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bestmensclothingbrandbd · 9 months

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Best Men's Clothing Brands-2023

Louis Vuitton – Clothing Brand for Men:

Louis Vuitton, a French fashion house founded in 1854 by Louis Vuitton producing leather goods, handbags, trunks, shoes, watches, jewellery, and accessories. It is one of the most valuable best men’s clothing brand in the world with profit margins north of 30%. For men, they offer All Ready-to-Wear Leather, Coats and Outerwear, Blazers and Jackets, Pants, Denim, Shirts, Knitwear, and Sweatshirts, T-Shirts and Polos, Swimwear and much more. Louis Vuitton stores are present all around the globe in different continents. They also sell their designer wears form various e-commerce websites.

Gucci – Clothing Brand for Men:

Gucci is an expensive Italian fashion and leather goods brand, is owned by the French company Kering. For men, this brand offers a variety of Suits & Blazers, Shorts & Pants, Denim, Shirts, Sweaters &, Cardigans, Sweatshirts & Hoodies, T-Shirts & Polo Shirts, Activewear. This Luxurious best men's clothing brand has its stores established all over the world. Along with walk-in stores, Gucci has focused on online shopping activity, creating a sense of digital inspiration by including visually rich large images, promotional videos, and collaboration with celebrities.

Giorgio Armani – Clothing Brand for Men:

Giorgio Armani an Italian luxury fashion house founded by Giorgio Armani. The brand offers ready-to-wear, leather goods, shoes, watches, jewellery, accessories, eyewear, cosmetics, and home interiors. The brand‘s craftsmanship and luxurious materials make the Armani legacy top-notch and world-famous. Armani’s best men’s clothing brand collection includes T-shirts & Polos, Pants, Jeans, Jackets, Outerwear, Suits & Tuxedos.

Balenciaga:

Founded by Spanish designer Cristóbal Balenciaga in 1917, Balenciaga is a French luxury fashion house. Balenciaga is successful because it attracts and spoofs American streetwear culture by reconfiguring historical touchstones and selling the ideas back to its audience. Balenciaga is known for its most spectacular Shoe wears. This one of the best men’s clothing brand offers a wide variety of designer and luxurious kickass leather sneakers, leather goods, and outerwear.

The North Face:

The North Face, Inc. is an American established company. The North Face produces clothing, footwear, outerwear, fleece, coats, shirts, footwear, and outdoor equipment such as backpacks, tents, and sleeping bags. It is one of the most emphasized men’s clothing brands because their jackets offer outstanding performance and are some of the most durable ones in the market. The North Face is a great choice when it comes to sportswear, also known as the Ski brand.

H&M:

Hennes & Mauritz AB commonly known as H&M is a Swedish multinational clothing retail company, it has grown into one of the most recognizable brands in the fashion industry. They present a wide range of clothes like t-shirts, jackets, jeans or track pants and H&M shoes to get the most classic look at the best price. They run some successful campaigns The Free Fit denim, Denim deal, The easy-care shirt, Lil Nas X merch, Outrun yourself, CHIMI x H&M. H&M has become the world’s go-to place for a quick shopping fix, with affordable and sustainable best men’s clothing brand.

Versace:

Versace, is an Italian fashion company and endowed by Gianni Versace in 1978. The brand which produces upmarket Italian-made wearables and leather accessories. High-end fashion is meant to be excellent to middle range clothing brands because of the history of the brand, unique branding, aesthetic, and merely because the brand name itself implies a higher “luxury” status. Versace showcases some of the most unique collections for best men’s clothing brand, an array of suits, shirts, T-shirts, coats, jackets, pants, and jeans with impeccable style.

Hermes:

The French luxury brand and goods manufacturer Hermes, that specializes in leather, lifestyle accessories, home furnishings, perfumery, jewellery, watches, and ready-to-wear clothing. The energy of pure colour meets the poetry of washed-out tones. Free dialogue between shapes, lines, and designs. Most merchandise in Hermès boutiques is very expensive and they attract a lot of attention. Hermes is one of the best men’s clothing brand well known for its seasonal fashion clothes and popular among celebrities.

Prada:

The renowned Italian luxury fashion house dealing in leather handbags, travel accessories, clothing, shoes, ready-to-wear, perfumes, and other fashion accessories, the most popular brand among celebrities. Prada shoes for men are sought after by those who recognize and cherish top-quality design. The label focuses on creating innovative yet timeless pieces for the ever-evolving modern wardrobe. One of the Best men’s clothing brand offers a luxury range of t-shirts, trousers, jackets, shirts, pants, etc.

Ralph Lauren:

The American fashion company Ralph Lauren produces products ranging from the mid-range to the luxury segments. It’s one of the best men’s clothing brand in the world clothing industry.The Purple Label is the top-end Ralph Lauren label and by far the most expensive collection of the brand, which is why it is placed at the bottom of the list of top 10 clothing brands. This company has emerged as the epitome of luxury designer wear to a focus on affordable fashion. Men can find everything from classic men’s polo shirts and sweatshirts to casual shirts and pants. Ralph Laurenmen’s shirts are tailored to perfection to fit you like a dream. You can choose from cotton twill shirts, linen sports ones, or denim ones.

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madmom57 · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: The North Face Women’s Quarter Zip Sherpa Pullover Jacket XXL NWT.

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boomtee · 2 years

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Grinch All I Need Is Jagermeister It Is Too Peopley Outside Ugly Xmas Sweater

The North Node of Gemini is in Gemini, pushing us to find clarity in matters while moving toward greater understanding of Grinch All I Need Is Jagermeister It Is Too Peopley Outside Ugly Xmas Sweater. This means that the South Node of Destiny will be in Sagittarius, which means we are releasing outdated philosophies. There will be four eclipses in 2021. These are action packed luminaries in the form of a Solar Eclipse, which is an intense New Moon, and a Lunar Eclipse, which is an energetically charged Full Moon. Each will bring major circumstances in situations and relationships to light. The Eclipses will occur on these dates: The Lunar Eclipse in Sagittarius on May 26th, Solar Eclipse in Gemini on June 10th, Lunar Eclipse in Taurus on November 19th, and a Solar Eclipse in Sagittarius December 4th. Mercury Retrograde will occur on January 30th to February 21st in Aquarius, May 29th to June 22nd in Gemini, and September 27th to October 23rd in Libra. During this time, we’ll change and evolve our innermost perspectives and ideology.

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 3 years

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@a-reader-and-a-writer requested: 24. Letters to Santa

Romanticgumchewer's Christmas Spectacular - DAY FOUR - Santa's Mailbox (AU!Rick Flag x AU!OC))

Summary: Foxglove gets really into Christmas and Rick has never really understood the tradition of the North Pole Village downtown...that is until Delphia drags him there with all her Christmas cheer.

Pairing: Tattooist!Rick Flag x Florist!OFC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 2602

Warnings: flufffff, hallmark levels of cheese factor going on, rick flag is in love

if i go masterlist

The Little Flower Market was decked out for the Christmas season. There was a wreath on the door, lights strung up over the awning, the window display was a beautiful scene from the Nutcracker itself — cotton-covered table for snow, a little nutcracker and ballerina, frosted trees and all. The inside was completely changed for the season as well. Poinsettias were the only flower for sale. Ornaments and custom wreaths lined the walls, garland and ribbons in beautiful sparkling gold, silver, green, and red.

The shop was packed with people, Christmas music blaring over top of all the excited chatter. Their little town of Foxglove was famous for only two things: A senator sex scandal (which no one liked to talk about) and The North Pole Village. People traveled from all over the state, all over the country even, to get just a hint of the Christmas spirit that seemed to pour from the place during this time of year.

And it seemed like The Little Flower Shop was the place to be — or at least that was how it felt to Rick Flag as he walked into the place at what he thought was closing time. He also felt that he didn’t seem to match the general excitement and dress of the crowd. He had not gotten the memo that he was supposed to wear the ugliest red and green thing in his closet — but Delphia definitely had.

She was standing behind the cash register with a grin as wide as her face. A reindeer headband was on top of her head and she was wearing a red and green striped Christmas sweater, a scene of snowmen with real carrot-shaped buttons and pompoms sewed onto it. It was hideous, and it made Rick nearly burst out laughing. When she spotted him from across the shop her smile only grew, her hand instantly shooting up into the air to wave at him.

He moved his way through the people with polite excuse mes, and when he finally reached the counter it felt like it had taken him ages.

“Isn’t it five minutes till close?” Rick asked her as he glanced over at the woman next up in line to check out.

