#robert plant fanfic

[bijouxcarys]

𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Masterlist

To Love So Completely Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes the pain of what should never have been, opens your eyes to what can be.

Note: Biggest apologies for the wait. Life has been hectic. Mind has been fucked. This chapter is much longer, just to make up for the wait. I sincerely hope you all enjoy <3

Tag list: @celestial-dragoness @chromations @callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @friccinfricks @angrychicksposts @dzdndcnfsd @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @m-faithfull @tangerine1969 @inanebula @strsmn

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝘼𝙣𝙟𝙖; 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡. 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 ♡

“Ya sure you’re alright in the back?” John peered around the passenger seat.

Elena nodded, closing her eyes as she rested her flushed head against the cool glass of the window. She could hear the gear shift croaking as Robert sent the car into drive, pulling away from the Bonham house.

She knew her first nightly venture would be a struggle; too many memories painfully associated themselves with the simple act. But Robert had been so kind… So excited for this moment. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that Elena was going to deny him of this night, much less pull out at the last minute.

Besides, she was looking forward to it. Spending time with John and Robert together was a fargone memory by this point, and she missed those times like a teenager longing for a childhood toy. It was a case of willing her brain to suppress past events, to allow her to enjoy living her life as she’d been stripped of it for at least a year.

The peculiar thing? She’d been fine all day. In fact, John wasn’t sure when the last time he’d seen Elena so excited for something. Of course, he knew it was Robert—and he took no offence to it; it was about time she allowed herself to see him how he saw her. She’d repressed it for long enough, at least in John’s eyes. He wasn’t so ignorant as to ignore how Robert’s presence the past couple of weeks had improved her mood, even if only for a few minutes. And for Robert? Well… Pining wasn’t a strong enough word.

Elena had managed to keep her emotions in check throughout the day, but as soon as she had settled into the backseat of Robert’s car, that was when the nerves crept in like unwelcome visitors. The weight of the evening’s plans bore down on her, the apprehension thick in the confined space of the car.

Don’t freak out…

Don’t make it a big deal…

You’ve done this plenty of times before…

You’ll be fine.

But what if–

No, stop it.

What if he’s ther–

He won’t be.

What if he is, though?

John and Robert will be with me, shut up.

They’ll kill him, though.

Shut the fuck up!

Robert kept the volume on the radio at a modest level, not just for the sake of his and John’s conversation but also to ensure the soft melodies wouldn’t drown out the presence of Elena in the backseat. After all, why listen to anything other than the enchanting silence that accompanied the ethereal being occupying his car?

She remained mostly quiet, a certain grace that seemed to fill the space without uttering a word. Robert had offered her a warm smile when she settled into the back, momentarily struck dumb by her beauty. However, her reluctance to engage in any conversation herself only seemed to amplify the allure. She simply existed, and that was enough to captivate Robert.

Throughout the journey, Elena shifted in her seat, eventually resting her head against the back of the passenger seat, perched on the edge of her own. It was a subtle attempt to distance herself from the situation, a silent protest against the inevitable. The guilt of her reluctance weighed heavily on her, like an unspoken burden she was bearing on the two men in the front.

“El?”

“Hm?” Her response was a soft murmur, her eyes flickering towards John.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked, turning partially in his seat to look back at her. She simply shook her head, mumbling an apology. “I asked if The George Inn was okay?”

Despite her familiarity with the area, the mention of The George Inn seemed foreign to her. She stared blankly for a moment before nodding slowly.

“We can go somewhere else if you’d prefer, luv,” Robert interjected, stealing a glance over his shoulder. The inability to fully look at her was a form of torture.

“No, it’s… it’s okay. The George is fine,” Elena replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She lifted her gaze to meet Robert’s finding a fleeting moment of respite before he returned his focus to the road, his eyes occasionally flickering to the rear-view mirror.

John couldn’t shake the feeling that The George Inn might not be the ideal choice, but he trusted Elena’s judgement. With a reassuring smile, he turned back to face the front, allowing the silence to settle once more, with the exception of an Elvis tune gracing the atmosphere.

Robert navigated the streets with ease, his familiarity with the city evident in the way he effortlessly manoeuvred through traffic. Birmingham was a city of transition, with the decline of traditional industries giving way to new opportunities—something Elena had also unfortunately missed out on.

As they approached The George Inn, the streets became quieter, the buzz of the city fading into the background. The pub itself was a charming sight, its brick exterior adorned with hanging flower baskets. A sign creaked in the wind, proudly declaring the establishment’s long history.

Robert pulled into the pub’s car park, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as they came to a stop. The scent of freshly-cut grass mingled with the faint aroma of ale, wafting from an open window.

“Aaand… We’re ‘ere,” Robert announced, turning off the engine. He glanced back at Elena, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Ready for a pint, me.”

Elena returned the smile to the best of her ability, glad that she was able to exit the car to take a moment to breathe in the crisp air.

“Ya not the only one, mate,” John quipped, stretching out his arms with an exaggerated groan. Robert came around the car, fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he joined John and Elena towards the welcoming glow of The George Inn. The sounds of lively chatter and clinking glasses were muffled, but inviting. 

It was bustling with activity, the dimly-lit interior filled with cosy nooks and crannies. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. They found a table in a corner, away from much of the lively crowd, and settled in.

As expected, Elena’s nerves were still fraying. She sat with John, patiently waiting for Robert to return with the first round of drinks. Just get half a pint in ya, girl, you’ll be fine…

“Are you sure you’re alright, El? I can always take you back to the house if ya don’t want to be h–”

“John, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s okay. It’s just… weird being out,” she sighed, resting on her arms on top of the table. She watched Robert from afar, easily spotting him along the line of patrons waiting to be served. He was one of the taller ones, and definitely the most intricately dressed. Whilst she felt safe with John, she knew what he was like when drunk, so found herself to be relieved at the blonde reminder at the other end of the pub that she wouldn’t have to do this alone.

