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Pairing: Amelia Shepherd X reader
Word count: 837
A/N: Amelia actually needs more fics. Show my girl some love. Okay, now actually about the writing. Gender neutral reader, Amelia is running as always, and reader isn’t standing for it (fight for your girl!).
Loving Amelia Shepherd mentally was easy, natural as breathing air— physically? Not so much.
Amelia is a runner. One sign of anything romantic and she bolts. She’s been hurt too much, rewarded too little. It was the same cycle, falling hard, revealing herself, becoming too much for anyone to handle.
She’s learned that the cycle only stops if you don’t give it any possible chance to repeat.
She’s been off all day ever since you first asked her out.
You swore she was avoiding you too, leaving the attendings’ lounge when you walked in, silent in surgery, even running from hallways when you were near. It was exhausting trying to close the distance between the two of you.
You stepped into the on-call room. The bed creaks as you close the door behind you, Amelia standing up to leave. She moved to walk out, standing in front of you now— but you wouldn’t let that happen again.
You locked the door behind you, placing your hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until her knees hit the bed. Her eyes darted to the door, she could run if she wanted to, but you weren’t above chasing her.
Your hands lingered as you looked her in the eyes. “You’re being weird.”
She looks offended— which just pisses you off. She knows what you’re talking about. “Oh, wow, thanks—“
“You build walls faster than you save lives, Amelia.” You stated.
“Is that a dig at my surgical skills?”
“It’s a dig at your poor attempts at relationships.”
“I don’t want a relationship with you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “But you didn’t reject me.”
That made Amelia pause, her confidence faltering. You have her backed into a corner, and she doesn’t like the loss of control.
It was her first instinct to leave and scramble for control, for anything to keep this from getting too real.
But this already feels too real.
It felt too real the second the second you walked in, the second you reciprocated your feelings, every second you just existed. You completed her, made her feel whole in every way that mattered— and that scared her beyond belief.
Her mouth opens to speak, to deflect, to confess, to yell, to scream—but none of those options comes out. Her mouth closed.
A hand of yours moves from her shoulder to the side of her face, and Amelia finds herself leaning into your touch. It wasn’t intentional, but instinctual.
“You need to talk to me,” you said softly. “You can’t run. Not from me.”
“You don’t get it,” she murmured, dejected. “Everyone leaves eventually. If I don’t let them in, they’ll never have to leave.”
“Do you know how stupid that sounds? I’m here. Do you know miserable life would be if all you thought about was the future?” Your other hand found her face. You leaned into her, trying to envelop her in all your love for her. “I’m here right now.”
“What about when you’re not? What do I do then— how do I survive?” She wasn’t saying it to convince you anymore, rather to search for answers. She was just as uncertain as you.
“How did you survive all the other times?”
For a moment she doesn’t reply. “I didn’t.”
“Let me show you how.”
It was a promise she wanted to desperately to believe. She wanted to just hold onto that and never let go, let herself fall into you.
She inhaled, steeling herself. “Promise you’ll stay.” It wasn’t a request— it couldn’t be. “Promise.”
“I promise.” You said softly, a smile growing on your face. You lean in, brushing your lips against her forehead, then her cheek, and finally, her mouth—soft and sure.
She kisses you back like she’s trying to memorize it, like she’s afraid it’ll disappear.
But it doesn’t. You don’t.
You stay.