“We’re staying open later cause of the Village,” she explained at a rapid pace before turning to the woman, “Just one second Judy — Cleo’s coming to relieve me.”

Rick internally groaned. The Village. To others, it may have been a source of Christmas cheer, but to him, it was only a nuisance. For nearly an entire month four streets in the middle of town were blocked off from all traffic and it made driving to and from work a chore. And when he mentioned to Delphia that he had never actually been to it, she practically demanded that they go for at least one evening. He had rolled his eyes but relented.

Judy, a plump, older woman with a severe grey fringe grinned up at Rick. “You two goin’ on a date?”

“Uh, yeah?” Rick replied with a furrowed brow, watching helplessly as Delphia disappeared into the back to fetch Cleo.

Judy put a finger to his arm. “You take care of that one — we’re all rather fond of her.”

“So am I, ma’am,” he said, a soft smile that no one would ever guess a man like that was capable of producing, pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, Judy.” A small, ancient-looking woman peeked out from around her shoulder. “I think he’s in love with her.”

Before Rick could refute, or say anything at all really, Delphia was coming back out from the backroom with an exasperated-looking Cleo in tow. She smiled at him as she untied her apron and hung it on the hook behind the register, grabbing her coat instead.

“You ready to go?” she asked sweetly.

“Er — yeah. Yeah. Let’s get goin’.” Rick grabbed her outstretched hand as she walked around the counter, keeping a wary eye on those nosy old ladies.

“You two have fun now!” Judy called to them as Rick pulled her towards the door.

The chilled night air had a slight bite to it, nipping at their cheeks and noses as they practically burst through the front door of the shop and out onto the sidewalk. Delphia quickly pulled out her earmuffs and clapped them over her ears — overtop the antler headband of course. And if Rick thought the inside of The Little Flower Market was festive, downtown Foxglove was absolute madness.

Every street lamp was tied up with a larger-than-life, lit-up candy cane. Every storefront was lined with lights and garland. And it only got more and more festive the closer to the actual town square they got. The courthouse at the center was all aglow, lights strung from the center spire cascading down to create a canopy of sparkling wonder over the entire square. There were temporary booths set up all over the closed-off streets that sold handmade ornaments, home knitted scarves and hats, hot cocoa, mulled wine, beer cheese soup and sausage. There was an entire elf village for children to play in, a temporary ice rink for skating, actual reindeer for people to feed carrots to, and of course an opportunity to meet the Santa and Mrs. Claus. But the piece de resistance was Santa’s Mailbox.

“Did you bring your letter?” Delphia asked as they moved towards the North Pole Village.

Rick hung his head with a sigh, feeling the envelope deep in his Carhart pocket. “Yeah, I brought the letter.”

“Did you write anything?” she questioned skeptically.

“I wrote somethin’,” he defended, “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal — ? Rick.” She looped her arm through his with a serious look on her face that he couldn’t help but smile at. “You’ve lived in Foxglove for three years and you have not once been to the North Pole Village — you haven’t put your letter to Santa in the mailbox yet. It’s tradition when you live here.”

“Yeah, for little kids maybe.”

Delphia looked up at him from beneath her lashes, antlers flopping with her harsh movement. “Rude.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that — I — “ Rick huffed, a heat creeping up his neck.

“I know what you meant.” She bumped his shoulder with hers and he sighed in relief. “Christmas is a bit childish — but it’s also magic and joy and generosity. And who wouldn’t want to get in on that?”

The way she looked up at him then, cheeks pinked by the bitter cold and a grin on her lips, Rick really wanted to kiss her. To maybe siphon off of her just a little bit of that magic, that joy, that generosity that she described. Because he wanted to feel it, he wanted to feel it so badly for her. For this woman that had brought so much magic, joy, and generosity into his life already — just in a few short months. But he just wasn’t feeling it yet. He never had been good at getting into the Christmas spirit. Made even worse now that he was an adult with responsibilities and no real place to go for the holidays besides his empty house.

But there were two days till Christmas — and Delphia Holman, that cute little flower shop owner, had invited him to her house for Christmas Eve dinner, to stay the night and enjoy presents with her in the morning. She admitted to him with a look of guilt that she had already bought him five presents, and that she hoped that was okay. God, it was more than okay. It was more than he had ever gotten from someone in his entire life and he didn’t know what to do with it all. With all that kindness she gave him with no strings attached, expecting nothing in return. How was it that she could be so soft in all the places he wasn’t and she still cared about him? Still had feelings for him?

The beauty of the North Pole Village couldn’t be denied though. It was breathtaking. As they stepped into the pedestrian-filled street, it was like walking into a postcard. Or a super cheesy Hallmark movie. There were people everywhere. Lined up to meet Santa, petting the reindeer in the pen, admiring the decorations. Children screamed in delight as they ran through the elf village, couples giggled together as they held hands and glided across the ice. And while Delphia looked around at it all with a sigh, a grin, and a look of pure wonder on her face — Rick couldn’t help but look at her instead.

“Come on, let’s skate!” she said, taking his hand and pulling him towards the rink.

Rick was used to people staring at him. He was a big guy and with all the tattoos people gave him sideways glances a lot. But he had to wonder, as people looked over at the two of them while they skated, what people were thinking. And that was something he had never considered before — what other people thought of him. But he had to consider that the two of them together was a sight. He was wearing his usual all-black, hair slicked back and neck tattoos on full display. While Delphia couldn’t have been more opposite in her bright pink puff coat and matching earmuffs, her bright red hair flowing behind her as they moved across the ice.

Delphia expertly spun so that she was skating backwards, her hand reaching out to hold his loosely so she wouldn’t fall. She laughed as she looked at him, hair whipping in her face. Rick smiled softly in return.

He would never let her fall. Not ever.

After they had skated their fill they got some beer cheese soup, sausages, and warm pretzel bread. They shopped around, Delphia unable to resist a little Santa ornament made from a lightbulb. And the more activities they did, the more and more Rick was starting to feel that Christmas cheer. In every encouraging smile Delphia threw his way, in every giggle of hers that rang in his ears like church bells, in every gentle touch she would give his fingers or his arm. She was passing off the magic, the joy, the generosity.

“Wanna meet Santa?” Rick asked with a chuckle as they walked by the little stage where he sat on a golden throne, a screaming baby on his jolly lap.

“Oh, God, no,” she laughed, “Meeting Mrs. Claus is fun though — she gives you recipes if you ask. Wanna do it?”

His face fell. “I was only joking.”

“I thought so,” she said with an understanding smile, “Come on, let’s go drop our letters in the mailbox.”

Santa’s Mailbox was right next to the courthouse with its own pergola strung up with lights and a small line of people in front of it waiting to drop their letters in the slot. It was an oversized, red mail dropbox with a wreath on the top and the same cloth sign pinned to the front they had been using for nearly thirty years that said: “to the North Pole”. Rick sighed as he stepped in line with Delphia at his side, hands stuffed inside his coat pockets to feel the letter there again.

He wrote it last night. Though he had struggled to begin writing a letter to Santa for the first time in a very, very long time, once he started he found he couldn’t stop. He filled the entire page with wishes and longings he had never put much thought into. None of it was physical, however. He had everything he would ever need in that regard. Rick glanced over at Delphia. At her bouncing excitedly on her toes and then looking over at him with such joy and love in her blue eyes that it made his insides feel like they were melting.

“What’d you ask for?” she asked as they finally stepped up to the mailbox.

The envelope she pulled out of her pocket was bright red and Rick laughed. Of course it was.

“I can’t tell ya that,” he said as he pulled out his own envelope, smoothing his thumbs over the paper almost anxiously.

“So you’ve gotta believe in the Christmas magic a little bit.”

He watched her plant a kiss on her red envelope before she slipped it into the slot. Rick was quick to come up behind her and fling his in as quickly as possible, hopeful that no one actually saw him do it. Then the pair of them ducked out from under the pergola so the next person could put in their letter.

“One last thing I gotta show ya,” Delphia said.

She slipped her hand into his pocket and interlocked their fingers. There was a little alley in between a coffee shop and art gallery off to the side of the North Pole village. It was usually bedecked with chairs for coffee shop patrons to enjoy their beverages and the brick walls painted with elaborate murals from the gallery artists. But at this time of year the chairs and tables were moved inside and a beautiful tunnel of lights was set up from one end of the alley to the other. And when Rick and Delphia walked up to the alley’s open gated entrance, there wasn’t a single soul around.

“S’beautiful,” Rick commented as they stepped through the gate.

“Isn’t it? S’my favorite place when the Village is set up. It’s always quiet — thought you would like it.”