“Alright, well, you tell me if you need a breather, or if you need to go, yeah?” John was stern, meaning every syllable he uttered. Elena smiled, leaning into him to give him a small nudge of endearment.

“I’ll let you know if you’re not too wankered,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her back. “I try to be nice, and this is how you treat me…”

“I’m being realistic, Bon-Bon,” she smirked, giving him a knowing look. “But I know you care… You don’t have to remind me,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, softening her tone.

Once Robert brought the first round to the table, John wasted no time in necking half of his pint, indulging in the night like a bee to honey. Elena fidgeted with the edge of her glass, her fingers tracing the condensation that had formed on the cold surface. Robert paced himself with his drinks, fully knowing he was the designated driver for the evening.

“So,” Robert began, setting his half-pint glass on the table and leaning back in his chair. “You been ‘ere before, Elena?”

Elena glanced around the pub, taking in the rustic charm of the exposed beams and worn wooden tables. “Don’t think so,” she shook her head, offering a faint smile. “Been in the area, though.”

“D’ya like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice in here.”

John chuckled, raising his glass in agreement. “Aye, there’s nothing quite like a good old English pub.”

Elena snorted at her best friend’s enthusiasm, watching on as he downed the rest of his pint with little struggle. “Bloody hell, Bon, calm down.”

“No way!” he slammed his glass down with a vivacious laugh. “First night I’ve had since tour where I can drink as much as I want without worrying about driving back.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing at Robert with an amused smirk. “How do you cope?”

“‘Ey, I’ve only had to put up with it for 4 years, you’re pushing 17!” Robert cackled, flipping his hair back as he looked at his bandmate.

Elena wasn’t expecting Robert to have remembered a detail like that; she’d told him the age she met John, but that was 4 years before, and she never mentioned the length of time. Which could only mean one thing to her… he’d thought about it more than was required, and he made sure to keep it noted in that mysterious brain of his.

The realisation left her momentarily stumped, seemingly stuck on his features as he bantered with John across the table. A small involuntary smile played on her lips, that same tingling in her stomach she experienced at rehearsal resurfacing with a steadfast vigour. 

Why have I never noticed that little freckle on his nose before?

Her eyes dropped to his jumper, cosy and woolly as it encased his body—oh, his chest is quite… broad, isn’t it? Perhaps it was the small buzz she was getting from nearly finishing her first pint, but as she continued to survey him without his knowing, the threat of her past diminished to a mere signal in the back of her brain, and no longer had a hold on her demeanour.

He’s… beautiful…

John was on another one of his little rants about primary schools enforcing religion on the students, complaining to Robert about the school he and Elena attended making them sing hymn after hymn morning after morning for the entire 7 years they were there.

Robert couldn’t help but chuckle, biting back a grin at the thought of a little Elena rebelling, rolling her eyes, being everything he knew she was deep down. The her he knew 2 years before. Not that he disagreed; had he been at the same school with the duo, he would have joined in with the rebellion.

“Oh, there was this one time,” John began, wheezing and cackling at the memory, “We were singing… fuck, what was it… I think it was All Things Bright And Beautiful, or some bollocks like that—anyway, me and El were sitting on the benches at the back, ye, all that…” His demeanour had calmed already, enjoying the alcohol settling. 

“El insisted on not singing a word. Like, she was really adamant that they weren’t goin’ to make her sing that shit.” He pointed in her direction. “Teacher started on her, didn’t he? Prick—he was a weirdo, that bloke… Started sayin’ all this crap about her going to Hell ‘cuz she weren’t singin’.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, sipping his drink. As he briefly glanced in Elena’s direction, he noticed it. Her eyes. Scoping him out. A little smile on her face. Much like the instincts he fought every time she was near him.

So cute…

“Mhm,” Robert nodded along with John, not drawing attention to the fact he had caught her looking at him.

“So, this one…” John suddenly reached out to grab Elena’s shoulder, making her jump in her seat and snap her out of her thoughts. “This one!” He shook her a bit. “Turned ‘round… and said… to this… wanker…” John leaned forward, as though the teacher in question were to catch them spilling primary school secrets, before putting on the best Northern accent he could to imitate her. “Just as long as you won’t be there, Mr Gill.”

John broke out into unstoppable laughter, holding his stomach. Robert’s brows raised, and he whipped his head around to look at Elena with a surprised expression. “Did ya?” he asked through a chortle.

Biting her lip, Elena felt her cheeks heat up and embarrassment flood her senses. She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes… Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” she cringed, looking at John. “That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“No! The arsehole had it coming!” John praised her, howling.

“He did…” Elena agreed, face bright red, thanks to the embarrassing childhood story combined with the alcohol slowly settling into her system. Robert couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she grinned ear-to-ear, the familiar spark igniting in his gut whenever he had the chance to witness her smiling form. And he hadn’t seen it quite this bright in a long, long time.

As the night progressed, Elena felt more and more comfortable sitting around this table, in a crowded environment. However, she could attribute that to the bubbly as she finished her second pint. It was as if small fragments, piece by piece, were adhering back together, painting a much missed mirage of her life before David.

“Another round, ye?” John announced, rising from the table. “Same for you, El?” he asked, pointing at her with an air of expectancy.

“Ye–wait, no!” she quickly stopped herself, pressing her lips together. “Uh, maybe just a half this time? Don’t want to get wankered, unlike some.” She gave him a pointed look, earning a playful huff of dismissal from the drummer that Elena took as him noting her request, before he looked at Robert.

“Gimme a shandy, Bonz.”

“Bloody shandy…” he said, shaking his head. “Ye, alright,” he accepted, before heading in the direction of the bar, still mumbling to himself about Robert’s choice for the evening.

“You want one, Elena?” Robert held out his packet of Marlboros, one dangling unlit from his lips. Accepting the offer, she took one from the pack, placing it between her lips. It was almost instinctual, the way she leaned into Robert for him to strike a match and light the cigarette.

