomy Masterlist

General Masterlist

Postpartum

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (NSFW), sex, oral sex, hella eating out, fingering, etc., mentions of anatomy/body parts, some explicit language, post-pregnancy times (please let me know if I've left anything out!) Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: You're six weeks postpartum, and your doctor has cleared you for sex, but you're worried that it might not be the same anymore. Amelia assuages all of your worries. 😉

Request Info: This was requested by an anonymous user, but the request itself accidentally got deleted! The user also requested that the reader be an ortho surgeon and a third twisted sister. Whoever you are, I hope you find this, and I'm so sorry to have lost your original request!

“You’re good to go,” your OBGYN declared, finishing up your 6-weeks postpartum checkup.

You raised your eyebrows at her. “As in, good to go?”

She laughed. “Good to go, as in cleared to resume any and all sexual activity as you feel ready for it.”

You nodded and repeated it to yourself. “Good to go…”

But as you left Grey-Sloan, making a quick stop at the ortho unit to say hello to the nurses and the other attendings, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really were good to go. Sure, you missed sex with Amelia. You missed her body, missed connecting with her in that way, but you were also so self-conscious. You hadn’t had any major tears or anything, but you had shoved a human head out of your vagina less than two months ago. It was bound to be different down there. It felt different. What if sex didn’t feel good anymore? What if it never did? Or, even worse, what if it looked or felt different for Amelia, and she didn’t like sleeping with you anymore?

You decided to text Meredith and Cristina about it, as you so often did about any and everything.

Y/N: You guys I’ve been cleared for sex

M: Yay!

C: Good for you bitch

Y/N: I’m kinda scared tho…

M: Aw, why?

Y/N: Does it hurt after? Or like idk was Derek weirded out?

C: It feels like I could have been left out of this conversation

M: Shut up Cristina we’re being supportive! And no Y/N it didn’t hurt. You just have to take it slow and do what feels good at the time. And stop if it doesn’t feel good.

C: You don’t have a dick to deal with so you should be okay

M: CRISTINA

Y/N: I mean tbh we have several

M: Ew she’s my sister I didn’t need to know that…

C: I need to know more…

You shook your head and smiled. You decided that you might as well try, if Amelia was up for it. And there was no question that Amelia was up for it. She’d powered through like a champ, but before this, the longest you’d gone without having sex was two weeks and that was only because you’d been brought in as a specialist on a case at another hospital.

When you walked into the apartment, everything was quiet–a rarity at your house these days. You crept through the rooms, looking for Amelia and Pippa, and finally found them in the nursery. Amelia held Pippa to her chest, bouncing her softly as she slept, little chubby cheeks pressing out like she was blowing bubbles.

You placed a hand on Amelia’s back and kissed her on the cheek. You nodded toward Pippa, eyebrows scrunched.

“I just can’t bring myself to put her down,” Amelia whispered. “How was your appointment?”

“Good.”

Amelia stared pointedly at you. “Good good?”

You nodded, smirking.

If Pippa had not been tiny and fragile, Amelia would have tossed her into the crib like a football.

She placed the baby gently on her back in the crib, then crashed into you with the force of a tidal wave–or six weeks of no sex.

She pushed you into the hallway wall, shutting Pippa’s door behind her, and pressed into you, her mouth and hands desperate. She ran her tongue up and down your neck and back to your mouth and yanked your shirt over your head. God, you’d missed this. You’d missed her. Even though she’d been right here next to you the whole time. She groaned as she pushed herself into you, and you smiled into her kiss.

At this rate, Amelia would be finished before you even had a chance to make it to the bed.

“No, no!” she whined as you pulled away, her blue eyes pleading desperately with you.

“Come to bed, Amy,” you teased, taking her by the hand and leading her to the bedroom.

You gently removed her clothes and pushed her onto the bed. “You first,” you said.

She grabbed at your face hungrily as you leaned over her, kissing you with all the fervor of someone who’s love has been lost at sea for several years. She gasped and arched her back as your hand grazed over her clit.

You couldn’t help but smile at how needy she was, her hips bucking into your hand as you held it still, cupping her heat.

“Y/N, don’t fucking tease me,” she scolded, her voice stuttering. “It’s been way too long for that.”

“Oh, you don’t like that?” you said, smug. It was not often that Amelia was this powerless in bed. Usually it was the other way around, so you were enjoying this moment.

She grabbed your face, rough, and then soft as she ran her hand through your hair. “Just finish me already so I can get inside you.” She pulled your face closer, her breath hot in your ear as she whispered. “I’ve missed the taste of you.”

You’d never switched gears faster. No more power trips, just getting Amelia off as quickly as possible.

You kissed and licked your way down her body, intoxicated by the way she pushed into you and pulled you closer. By the time you reached her center, she was panting and glistening and you knew it'd only be a matter of minutes before she was absolute putty.

You pressed soft kisses into her inner thighs, then closer and closer until she was nearly bursting with the want of you, so that when you finally, finally, wrapped your mouth around her clit, she nearly lost her mind. You held her hips in place as she moaned, licking your way through her, around her, inside of her until she was shaking in your arms, hips rolling to meet your tongue. And for the final touch, you slipped two of your fingers inside of her, curling down and around, just how you knew she liked it. Her hands were gripping your hair so hard you thought might pull it out. “Y/N!” she gasped, her breath coming out in short, sharp moans as she came on your fingers. You smiled as you buried your face in her, guiding her through her high and back down again.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, her chest still heaving.

“Good?” you asked, already knowing the answer, as you wiped your mouth.

She nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. “Give me a second.”

You lay down next to her, feeling wildly pleased with yourself, especially when Amelia rolled over on top of you and pressed her mouth into yours, moaning as she tasted herself on your lips.

But as she worked her way down your body, anxiety shot through you.

You grabbed her hand. “Amy, wait…”

She looked up at you, concerned.

“You don’t have to,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“I know I don’t,” she replied, still looking at you curiously. “I want to. I’ve wanted to for months.”

“I think…” you stuttered. “I think I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” she said, laying down next to you and propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just not ready.”

“That’s fine, but you seemed super ready about two minutes ago.”

You didn’t respond, fiddling with an edge of your comforter.

“Y/N,” she said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head please.”

She took your hand and you played with her fingers for a moment before answering.

“I’m scared you won't like it.”

Amelia looked genuinely shocked. “You’re what now?”

“I got messed up down there,” you mumbled. “What if it’s not like normal for you?”

“Oh, babe,” she said, caressing your face. “You’re not messed up. You could never be messed up. You’re you and I love you. I love all of you.”

You stayed quiet.

“Honey,” she continued, more emphatic now. “Your body made a whole human. A human that is sleeping in the bedroom down the hallway. A beautiful, precious human that I love with all my heart and hope with all my heart stays asleep for a while so that I can get in there. She had her time. It's my fucking turn."

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“Listen,” she ranted, excited that your mood was brightening and trying to make you laugh more. “I’m like the Lewis and Clark of vaginas, okay? The wilderness must be explored. I gotta get in there and get the lay of the land. And it might be new, right?”

You nodded, grinning and blushing.

“But new doesn’t mean bad. Lots of times new means better. So just… let me do my exploring, okay?”

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Amelia was gentler with this attempt, slow and steady and worshipful as she moved down your body, taking her time especially at the place where your uterus still bulged, where new stretch marks had drawn their way across your abdomen. And when she got to your center, she was gentle there, too, mindful of your anxiety, mindful that it might take your body more time than usual to warm up.

She was loving and slow and obsessive, sighing with pleasure as she placed kisses along the inside of your thighs, on your clit, all over you. Amelia’s careful touch had washed away most of your anxiety, leaving behind your flushed face, the shuddering of your body each time her skin met yours.