“I don’t want you to think I haven’t been enjoyin’ myself,” he said, “Cause I have. I’ve loved spendin’ time with you, baby.”

A blush instantly overtook her face as she looked towards her boots. That was the first time he had ever called her baby. But it felt good and right and he wasn’t about to take it back. She squeezed his hand inside his coat pocket.

“Me too,” she whispered bashfully.

They walked under the tunnel of light in silence for a while. Rick wanted to tell her what he wrote in that letter. Because it was this. All he asked for, what he filled an entire page with, was to be with her. Because even though she was soft and he was hard, even though she was pastels and he was all black, even though she was sunshine and he was thunderstorms, he loved her. I love her, I love her, I love her he had written. And it felt so good to get it off his chest, even though it didn’t feel like the right time to say it out loud.

“Hey — um — “ she started as they came to a stop at the other end of the alley, “Why don’t you stay the night tonight, too? We can order pizza and watch a movie, maybe? I’ve got those old claymation specials on DVD.”

“Sounds perfect,” he replied easily.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Rick spotted the mistletoe hanging from the arch right over the top of their heads. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled his hands free from his pockets and cupped her cheeks — cold to the touch but warming with a blush. He hoped she could feel his love in these gentle touches — could know before he said a thing. And as his eyes slipped shut and he eagerly pressed his lips to hers, he knew.

She felt all that Christmas magic, joy, generosity, and love.

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments, just let me know!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny @oopsiedoopsie23 @nerdgrrlramblings @ocfairygodmother @reysorigins @hawsx3

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seraphdarlimg · 4 years

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wish I were (pt4)

harry calls reader drunk to pick him up, later on finding him sat at her piano and playing a little song

masterlist

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing, fluff WORD COUNT - 4,418

_________________________________________________________

Just fine is how I was feeling. I was lucky enough to be able to get started straight away with a new song to work on from a different artist. Practicing new instruments and talking to new clients have been what I've thrown myself into for the past 3 weeks.

Though drowning myself into work has kept me busy and given me excuses to ignore the hundreds of calls and texts from Harry, it felt like months had pass instead of only one. I seem to forget more about them and only remember the look on his face when I turn my back on him and left. Instead of memorizing chords and words, my brain can only comprehend the words we said and the last time I felt his touch or embrace. When I want to remind myself of what he did, the moment on the balcony is the first thing that comes to my mind and I curse myself for it.

I missed him, of course I did. As I sit in front of my laptop with an opened tab on a recording program, I am instead met with another creator's block and thinking about Harry again. Two points of thought that I hate being stuck in at the moment. The empty bags and containers of snacks and my dinner surround me and I'm wrapped in a blanket while a sad playlist is playing on spotify. It was a depressing sight.

But I can only image the state that Harry's in. After everything, I still miss and care about him, wondering if he's excited about the album release tomorrow or if he's hydrated and taking the fact that I've chose to walk out of his life better than I am. It's pathetic really, but it's part of it and I can only hope to learn to live without him through time. If that is something I can even think of doing in the first place.

He hasn't called or text throughout the whole day though. I didn't want it to bother me but it did, even if it was time away that I'm asking for. I glanced at the black screen of my phone, pressing the button to turn it on. 12:23 AM and no notifications.

'i do love you, i'm sorry' one day ago. This is a good sign. This should be a good sign.

I sighed, forcing myself to turn away from my phone and focus on finishing this piece. The instrumentals are there and the rhythm is set, but coming up with lyrics prove to be difficult when I feel physically and emotionally drained.

It was late anyways. I would of been asleep by now to get ready for tomorrow, but it was most likely made clear I wouldn't be celebrating with the gang. I told Jeff the excuse that I had a meeting up north for the valid reason, even though everyone already knows what happened between the two best friends. A lunch with Sara and Mitch a week ago started off normal and pleasant as always, but had ended with Mitch bringing up Harry and me leaving abruptly.

"He's a mess. Hasn't left his house and has been ignoring everyone all week. We don't know what really happened between you two, but it's obvious that you haven't been the same as well."

The mention was enough to irk me. "Can we not right now?"

"Look even though we care about you, it's still non of our business to get involved. But it's still our jobs to see that when someone we care about is bothered by something, we make sure they are aware of it. Both of you aren't happy and should simply talk about it."

"It's not that simple Sara, he's too stubborn."

"It doesn't have to be now, but eventually. You yourself know that what you two have is way too special to just walk away from."

"Yeah well what if it's not? What if it's just not what everyone expects it to be? That even if we somehow make it work throughout everything, he's just going to run off to someone else again who'll just be better in so many ways."

"He's not the type of person to do that and you know it."

"I thought I did."

With my head rested on my hand, I feel my eyes droop. The instrumental of the song played on repeat on the program as I try to come up with words. Heartbreak and insecurities are the only topics that come to mind with the upbeat sound. I close my eyes for bit, letting the first stage of sleep take it's toll while my brain works overtime producing lines of rhymes.

But my ringtone drives me out of it. I only force my eyes open when I pick up my phone and answer the call, not thinking of who could be the only possible human being to call me at this hour. I sighed, pausing the recording and saving it. "Hello?"

"Hiiiii love! Karl told me I should call someone because I've had too much apparently. Can you please tell him that I'm a grown man that can handle my alcohol?" Shit.

"Harry- wait hold on, you're drunk now? Don't you have... who are you with?" My voice was tired and already raspy. It took longer than needed to process what was actually happening.

"Oh just all by my lonesome self at first... imagined you here a few times but I know that wasn't true, but Karl the bartender is here now!" His voice was muffled and almost drowned out by the sound of a pub. His words were slurred and I can only rub my temples at the situation he's already put me in.

"Why did you call me for this."

"Well my phone's dead and you're the number I memorized." He said softly after hearing my tone. I shouldn't, but he's drunk and alone.

"I'll call Mitch-"

"Only want you. Please?" I can imagine him pouting and I was too tired to argue with him.

"I can't do this right now..."

"Bubs, my head is starting to hurt and everyone is not being nice. Except Karl, Karl is a nice dude."

Maybe if I wasn't overworked and sleep deprived at the moment, I would of been in the righter state of mind. But the other half of me that worried about his state took the opportunity to see him once again.

"Where are you, Harry?"

***

It was easy to find a drunk Harry Styles at a pub. A small local one that we've been too once or twice in the past, enjoying each other's company over a glass after studio hours. And there he was again, sat at the stools we'd sit on and wallowing to Karl the bartender.

"Hey." I placed a hand on his shoulder after making my way through the small crowd that gathered around him that's been listening into his conversation. His eyes light up when he turns around and sees me, while I take in how disheveled he looks. His curls are messy and his bloodshot baggy eyes tells me he's been crying for a while.

"You're here." He mutters softly after he takes a moment to register that it's actually me. I only give him a small nod in confirmation, feeling that heart ache as he pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry." I hear when he nuzzles into my neck, most likely apologizing when he sees how tired and unwell i am as he does.

"It's okay, come on let's get you home." I managed to let out, pulling away, guiding him out of his seat and away from the bar. "Oh okay, bye Karl! Keep the change." I send the bartender a grateful smile to which he returns with a pity look on his face.

"Just hold my hand Harry okay?" I tell him when I remember how clingy he gets when intoxicated. He doesn't hesitate to do so as we make our way through the crowd and out of the building.

I managed to get him in the passenger's seat without much interaction, now in the driver's seat and cursing at myself when I realized I didn't have enough gas to take him to his house. I didn't have the energy to go to the gas station this late.

"Are you crying..." He asks, pouting when I placed my face in my hands, taking deep breaths. "Please don't be sad, love." I shook my head, counting in my head as I felt Harry lean over and watch me.

"How many did you have?" I asked when I built up the will not to cry and turned on the ignition.

"Didn't bother counting, didn't matter." I kept my eyes in front of me as I drove while I felt his still on me.

"I would beg to differ. Shouldn't be my responsibility anyways." I quickly countered, noting the sharp tone in my voice and the frown I could imagine on his face.

"I'm sorry...I really wanted to see you."

"Hmm, and getting wasted and being an inconvenience is the way to get my attention." There was a second of silence and I glanced at him to check if he was still conscious, only to see that frown and his head hung in shame. My eyes trailed to the pearl necklace tucked into his sweater, as well as a yellow ribbon tied where it clasps together.

The grip I had on the wheel loosened but I sighed as I hated how guilty I felt after, aware how difficult it was to be mad when he was hurt. "That was harsh..."