Instead of focusing her eyes on the cig, this time, she kept her gaze locked onto his. So close to him… Oh, why couldn’t I have noticed him 3 years ago?

In an unconscious attempt to keep him close to her, Elena brought her hand up to cast a barely-there hold on his wrist, using her other hand to shield the match’s flame from any stray draft. And as the two parted, she gently brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

And… there’s the alcohol-induced confidence…

They don’t call it Dutch courage for nothing, after all…

“How ‘ave you been, luv?” Robert asked, sitting forward and folding his arms on top of the table. Even with his jumper, you could see the outlines of his toned build. Elena was almost distracted.

“Um… Well,” she sighed, “I’ve been better, but…” She stopped, looking directly into Robert’s vibrant eyes, before she lowered her voice. “I’ve definitely been worse… Anyway, enough about me, what about you? Mr Rockstar,” she smirked.

Through a bashful grin, Robert tipped some of the fag ash into the tray in the centre of the table. “Mr Rockstar…” he repeated, seemingly pondering the name for a moment. “‘S that all I am to you now, eh?” He glanced at her, lifting the cigarette up to his lips.

Elena smiled, rolling her eyes. “No, and you know that.” She shook her head. “It’s just that… from what Bon’s been telling me, you’ve done quite alright for yourselves.”

“Guess ya could say that, ye,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Don’t leave any room for modesty, do ya?” she lightly jested.

“I’m a very humble lad, Elena. I just so happen to also be in a very successful band at the same time,” he volleyed, shooting her a signature smirk. 

The dimple…

Whilst Elena appreciated the humour in their conversation, it didn’t stop the guilt of not seeing Led Zeppelin live, not once, since their formation and official name change from The New Yardbirds.

In fact, the ability to name more than a couple of songs eluded her more than she cared to admit.

“But, seriously?” Robert continued, eyes still stuck on her as she inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. “I think we’ve got it. We’re actually doing it!” His eyes lit up, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that Elena would find the prospect attractive—better yet, the idea of Elena being proud of him.

It seemed the Gods above had listened carefully to Robert’s inner monologue, as Elena chimed those exact words.

“That’s good! I’m proud of you–all of you,” she emphasised, heat rising in her cheeks by the second. “When do you go back on tour?”

“June,” Robert replied with an unrestrained grin on his face. He spoke through a drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes a little in thought. “Gives us a bit of time to reset.”

“It must be draining,” Elena casually commented, watching his hand as he tipped his ash. “I couldn’t do something like that, anyway.”

“Ah, ya get used to it eventually…” Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Just happy to be back at the farm, spend time with Strider–”

“Oh my God!” Elena cut him off, gasping and reaching out to hold onto his arm. “I still need to see the farm, and Strider!” Robert chuckled, turning his arm over to playfully press his palm against hers.

“I told yer like a year ago that ya need to come over!” he laughed, looking down at their hands. “I always said you’d love it there–barely anythin’ around.” He emphasised with a nod of his head in Elena’s direction. 

She let out a whine, dropping her head briefly, almost catching her hair on her cigarette in the process. “Why the fuck didn’t I do something about that… twat any sooner?”

Robert’s face dropped a bit, but it didn’t stop him from carefully curling his fingers upwards so that hers thread through gently. He found himself having to steady his breathing ever so slightly upon feeling her warm skin completely flush against his; her hand so delicate in comparison to his. He never wanted to let her go.

“Pints, pints, pints, pints,” proclaimed John as he came barreling back over to the table with the three drinks skillfully held between his hands. And instead of pulling away from Elena, Robert kept his cigarette between his lips as he reached out for his shandy, nodding and thanking John in the process. John was almost too intoxicated to take note of the pair’s hands settled atop the table, in plain view. Almost.

Though he didn’t mention it, he most definitely saw his friends sitting closer to each other than when he left, with their hands locked together. What the fuck happened whilst I was gone?

For a moment, Elena felt the night would end successfully — that just maybe it would be the event that snaps her out of the fear she’d garnered of the outside world. The fear of mistepping; you’re doing this wrong, you said the wrong thing, you’re being unreasonable, stop doing this, stop doing that…

Even as two girls, clearly under the influence and flustered, came stumbling over in their sudden recognition of the two growing rockstars sat with Elena, she didn’t feel as inadequate as she expected to. Whilst Robert did release her hand to give attention to the two females, putting on a standard act of charm and wit, he didn’t preposition them, and he most certainly didn’t forget that Elena was there.

In fact, Elena had convinced herself that was it for the evening; that the two of them holding hands—something a teenager would get giddy over—would be the closest she’d ever get to him, and that it would be a standalone incident. But as Robert sent the two intoxicated girls on their way, his focus was immediately back on her. Whilst he didn’t look directly at her, only laughed with John about the interaction, he did take her hand back in his.

He even sent her a smile of reassurance, as though he never even had to let go of her. And for a moment, she wished he wouldn’t.

If only fate would be so kind.

In the midst of her long-awaited comfort, hand still locked in its warm embrace with Robert’s, Elena noticed John’s face grew cold. A hard stare piercing the atmosphere like a bayonet. They were halfway through a conversation, all smiles, but now it was like the drummer had switched personalities completely.

Only an earthquake, or some magnanimous natural disaster could interrupt John Bonham from the jolly flow of a night out. The destructive force of a hurricane stood miniscule in comparison to the subject of John’s harsh glare as Elena followed its course.

David.

Her head snapped back in the direction of her best friend, a warning glare on her face. “John, don’t–”

“Bastard…” John spat under his breath, brows narrowing to cast an ominous shadow over his eyes. His knuckles whitened as his grip on his glass tightened. “Fuckin’ prat, look at ‘im…”

“Bonz,” Robert leaned to the side a bit, attempting to interrupt John’s line of sight. Of course he also wanted to go over to the twat and knock his teeth out. He knew deep down that this man must have done something serious for Elena’s demeanour to change so much in a quick instance. Looking at her, he instantly noticed the way she hunched her shoulders, the palm of her hand against his becoming clammy, and the way she pleadingly looked at John, silently begging him not to do anything stupid.

