Falling for You
FitzSimmons, rated G, 1025 words Summary: Fitz is an angel who's a little too wicked for heaven and Jemma's a fallen angel who's too good for hell. Maybe they were meant to be. Written for @aosficnet2 AU August: Immortal creatures and prompted by the lovely @accio-the-force. Beta’d by the wonderful @libbyweasley <3 (I know I used a picture from Good Omen because it’s a wonderful show and the image fit perfectly but it is not in fact a Good Omen AU even though it was obviously in my mind when I wrote this!) Fitz blinked several times as he came out of the woods. The sky was a perfect blue with only a few fluffy clouds low on the horizon and with the turquoise lake extending in front of him, the light was blinding, even by his standards. There was only a small cottage on the other side, barely visible as it was surrounded by trees and bushes in bloom. There was even a big apple tree. Fitz's lips pulled into a wide smile as he started on the path going left around the lake.
The first time he'd been here, there was only the lake and taller grass. Humans had only just started moving North from less hostile parts of the island but they hadn't reached this place yet. That was when and where he had first met Jemma. Despite her wings having turned black a long time ago, they had immediately enjoyed each other's company, sharing a humor their brothers and sisters were often lacking, as well as a love and curiosity for all the things and creatures who lived on these lands. They had met here many times over the past millennia. They'd watched nature and humanity evolve as their attachment for each other grew exponentially, but Fitz loved that this specific place was still almost as wild as the first time he’d seen it. Except for the little haven Jemma had created amidst the grassy hills.
She was on the left side of the house, taking care of her vegetable garden, when he made it to the house. There was no gate at the entrance --not that she needed one-- and Fitz just walked in. He smiled as he noticed all the flower pots neatly lined up on the windowsills as well as the big black cat who barely gave him a glance before going back to sleep on the sun soaked stairs. Continue reading on AO3