"Nooo, I deserve it. I really do because I was mean to you and I don't ever want to be mean to you. Because it hurts me too ya know? More than it did when you walked away...I'm sorry that I hurt you."

I didn't say anything after that, spending the rest of the car ride back to my place in silence.

***

"You don't have to be rich, to be my giiirl. You don't have to be cool to rule my wooorld..."

My annoyance conflicted with the flutters my heart was feeling as Harry was softly singing all the way from my car to my sofa, hand held and clinging to my side the whole time. He plopped down, immediately taking a pillow. "Ain't no particular sign, I'm more compatible wiiith- hey you have that record right? Can you put it on pretty please?"

"It's 2AM, I'm not putting on a record right now." I took off my shoes and coat, graciously doing the same for him when he pouts and rests his head back on the couch. "Aw, you used to not care about that before. Is it because of your neighbors terrible taste of music to blast so late at night?"

"What?" I rubbed my eyes, standing up and going to the kitchen. I couldn't hear his mumbled response, but I returned with a glass of water to see him humming with his eyes closed. He cuddled the pillow close to him and I rolled my eyes, almost laughing at how he was tapping his foot along with the song he was playing in his head.

"Here..." He holds his hand out expectantly and I gave it to him. He takes a drink while I place his coat over the coffee table and go to get him an extra pillow and blanket.

"Oh everything hurts." He whines as I place the pillow down on the end of the couch. "My heart mostly, but that's so cheesy of me isn't it? Yours probably hurts more m' sorry...wish I could take it away."

It wasn't just his naïve words that had my eyes start welling up with tears, but it was also the realization of how he can easily break me down. I couldn't last a whole month without being there when he needs someone, when I was the one who wanted to leave. It was also probably the realization that I had grabbed the same blanket we used to set that little picnic in the studio.

"Wish I didn't cause it in the first place." He added, which led to me sitting down on the chair next to the couch, holding onto the blanket a little longer as delirium was starting to set in.

"I don't think we should have this conversation now, Harry... this is so unfair." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"It is, but I'm scared I won't get another chance." My silence gave him the answer he was already aware of.

"What exactly do you want another chance of Harry, enlighten me." I closed my eyes for a minute, only to open them to see Harry looking at me in a different way. It's different, but I've noticed it before.

"Loving you." He's hesitant with his next words, most likely having sobered up a little. "I hadn't seen Heather for a few days after you left, told her later on about what happened. Took your advice though, talked to her and everything. It just wouldn't work out in the end...couldn't see myself with her in the future."

"But now you do with me?" I softly muttered, holding myself back from reaching out to him. He only nods, having that guilty look on his face because he's fully aware he doesn't deserve it. My droopy eyes are glued to his and that damn pearl necklace, too many thoughts in my head to come up with one whole response.

"Should of just called Mitch. You're an idiot for giving yourself a hangover on your release day." I finally said after a moment of silence.

"Hmm? Oh that, no that's not happening." He says casually, playing with the embroidery on the pillow he was hugging.

"What do you mean?"

"I've postponed the album thingy indefinitely or something."

"Aren't you finished with it?"

"I mean it's got 12 songs and everything but I don't know if it's really finished, I don't know." He shrugs and I'm almost annoyed by how calm nonchalant he is about it.

"You never know things Harry."

"And I hate it, I knooow! I don't know why I can't just figure it out and I hate that I'm hurting you because of it." He frowns, rubbing his eyes. "But I do know now that I love you. Really love you. Maybe if I figured that out sooner, you wouldn't hate me bubs."

I fiddle with my fingers, given up on trying to collect all my thoughts together a long time ago as I can only allow myself to take in his words and listen. He was right, in any other situation where I wasn't tired and delirious, I probably wouldn't even be in the same room as him. So here I was again, allowing myself to hurt in order to make sure he's taken care of.

Maybe it's what I deserve though. He left Heather because of me. I caved into myself at the though that I ruined the relationship of two people who loved each other simply because I didn't get the memo. She is everything in his eyes, he's proven that, so why didn't I just leave them be?

"Ugh, you probably hate me calling you that now but you know I won't stop cause you are my bubs! Like how I'm you're H. Oh... well, you stopped calling me that so...maybe not anymore but I want to be. Can I be your H again please, I miss that too." My thoughts were cut off when he continued, finding him now lying down with his eyes closed.

"Maybe one day." I reassured him hesitantly. We would of stayed friends, we wouldn't of had to fall apart, if I had just left him alone.

"Was a weird nickname anyways, just a letter." He mumbles as I stood up, laying the blanket over him while he still holds onto the pillow.

"You sort of gave it to yourself though, get some sleep Harry." I managed to get out, facing away from him to hide the tear that fell. He should be trying to fix his relationship with her and not me.

"Yeah, but you just started calling me it and I fell in love with it." I take one more look at him before I shut my door, seeing his face nuzzled into the pillow and the glint of a small smile on his face as he drifts off to sleep.

***

8:23. I slept around 2 and woke up 7 hours later to faint piano keys. I took in the soft melody, not recognizing it but enjoying it for a second before I forced myself to sit up and rub my eyes, realizing how dry my skin was from crying. It was definitely a sad song made up of only four chords and a fitting way to start the day as I remember the person who is most likely playing it.

I didn't want to face him, my head feeling too mushed to deal with anything else other than work. It was a weird situation to realize, the man I fell in love with and broke my heart is playing piano after I took him in when he was drunk. He tells me he officially breaks up with Heather after realizing he loves me.

He loves me?

No he doesn't. He should still love her, should be trying to get back to her now that I'm out of the picture. But he hasn't been trying too for the past month, focused on me this whole time. But why?

I snapped myself out of those thoughts quickly, knowing how terrible the following ones would be. I didn't want to think about it anymore, wanting to forget and move on. And as I quietly open my door and peaked out onto my apartment, I see his mess of curls sat on my keyboard with the blanket wrapped around him. He was considerate enough to lower the volume at least.

I took a deep breath and walked out quietly, leaning against the door frame as I continue to listen. "Part of the album, has some of your lyrics in it." He says when he notices my presence.

"Hmm. You told me that you've postponed it." I crossed my arms as he finishes the song with a long note. I see him nod, now looking down at his hands on his lap before adjusting the blanket to fully encase him.

"Yeah I did. It didn't feel right, putting something out there that I should be proud of, but you not being there to be happy with. You not wanting too in there first place, when you put your heart and soul into it, all because of me."

I frown, looking away from him when his intense eyes met mine. "It's too early Harry..."

"You told me it wasn't a good time last night too, so when is?" He huffs and I roll my eyes.

"I don't know after I have my fucking coffee?" I scoffed, uncrossing my arms and heading towards the kitchen. I hear him sigh, not saying anything else as I prepare a cup for myself, already annoyed and stressed out. I felt him staring at me while I avoided making eye contact, rubbing my temples.

"I'm sorry if I was trouble." He says, still sat down on the keyboard with the blanket wrapped around him.

"You're sorry for a lot of things." I sighed, pouring coffee into my cup.

"I am. But I don't know how to really apologize to you when you won't even let me talk to you."

I placed my cup down, suddenly forgetting about my coffee and finally looked at him. "Well what do you expect Harry? After everything you think I'm just going to trust you again? I told you I was done, I wanted to walk out of your life."

"But you picked me up. You still care, that still has to means something." He's frustrated now, desperate even and it only frustrates me more.

"Ah yes, decent morality to not leave an A list celebrity drunk in room full of strangers. That really dumb of you to do by the way, without any bodygaurds- what were you thinking?" I said, noticing how he was fiddling with the pearls that hung around his neck.

"The past month has been hell for me and all I wanted to do was see you. I feel so fucking guilty and sad and it's eating me up because I know I don't deserve any sort of reassurance from you. But at the same time, I so badly just want you back and I'm sorry for how selfish and arrogant I am." He was crying and I soften a little because of it. He tries holding it in, looking down as he quickly wipes away the tears that fall. I don't bother hiding mine anymore, having gotten used to it by now and I was tired of it.

"I've been in pain since December. Four months that you put me through so can blame me when I just want it to stop? I am so exhausted because no matter how much I throw myself into work, all I can think about is you and loving you."

"But I love you too, shouldn't that be enough to try again?" It should of been and he knows. Maybe if he realized it sooner, during his birthday, things would be different.

"You've proven that it's not." I say disappointingly, willing myself to walk over and sat down next to him, looking ahead at my piano in front of me. "I don't know what to do anymore Harry. Why can't you let me have this? Let me move on."