John’s heart had sped up to a rapid pace, tunnel vision denying him of seeing his two friends’ desperate faces. He was zoned in on one person, and one person only. Inhibitions gone. Cares dashed.

It all came crashing down when David’s gaze caught him for a split moment.

“Ye, what you lookin’ at, ya mop-head cunt?” John tilted his head back, as if challenging him. Even though David couldn’t hear him over the chatter of the pub, he could definitely tell that it was aimed at him. David swiftly looked away, engaging in conversation with his own group of friends, friends Elena had seen many times before, and friends that had become the closest thing to friends that she could actually see whilst stuck in that relationship.

“John,” Elena snapped a little firmer, taking her hand away from Robert’s. “Stop it.”

“Nah, look at ‘im,” John huffed. “‘Avin the time of his life after treatin’ you the way he did.”

“Bonz, drop it, mate,” Robert sided with Elena, though he understood the anger bubbling up inside John’s chest. “‘S not worth it.”

Before either Robert or Elena could process it, John had shot up from his seat, clearing his throat and straightening out his jacket. Then he was gone. Crossed the distance of the pub, in the direction of David.

“Fuck,” Robert mumbled under his breath, before turning in his seat to watch as John barrelled over to David, fists clenched at his sides. He had his hands ready to push himself up if things got out of hand, which nobody was sure whether that would happen. Elena stayed frozen at her seat, eyes glued to the scene unfolding, physically unable to do anything to stop it.

The pair were just waiting for something—anything. The tension was insurmountable. John was in David’s face, nostrils flared as he spat what seemed like venomous words; they were practically inaudible from their place across the pub. But it was when David delivered a sharp nudge against John’s shoulders with his hands that things escalated.

John didn’t hold back as he swung his arm around to land a hit on David, the same replicated by the latter. They stumbled backwards, knocking drinks over, causing patrons to get up from their seats to avoid being crushed by the two fighting men. 

Elena sent an alarmed glance towards Robert, who took it as a sign that they needed to intervene before their friend spent the night in jail. She followed the blonde’s lead, sticking behind him as they rushed to grab John.

“-does it?! It make ya feel good, makin’ girls feel like shit, eh?!” John yelled, his jacket splattered in what was assumed to be beer. Robert was able to push through the gathering crowd easier than Elena was, and she could hear him calling to him, grasping at his clothing in an earnest attempt to pull him away.

Eventually, Elena managed to squeeze past people, hoping to be able to convince John to drop it and leave it alone. But as soon as she got to his side, joining Robert in pulling at him, the group stumbled, sending David careening back into Elena, his elbow connecting with the side of her head. Losing her balance, she fell back into a table, knocking more drinks over. However, before she could apologise to the people whose nights they had ruined, a familiar blonde head of hair swooped in front of her, creating a blockade between herself and David.

Even if David hadn’t elbowed Elena intentionally, seeing her take a hit from that man sent Robert into a rage. Uncharacteristically puffing his chest with anger rather than the intention to swoon and peacock his way around a stage in front of crowds of people. His brows were narrowed as John’s were earlier, and he too sent a harsh shove against David, catching him off-guard.

“Oi! That’s enough!”

Shouts could be heard from those working the night shift, and it became clearer that they should leave, for their own sakes. Elena reached out to grab at Robert’s jumper, turning him around. “We need to go,” she let him know, nodding her head in the relative direction of displeased shouts.

Robert simply nodded, understanding, before spinning to grasp John by the back of his collar, using all his energy to drag him away from the chaos, practically kicking and screaming. Insults continued to spout from his mouth, his drunken state making each one more damning than the last.

“Pack it in and walk!” Elena snapped in John’s direction through clenched teeth, helping Robert in taking him outside and towards Robert’s car.

“Bloody hell, Bonz,” Robert huffed, running his free hand over his face. He couldn’t be too mad at him; if he matched the level of intoxication John was at, he may have just done the exact same thing.

The trio were mere inches from the car when John’s knees gave out, making Robert and Elena’s job ten times more difficult. Before they could process it, the drummer had doubled over, the events taking a toll on his body as he regurgitated the recent contents of his stomach, which mostly consisted of booze.

“Of course,” Elena sighed, patting John on the back as he coughed and sputtered beside Robert’s car. She lifted her gaze up to Robert, rolling her eyes in a light-hearted attempt to pull the heavy atmosphere back up again.

“Oi, don’t you get my shoes, mate,” Robert warned, shuffling to the side to help his friend into the back of the car. Before he settled in, John grabbed a hold of Elena’s sleeve, and stared up at her with bloodshot eyes.

“I love you,” he drawled, tightening his grip on her.

“I know,” she responded with a tone akin to that you’d use on Jason.

“Thank you,” he continued.

“That’s alright, just move your legs so we can put you in the car properl–”

“You’re my best friends…” John furrowed his eyebrows, almost on the verge of drunken tears as he decided to hold onto Robert’s sleeve with his other hand, pulling him closer to the car so the two were pressed together, side by side. “And you two are just…” He seemed to lose his ability to form a coherent sentence, and just let out an exasperated groan. “I mean you two…” He shut his eyes, letting his weight fall forward until his head was laying against Robert’s arm.

“We are yer best friends, but you need to get in the car so we can take you home,” Robert chuckled, trying his best to lift the drummer up with Elena’s help.

“Where’s Pat?” he inhaled sharply.

“Home, Bon-Bon,” Elena answered, trying her best not to burst out laughing. “She’s at home, and home is where we’re going, alright?”

“Home!” he announced, pointing in a random direction.