And when finally, finally, she had you wet and whimpering, she dove in like a woman starved.

“Amy,” you breathed, lightly holding her head in your hands as you threw your own head back, your hips rising to meet her. You could feel her smile against you.

“You want more?” she asked, and you knew she meant, Do you want fingers or a strap or a toy or anything like that?

You shook your head. “No, just–” Your breath caught in your throat, replaced by a moan as the knot in your lower abdomen tightened.  “Just keep going.”

If there was one thing about Amelia, it was that she could eat you out forever. You’d been afraid that would change, but clearly your fears had been unfounded. She was insatiable.

“Amy–” you exclaimed, arching your back as your body approached the edge. You couldn’t even get the words out, just “Amy” over and over.

She reached up to grasp one of your hands in hers as you fell apart around her, Amelia lapping up every last bit of you.

You breathed heavily, watching as Amelia emerged from between your thighs, grinning like an idiot, her face an absolute mess.

You laughed as she wiped her face. “I take it your expedition went well?”

“God!” she exclaimed, flopping down beside you. “I missed you.”

“We literally have not been apart for weeks.”

“Okay, well, then I missed your vagina.”

You giggled, rolling over a bit to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” Amelia retorted, pulling you in for another heated kiss.

You were interrupted then by a loud, crinkly wail through the baby monitor.

Amelia groaned, but you could see a smile creeping in. She stood and stretched. “I’ll go get her.”

“Amelia!” you hissed, throwing a pillow at her. “You can't bring her in here! We’re naked, and it smells like sex!”

“She’s six weeks old! She won’t remember!” Amelia nodded at you. “Go take a shower. Relax. Then we can switch. It's almost time to feed her anyway.”

You lay in bed a moment longer, waiting to hear Amelia on the baby monitor.

“Hello!” she cooed, her voice crackling through the speaker as Pippa continued to cry. “Hi, pretty girl! Oh, I know. I know. You want Mama? Let’s go see her. Oh, you love your mama, don’t you? Mommy does, too.”

You smiled, your heart full as you listened.

“We loooooove Mama, don’t we? Yes, we do. We love her so much.”

Strap Up

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, pure unadulterated smut, strap, sex (duh), I'm really bad at labeling smut for warnings so just tell me if I'm missing something and I'll add it, explicit language, NSFW Word Count: 2k

Summary: You and Amelia decide to use a new toy for the first time. How will it go? (Hint: it goes really well.)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Amelia asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m sure,” you assured her, pulling her down to your mouth for a kiss. Your hands ran wild over her body, desperate for more. You felt Amelia sink into you, her thumbs at the edges of your eyebrows as she deepened the kiss.

“I just–” she stuttered, pulling away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Amelia.” You grasped her chin in your hands and looked at her, hard. “Just strap up and fuck me.”

She exhaled deeply, letting her eyes roam all the way down your body.

“If you’re sure…”

She got out of bed and started pulling on the strap she’d prepared earlier, at your request.

You lounged, hands folded behind your head, and watched, trying not to laugh.

“What?” she asked, adjusting the straps while you stared at her.

You giggled. “It just looks kind of silly!”

She grinned mischievously and crawled toward you on the bed. “Y/N Y/L/N! Are you laughing at my dick?!”

You chuckled and squirmed as she tickled you, pinning you under her body. “Penises are objectively funny!” you argued.

Amelia kneaded your breasts in her hands, slipping her tongue into your mouth. You let out an involuntary whine and she smiled into your lips. She bit your ear and you couldn’t help but arch your back.

“We’ll see how funny you think it is when you’re coming,” she whispered, her breath hot in your ear.

You cradled the back of her neck, grabbing the hair at her nape and jerking it slightly. She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Make me then,” you said, your eyes meeting her deep, blue ones. God, you could lose yourself in them.

Amelia ran her tongue down your throat, planting open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You felt like you were floating as she made her way lovingly down your body. It wasn’t that she was always gentle–she wasn’t. And you usually had the marks on your body to prove it. It was that she was reverent, almost worshipful. It was as if she lost herself in you. And there was nothing that drove you crazier than the feeling of her, the weight of her, on top of you.

It’s not that you minded giving. You really enjoyed it. You were a switch to your core. But Amelia? Amelia was a giver. And, god, you loved to let her. Whatever she needed to do to you, with you, to get you off–and therefore get herself off–you were down for it. At least, except for the strap. Until tonight.

Amelia ran her fingers through your slick folds and you moaned, pushing your hips toward her. She circled your clit with one hand and brushed your bangs out of your face with the other.

“Are you ready?” she asked, looking at you with so much love, so much concern that, honestly, you would have done anything for her. You nodded, lightly stroking her thigh.

“Okay.” She planted a firm kiss on your forehead before brushing the tip of her strap against your glistening entrance, making sure to coat it with plenty of lube.

You whined in anticipation, your chest already heaving. Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. The only things you’d ever had inside of you were fingers and tampons. And the strap Amelia was wearing, though it was one of the smallest she owned, was still significantly bigger than either of those things.

You felt your body start to stretch as Amelia slowly pushed the head of the strap into you. You groaned as the pain hit you, grabbing at the bedsheets with your fists and clenching your jaws.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Amelia asked, concerned. You could tell by the rough tenor of her voice that she was very turned on, but that she would turn it off just as quickly if that’s what you needed.

You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, keep going. Just… slow, please.”

Amelia nodded, guiding the strap into you at a snail’s pace, ready to stop moving whenever you said the word. But she felt overwhelmingly aroused watching her strap disappear into you. You were so tight. It had to hurt, she knew. She remembered her first time. It had hurt badly. More because it was a dumb boy who didn’t give a shit about what felt good for her. She wanted it to be different for you. She wanted it to be good. She wanted to make you feel good.

Amelia pushed slowly forward with her hips, watching you closely for any signs that you wanted to stop. When her hips finally hit yours, when she was fully inside you, she let out a shaky gasp. It was taking everything in her not to start thrusting into you, but she wouldn’t do it, not until she was sure you were ready for it.

Your face underneath her was red, and the occasional tear rolled down the side of your face. Taking advantage of this soft moment, relishing being inside of you, Amelia leaned forward, pressing her body into yours, and planted kisses all over your scrunched, burning face.

“You’re doing so good, bean,” she breathed, her own breath heavy and desperate. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still getting used to the feeling of being filled. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It did hurt–badly. But it felt good, too, inexplicably good. You felt your walls contracting and releasing and pulsing around Amelia’s strap and you knew, even through the pain, that you wanted more.

You pushed your hips up experimentally and a wave of pleasure rolled over you as the strap hit at a new angle.

Amelia grinned at you, kissing you to swallow your moan.

“Amelia,” you said, breathing heavily.

She brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, baby?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded.

“Go ahead?” she confirmed, grinning goofily.

“Fuck me,” you told her, then thought better of it and grabbed her hand. “Gently, please.”

She leaned down, cupping your face in her hands and staring into your eyes lovingly. She pressed her mouth to yours, and you felt her hips move, the strap slowly moving out of you, then thrusting inward, hitting parts of you that you didn’t even know could be hit.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure, grasping at Amelia’s back for dear life as she moved in and out, in and out. When you managed to open your eyes, you saw that Amelia was watching you intently, no doubt solving you like a puzzle to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. She was a woman of science, after all.

It was as if your body was out of your control, as if it knew what you needed more than your brain did. Your hips bucked up to meet Amelia’s, your back arching, arms pulling her into you for more, more, more.