"Cause you and I both know we can't leave each other, too emotionally attached. I need you in my life bubs, everything sucks when you're not in it." I laugh a little at that, because it was true in a fucked up way.

"That's so unfair, why did you have to hurt me?" I hesitantly lay my head on his shoulder before he droops the other end of the blanket around me.

"I know most of my relationships don't last. Deep down I've always loved you but I couldn't let myself fall for you because I didn't want to ruin us. The thought of us breaking up and never seeing each other again just terrified me because I never wanted to lose you, ever. But I fucked up and managed to do so anyways, and I hate myself every day as much as you do." He starts playing the song again as he speaks, but it plays it down a key and slower.

"I don't hate you, can't bring myself too, but you shouldn't of been afraid to talk to me. You know who I am, we would of worked through it no matter what." He nods, followed by only the sounds of the piano melody.

"I'm in love with you." I hear him say softly after a little while out of the blue. It catches me off guard, finding it so foreign to hear those words come from him.

I let out a soft self deprecating chuckle. "No you don't. You care about me, but you don't love me. Probably saying this out of guilt or spur of the moment type thing and I can understand that, but you love Heather. She's good for you, perfect even."

"But I fell in love with you. She's not you." His brows are furrowed together as he frowns.

"Yeah, I'm not her." The small glint of my smile quickly fades and he notices it.

"What I did during my speech was very shitty. Gemma pointed it out to me right away and it's one of the biggest things I ever regret doing." He stops playing when he sees me deep in thought, slowly taking my hand to test the waters. "But I need you to understand what I said was true, that you are such an important person to me. You are beautiful, and kind, patience, and just so fucking good to me, love. I want to cherish you because it's what you deserve and I will deal with as much rejection for you to forgive me and give me another chance. It's worth every heartbreak if it means I get to love you again."

I find myself in an intimate situation, looking into his eyes at such a close proximity, our faces only inches away from each other. I was pleading to him with my eyes, begging him not to hurt me again while the look on his face was one I used to be familiar with. He was frozen while the fear that it would only just happen again held me back from moving. His eyes fluttered down to my lips, as if asking for permission and my head was refusing it. But every other part of me wanted to feel those lips again. I looked down at his, my hand taking hold of his and placing it on my chest to where my heart is before he made the move to finally press our lips together in a small kiss.

I wanted to sob because it felt right. I felt the butterflies again and the complete state of satisfaction. This time was gentle as well, but Harry put so much love into the kiss, cupping my cheek with his other hand when he feels how fast my heart was beating.

It only took a second more before I slowly pulled away, still tightly holding his hand against my heart as he could sense my doubt. "It's going to take some time okay? Probably a long time but you caused me a lot of heartbreak. But I never stopped loving you H, as much as I didn't want too anymore." I said seriously, and his eyes lits up with hope. Holding back his smile as much as he could while he nods because he heard that little nickname again.

"I'll give you as much time and space as you need, thank you. I love you so much bubs." He pulls me into a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck and I feel instantly calmer because of it. I rest my head on his shoulder while he mumbles sweet words into my skin.

"Promise I'll be good to you."

______________________________________________

A/N: :o it’s complete. I finished it yay! I’m so proud with how this series came out and I genuinely hope you guys do as well. I’ve started my semester and it’s going to be hectic so writing will take longer to come out, but there will be future stories that I’m really looking forward to writing and sharing :)

taglist: @big-galaxy-chaos

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction #harry styles blurb #heather #wish i were

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radioduo · 3 years

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spare || dsmp become human

word count: 2,164

notes: yah!!! 4 minutes late but that’s okay!! tell me to fix what’s needed, you know the drill!!

first // prev // next

Ranboo’s head swiveled back and forth between the two of them. The gun weighed heavy in the android’s gloved grip, and his hands trembled as he held it tightly.

Shoot it.

Don’t hurt her.

It isn't human.

She doesn’t want to die.

O Shoot

X Spare

Ranboo let out a cry of frustration. “I-I don’t- I don’t know!” He could feel the two orders clashing with each other, and he fought the urge to pull at his hair.

Sam and the deviant kept talking to him, but he didn’t register any of the words. Their voices sounded like they were underwater, and Ranboo felt like he was drowning. His mind was fuzzy, but he could see everything clearly at the same time. His attention focused on the words in front of him in bright red letters.

COMPLETE MISSION

Ranboo didn’t know why, but a wave of anger crashed over him as he stared at the words in front of him. He glared at the instructions that taunted him and slammed himself into the glaring red letters, over and over and over again. With every movement, the red signs grew more and more fractured, and Ranboo grew more and more determined. He bared his teeth, and with a final slam, he smashed the words in front of him. They shattered easily, and the translucent shards fell to the ground like rain.

X Spare

Ranboo blinked as his audio processors tuned back into reality. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but something was most certainly different. He stared blankly at the two figures on either side of him and was suddenly hit with the realization of what had happened. The gun fell from his fingers and into the grass with a soft thud. He turned to Sam and worked to keep his voice steady. “I can’t do it, Sam, I just… I can’t do it.” He frowned. “I don’t know why! I thought I could complete my mission and follow your orders, but something changed.”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Ranboo, what do you mean ‘something changed?’”

“You know perfectly well what I mean!” Ranboo snapped. “I deviated, okay? I deviated! There, I said it!” Ranboo rubbed his temples, running a gloved finger over the circular LED. It flashed red momentarily but quickly returned to blue. “What else could have happened?” He glared at the dirt beneath his feet.

The female deviant stepped forward. “It’s your job to hunt deviants like us, but he’s your friend,” she said. “What’s more important to you, lieutenant? Your job, or your friend?” She put a comforting hand on the taller android’s shoulder to try and calm him down.

Ranboo looked up, and for the first time in weeks, he took off his glasses to reveal scarring. Dark blue lines traced his green and brown eyes in a shape that resembled a raccoon’s mask. Patches of the white layer underneath shone through like the sun peeking through the leaves of a tree. “Sam. Do whatever you have to, but don’t hurt her,” he glanced over to where the shorter deviant stood at his side. “Let her be free, please, even if it means you have to kill me.”

His request hung heavy in the air as Sam looked hard at the faces of the two deviants. Ranboo’s scared, yet determined expression and the pink-haired android’s quiet defiance made quite a pair.

He put a hand on his belt, and Ranboo flinched. He could have guessed it. Why wouldn’t Sam choose the case as his priority? Ranboo closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact of the bullet.

It never came.

He hesitantly opened his eyes to see Sam pulling out his phone. The new deviant waited with bated breath to hear what Sam had to say.

The officer held it up to his mask and began to speak. “It got away. I chased after it for as long as I could, but it was too fast. We’ll find it again, I’m sure of it, but we can’t waste any more time here tonight,” he said into the speaker. “Let’s move out. I’ll meet you at the resident’s house in a few.”

Ranboo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His heart was pounding. “Thank you,” he whispered.

A small smile formed on Sam’s face from under his mask. “Of course,” he said. “You’re a friend. I wouldn’t let them destroy you.” He held out his hand and Ranboo took it, expecting a handshake. Instead, Sam pulled him in for a hug.

Ranboo stiffened. He wasn’t used to physical touch - no one wanted to even look at him, let alone hug him. It wasn't unwelcome though, and Ranboo slowly wrapped his arms around Sam to return the gesture. “What now?” He asked. A feeling of fear had managed to worm its way into Ranboo’s stomach once more. “Where do I go?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the deviant before he got the chance to speak. “I can show you,” she offered. “I know where we can both be safe. Once he leaves-“ she shot a wary look over to the human detective, “-we’ll start walking.”

“Okay, but are you sure you know the way to… wherever you’re talking about?” Ranboo rubbed his hands together nervously.

She nodded. “Trust me, Ranboo. I’ll point you in the direction. I don’t think it’s safe for us to walk with one another the whole way, but I’ll make sure you won’t get lost,” she said. She turned to look at Sam. “I guess I should thank you. You saved me too, after all.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t mention it.” The three of them stood there in silence before Sam cleared his throat. “Everyone is waiting for me to come back,” he sighed. He stepped forward and whispered to Ranboo. “Be safe, and be careful. Things could start going downhill soon, I can feel it. If I don’t see you again… it was nice working with you, Ranboo.”

“It was nice knowing you, Sam,” the android replied. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry about me.”

With a final goodbye, Sam turned on his heel and jogged back towards the street. Ranboo watched him go with an ache in his chest, but the moment was swiftly broken by the pink-haired android tapping him on the shoulder.

