the end of the film

Now complete! Read it from the beginning here!

Written for @leopoldjamesfitzs, @jewishfitz, and @agent-hayley who requested FS + I think you’re beautiful.

Thanks again to @consoledacup for the beta!

Synopsis: Fitz is a jazz pianist hung up on keeping old traditions alive. Jemma wants to make it as an actress in Los Angeles, but wonders if all the pain along the way is worth it. When their paths cross unexpectedly, they’ll form a connection that will inspire them to strive for their dreams.

Read the FINAL CHAPTER below or on AO3!

iv. a dance

The small bench wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed since the last time they were on the top of the hill. When they first walked up this hill late on a Friday night years ago, nearly strangers but with the thrilling feeling of maybe something more, Jemma never anticipated where their relationship would go.

Jemma sat impatiently glancing every few moments to see if he’d arrived, and a small sliver of fear in her gut told her he wouldn’t show up. But that fear quickly washed away because there he was, strolling up the hill as if it were something he did every day.

Jemma let out a heavy sigh as a wide smile filled her face. “You kept your promise.”

“Of course, I did. It wasn’t like I had a choice as you kept reminding me every day for the last month.”

“I know. I just didn’t want you to forget.”

Fitz stopped then directly in front of her and shook his head. “Jemma, I would never forget.”

Smiling sheepishly, she curled her hair behind her ear and looked down at her feet.

“I’m still not used to it,” he muttered while stepping towards her, his shoes clicking on the concrete. These shoes didn’t have the old familiar scuffs; instead, they shined brightly against the sun, just as his smile radiated up to his eyes.

Jemma grinned cheerfully. “What? And you think I am?”

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I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs,
       and no one even looks up.
                                                                             Titanic, November 18, 1997


Sherlock closes his eyes so the last thing he sees in case his plan doesn’t work is John.


Back then, if we could have heard each other’s voices, everything would have been so much better. And now, I understand. What your voice was saying back then. You and me, can we be… friends?


End of a summer day by Katarina Stefanović