“Jesus Christ,” Robert snorted, finally managing to get a single leg in the car.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t let us put you in the car, we’ll be going to jail for trespassing, so move,” Elena lightly scolded him, seemingly snapping him into action as John launched himself back across the seats. She just stared at him, before humming, “Close enough,” and shutting the car door.

With equally exasperated breaths of relief, Elena and Robert quickly slid into the front of the car, eager to make their departure as swift as possible. Neither of them felt like spending the night bailing John out.

The majority of the ride back to the Bonham house was relatively quiet, with the exception of the car’s engine and the heavy snoring from the drunk drummer in the back. Elena felt her eyes growing heavy and the events of the evening had sobered her up to an almost uncomfortable amount. She didn’t think she would ever miss a sofa as much as she did at that moment.

Robert took the time whilst driving to regain his composure. Seeing David in and of itself was enough to get his blood pumping in all the wrong ways, but once that wanker’s elbow connected with the side of Elena’s face, he was a goner. Five more minutes in that pub, and he would be joining his best friend behind bars.

Thoughts ran a mile a minute, his eyes darting to the side to catch a glimpse of Elena’s blank expression. Or maybe she was just mulling over what transpired… Either way, Robert’s dejection intensified once he realised the way he planned to end this night would not go entirely to plan, though not impossible.

All he had to do now was get John and Elena back home safely and without any more disruptions.

Elena closed her eyes, gathering her bearings as they neared the familiar street she’d called home for at least a month now. She spun in her seat, peering over the back to check that John hadn’t destroyed the interior of Robert’s car with more bodily fluids, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him completely passed out. He almost looked too comfortable to wake up. However, Elena suspected Robert wouldn’t necessarily be thrilled by the idea of a drunk John Bonham unconscious in the back of his car overnight.

The drummer had gone completely limp as Robert and Elena attempted to pull him from his laid back position. Mumbling incoherencies, the occasional rant about a fry-up leaving his half-asleep voice. Eventually, Elena had to retrieve Pat from inside the house to assist them.

“Bloody Nora, what the hell happened?” she sighed at the sight of her husband propped up against the car with his legs bending at the knee.

“Hi darling…” John slurred, catching a glimpse of his wife and holding his arms out to her.

“Don’t ‘hi darling’ me—let’s get you inside.” Pat shook her head, taking Elena’s place beside him and wrapping an arm tightly around his waist to help Robert take him to the front door. Elena kept close behind them, in case of any mishaps.

“Oh, uh, he yacked in the car park, so just…” Robert informed Pat once they’d crossed the threshold of the doorway. “...Be warned.”

Pat simply huffed and shook her head, glancing at Robert. “Well, thanks for staying sober yourself so you could bring him home this time.” Even though she was displeased with her husband, she couldn’t be angry at either Robert or Elena; John’s drunken behaviour was scarcely contained.

“Gah!!” John suddenly yelled, shielding himself from the “bright” lights of his home with his hands. He was immediately shushed by Pat.

“Shh! It’s eleven at night, you’ll wake up Jason!” she whisper-shouted at him, leading him over to the sofa.

“Eleven already?” Elena asked with an exasperated exhale. “No wonder I’m so tired… Hang on, don’t put him on the sofa, Pat, I have to sleep on that tonight!” She kept her voice as minimal as she could, before she felt a hand on her forearm, snapping her from her concerns about potentially having to sleep in a combination of dried-up beer from John’s jacket, and remnants of vomit from… John’s jacket. 

She met the eyes of Robert, whose demeanour had softened now with the knowledge that they’d arrived at their destination.

“Uh, before you go in, can I just talk to you for a minute?” he asked, raising a hand to scratch at the top of his head.

Between the piercing gaze from those beautiful blue eyes, and the muted chaos from the middle of the living room where Pat was attempting to remove the jacket from John, Elena almost missed the question.

“Wh–oh, yeah, sure, yeah…” she babbled, looking over to Pat. “I’ll be with you in a minute, ‘kay?”

“No worries, love, just make sure you’re not too long; I need to get this one to bed and lock up.”

“No more than ten minutes, Pat,” Robert confirmed, smiling sympathetically at the woman and her unfortunate task for the night.

The pair stepped out, closing the door behind them. Elena let out a sigh, her fingers finding solace in the tousled mess of her hair, while Robert leaned back, hands in pockets, a silent observer of her momentary reprieve.

“Y’alright?” Robert’s voice cut through the stillness, his gaze fixed on Elena as she took a moment to collect herself.

“Yeah,” Elena replied with a wry laugh, her words laced with a hint of disbelief. “Just wasn’t expecting the night to go like it did…”

“Don’t think any of us did,” Robert murmured, watching as she smoothed down stray strands of hair, a testament to the chaos of the evening. Despite the disarray, there was a magnetic pull in him, a desire to run his fingers through the untamed locks, to hold her close. He dug his fingers further into his pockets, grateful for the anchor they provided.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Elena interjected suddenly, her words catching Robert off-guard.

“What on Earth are you sorry for, luv?” Robert’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Elena raised an eyebrow, her gaze unwavering. “If it wasn’t for the whole Da–”

“I don’t want to hear any apology from you, Elena,” he cut in sharply, the close-mention of that name a bitter pill to swallow.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange, Elena’s resolve faltering in the face of Roebrt’s unwavering stance. She nodded, conceding defeat, and shifted the conversation. “Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Ah!” Robert straightened up, grateful that she accepted that she needn’t apologise. With a flourish, he turned to open the boot of his car, retrieving a stack of square-shaped objects. “I figured since I’m goin’ away for a couple of weeks, I’d give yer these now…”

Holding out his arms, he passed Elena a stack of brand new records, and added, “So, uh… Happy Birthday.”

Elena’s eyes widened in surprise, a pang of guilt hitting her as she realised she had forgotten her own bloody birthday. Robert’s concern was palpable as he questioned, “Did… Did I get the date wrong? I-I know it’s already been, but–”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Elena reassured him, shaking her head. “You just… You remembered.”