Amelia was moaning by now, too, the strap hitting just right against her clit as you pulled her hips to yours. You could tell she was trying hard to keep control of herself when what she really wanted was to chase her high. You knew Amelia’s body like the back of your hand. The way she got there was fast and hard, and she was doing her level best to put off her own pleasure and make sure you were comfortable and enjoying yourself.

You felt the space underneath your stomach tighten, and you knew you were close. You could feel your body pulsing, feel it tightening around Amelia as if it, too, just like your mind and soul, never wanted to let her go.

“Amy,” you gasped, your voice shaky.

She looked down at your wide eyes, relishing the way your breath came faster and faster, the way your body squirmed desperately against hers.

“I need you deeper,” you pleaded. “All the way in. Please, as far as you can go.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, her breath heavy, a light coat of sweat shining on her face. “It might hurt.”

“Please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her further in.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. Wrapping her arms around your body, she shoved into you as deep as she could, grasping at you, pulling you to her to deepen the thrust, then repeating the motion, again and again, until even she couldn’t control it anymore. She rutted into you, as desperate for release as you were, and nearly as close.

Amy’s head was next to yours, her arms around your neck as she pulled at you, shoving herself deeper, deeper. You were close, you were so close. Amy let out a strangled moan, her breath hot on your ear, and you were coming undone. You gasped and moaned, your hips jerking into her, nails digging into her back, as you yelled her name. “Amy!” you cried. “Fuck!” It felt like it would never end, waves of bliss washing over you, hard and rhythmic and so, so good.

Amelia’s hips rocked against yours, and she kissed you again and again. Your mouth, your eyelids, your nose, your eyebrows. She gasped, pushing herself harder into you.

“I'm close, baby,” she said, shakily.

“Hey,” you said, still out of breath, grasping her chin. “I want you to come inside me.”

Amelia laughed breathily, trying to get enough oxygen in to finish what she’d started. “You know this isn’t a real dick, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, guiding her hips with your hands, so that she pushed harder into you. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Her breath became more and more frantic, her hips jerking the strap in and out, in and out of you. You could tell by the way her breath caught that she was about to topple over the edge, so you held her tightly, pushing your own hips forward to meet hers. She gasped, thrusting into you as she rode out her high, the strap jerking sporadically into you as it matched her rhythm.

You’d never felt closer to her in your life than you did then, as she lay on top of you, completely spent, covered in sweat, face beet red, her strap still resting inside you. You wanted this forever. You wanted Amelia, always and forever. Inside you. Around you. Touching you. Laughing with you. Kissing you. Sleeping next to you. All of it, always.

You let out another tired moan as Amelia slid the strap out of you, unbuckling the harness and throwing it to the side. She crawled up your body and lay down next to you, both of you a sweaty mess on top of the sheets, breathing heavily. She shot you a cheesy grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“What?” you said, turning your body toward her and running a hand through her sweaty hair.

“Still think the strap is silly?” She smirked, a shit-eating look of absolute triumph on her face.

You chuckled. “The strap, no. Penises, yes.”

“How do you feel?” She traced the freckles on your arm. By now, she knew where all of them were. She probably even knew how many.

You exhaled. “Blissed out. Uh… stretched out, too. Probably sore tomorrow.”

Amelia nodded. “But you liked it?”

You placed a hand on your forehead, blushing at the memory. “So much. I feel like that Madonna song.”

“Like a virgin,” Amelia sang, tickling you, her voice wildly off key. “Touched for the very first time.”

You grabbed her hands, giggling. “Alright, Madonna. Shower?”

She kissed your cheek firmly before rolling out of bed. “Like a vi-i-i-irgin.” You rolled your eyes as Amelia’s voice faded into the background, mixing with the sounds of running water as she turned the shower on. “When your heart beats… next to mine.”

Sick Call

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, pure unadulterated fluff, seriously so fluffy, sickfic, would that we all had someone taking care of us when we were sick I mean come on Word Count: 0.8k

Summary: You wake up sick in the middle of the night, but your doctor girlfriend won't let you go back to sleep without a full check-up and some taking care of.

You tossed and turned in the bed, head pounding. You’d tried to convince yourself it was just a headache, just allergies, just anything except actual illness. But if your aching head, stuffy nose, and chills were any indication, you were really and truly sick. You coughed and pulled the blankets up to your ears, trying to keep warm. Unable to fall asleep, you propped yourself up to look out the window at the lighted coast and the darkness beyond. Your house was too far away to hear the ocean, but you knew it was there. You fell back down on the pillow with a soft groan, pressing your fingers into your temples. Beside you, Amelia stirred.

“You okay, bean?” Amelia’s voice was gravelly with sleep as she turned to face you.

“Yeah. Just sick. Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Amelia’s hand shot out of the dark and wrapped around your neck.

“Ow!” you exclaimed.

Amelia sat up. “Your lymph nodes are swollen,” she observed. She moved her hand to your forehead. “And you’re definitely running a fever.” She sat up and turned on a lamp.

You groaned and squinted. “Jesus.”

Amelia launched herself out of bed and strolled into the bathroom.

“Amy,” you protested weakly. “I’m fine. Come back to bed.”

You could hear Amelia rummaging in the bathroom closet. “That’s what you always say.”

“Yes, but eventually I’m always right,” you called, yawning and propping yourself up on your elbow.

Amelia returned to the room carrying several pill bottles, a wet washrag, and a thermometer. “Open up,” she said, pointing the thermometer at your mouth.

You raised your eyebrows. “Amelia. It’s the middle of the night. I have a cold. This is a little overkill, don’t you think?”

Amelia looked around the room, as if gesturing to an invisible audience that this was unbelievable. “I’m sorry, who’s the doctor here?”

You wordlessly rolled your eyes and opened your mouth. Amelia popped the thermometer in and started opening pill bottles.

“Are you gonna pull the doctor card every time I have the sniffles?” you mumbled through the thermometer.

“Yes,” Amelia said. “Now shut up so I can get an accurate read.”

The thermometer beeped and Amelia removed it, peering at the screen. “102.6,” she read. Amelia shook two pills into her hand and opened your water bottle. “Take these.”

“What is it?” you asked, swallowing the pills quickly.

“NyQuil,” said Amelia. “Drink, like, half that water bottle.” She set the bottle of NyQuil and the thermometer on your nightstand.

You drank obediently, then set the water bottle aside. You watched Amelia watching you and felt a surge of love for her furrowed eyebrows, a tell that she was working out how to solve a problem. In this case, the problem was you being sick.

“Now lay down,” Amelia commanded.

You did as you were told, grimacing as you laid your head back down on the pillow and the throbbing resumed.

Amelia leaned over you from her seat on the edge of the bed, brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. She held your head gently, leaned down, and planted a kiss on your forehead. She covered the spot with a cool washrag, letting her fingers linger on your skin a bit longer.

“Thank you, Dr. Shepherd,” you whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Amelia said, walking back to her side of the bed.

Amelia pulled a bottle of hand sanitizer out of her nightstand and squirted some into the palm of her hand.

“Are you using hand sanitizer?” you said, peeking out from under the washcloth.

“Duh. I don’t want your nasty bug.”

“You don’t want to be sick together?”

“Of course not,” Amelia said, pulling up the covers. “I want to be healthy together.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

After a few moments of rustling, Amelia spoke again. “Having established the consistency of the biomarker in a fairly homogenous group of high-risk participants, the broader app–”

“What’s happening right now?” you interjected.

“It’ll take about 30 minutes for the meds to kick in,” Amelia explained. “I’m reading you to sleep.”

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s so sweet!” You reached over to squeeze Amelia’s thigh.