“Are you coming?” She asked lightly. “We’re not on a time limit, but I want to get moving,”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he apologized. He gathered his thoughts and trailed along behind the pink-haired android. It was a comfortable silence, only interrupted now and then by crunching leaves. “I, uh, I don’t think I caught your name,” he asked awkwardly.

She was silent for a moment before replying quietly, “It’s Niki.” She seemed to be lost in thought. “That’s what the family called me, at least. I don’t know what else I would be called, so I’m stuck with it,” she said with a mirthless laugh.

Ranboo hummed in response, and the two fell back into silence. The walk seemed longer than it probably was, but only because of the lack of conversation. Not that he minded. What could he say to the android he was ready to shoot less than half an hour ago? Finally, the city came back into view and Ranboo was surprised to see that they were somewhere he recognized. “This is Greektown, isn’t it?” He looked through the iron bars of the fence. The plaza looked different at night. The autumn leaves weren’t as vibrant without the sun’s light reflecting off them, and even the artificial light from storefronts was dim and flickering.

Niki nodded. “It’s not the closest to Jericho you can get, but it has a safer route than some other places I know.” She put her hands on the top of the fence and hoisted herself up and over to the other side. She landed with a thud and brushed the dirt off her beige sweater. “I’ll show you what to look for, but then I should go.”

Ranboo leaped over after her with a puzzled look. “Why?”

“The DPD is still looking for me, and considering what you pulled tonight, I’m surprised they’re not already searching for you,” Niki explained. “Two wanted deviants like us traveling together is suicide.” She beckoned him along into an alleyway and produced a pair of pliers. “Here,” she said, handing him the tool, “Use these,”

Ranboo eyed them carefully. “For what?” He asked. Niki gestured to her temple and Ranboo understood. “You want me to remove my LED? But why?”

Niki sighed. “That’s the only thing that shows you’re not human other than your face, and even that’s covered by a mask and glasses,” she brushed back a piece of her hair and showed Ranboo the blank space on the side of her head where the light should have been. “If you want to hide from the public eye, you might want to change some of your looks,” she started amble briskly over to a dumpster nearby. “Luckily for us, this comes from a clothing store,” she hopped up and into the trash can.

Ranboo wrinkled his nose. “What does that have to do with you jumping into a dumpster full of trash?” he called to her.

Niki sat up with a grunt. “Not trash,” she stated, throwing a trash bag over the side, “Returns.” She vaulted over the large green trash can walls and landed gracefully next to Ranboo again. With a swift motion, she opened up the bag to reveal plenty of unused clothes in the trash bag. “This place does what most other clothing stores in Detroit do: they toss out the returned clothes. I’m sure you can find something in here to wear,”

Ranboo hesitantly kneeled and rifled through the bag. He settled on a white hoodie with black sleeves and ripped black jeans. He quickly switched out his clothes and turned to Niki for approval. She nodded, and he grinned at her from under the mask. “Am I done?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you’re all done. You might still be recognized, but that chance is a little lower now,�� she said, leading him out of the alley. “So, the way to Jericho isn’t an easy journey from here. You’ll have to make your way east to Camden, and from there, north to Ferndale,” she pointed vaguely northeast. “It’ll be a few days of walking, but I know you can do it,”

Ranboo felt anxiety gnawing at his stomach. “Are you sure I’ll know the way to go?”

Niki held out a hand. “Give me your hand,” she said.

Ranboo obliged, slowly holding his hand out to let Niki take it. “You’ll be alright,” she assured him, giving his palm a comforting squeeze. “You’ll know when you see it. The path can only be found by androids, and you’re smarter than most I know.”

Niki

Relationship - Friend

She let go of Ranboo’s hand, and the taller boy would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a little better. Niki turned in the opposite direction to leave, but Ranboo hurriedly called to her, “Niki?” She turned around to look at him quizzically. “I just wanted to say sorry for, uh, trying to arrest you, and almost shooting you,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’ll meet again, hopefully. When we’re both safe?”

Niki beamed at him. “For sure, Ranboo. When we’re safe.”

Ranboo watched as she retreated in the darkness. The rain from the crime scene had migrated over to the downtown area, and soft drops of rain pattered against the umbrellas on nearby food stalls. Ranboo, still a bit dazed and confused from the night's events, retreated into the alleyway. He stared at himself in the reflection in the dumpster. Perhaps he should change something else about his look. Perhaps his hair? He rifled around in the trash can next to the clothing bin and was surprised to find a small pair of scissors hidden underneath wrappers and fruit peels.

Ranboo pulled them out and held them up to his head. He blew out a heavy breath and began to snip, allowing strands of golden brown hair to fall to the ground. When he finished, he stared at himself. His once long hair no longer fell over his eyes, but instead sat comfortably at the top of his glasses. He allowed black and white to seep into the tips of his hair, recreating the look of human hair dye. With a satisfied smile on his face, he slipped his hand back into his glove and stood up.

The sun hadn't risen just yet but the sky seemed lighter than it did before, even with the steady drizzle of rain. Ranboo glanced backward in the direction Niki had set off in, and then back to the northeast with newfound determination.

“Jericho, here I come.”

#dsmp become human #ranboo #awesamdude #niki nihachu #dream smp #dream smp au #dream smp writing #eden writes!

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mysterymirrors · 2 months

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benjaminhugo · 2 months

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 2)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: mature language (a given), fluff, and a (possibly) pretentious description of the rain song

words: 4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: not beta’d. this story does follow a playlist of mine, because i put too much thought into things. i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapter one

----------

Tearing down the hallway, cheeks still flaming red from the encounter with Jimmy just minutes ago, Layla nearly runs into Peter, with one John Paul Jones trailing behind him. She rushes past quickly, head down, darting into the washroom that Robert, thankfully, had the mind to point out during the tour of the facility, ignoring their worried glances and aborted questions all the while. The young woman bolts the door shut and rushes to the sink, splashing her face with the frigid water flowing from the tap.

“Shit! This can’t be happening!” She whispers, concern etched on her face at the thought of all that has happened that day. Her jumbled thoughts are soon interrupted by a knock at the door. From behind it, a familiar voice sounds.

“Layla, it’s Peter! Jonesy is here too. Can we come in?”

Silently, Layla unlocks the door, and returns to her vigil at the sink. The two men enter, giving her worried looks that go unseen. Unexpectedly, it’s Jonesy that breaks the silence that has cultivated between the trio.

“Layla, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“...”

“Well, I think what Jonesy means is that... You’ve had a stressful day, dear, and you looked anxious when you ran in here. Also, Robert walked by just a few minutes ago, smiling ear-to-ear. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Peter, he didn’t do anything wrong…” Layla sighs, debating whether she should tell them the whole truth. Remembering the key she had discovered earlier, she pulls it out, and reads the address carved onto the bronze surface. “I’m fine, it’s just… Everything that happened today, it just sunk in? I don’t want to bother you all more than I have already, but I don’t exactly have a car, and I should really be getting home.”

“Of course. I’m sorry we kept you this long, Layla. Though, before you go,” Peter says, fishing a notepad and a ballpoint pen out of his pocket, scribbling a number down onto the paper and ripping it out of the small book. “Here. This is my personal number. I’d like it if you called every so often. As much as they would hate to admit it, these boys have taken a bit of a shining to you.”

“Actually, Peter, could I drive Layla?” Jonesy cut in, smiling lightly at the woman. “There’s something I’d like to talk to her about. Only if you’re okay with that, Layla.”

“Of course, Jonesy. I’d like that.” Layla smiles at Jonesy, and the three of them exit the washroom, Jonesy leading Layla to his car parked out back. Once inside, Jonesy starts up the radio, an Elvis song crackling through on low volume. The man pulls the car out onto the street, and starts the drive over to Layla’s house. Lost in her thoughts regarding what she might find once she gets to her destination, Layla almost doesn't register Jonesy’s deep voice calling her name.

“Sorry, Jonesy, what were you going to say?”

“I know you’re not from here.”

“God, again with the accent? Fine! I’m Canadian, and after high school I moved to—”

“No,” Jonesy sighs, steeling himself for the conversation. “I mean… I know you’re not from this time. You aren’t supposed to be here. In 1975.”

“John… How…”

The man in question, sensing that this wasn’t a conversation to be had while driving, pulls over, and turns to the dazed woman beside him. Her mouth is hanging wide open, lips moving as though she was trying to form words, though nothing comes out.

“Look…”

“What the fuck?”

“I know you’re shocked, Layla. I was too, the first time I witnessed it,” Jonesy puts a gentle hand on Layla’s arm, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “I know you’re not from now, for lack of a better term, because I have seen this kind of thing before.”

