#fitz fics

🔹 Fluff 🔹 Playful Banter 🔹 Height Differences 🔹 Teasing 🔹 Slow Burn 🔹 Romantic Chemistry 🔹 Kitchen Setting 🔹 Light Angst (if you squint) 🔹 Countertop Kiss 🔹 F!Reader 🔹 Request🦋

You were attempting to reach a high shelf in Fitz’s kitchen, stretching on your toes as you tried to grab a bag of chips. You heard the unmistakable sound of his chuckle behind you before you even turned around. “Need a ladder there, short stuff?” Fitz’s voice was dripping with amusement as he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and that damn smirk on his face. “Don’t start,” you said, narrowing your eyes but unable to hide your own grin. He took a step closer, towering over you, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re built for hobbit holes. What are you even trying to grab up there?” You huffed. “The chips. And it’s not my fault you designed your kitchen for people who play basketball.” “Correction: I designed my kitchen for me.” He strolled over, effortlessly plucking the bag from the shelf like it was nothing. “And you’re welcome.” Relief flooded you—until he held the bag just out of reach. “Fitz!” He tilted his head, grinning wider. “What? I worked hard for this. I think I deserve a little appreciation.” “Give it here,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“Hmm,” he said, pretending to consider as he held the bag even higher. “What’s the magic word?” “Now.” “Close, but no.” Without thinking, you jumped to grab it, only for him to raise it even higher. “Fitz, I swear—” “Swear what, shorty?” he teased, laughing when you glared up at him. “Oh, don’t pout. You’re making this too easy.” You stomped your foot, glaring up at him, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, come on! Stop being a giant for once in your life.” He laughed, a deep sound that sent warmth through you. “Not my fault you’re fun-sized.” You crossed your arms, glaring at him, but he leaned down, closing the gap between you. “You know, you’re kind of adorable when you’re mad,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way out of this,” you replied, but your breath hitched as his free hand rested on your waist. “Who said I was sweet-talking?” His smirk softened, replaced by something more serious as his gaze flicked to your lips. “You’re just really easy to tease.”

Your witty comeback died on your lips as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth. The bag of chips dropped to the counter with a soft thud, forgotten entirely as he cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss that left you breathless. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever—soft but insistent, his other hand sliding up your back to pull you closer. You clutched at the front of his hoodie, standing on your toes to meet his height. Then, in one fluid motion, Fitz’s hands gripped your waist and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. The cool surface sent a shiver through you, contrasting with the warmth of his touch as he stepped between your legs, his hands finding your thighs. “Better?” he murmured against your lips, the teasing tone still there but laced with something deeper. “Much better,” you managed, your voice shaky. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back down as his lips moved from yours to your jaw, trailing down your neck with featherlight kisses. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

f!reader, exes to lovers, tender moments, emotional intimacy, soft!Fitz, raw emotions, love confessions, second chances, request🦋

The party was buzzing, a low hum of music and laughter threading through the dimly lit room. You hadn’t planned on coming—parties like this had never been your scene—but your friends had insisted, and here you were, clutching a drink like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground. And then you saw him.

Cameron.

It had been months since the breakup, yet seeing him was like stepping into a time machine. His laugh reached your ears before your eyes could fully process him, that familiar, carefree grin spreading across his face as he talked to a group of friends. He hadn’t changed—same easy posture, same warm energy that had drawn you in the first time. Your stomach twisted as memories came flooding back, a mix of joy and heartbreak. He caught your gaze across the room, and for a moment, everything seemed to still. His smile faltered, replaced by something softer, more hesitant. He started walking toward you, weaving through the crowd with that signature confidence that made him so damn magnetic. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low but tinged with surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Same,” you replied, your throat dry. You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as shaky as it felt. “How’ve you been?” “Good. Busy.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, nervous gesture that seemed at odds with the confident man everyone else saw.