A sympathetic smile tugged at Robert’s lips as he stepped closer. “And… you didn’t?”

“Less ‘not remembering,’ and more… just not thinking about it,” Elena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s been so hectic, I guess everyone just kinda… forgot.”

“Everyone but me,” Robert corrected her with a grin.

“Everyone but you,” Elena echoed, her gaze lingering on him, filled with a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite place in her exhaustion.

Realising he was probably blushing like a fool, Robert cleared his throat, gesturing towards the envelope sat on top of the records. “So, I know you’ve been a bit behind on music lately, so, I, uh… yeah… I mean, I wouldn’t read the car now, probably do that when yer alone, but–” He paused as Elena ignored his advice, reaching for the envelope as she set the stack gently on the boot of his car. “-Or you should just read it now, whatever works…”

Elena glanced up at Robert with a playful smirk, before directing her attention down to the birthday card not unlike the one he’d sent her a year before, but with a much simpler, yet hard-hitting message within:

Elena,

Without being too much of a sap... I'm very proud of you. Wish I could have been there when you needed somebody, but I can be here for you now.

Seeing as you missed some of the best music of the last year or so, I hope the present isn't too forward. I even slipped in a couple of records from this Led Zeppelin group I hear is pretty decent…

Anyway... it's time to enjoy your 20s and explore the world however (& with whomever) you damn well please!

You're too precious to hide away. Mother Nature deserves such beauty to explore what she has to offer. Don't you dare forget that for a second.

Happy birthday, El.

Robert x

Not yet having the ability to look back up at him, Elena bit down on her lips to steady the urge to grin ear-to-ear. Instead, she silently slipped the card back into the envelope and took a moment to look through the small collection of records. The Beatles’ Abbey Road, The Who’s Tommy, The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Green River, Nick Drake’s Five Leaves Left, Janis Joplin’s Ol’ Kozmic Blues, Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland, Aretha Franklin’s Lady Soul…

And sitting right at the bottom, in all their glory, were Led Zeppelin, and Led Zeppelin II.

Maybe it’s a bit too much… Shit, did I come off too strong? What if she doesn’t want any of that? Robert wracked through all the worst case scenarios, his breath coming to a standstill as he watched Elena look through what he’d picked out for her, and finally lifted her head to meet his eyes.

Neither of them said anything. The occasional rustle of the wind played as their soundtrack.

“Thank you.”

It was gentle. Her voice only just reached his ears. It was a “thank you” that held the weight of multiple insinuations; that became obvious by the intensity in her eyes.

Thank you for the records.

Thank you for the beautiful card.

Thank you for still caring.

Thank you for asking me to go out with you and John tonight.

Thank you for remembering my birthday.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for being so kind to me.

Thank you for being… you.

Robert’s breath caught in his throat as Elena closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head against his chest. It wasn’t even a few seconds before he had instinctively encircled her shoulders, holding her against him with an urgency.

With a trembling hand, Robert dared to reach up, his fingertips hovering hesitantly behind Elena’s head. Summoning all his courage, he did what he had longed to do since the moment they met—he gently tangled his fingers in the silken strands of her dark hair. His touch was tender as he massaged her scalp, losing himself in the sensation of her soft locks.

Lowering his head, Robert nestled against her hair, enfolding her in an embrace that felt like home. Elena had never imagined finding solace in the arms of the tall, golden-haired, goofy boy she had come to know through her own best friend. Yet, in that moment, she found herself grateful that it was Robert who offered her the warmth she had been missing.

“You sure you’re okay, darlin’?” Robert murmured against her hair. She squeezed him tighter, taking a deep breath before nodding against his chest.

“I am now.”

Familiar flutters were once again unleashed in Robert’s stomach, and he pulled his head back so he could look down at her face, though his hand remained glued to the back of her head. As he bore into the deep brown of those big eyes, the only thing illuminating them being the interior lighting of the Bonham house nearby, he couldn’t resist the urge to smooth his free hand over the side of her hair, bringing it round to gently caress her face.

“You’ve got lovely eyes,” he whispered, appreciating every contour of her face in its close proximity.

Elena swallowed thickly, giving into Robert’s touch, only just realising how starved of affection she’d been for so long. “Have I?” she whispered back, pulling one hand from around his waist just to bring it up to hold onto his elbow, fingers gripping gingerly at his jumper.

“Yeah… you do,” Robert smiled with a nod of his head. His eyes darted around her face, landing on the slightly parted plushness of her lips. “And everything else,” he added without hesitation.

She smiled softly up at him, the effect his compliments bestowed on her overtaking her ability to thank him. But that smile eased up once she realised where his focus laid, nothing but the utmost adoration in his observation.

It was freeing not overthinking her next four words; there’d be no better time or place to utter them.

“Just do it, Robert,” she barely whispered with an unwavering gaze.

Robert hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty. But all he found was a steadfast determination, and with a sense of awe, he realised he had heard her unexpected request correctly.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, barely audibly.

“Yes,” Elena affirmed with conviction.

For Robert, it felt like a dream come true; the girl he had secretly pined for had finally granted his unspoken wish. With a gentle brush of his lips against her nose, he tested the waters, gauging her response to each movement. And when she tilted her head, seeking his lips, he couldn’t resist it any longer, and they finally met in a fleeting yet profound moment of connection.

It was so brief. Mere seconds. The flesh barely touched. But the feeling was so monumental.

A feather-like tickle.

Despite the chill of the night, all Elena could think about was how heated the minimal space was between them. How his shaky breath caressed her like a blanket. She didn’t want to pull back—she couldn’t. Not now.

He tasted of San Miguel and Marlboro when she went in for another kiss, truly locked in once both of Robert’s hands held her face. She fell completely at his mercy, breathing out steadily through her nose as she held onto the feeling.