You couldn’t see it underneath the washrag, but Amelia looked at you with so much love, she thought she might burst. She shook her head and picked up her e-reader again.

“Now, go to sleep and listen to JAMA Neurology.”

You breathed deeply and nodded as Amelia continued reading.

“... the broader applicability of the derived threshold from Oxford Discovery was in a multicenter cohort consisting of a heterogenous group with variable risk of developing PD or related dementia, including GBA1…”

Aces

Amelia Shepherd x ace!fem!reader Warnings: mostly fluffy but definitely some mentions/discussions of sex, ace representation wooooooo, some explicit language Word Count: 1.1k Summary: You come out as asexual on a date with Amelia, and you're worried about how she'll react. But it turns out that maybe honesty really is the best policy–for both of you.

*Reader & Asexuality. Asexuality is a spectrum! No one person's ace identity is the same as someone else's. If you're ace and don't see yourself represented in the reader's perspective here, just know that your identity is still so valid! It's just impossible to encompass the beautifully wide range of what it means to be ace in one story or one perspective.

"Oh my god," Amelia said, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no, no!" you reassured her, touching Amelia's arm lightly to keep her from pulling away. "I like kissing you. I like you. I think I would probably like more, but... I just– I don't know. I wanted to be up front."

Amelia looked skeptical, no longer the suave, sure woman she'd been moments before.

You tried not to sound desperate. "It doesn't have to mean no sex, I don't think. For me, it just means that I'm mostly, generally uninterested. But not necessarily? God," you cursed. "I feel like I'm fucking this up."

You looked at the ground, trying not to feel panicked. You could count on one hand the number of people you'd been really, truly attracted to in your life. Amelia was one of them. You felt Amelia's hand slip into yours and looked up, equal parts hopeful and afraid.

"I've, uh, never been with someone who's asexual," Amelia said, clearly trying to put both of you at ease.

You returned to your walk on the waterfront, dusk closing in around the two of you.

"I like you, too," Amelia continued nervously. "I mean, I really like you. But I'm very much a sexual person, and I don't want–for either of us–for this to get too far and..."

"Yeah," you replied. "Me too."

"So," Amelia said, smiling and trying to lighten the mood. "You're ace! Tell me about it!"

"Well," you started, thoughts jumbling around in your head. "I like women. Romantically anyway. Sometimes sexually, I guess? I don't really know. I've never..." You paused and blushed. "I've never actually had sex." You shook your head and let out a shaky breath. "Shit, you didn't need to know that. Sorry."

Amelia squeezed your hand. "Don't be sorry."

"Anyway," you continued, scared that if you stopped you wouldn't start again. "I masturbate sometimes so, like, I know I at least enjoy the sensation, but... real life always felt unnecessary, like it was overcomplicating things. There just aren't many people I look at and think, Yeah, I could see myself having sex with them. But I don't know for sure because I've never done it, and I don't want to lead anyone on. And I'm scared because the only other person I've felt that about, well, we were both super religious and it wasn't safe to be out so we weren't out. To anyone or even to ourselves, really. And I always let her take the lead in how far we went because I was so scared that she'd misinterpret anything I did and think I was gay. Of course, I was, but I didn't know that at the time..."

You stopped and looked out across the darkening bay. "I'm sorry," you said, rubbing your forehead. "I'm rambling now. This is probably too much. I'm a lot."

"I'm a lot, too," Amelia commented, playfully jostling your shoulder. "I'm just not as brave and up front about it as you."

You avoided eye contact, sure that if you met Amelia's eyes you'd see what you were dreading: that Amelia was no longer interested, was just a nice person, continuing the date and the conversation out of kindness.

"Hey." Amelia interrupted your thoughts, tapping your hand. "You said the only other person you've thought about sex with."

You stayed quiet.

"Does that mean you've thought about with me?"

You flushed a deep red and stared at the ground. Amelia smirked, finding your embarrassment adorable.

"Hey, there," she said, smiling, bending down in front of your bent head to meet your eyes. Amelia put her hands on either side of your head, pushing your hair behind your ears and lifting your chin.

"Hey," Amelia continued, grinning fully now. "I am one of the two people in the world that Y/N finds attractive. I mean, talk about knowing how to make a girl feel pretty."

You smiled quickly, taking Amelia's hand as you continued your walk.

"And I've thought about it, too," Amelia added. "Just so you know. A lot."

You flushed again and chanced a glance at Amelia who, if anything, seemed more excited and into you than before. You couldn't believe it.

Stopping you with a hand on your wrist, Amelia leaned down and kissed you, running her thumb back and forth along your cheek. When she pulled away, you were dumbstruck.

Amelia searched your eyes, as if she were trying to decipher a foreign language.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically. "So much, yes."

"So I have a proposition," Amelia said, turning around and wrapping her arm through yours as you turned back.

"Okay," you prompted, savoring the feeling of Amelia so close to you.

"I say we try. I think we should try having sex. Only if you're up for it, of course. And all along the way, you can decide what you like and what you don't. And we can stop at any time. I promise I won't be upset. That way we'll know."

You stumbled through your words. "I'm not... experienced, so–"

Amelia turned to you and raised her eyebrows. "Y/N. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know what I'm doing. And if you don't enjoy yourself, you can be sure that you would not enjoy having sex with anyone. Because I'm really good."

You ran a hand through your hair, your face reddening, and a smile creeping across your face.

"I'm kind of excited actually."

Amelia jumped and shrieked. "I know, right!? I've never been someone's first! God, I can't wait to blow your fucking mind!" She pulled herself back down to earth and cleared her throat. "Unless you don't want to or you don't like it, which is totally fine. But I really hope you do because you are so hot." She said this last part more to herself than to you.

You smiled at Amelia's happy little dance. You were really, truly excited. Nervous, too. But excited. Riding high on the moment, you put one hand on the side of Amelia's face and wrapped the other arm around the small of her back.

And you kissed her. You kissed her. Your stomach did somersaults as you felt Amelia's hands on your waist, felt Amelia's mouth deepening the kiss. You kept going, surprised at how good Amelia's tongue felt in your mouth, how good it felt to hold the back of her head in your hands.

There was no one around in the dim early night, just you and the wind and the water. Amelia pressed her body into yours, and you could feel the buckle of Amelia's belt pressing into you. Your body took you off guard as you whined into Amelia's mouth, a noise that had never come out of you before. Amelia pulled away, running a hand over her lips and looking smug.

"You like that?" Amelia asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded, panting like a dog. You had never felt like this before. Almost hungry. It scared you a little.

"You want more?"

You surprised yourself by nodding even more vigorously.

"Yeah," you said, breathlessly. "I think I do."

Amelia grinned and bit her lip, taking your hand and leading you away.

"Where are you taking me?" you laughed, face flushed, electricity running between Amelia's hand and yours.

"Bed," Amelia replied, nearly dragging you as she sped to the car.

heyyy, so i have a request cause i really love your amelia storys. So could you do a amelia one, where the reader is pregnant and amelia is scared to have sex. The reader goes to her best friend (maybe arizona or christina) for advise. Than the friend and the reader go to a sex shop and buy the readers first dildo. Later amelia finds the reader using the toy and the talk about amelia being scared to have sex while the reader is pregnant. And well smut at the end.

Xoxo

Can do! Hope you enjoy. :)

Playing It Safe

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW, sex, fingering, oral, masturbation, toy usage, sex shop, squirting, language around genitalia, some explicit language, previous Amelia trauma, pregnancy times, established relationship (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You're needier than ever during your second trimester, but Amelia has some pregnancy trauma that's getting in the way. Thankfully, you've got people who are willing to help you get what you need.