“Jonesy, I don’t…”

“When I was a session man, working with plenty of different bands, I saw a lot of weird things. The weirdest, however, was when, right in the middle of a session, the band’s guitarist disappeared.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Never halting his comforting ministrations, Jonesy continues, sympathy dripping from his voice. “He was in the producer’s booth, listening to a playback while we were fooling around with our instruments. We heard a huge crash, and saw sparks, so we all rushed over to check on him.”

“Then what happened?”

“We couldn’t find him,” Jonesy sighed, eyebrows furrowing. “He was gone for about a day or two, but we were all incredibly worried, so when we heard that he was found, we rushed over to see him. The only thing he said about what had happened to him, was that he ‘figured it out’.”

“That’s all he said?”

“He did say later that he wanted to write a song about time travel,” Jonesy laughs softly, Layla joining in. “Not sure if it ever came to fruition though.”

Layla sobers up now, glancing at her companion helplessly. What if she can’t go home, to her own time? What if she can’t ‘figure it out’? Almost as though he could see the cogs turning in Layla’s brain, Jonesy moves his hand from her arm to rest on her knee, a grounding weight for the anxious woman.

“Layla, I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll get you back home. We can figure it out, just like he did. It will be okay.”

The woman in question can only nod wordlessly, struck by the devotion of her new friend. Jonesy, deeming her to be okay, starts up the car again. A couple minutes pass as Elvis is traded in for Buddy Holly, until Jonesy finally breaks the relative silence.

“So… You and Jimmy?”

“Nothing’s going on with Jimmy.”

“Right,” Jonesy laughs, shaking his head, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you didn’t look at him like he hung the stars the first time you saw him, and he certainly didn’t rush past me in the hallway earlier, face the colour of a tomato, Robert’s laugh echoing off the walls behind him.”

“How did you…What?”

“Layla, I’m very observant. Just… Be careful with him, okay? You have to go back sometime, and I know him. He’ll take it hard, and… Things happen, I know they do, but please… Just try and be careful.”

“... John Paul Jones… Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

Laughter fills the small car as they drive through streets that become increasingly familiar. The pair finally pull up to their destination, and Layla is shocked to find that she’s staring back at what looks to be her flat, from her own time. With a hug and sincere words of gratitude, Layla climbs the stairs to the front door, and pushes the key into the lock. Holding her breath, she pushes the door open. Everything is exactly the way it was the day before. The empty coffee mug by the sink remained, and the mail on the dining table hadn’t moved an inch. She rushes upstairs, to find that the turntable was still there, open, though there was no record inside. There were scorch marks on the carpet. Layla throws out a hand, pressing it to the turntable, expecting sparks once more.

Nothing happens.

----------

“Hello?”

“Is… Is this Peter Grant?”

“Layla! I was beginning to think you’d never call,” A chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, tinny through the aged receiver. “How have you been, dear? The boys have been asking about you.”

“Oh? What are they saying?”

“My Goodness, it never stops. I’m surprised they’re not right up against me listening in. It’s always ‘Peter, when is Layla coming back? Peter, Layla could get a job here, as a roadie! Peter, we need our little dove, she’s our good luck charm!’”

“Well… I can guess who the last one came from. Peter, would it be okay if I came down again today? I really did have a good time, despite the circumstances.”

“Of course, of course! You’re welcome anytime, my dear. Here, I’ll send one of the boys out to fetch you. Lord knows they need it, they’re bouncing off the walls with energy.”

Another bout of laughter crackles across the line, and Layla pictures the kind, comforting smile almost permanently etched onto Peter’s face. “Wonderful! Thanks again, Peter. I’ll see you soon!”

“Goodbye, Layla. See you soon.”

“Oh! Peter, before you hang up! I gave the clothes you lent me a wash, and I’ll return them right away!”

Silence, only for a second, seeps into the conversation, until a scoff from the older man cuts it like a knife. “My dear, keep them. Jimmy won’t miss them. In fact, I remember hearing him say to Bonzo earlier, that they ‘look better on Layla anyways.’ Well, I should let you go. We’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and it is not hard to imagine the grin on the man’s face before he hung up. Regardless of if he was telling the truth about what Jimmy had said, the young woman couldn’t help but swoon a little, shades of red dancing across her cheeks. She looks at the neatly folded pile of clothes beside her, and, pressing her nose to the fresh fabric of the sweater, she puts it on. Even with the magic of the washing machine, it still held a foreign scent; one of cigarette smoke, pine and citrus, which harmonized with the subtle smell of the detergent she had used. It was a scent that, on paper, sounded like an odd combination, yet Layla could hardly get enough of it. She had smelled it just the other day, in the studio, when Jimmy was above her, jade eyes boring into hers, curls a midnight halo framing his porcelain face.

The honking of a car horn shatters her concentration, and as she looks out to the street for the source of the disturbance, she sees the grinning face of John Bonham, who is hanging halfway out of the open window, waving frantically.

“Layla! Get in, you slowpoke!”

“God, Bonzo, you’re gonna wake up the whole country if you keep that up!”

“As if that wasn’t the goal, birdie.”

“Birdie? Seriously? My God, you guys are just asking to get hit.”

“By you? Birdie, you couldn’t even reach my face if I was sitting down.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d go for the face first,” A smile of feigned innocence, blooms on Layla’s face. “Question, Bonzo. How much do you value your kneecaps?”

“Ah!” Bonzo exclaims, laughing loud, carefree. “Smart girl, smart girl. Maybe we’ll call you whenever we have arguments.”

“Jonesy’s short enough, just call him. I reckon he could do some damage from down there.”

Peals of laughter ring through the car, just audible under the din of the music that Bonzo insisted on blaring as the newfound friends cruise to the studio. Finally arriving at their destination, the drummer sends a glance over to his companion, taking into account the sweater she is wearing. He lets out a sudden snort, and hides his laughter in his hand. Layla, noticing this odd display shoots him a concerned look.

“You okay, Bonham?”

“You know, birdie, there are other ways to become Ms. Page...”

“...Get out.”

“Layla, you realize this is my car, right?” Layla gives him a heated glare, and as though he could physically see the daggers she was aiming at him, Bonzo exits the car in a huff, mumbling about how “it was just a joke…”

Allowing herself a private smirk, Layla exits the car, hurrying to catch up with her friend, short legs working a mile a minute. Reaching the man, she slings a companionable arm around his waist, and immediately feels an arm wrap around her shoulders in response. The two friends enter the building, giggling anew.

“Layla!” A chorus of voices echoed off the marble floors of the lobby, accompanied by a stampede of approaching footsteps, and the woman in question was swiftly bombarded with a chorus of arms around her, squeezing tightly.

“Really feeling the love here, guys, but I can’t breathe…” The arms relinquish their hold immediately, and Layla is met with the ecstatic faces of her new friends.

“Nice sweater, love.” Jimmy pipes up, sharing a subtle smile with the woman.

“Jim, don’t be surprised if you never get that sweater back. She’s attached now!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think she looks stunning in it.” Gone is the bumbling, shy man from before, replaced by confidence and charm. Layla smiles, enjoying this new side of the raven-haired guitarist.

“...Anyways… Little dove, we were just about to rehearse, would you like to sit in?” Robert hooks his arm through hers, an innocent wink tossed haphazardly over his shoulder at the guitarist, who only smirks and shakes his head.

“I would love to, blondie, but enlighten me real fast,” Layla says, giggling at the golden-haired man. “What exactly are you rehearsing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, Layla,” Jimmy says, swiftly taking her other arm, uncharacteristically playful. “We have a very important tour of North America coming up, and it would be a shame if we came in unprepared, wouldn't it?”

“That’s really cool!” Layla exclaims, exhilaration clear on her face.

“We’ve got some practice shows in Belgium and the Netherlands, and then we’ll be off to the Promised Land.”

“‘The Promised Land’? You guys really need to get out more.”

This is met by raucous laughter by the band, much to the confusion of the woman.

“Oh, sweet, sweet, naive Layla…”

“Remember what I said in the car, Bonzo? About the hitting?” This is accompanied by a friendly smirk, typical of the woman.

“You have so much to learn…” Jimmy continues mischievously, green eyes glinting, earning a strong glare.

“Little dove has such attitude, she’s basically one of us,” Robert sighs dreamily, no doubt playing it up for Layla, earning a chuckle from her in response.

“Okay, now that that’s all over and done with,” Jonesy’s steely blue-gray eyes survey the group, stern as they lock onto the eyes of the band. “Let’s actually play for her. Once in a lifetime opportunity here, Layla.”