“You?” “Same,” you said, taking a sip of your drink to avoid elaborating. An awkward silence settled between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake. But then he leaned closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I’ve missed you.” The words hung in the air between you. I’ve missed you. Three simple words, yet they carried so much weight. Your grip tightened on your drink as you looked away, afraid that if you met his gaze for too long, you’d crack. “Cameron,” you began, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “You don’t get to say that after everything.” He flinched, his confident mask slipping for just a second. “I know. I know I fucked up, Y/N. I didn’t mean to drop that on you, but it’s true.” You set your drink down on a nearby table, needing your hands free to keep from shaking. “Why now? Why not… months ago?” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m an idiot. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you go. I thought it’d be better for you if I…” He trailed off, frustration flashing in his eyes. “But it wasn’t better. For either of us.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “You don’t get to do this, Cam. You don’t get to walk back into my life and—” “Y/N, please,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just… I needed to tell you that I still love you. I never stopped.” The room felt like it was closing in, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. You wanted to be angry, to push him away and tell him he didn’t deserve another chance. But the truth was, you missed him too. Every laugh, every late-night conversation, every tender moment—it was all still there, buried beneath the pain. “Why should I believe you?” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. “What’s different now?” “Because I’m actually here,” he said, stepping closer, his voice steady despite the desperation in his eyes. “Because I’m done pretending I can live without you. I’m not perfect, Y/N, but I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth it. If you let me.” Your resolve faltered, the vulnerability in his voice hitting you like a tidal wave.

Before you could think better of it, you closed the distance between you, your hand grabbing the front of his shirt.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you pulled him down into a kiss. He froze for a heartbeat before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss was intense, all the pent-up longing and emotion pouring out in a rush. His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, like he was afraid this moment would slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together. “Upstairs,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Please.” You nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you through the crowd. Your heart pounded as he guided you to an empty room, the door clicking shut behind you. The moment you were alone, he was on you again, his lips finding yours as his hands roamed your body. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you against the wall. “I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with raw emotion. “Missed you.” “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, pulling him closer.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch searing against your skin as he lifted it over your head. You followed suit, tugging at his hoodie until it joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. The next moments were a blur of heat and need, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands explored every inch of you. He backed you toward the bed, lowering you onto the mattress with a reverence that made your chest ache. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze locked on yours as he leaned down to kiss you again. Your hands found his belt, fumbling with the buckle as he chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. “Someone’s eager.” “Shut up,” you shot back, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your frustration. He helped you, discarding the rest of his clothes before sliding yours off with the same care. When he finally settled over you, his weight grounding you, you felt a sense of rightness you hadn’t felt in months. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft as he searched your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m sure.” His movements were slow at first, every touch and kiss filled with unspoken promises. But as the tension built between you, the pace quickened, his control slipping as he gave in to the passion simmering beneath the surface. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as his thrusts grew more desperate. “You feel so good. Like you were made for me.” Your hands tangled in his hair, your nails digging into his scalp as you pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t stop,” you gasped against his lips. “Please, Cam.” He didn’t. If anything, your plea spurred him on, but not just with raw intensity—there was tenderness in the way his hands cupped your face, his lips brushing yours between each deep, deliberate thrust. His gaze never left yours, even as his movements grew more urgent, more desperate. “I’ve missed everything about you,” he whispered, his voice ragged and filled with emotion. “The way you feel, the way you look at me… the way you love me.”

His words struck something deep within you, your chest tightening with emotion as you clung to him. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and uneven as he poured everything he had into each movement, each touch. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, the overwhelming mix of love and desire threatening to consume you. When the moment finally shattered, your body trembled beneath him, a broken cry slipping from your lips as waves of pleasure rippled through you. Tears stung your eyes, not just from the intensity but from the sheer depth of the connection you felt with him in that moment. Cameron held you close, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. He wasn’t far behind, his movements faltering as he buried himself as deep as he could, his body shuddering as he let go. His forehead fell to your shoulder, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses along your collarbone as he murmured your name like it was the only word that mattered. “God,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “You’re everything. You always have been.”