“Amy,” you prompted as she circled your clit with her tongue. You gently pulled her head up, and she looked up at you expectantly with those beautiful, blue eyes. “I love your mouth, but I need you inside me.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know, babe.” She crossed her arms and rested her chin on your protruding stomach. “It doesn’t feel safe.”

You rolled your eyes. “Amelia, come on. We’ve been over this. Pregnancy sex is perfectly safe. If straight people do it, we can do it.”

“It just…” she stuttered, flopping onto the bed next to you. You sighed, your body drifting down, down from where it had tensed up. You weren’t going to get what you needed. Not today. “It makes me nervous.” She shrugged, and you cupped her face as she lay next to you. How could someone so smart be so stupid.

“You’re a doctor. You should know this. I know this.” Amelia never treated you differently because you were a nurse. You had a different skill set, that was all. But at a time like this, you didn’t mind emphasizing that, of the two of you, Amelia should absolutely be the more educated about pregnancy and safe sex.

Amelia was quiet for a while, looking down and avoiding your eyes. “I keep thinking about Christopher.”

Shit, you thought. It’s not that you’d forgotten about Amelia’s first child, the one who’d died in her arms mere minutes after he was born. Christopher was a part of her. But you sometimes forgot that the hopes and fears that surrounded your pregnancy were different for Amelia than they were for you. Amelia had experience. Not only that, she had trauma. Heart-wrenching, horrible trauma that she’d carry with her the rest of her life, even as she also got to carry and treasure this new child. It wasn’t fair to expect Amelia to be completely rational when it came to pregnancy safety.

You ran your thumb along her cheekbone, your voice soft. “Hey. That’s not gonna happen again. Our baby is perfectly healthy.”

“I just don’t want to take any risks,” Amelia whispered.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

Amelia started moving her hand down your body. “I mean, I can still…”

“It’s fine, Amy,” you said, hoisting yourself out of bed and kissing her on the forehead. “I gotta go to work anyway.”

You felt bad for your patients that night at Grey-Sloan. It wasn’t their fault you were sexually frustrated. You slumped into a rolling chair at the nurse’s station, groaning, and laid your head on the desk.

“Wow.”

You looked up and smiled wryly. It was Arizona–Dr. Robbins, as her patients would call her. For a little while, you and her had been the only out lesbians on the peds floor, so you’d become fast friends. Never dated–you weren’t each other’s type–but you were excellent wingwomen for one another. In fact, it was Arizona who had set you up with Amelia.

She leaned over conspiratorially, so that the people around you wouldn’t overhear your conversation. “That’s a sad lesbian sigh if I’ve ever heard one.”

You shrugged.

“What’s going on?” she prompted. “Trouble in paradise?”

You leaned closer, trying to keep your voice low. “She won’t sleep with me.”

Arizona looked genuinely shocked. “Like, at all!?”

“I mean, she won’t go inside me.”

You had never seen Arizona look more confused. “...Why?”

“She’s afraid it’ll hurt the baby.”

Arizona sat down next to you, rolling close to continue the conversation. “There’s no fucking way she really believes that. She’s a surgeon.”

“I don’t think she really does. She’s just…” You sighed and groaned. “She’s got some trauma.”

Arizona shrugged and mumbled. “I mean, if you really need to, you could just use the strap on yourself.”

You blushed. “We don’t use a strap.”

“Ever?!”

“I don’t know… it just hasn’t come up, I guess.”

She seemed to think deeply about this. “Well, do you have a vibrator or a dildo or anything?”

“No,” you answered quietly, your face getting redder by the minute.

Arizona looked at you like you were an infant, smiling, like you were something cute and tiny. “Aw, you’re just a baby.”

“Shut up. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t make me a baby.”

“No, you’re right,” she nodded, smirking. “Not owning any sex toys makes you a baby.”

You rolled your eyes.

“What time are you off today?” she said, glancing at her watch.

“7:00,” you answered.

“Me too! It’s a date then.”

“Wait, what?” She’d lost you somewhere along the way.

Arizona squeezed your shoulder. “We’re gonna find you something to put inside yourself.”

You’d never felt more out of your element in your life than you did standing in front of a wall of fake penises with Arizona.

She smiled at your horrified face.

“Little much?” she asked.

You nodded. “I don’t know, Arizona. These all seem way too… real.” You eyed a particularly girthy, veiny dildo and grimaced.

Arizona leaned on your shoulder. “They’re better when they’re attached to boobs,” she admitted. “Here, come here.”

She led you to another aisle where the toys were similar in shape, but much less realistic looking. They were almost futuristic. Sleeker, smaller, more your speed. But there were so many of them.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed,” you told her, staring at all the options.

“You want my advice?” she asked.

You shrugged and nodded.

She pulled a toy down and handed it to you. It was blue and small and bent and there were buttons. You felt like you were in Star Trek. “I’d start with this*,” she explained. “It’s relatively small. It bends, so it can mimic the feeling of fingers.” She looked pointedly at you. “Since that’s what you’re used to.”

You nodded, looking at it. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try it anyway. I just…” You sighed. “It’s not as good, is it?”

“As a partner?!” Arizona shook her head. “But it’ll do the job.”

An hour later, you were sitting in bed, the package opened in front of you, reading the little instruction manual. Sixteen settings. An app!? You just weren’t sure about it. And you felt a little bad for even wanting to use it. You knew you weren’t cheating on Amelia by masturbating. You both did it, you both knew you both did it. You worked long hours, sometimes things just didn’t line up. But this felt different somehow. Illicit.

But, god, you needed it. You’d needed it since last night. Since last week, even, when you’d started to show and Amelia had started treating you like you were made of glass.

You took a deep breath and leaned back against the pillows you’d stacked against the headboard, trying to think sexy thoughts. Amelia thoughts. You thought of her body against yours, the taste of her, her curves you loved to trace.

Your breath started to grow rhythmic, ragged, and you circled your fingers gently over your clit. After a few minutes, your arousal started to pool, and you spread it around, taking a deep breath and grabbing the toy. You looked at it suspiciously, as if it was an alien. It wasn’t Amelia. It didn’t look like Amelia. But, then maybe, like Arizona had said, it would get the job done.

You pressed one of the buttons, choosing a vibration pattern at random, and slowly slid the toy inside of you. You moaned at how good it felt to have something inside you, to once again feel something pressed against your fluttering walls. And while, no, it didn’t feel as good as Amelia’s fingers would, it was new and exciting to be able to control everything, all of it, the whole experience. The speed, the depth, the direction, to cater to your every want and move because it was you on both sides.

You continued stroking your clit as you thrust the toy in and out of you, shaking around it. God, you’d needed this.

When Amelia burst into the bedroom, still in her scrubs, you froze, face beet red, hands between your legs. She wasn't supposed to be home. Not this early.

She stared at you in shock, and neither of you spoke for a moment.

“What are you doing!?” she said, sounding somewhere between sad and angry. It was pretty clear exactly what you were doing.

“Amy, I–”

She shook her head in frustration, sitting on the edge of the bed. You tossed the toy aside and covered yourself with the sheets, feeling more self-conscious than you ever had around her.

You felt like crying. All you’d been trying to do was meet your own needs, so that Amelia wouldn’t have to. You didn’t want to make her any more anxious than she already was, but it seemed like you’d done just that.

She looked in your direction, but not in your eyes, and you saw that hers were full of tears.

“Amy…” you breathed, moving toward her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping tears from underneath her eyelids. “I know it’s safe. In my head, I know it, but I’m just–” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m so scared, all the time. And I know you need me, and I’m just–I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” you said, drawing close and wiping a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I should have been better about telling you what I needed and, well, what I was doing to get it.”