I’m kissing Robert. Robert.

The way she felt against his lips superseded any expectation or wild fantasy Robert could have ever conjured up. He’d thought about this moment for years. What it would be like to claim her lips like this. To express his raging admiration with more than just a smile. She was a delicate, fragile jewel to him; the finest diamond crafted by the Heavens.

Elena’s hand tightened around his forearm before it ran up to his wrist, tilting her head to the side to allow his kiss to deepen. The tip of his nose brushed against her cheek, and the unruly curls atop his head slumped forward to curtain their faces in their moment of bliss.

With an experimental swipe of his tongue along her lower lip, the pair separated, breaking the kiss with a miniscule, intimate smacking sound. Elena fluttered her eyes open, meeting his ocean gaze as he settled his forehead against hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for 4 whole years…” he laughed airily, shutting his eyes and gently nudging her nose with his.

“I wish you had,” she breathed in a hushed tone. He gave her a look of understanding, her implication that the pain she had suffered at the hands of someone who didn’t appreciate her the way he should have, could have been avoided in their utopic retrospective.

Before Robert could go in for another kiss, the sound of the Bonhams’ front door opening snapped them out of their own little world, the two of them ripping apart like strips of velcro.

“Are you almost done?” Pat asked before she’d fully opened the door, but paused momentarily as she saw them parting. She cast a curious glance between them, a small smirk tugging at her mouth before she continued. “I need your help,” she said directly to Elena. “John’s woken Jason up with his loud bloody mouth.”

Elena snorted a laugh, running a hand through her hair and nodding. “Yeah, I’ll be in now, Pat.”

A thud distracted them briefly, attention averted to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Pat groaned. “I swear to God…” Giving Elena and Robert one last smile, she disappeared back inside to tend to the source of the noise.

Elena turned back to Robert, a bashful smile on her face. “Right, well,” she inhaled, grabbing the records from the boot of his car. “Thank you so much for these.” She nodded down at the gifts.

“Anytime, luv,” Robert responded with a knowing smirk. Though, in his gut, he was cartwheeling, bouncing off figurative walls. I kissed her. And she kissed me back. It happened!

“So, uh,” Elena was stumped for further words, feeling her face heat up.

“Go on,” he chuckled, gesturing to the house, knowing she had to go now. As much as he didn’t want to part with her that evening. “I’ll, uh,” he gave her a subtle once over, “I’ll call the house when I’m over in Wales, ‘kay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, the giddiness bubbling up in her chest almost too much to contain, but somehow managed to.

“Oh, one more thing,” Robert called out to her as she made her way to the door. She turned on her heels to look at him again. “That Led Zeppelin group,” he glanced down at the records, “somethin’ tells me they’re pretty fuckin’ hot right now.”

Elena laughed, the grin on her face unwavering. “Yeah, well…” she looked him up and down, seeing the boy in front of her as nothing less than a grown man. “...I think that might just be the singer.”

It was Robert’s turn to gleam bashfully now, shaking his head to the side to push his hair back over his shoulder.

“Bye, Robert.”

“See you in a couple weeks, darlin’.”

Watching her disappear into the safety of his band mate’s house, from his place beside his car, he knew now more than ever that Elena Townsend was the woman he was destined to love.

And God-be-damned if he didn’t make her his.

[untilthenextencore]

Nights To Remember Pt. 1: Of Gods & Goddesses & Magick & Memories~...

Backstory: Summer 1973~. Jimmy & Dahlia had gotten married in the past year~. Some of the more territorial newer wannabe groupies are having a hard time coping with not just her continual presence on tour, but now Dahlia's new status as THE Mrs. Page~. Her & Robert's displaying their close friendship doesn't help~.

Their subsequent finding a friendly way to deal with their boredom amongst the goings on that the hangers on & wannabe groupies live for by escaping certainly doesn't help~.

Robert offers the escape~. He's always been a little in awe of Pagey's choice of girl both in general in the early days, but also in the form of his chosen one, Dahlia~. She is so familiar yet foreign to him it makes his head spin~. So worldly, yet down to earth~. A mix of city yet downhome that he might've chosen for himself if he had the chance~. But as far as he's known her she's been Pagey's~. Solidly, decidedly, faithfully Pagey's~.

Suffice to say, even in his happiest moments in the friendship he's conflicted~. Even though they're not cheating or going behind Pagey's back~.

But when he finds himself even moreso conflicted about the cloak & dagger aspect of their innocent little excursion, that he himself offered initially, he then finds the idea of Pagey finding out also somehow doesn't appeal to him~.

~

Ho hum. Another day. Another dollar. Another concert. Another party. Another night to remember. Until they forget it all in the morning. Or lose track of which night in the sea of "nights to remember" held the goings on their shattered minds remembered only fractures of at tour's end. Glittered & goggle eyed groupies frantically flipped over themselves to catch the eye of anyone who was anyone in King Robert's court. Or so it seemed.

True. Robert was holding court like he was king. One of four at least. But being in the middle of yet another tour - an American one at that - only meant one thing. Like the others he was left without a queen. Only one of their roundtable could however not lay claim to such a misfortune. The luckiest one among them. The wizard in his stars & moon suit himself. James Patrick Page.

No. Because as ever Jimmy had brought along his lady. Lady Dahlia-Maria Dominguez Page. The Lady who was a natural creative herself it seemed. She & her camera, while remaining discreet & unobtrusive, furnished some of the most intimate portraits of the band allowed. A few Peter even sold at the merch table, netting her a tidy sum of her own aside from being married to he of the led wallet and house of Tower.

Though she only released a few here and there. She too liked to maintain her own brand of privacy. Despite the wingding that was their wedding in Hampton Court Palace - of all bleeding places - in the past year, she really preferred a smaller do generally. Friends & family & neighborhood kin & no more. As was borne out by the smaller dos held in Mexico at her family's small yet palatial feeling compound in Jalisco that was something of an early childhood home for her & Pagey's place in England for family that could not swing airfare for a trip to the palace.