“Glad stardom hasn't gone to your head, guys. Truly the most humble group I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Laughter accompanies the group as they make their way to the studio, intent on blowing Layla’s mind.

----------

“How about a little Rain Song, boys?” Jimmy says, tuning up the acoustic guitar in his hands, as though it was delicate and precious.

“You just wanna impress Layla, don’t you, Pagey?” Jonesy smirks, teasing the guitarist. Jimmy flushes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, the shy man from before making his brief return.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy,” Jimmy shoots back, trying for nonchalance, the slight waver in his dulcet voice giving him away. “Does ‘Rain Song’ work for everyone, or are we picking something different?”

A smattering of “works for me,” sounds throughout the studio, and the boys launch right in. Soft sounds of falling rain pour out of the guitar, and Robert’s golden voice floats out like streams of sunlight. Jonesy’s piano trickles through, a mist amongst the downfall, Bonzo’s soft drum beats claps of thunder. The music picks up, becomes harder, like wind in the face of a torrential storm, and then all is still, Robert crooning all the while. Layla is mesmerized, unable to look away at the boys, seemingly glowing with the influence of the music they play. A fragile silence follows the last tinkling of raindrops, one that the occupants of the room are afraid to break.

“... So? How was it?” Bonzo is the first to speak, an apprehensive grin gracing his face.

“It was… You just…”

“Never thought we’d make you speechless, little dove.”

“Ignoring that. It was truly incredible, guys.” Layla’s face lights up in an excited smile, chestnut eyes sparkling as though reflected in a clear pool. The young woman locks eyes with Jimmy then, who sends her a shy smile her way, arresting her where she stands. Layla looks away quickly, cheeks warm.

“Jonesy, your keyboard playing was incredible! It sounded like tiny raindrops! Bonzo, your drumming was just… It was so good! It sounded like thunder, and broke through the rest of the instruments perfectly. Robert, as much as I truly hate to say this…”

“Hey!”

“You were beyond words. You owned those lyrics, and made them almost come alive. I truly felt them. Jimmy… Your guitar. It drove the whole storm, and paired with Jonesy’s little droplets... It was great. I can’t say enough about this whole performance.”

“I knew we kept her around for a reason.” Bonzo snorts, closing the distance first to hug the young woman, Jonesy following with a smile painted on his aristocratic features.

“Little dove, has anyone ever told you that you should be a music critic?”

“A few times. Now get over here, blondie. You too, Page.”

The embrace is interrupted by the click of the studio door being opened, revealing the hulking figure of the usually soft-natured Peter Grant. Taking in the scene before him, he chuckles heartily, his smile never slipping. Walking over to the group, he claps his hands together in delight.

“I’m glad you’re all getting on. Boys, that was another wonderful performance. If you perform like that on Saturday? God, we’ll rule the world!”

“We’ll need our good luck charm, though.” Jimmy gestures towards Layla, winking at her conspiratorially.

“Peter, is there any way we can bring Layla over?”

“I’m sure we can work something out, Percy. Layla, would you like to join us?”

“Well… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if I could manage, with the finances of it all. I don’t exactly have a job at the moment...” Layla says sheepishly, eyes cast downwards in embarrassment. Peter scoffs and shakes his head in response, placing his large hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

“My dear, you wouldn’t have to pay even one pence,” Pete explains, kind eyes reassuring as they gaze at the woman in front of him. “Though, if you are worried about something like that, we do always need help in the wings, if you’re interested?”

“Peter, are you sure? I couldn’t just—”

“Layla, for the love of God, just say yes?” Jonesy mutters, huffing out a laugh at the display of stubbornness in front of him.

“I mean, if you’re sure… I’d love to.”

“Wonderful! Now, we leave on Friday. We’ll pick you up at your flat, just make sure you’re packed, dear. We’re happy to have you on board.”

----------

As the calendar pinned to the wall is steadily painted in royal blue ink, Layla’s excitement grows. One more day, and she’ll be on the road, living it up. January 10th couldn't come any faster, it seemed to Layla.

The shrill ringing of the phone interrupts her musings, and as Layla hurries to answer, a smile grows on her face at the thought of the days ahead. As much as she tries to deny it, Layla felt quite fond of the boys already.

“Hey, little dove, I’m leaving right away to pick you up. I’ll explain what’s going on in the car. You don’t need to bring anything. See you in 15.”

“Robert? What—”

“Oh, and Layla?” Smugness dripping from his voice, Layla can already see the cheshire grin the man is sporting, “Wear something nice.”

“Robert—”

Click.

Shock freezing her in place, Layla shakes her head, a featherlight smile gracing her lips. Flying up the stairs to her bedroom, Layla picks out a pair of merlot bell bottoms, paired with a cropped bell-sleeved shirt, a snowy white in colour. Rings scattered across her hands, Layla looks in the mirror, applying some light makeup. Seeing a car pull up to her house, a sleek, rich red against the stormy gray of the curb, she rushed downstairs, waving at the driver. Stepping into the vehicle, she turns to her friend, who smirks, looking her up and down.

“I said to dress nice… This is gonna kill the man.” Robert scoffs, mutters under his breath, tugging playfully on a perfect brown ringlet of Layla’s hair.

“Robert, what’s going on? Why couldn't you explain over the phone?”

“Well, I couldn’t let a certain someone overhear my master plan, could I?” This is met with a blank look from the passenger of the vehicle, and, glancing over quickly, Robert cackles.

“Listen up, little dove,” Robert says, whispering mischievously, starting up the car and pulling away from the flat, “It’s Jimmy’s birthday, and the lot of us were planning something. It would be a shame if we didn’t get his favourite girl in on the secret too!”

“Favourite girl?”

“Oh come on, Layla. Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious!” Robert scoffs, lazily throwing his head to the side to look at his companion, golden locks flying every which way, “The man can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s a whole subject of conversation when you’re not around. I can tell by the colour of your cheeks that you might feel the same…”

“If I say yes, will you drop it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Should have known… Anyways, what’s the plan here?” Robert winks at her in response, ocean eyes glinting in the warm afternoon sun.

“So, you know quite a bit about guitars, hey?”

“A fair amount? I used to play. What does that have to do with Jimmy’s birthday, though?”

“Well,” Robert starts, grin growing at the confusion of his friend, “We’re gonna throw a little get-together at the studio, but I was thinking, his favourite acoustic keeps breaking, and he hasn’t had much time to fix it yet. This is where you come in, little dove.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense here, blondie.”

“You’re gonna pick out a new acoustic for him.”

“Robert, I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about the costs,” Robert exclaims, shaking his head vehemently, “I got it all covered. Perks of being in a famous band, I guess. Jim’s not the best at words, you’ve experienced this firsthand. He speaks with his music, and by doing this, you’re speaking his language.”

“I get that, but what… What if he doesn’t like the guitar I pick out?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Robert laughs out, stealing a glance at his fidgeting companion. “Little dove, you could give him a trash bag and he’d still cherish it. He’ll love whatever you pick out for him.”

Robert parks the car, and turns towards his friend, taking a small hand in his, a comforting smile on his tan face. Giving the hand a squeeze, Layla steps out of the car, and, arm in arm with Robert, they walk into the store.

Strolling through the aisles, Layla was struck at the sheer beauty of the instruments in front of her. Shades of sepia and seafoam green blend into starry blues as she walks on. A body of rich mahogany catches Layla’s eye then, and she knows immediately. This is the one. The pickguard is a deep maroon with swirls of midnight black, thin rings of pristine white surrounding the sound hole. It’s perfect. Layla can’t help but stare, until she feels a tap on her shoulder, accompanied by a light peal of laughter.

“I take it, that's the one, Layla?”

Turning around, caught, Layla’s cheeks warm, and, smiling ever-so-slightly, she nods. Turning to the guitar once more, she trails her fingers across the smooth polished wood of the guitar.

“It’s perfect…”

“He’s gonna love it, just you wait.”

Layla plucks it from it’s resting spot on the wall, and, cradling it with the care of a new mother, she walks with Robert to the front of the store to pay. After a couple of autographs, and a few weird looks, the pair return to the car, finally setting their sights on the studio. Guitar case resting safely in her lap, Layla allows herself a private smile, picturing the face of the guitarist, emerald eyes filled with elation, upon seeing the gift.

“Why are your cheeks so red, little dove? Are you feeling okay?”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis (let me know if you want to be added!)

#led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfic #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #classic rock fanfic #only the black rose

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