She breathed deeply, seeming to calm down a bit, as she looked you over.

“Did you finish?” she asked, smiling slightly.

“What?”

“Just now. Did you finish?”

“Uh… no. No, but that’s oka–”

Amelia’s lips crashed into yours, hot and salty from her tears, and you pulled away a bit, surprised.

“Amy, it’s okay,” you assured her, holding her face in your hands. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she said, her voice rough with lust and emotion. “I’m so tired of being scared.”

You looked into her eyes as she pushed you down on your back. They were lustful, determined, and just a little bit sorry. You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, running a thumb along her brow bone.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, honey,” you told her, quietly. “The baby’s safe and healthy.”

“I know,” she said, pressing her lips to yours and slipping her tongue into your mouth, her hands squeezing your hips. 

And she didn’t look away. She kept her eyes–so beautiful, so brave–on yours as she pressed her fingers inside of you. You gasped, arching your back into her, so happy, so relieved to have her inside you again. The toy was just that–a toy, a tool. Amelia was a goddess.

Amelia whined, too, planting sloppy kisses all over your neck, your collarbone, your chest. “I missed this,” Amelia huffed, high on the way your body pulsed around her, tight and desperate and already so close to the edge. “I missed you.” Her breath was hot on your skin, her lips red and puffy from colliding with yours so furiously.

You felt yourself barrelling toward the cliff of an orgasm and grabbed her arms for dear life. “Amy,” you moaned. “Amy, I’m gonna–”

She grinned as you fell apart, quaking and throbbing around her, your hips thrusting, back arching. But, then–something neither of you had expected or experienced before–a tiny stream of fluid, flooding out of your body. You cried out, coming harder than you’d ever come in your life, way too far gone, too lost in your orgasm, to think about what the hell was going on down there.

When you finally came down, Amelia stared at you, gaping–her face a mixture of shock, self-satisfaction, and pure, dumb happiness.

“Holy shit,” she said, biting her lip and bouncing a little.

You propped yourself up, alarmed at how wet the bed was. “Did I–”

“Yeah,” Amelia laughed, running her hands through her hair. “You sure did, baby. Holy shit.”

You stared at the wet spot. That had never happened before. You weren’t sure you liked it.

“Jesus,” you said, your eyebrows furrowed. “I–”

Amelia crashed her mouth into yours, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Never,” she said, pulling away breathlessly, “let me say I’m too afraid to fuck you again. Never.”

“It’s okay if you are,” you assured her, running your hands up and down her back.

“Nope,” she argued, shaking her head. “If that’s on the table, trauma can suck it.”

You laughed and kissed her again, happy to have her body close to yours–with no inhibitions–once more.

*This is the toy, in case you’re wondering. 😉

Hi!!! I love your Amelia and Emily fics so much, I’ve basically binged them 😂 I was wondering if I could request an Amelia x reader fic where maybe reader is like 6 months pregnant with her and Amelia’s first child and has a bad history with her dad and her dad comes into the hospital with his new wife and her kid and it just stirs bad feelings for reader and Amelia comforts her? Maybe autistic reader? Thank you so much!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm so, so glad you enjoy them! Also, thanks especially for an autistic!reader request, they're some of my favorites to write! Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The R Word

Amelia Shepherd x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: autism struggles, ableism, use of ableist slurs, overstimulation (the autism kind, not the sex kind), explicit language, pregnancy times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: It's a typical day working with a child in the ER when your estranged father shows up and makes you feel just as small and stupid and alien as he did when you were growing up. Amelia is there to comfort you and remind you of who you really are.

“No, Mommy!” the little girl wailed as she writhed on the hospital bed. “I want to go home!”

Her mom looked at you apologetically as she tried to soothe her child. You needed to get her vitals. Based on the mom’s description, you also probably needed to get IV fluids and an antiemetic in her. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen while the kid felt scared and overwhelmed. This wasn’t your first rodeo with kids in the ER. In fact, the other ER nurses often called you over when kids were difficult to work with. They called you the “bad kid whisperer.”

You knew better. They weren’t bad kids. They were usually just scared. There was a lot to be scared of at a hospital. And you were good with them because you understood better than most what it was like for your body and brain to feel so overwhelmed that you could no longer regulate your emotions. Being autistic was hard sometimes, it made you stand out, but this was a place where it made you stand out in a good way.

You lifted your hands to show the little girl that you were setting down all your medical instruments.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, pulling the curtain closed around the bed. Sometimes making the space smaller helped. You bent down to her height, careful to keep your distance and not to touch her.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer, shaking as she sobbed.

You nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now. Do you feel like you can’t breathe or anything?”

The girl shook her head.

“Good. Then all this other stuff can wait, okay? I’m not gonna touch you. No needles, no thermometer, no heartbeat or anything until you feel a little calmer. We can wait.”

She seemed to calm down a bit when she realized you weren’t going to make her do anything, her sobs subsiding to the occasionally aggressive sniffle.

“Here,” you offered, pulling a tiny tech deck skateboard out of the pocket of your scrubs. “Sometimes when I’m scared or nervous, having something to do with my hands makes me feel better.” You rolled the skateboard toward her, and she started running it across the rails of the hospital bed, her breathing starting to calm.

“Better?” you asked.

She nodded.

You started taking her vitals and continued the conversation. “You think you can tell me your name now?”

“Maddy,” she whispered.

You smiled even as you read her temperature: 103.4. Pretty high. She was almost certainly dehydrated. “That’s a really cool name. Now, do you know why your mom brought you here?”

“I threw up,” she told you, lip quivering.

“Oh, man,” you commiserated. “That’s the worst. I hate throwing up.”

Maddy nodded.

“Did you throw up just one time or a lot of times?”

“A lot.”

You exchanged glances with the mom to make sure this information was accurate.

“She can’t keep anything down,” the mom worried, biting her nails.

“Okay. Well, that’s okay. We’re gonna help you feel better. First, we’re gonna get some fluids in you. Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head as you gathered the supplies and pulled on gloves.

“It means your tummy is so sick that when you drink water, it all just comes right back out. And that’s not good because your body needs water. Your heart and your lungs and all the things that make you healthy and strong, they need water. So since you can’t swallow it, we’re gonna put a little tube in your arm and send water through the tube. That way your body gets the water it needs. And we’ll send medicine and electrolytes and all kinds of other good stuff to fight the sickness, too. It’s like we’re sneaking weapons past the sick.”

This explanation seemed to cheer her up a bit. “Like a secret mission?” she asked.

You nodded conspiratorially. “Exactly like a secret mission. But to get all that good stuff in there, we’re gonna have to put a needle in your arm. Just for a second! It makes the path for the supplies to go in.”

Maddy seemed to think deeply about this, then nodded. You had her play with the skateboard while you placed the IV line, ensuring that she was comfortably positioned for a good hour or so of fluid intake.

“Thank you,” her mom mouthed to you, and you gave her a quick thumbs up before adding a few reminders to your chart–what to check in the next hour, etc.

Maddy, now calmer, took a good look at you for the first time, from your glasses to your fingers that twitched by your ears, to your stomach that protruded out past your waistline–you were six months pregnant.

“Why are you so fat?” Maddy blurted out.

“Madeline Grace!” her mom hissed.

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “My tummy looks like this because there’s a baby in there. But some tummies are just bigger than others, too, and that’s okay. All tummies are good tummies.”

“Where’s the daddy?” she asked, reaching out to brush her hand over your stomach.

“No daddy,” you explained. “This baby has two mommies. His other mommy works upstairs. On brains.”

“Brains!?” she squealed.

You nodded. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.”

Just then, the relative calm of a midday ER was interrupted by a loud, brash voice, bursting through the doors, yelling at the nurses at the station.

“Where the fuck is my daughter!? Middle of the fucking work day. Unbelievable. Am I going to fast for you? Read my lips, sweetheart. Madeline. McCallan.”

You froze, any icy stream of panic running from the back of your neck all the way down to your heels. You’d know that voice anywhere. It was an angry voice, a coach’s voice, the voice that had yelled at you to “stay the fuck in the bleachers” when all you wanted was to sit in the car and breathe. The same voice that growled at you to stop “doing that shit with your hands, you look like a r*tard.” The same voice that told you over and over that you weren’t “stupid enough to be on the short bus,” but you were “too stupid to function in real life.”

You felt your brain start swirling, felt panic building in your chest. You knew he’d gotten remarried, of course you knew. But you didn’t talk to him, hadn’t talked to him in nearly a decade. You knew they’d had a kid, but you didn’t know it was this kid.

All the ER noises, the beeps of the machines, the buzzing of the overhead lights–were they getting brighter?–the clang of instruments being set down, wails, conversations, and above it all your dad’s voice. Your dad’s voice. It was too much. It was all way, way too much.

You felt your hands start to shake at your sides, your body swinging back and forth, and you had to stop. You had to stop. Your dad would kill you.

He threw back the curtain, and his jaw dropped when he saw you.

“You!?” he spat, looking down. “Are you pregnant!?”

Maddy seemed oblivious to the tension. “Daddy!” she called. “Her name is Y/N and she gave me this little skateboard and the water is fighting the sickness through my tubes and she has a baby in her tummy and the baby’s other mommy fixes brains.”

You tried so hard not to stim, but it was not working. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a nurse?! God, it’s a miracle you didn’t fucking stab her. You shouldn’t be holding any needles with those flappy arms. Probably shouldn’t be holding any babies either.” He shot out his hand and grabbed Teddy’s arm, which was wild to you. The audacity of the man to assume he had the authority to bother the trauma surgeon. “Yeah, honey, we need a different nurse over here. This one’s a r*tard.”

Teddy looked flabbergasted and deeply offended, but also concerned, as you clenched your teeth, hugging yourself, twisting your body back and forth. “It’s doctor, sir, and that word is not welcome at Grey-Sloan. Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional. In fact, she’s one of our best, especially with kids.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you,” your dad whispered loudly to Teddy. “She’s got autism. She shouldn’t be handling tools or people or anything.”

Teddy pressed her lips together in frustration. “As I said, sir,” she repeated more forcefully. “Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional, and we’re lucky to have her. But I’ll get another nurse over here for you. Y/N?”

Teddy beckoned you over, careful not to touch you, and led you to a quieter corner of the room.

“Who the fuck is that guy?!” she asked.

“M-my dad,” you stuttered. Everything in the room–sounds, lights, smells, all of it–seemed to be crashing over you again and again. As if you’d been knocked over by a wave and couldn’t get back up again because they just kept coming.

“You want to hang out in one of the on-call rooms for a bit?” Teddy suggested.

You nodded.

“Should I page Amelia?”

You shook your head. “She’s in surgery.”

Teddy pulled out her tablet to look. “I mean, we could just check.”

“Don’t bother her,” you repeated. “She’s got work to do. I’ll be okay.”

You made your way to the elevator and up to an on-call room, breathing heavily when you shut the door against the rest of the hospital. You turned off the lights, curling into a corner of the bottom bunk and pulling your knees up to your chest–or as close to your chest as they could get with your baby bump in the way.

You rocked yourself back and forth, thoughts spiraling. The movement and the dark usually calmed you down, but you were having a hard time regulating today, and nothing seemed to be working. Your breath just got faster and faster. And the fact that you couldn’t get yourself out of your spiral only made you spiral more.

You knew you were a good nurse. You knew that. You knew because you’d done it. But you hadn’t ever been a mom before. What if he was right? What if the baby made you overstimulated and you yelled or lashed out? What if the baby went to school and you went to parent nights and he was embarrassed of you, of how you couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t start conversations right and didn’t get the jokes. What if being autistic made you a bad mom?

You had tears streaming down your face by the time you heard a light knock on the door. It creaked open and Amelia’s head popped in. When she saw it was you, she quickly let herself in and locked the door.

“Oh, babe,” she said, watching your body rock back and forth in huge, aggressive sweeps. “A bad one, huh?”

“Go away, Amelia,” you hiccuped.

“Hey,” she said, jokingly. Then when she got closer and saw the tear tracks on your face, she said it again, quieter, sitting next to you on the bed. “Hey.”

When you didn’t say anything, Amelia shrugged. “Teddy said your… dad was here?”

You nodded.

She let out a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Honey, will you let me hold you? Please?”

You nodded.

“Alright,” she said, waiting for your body to line up with hers as you rocked, then quickly grabbing you up in her arms, like she was catching something midair. “Gotcha.” She rocked with you.

“What did he say?” she asked, her breath warm on the top of your head.

“That I shouldn’t hold medical tools or babies because I’m a fucking re– I don’t want to say it. I hate that word.”

You felt Amelia’s arms tighten around you, and her breath came out in huffs. She was very angry. “As you should,” she told you. “It’s a nasty word. And it’s a word that doesn’t describe you at all, you know that.”

“I don’t know, Amy,” you whispered into her chest. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Babe, I think that ship has sailed,” Amelia said, running her fingers through your hair.

“Not my dad,” you explained. “The baby.”

Amelia was quiet for a moment, then you felt her lips press against the top of your head.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course he’ll like you. He’ll love you. You're his mom.”

“But what if I’m bad at it? What if autism makes me bad at it?”

“Y/N,” Amelia said, gently grabbing your face and positioning it so that you had to look in her general direction, if not in her eyes. “Look how good you are with the kids in the ER. You’re gonna be an incredible mom.”

“I’m just scared,” you admitted.

“I’m a little scared, too,” Amelia told you. “But you know what? I think we’re gonna be okay. Me and you together? I mean, surely, combined, we can be at least one whole good mom, right?”

You giggled.

Amelia grinned at you. “There she is.”

You were quiet for a moment, playing with Amelia’s finger, with the edges of her scrubs.

“You know what you are?” Amelia asked after a bit, kissing your forehead. “You are smart and kind and empathetic. You’re funny and brave and you work hard. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

You looked away.

“Hey,” she said, pulling your face back toward her again. “I don’t like people talking about my wife like that. Even you.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing your face to her chest.

“Are you going back down there?” Amelia asked.

You shrugged.

“Want me to check if your dad’s still here?”

“Would you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, standing and placing one more kiss on your cheek. “In fact, I’d really like to talk to him.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you fired, Amy,” you called after her.

She looked back at you and winked as she walked through the door. “Can’t make any promises.”

Left Unsaid

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst (happy ending!), sex, fingering, explicit language, surgery times (duh), (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You used to be Dr. Shepherd's favorite resident, but something had happened in the last month that drove you further apart than ever. Will it get resolved (hint: yes, it does)?

“You, out!”

You stood, flabbergasted, in full scrub, suctioning blood out of someone’s brain-deep head wound. The OR had gone deathly silent, and if they could’ve seen your face under your surgical mask, they would have seen you blushing bright red.

All you’d done was ask a question. All you’d wanted to know was why Dr. Shepherd had gone after the brain bleed at the angle she did, because it wasn’t the angle you’d expected. You were a surgical resident. Asking questions is what you were supposed to do.

“Dr. Shepherd, I–”

“Uh-uh. You? Out of here. You’re distracting me, Y/L/N. And if you can’t focus on saving this man’s life, you don’t need to be in here.”

Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, you handed off the suction tube to another resident and quickly burst through the doors and into the scrub room, washing your hands furiously. You felt like crying. You didn’t know what was going on these days.

During your intern year, you’d gotten really close with Dr. Shepherd. She’d sort of take you under her wing, said you had the right mind and hands for neuro. You worked well together, almost read each other’s thoughts sometimes, it seemed. But the last month or so, she’d all but banished you from her service.

You knew part of it had to be Webber’s new initiative for “well-rounded surgeons,” a new protocol where residents were cycled between attendings at random, with no favoritism or preference allowed. But even when you were assigned to neuro, Dr. Shepherd always put you on the other neurosurgeon’s service. She hardly talked to you at all.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong, something to completely ruin the mentorship–no, the friendship–you’d felt like you were forming with Dr. Shepherd. Not only did you miss her company, miss working with her, but you missed neuro.

You spent the rest of your day on neuro doing glorified scut alongside the interns. Humiliating. And when you finally went home, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and order Chinese food. But a text from your cohort group chat reminded you that tonight was the annual Surgeons for Surgeons benefit gala. And unless you wanted to be fired, you’d have to show up, bells on, ready to mix and mingle and convince Seattle’s rich and famous to donate to the program that connected Seattle-Grace with its partner hospital in Nairobi.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before leaving. Thanks to a very artful layer of makeup, you looked a little less exhausted than you really were. And you had to admit, you looked good in a suit.

By the time you and your friends arrived at the gala, things were in full swing. Wine, music, twinkling lights, the whole shebang. You were determined to have fun with your friends, despite whatever weird stuff was going on with Dr. Shepherd. You’d had a few glasses of wine, had danced with a few other residents, and had generally avoided Dr. Shepherd, even though once or twice you’d caught her watching you. Let her feel bad, you thought. She was out of line.

But when you were on your way back from the bathroom, a hand shot out of a hallway and gently grabbed your arm.

“Jesus, Dr. Shepherd,” you complained, straightening your suit as she crossed her arms and looked at you, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You just…” She threw up her hands. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve been avoiding you!?” You scoffed. “Dr. Shepherd, you haven’t talked to me in over a month. I went from being the de facto neuro resident to being bottom of the barrel in your OR. So forgive me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to chat with you.”

Dr. Shepherd looked at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed. “Look, I don’t care if we’re friends, okay? I– I would have liked it. I like you. But my career comes first. And whatever’s going on with us got in the way of that today. So whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Okay? But I love neuro. And I’m good at it. You don’t have to talk to me ever, outside of work, but you cannot keep me from surgery.”

You started to walk away, but she stopped you.

“Y/N!” she called, grabbing your hand and holding it for just a moment too long. You were taken aback by her use of your first name. She always called you Dr. Y/L/N. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay…” You shrugged. “So put me back on your service.”

“No, I mean…” She exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You liked Dr. Shepherd. You really liked her. You thought she’d liked you. You thought that in another life… But it didn’t matter now.

“Message received,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“God, that’s not what I meant. I’m fucking this up.” She looked at you almost like she was in pain. As if there were words she just couldn’t get out. “What the hell,” she finally mumbled, then grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. But her lips felt so good against yours, her hands warm and soft against your skin. This was what Dr. Shepherd had wanted with you, why she’d been avoiding you. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was what you’d wanted to, you’d just been too scared to let yourself admit it.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing her into the wall to deepen the kiss. She whined into your mouth, her tongue fighting for entrance, and you knew–by the arousal shooting down through your very core, the wetness pooling in your underwear–that this would not end here tonight. Amelia’s arms snaked underneath your blazer, searching for skin.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Amelia muttered breathlessly, painstakingly unbuttoning the collar of your dress shirt, then continuing on to the lower ones.

“Whoa!” You grabbed her wrists, pushing them away. “We’re in a public hallway, Dr. Shepherd.”

She huffed, pulling you by the arm into the closest room, which turned out to be some poor soul’s vacated office at this event venue. She slammed the door, taking her own turn to push you against a surface. It took your breath away.

“Don’t call me Dr. Shepherd when we’re about to have sex,” she said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fine, Amelia,” you retorted, and she smiled into a kiss. She liked a little sass in a woman.

With one hand, you rolled her nipple between your fingers. With the other, you moved slowly down her body, gently pulling up her dress to slip a hand into her underwear.

She gasped as you brushed lightly over her clit. “Fuck,” she breathed, throwing her head back. You smiled, happy to have a little power. Amelia might have all the power in the OR, but you had all the power here. You could tell by the way her hips rolled toward you, by the way she leaned heavily on the desk at her back–she wanted you bad.

She breathed heavily, squeezing your arms as she pushed her hips into you, desperate for the friction, the pressure. You grinned wickedly and removed your hand, licking her arousal off your fingers.

“Y/N!” she protested, glaring at you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to be thinking deeply, circling the rest of her vulva so that you were close, so close, to where she needed you, but not quite there. “You know what? I bet this feels a lot like being knee deep in a surgery and then being pulled for no reason at all.”

“I said I was sorry! Please, Y/N.” You had her squirming and writhing and you were getting drunk off her desperation.

You pushed two of your fingers into her warmth, already so wet, so ready for you, and she moaned. “I mean, I guess, if you insist.” You smirked at her, loving to see her lose control. She was always so in control at work. It was honestly something you admired about her. But right now? All you wanted was to see her coming apart.

There was a part of you that wanted to tell all the residents, to tell everyone that you were fucking Dr. Amelia Shepherd. But there was another part of you–deeper, softer, more you–that wanted to keep her all to yourself. Because some part of you knew that it wasn’t just sex, no matter how much easier it’d be if it was.

Amelia’s breathing grew ragged, her walls pulsing around you and you knew she was close. You circled her clit with your thumb, and she thrust her hips up into your touch, chest heaving, legs shaking. And when she finally, finally hit her peak, you scooped your arm around her back to hold her up, keeping your rhythm steady until she came down, resting her head on your shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

“Fuck!” she breathed, lifting her head to grin at you and tuck your hair behind your hair. “Your hands.”

“That’s why I’m such a good surgeon.” You winked at her.

“That’s why you’re good at a number of things, apparently.” Amelia pulled her underwear up, straightening her dress.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Should we go back in?”

You scoffed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Why?!”

“Are you kidding me!? There’s a fucking lake in my underwear right now. I gotta go home.”

Amelia smirked, pulling you down by your collar for another kiss. You couldn’t take much more of this. You needed her. Or a vibrator. Or a dildo. Or something.

“You want help?” she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You blushed. The tables had turned all of a sudden, and she was the one with the power now. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be good.”

She laced her hand in yours, squeezing it. “Take me home, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“What if someone sees us!?” you hissed, looking both ways out the office door.

“We’ll slip out the back.”

“Sneaky.” You nodded. “I like this side of you.”

Glancing furtively around, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck, taking you by surprise. You gasped.

She pressed her lips against your ear. “I’ve got a lot of sides you haven’t seen yet.”

God, you couldn’t wait to see them.

“ - I’m fine. - That’s crap. Keeping everything you’re going through inside, shutting out the people who love you. That’s not dealing, that’s hiding. You and I, we don’t have the luxury of ignoring our emotions, hoping they’ll just go away. That bites people like us in the ass. The only way you’re gonna get through this is to let yourself feel every heartbreaking, gut-wrenching part of it. ”

— Private Practice