Which begged the question.

What the hell was she doin here?!

Not that he begrudged her presence itself. Not at all. Robert & Dahlia always seemed to get on rather well. Down home types lost in the Wonderland that was the entertainment business. Though even with her downhome partial Mexican upbringing Dahlia was decidedly still more of a city girl to this country boy.

Being an LA local, Dahlia knew it like the back of her prettily manicured hand. A hand she also often used in keeping much of the frivolity at arm's length. Even when in the middle of it all. She seemingly always sat apart. That was what Robert didn't understand about her presence in such madness.

Clearly the groupies agreed. Equally manicured hands being verily filed into a point, eager to tear at a tawny-skinned throat as their owner's gripped. "What is SHE doing here?!" Calling her everything but a child of God or what her father's own book termed their culture, "Children of the Sun".

No matter.

She seemingly stayed unaffected.

Toying with her engagement & wedding rings just so. Arranging the gold bangle bracelets or matching pendant. Her only flashes of vanity or pride being her only answer. Letting both that & her presence along with the 5000 other ways she was the "chosen one" of the Mr. James Patrick Page do the talking for her. Knowing her, if she were feeling cheeky she might whip out her instant camera & take a pic of the offending party, leaving some hanger on to deliver it & with it the picture proof / photo evidence of their bitterness as she & her beloved husband tangled fingers & held hands. They can have a pic. She had the real thing.

Guinevere was not giving up her throne.

Unbothered by the petty strife clawing at the door, begging to enter her beloved Camelot.

Rather, she looked bored, really.

Jimmy had disappeared with Bonzo. Off to take a powder likely. She had been chatting with Jonesy about books & things to get his girls & Mo back home, but now he too was off somewhere. Hangers on knew better than to try to ingratiate themselves with her. She had iced them out before. Now they well knew. There was no way in to the Page / Zeppelin inner sanctum with her.

As further proof, both of her seeming boredom & inaccessibility by groupie or hanger on, Robert saw her pull a small book out of her purse. That was Dahlia. Forever a bookworm. Sodom & Gomorrah at her feet. Head in the clouds. Nose in a book.

Before he knew it, Robert felt himself propelled towards her, stumbling a few times when a glittered & bejeweled fan flung & slung herself over him. Extricating himself deftly every time he uttered a soft, "Not this time, darlin'." "Maybe another night, doll." Or even "What will me missus, think?" Laughing his way out of harm's way as he bid them good night & left them to join the party. He caught more curses & sotto-voce snipes when they saw in what direction he was heading. But no matter. His course was set. Off he traveled to the "land of the people of the sun".

It was then that he allowed his six foot sun-people seeking self to cast a shadow over her in the midst of her reading. This had the intended effect of having the dim light she had been reading under all but disappear as he blocked it out. She whirled around to regard him with sharp eyes that were cut to him in momentary disgust. Her lips pursed as a similarly sharp tongue went about finding the right barb to fling before suddenly dropping its weapon. Her eyes widened before her gaze then softened in mirth as she lifted her arm in modified Roman salute, hand tilted upwards slightly. "Hail, Apollo. What brings the Sun God to these darkened shores?"

Sun God? He quite liked the sound of that. So he decided to play along, wracking his brain for his schoolboy Mythology.

"Hail, Aphrodite. I come in peace." He said, mimicking her salute with the hand that was not holding his beloved ale. "Or should it be Persephone, luv? By the way... Where is our beloved Hades?" Robert craved his neck around, looking for the dark-haired lord of the underworld that always seemed to be lurking around every corner when she was involved. "My stars." He gasped, putting a hand to his bared chest for affect. "I see no star suited one for miles. How is that possible?"

"I think he's off with your fellow northern friend right now. The one who plays either Dionysus or Ares if the bacchanalia goes too far." Dahlia quipped, her lips quirking into a wry grin as she pointed to Jonesy at the bar. "Hermes just left himself as well."

"Foolish ones they are." He tsked, shaking his head. "Leaving one so fair alone in the midst of such bacchanalia indeed."

Looking down he saw that where the glittered ones would have blushed or fluttered their eyelashes & twirled a curl of hair into a coil in flirtation, that was decidedly not Dahlia's - nor Aphrodite or Persephone's - way. Instead, she stayed looking up at him with the same wry grin & mirthful if still piercing stare along with a soft incredulous shake of the head. Her lips said nothing. But those eyes? Those eyes said EVERYTHING.

Clearing his throat & lubricating himself & his suddenly dry mouth with more ale, he jutted his chin at her book. "Whatcha readin' there, luv?"

"A mini collection of Harlem Renaissance poetry. Some classics. The usual." She marked her page & closed it to show him the cover art. Brown bodies arced & curved in exultation.

"Classics indeed. Your usual. A nice addition to your other usual Agatha Christies." He grinned. "What for?"

"Just because." She shrugged as she pocketed the book. "And because I figure if I'm to live in the aftermath of the Swinging Sixties... The Roaring Seventies some have termed... I better brush up on how the times used to Roar back in the day. Better brush up on my Cotton Club classic bacchanalia... Although..." She cast a suddenly weary look across all the goings on around them. Glittering, giggling, sharpened nails & tongues of hardened decidedly un flowerchild GTO like groupies & grubby fingered, coke jittery, tipsy-drunk, outstretched-handed hangers on included & heated a sigh. "Forgive me for saying but this pales in comparison to my childhood dreams of the Cotton Club."

"Indeed." He nodded with another sip of his ale. So she saw what he did that night. What he felt. She felt it too.

"I mean, not to be ungrateful or anything. Knowing how you like it & all. "Prince of Peace" that you are." There was that quirk of her lips again as she drawled the last part out.

Try as he might not to, he winced at the memory of those words leaving his lips unironically. Ah, so she had heard that story too. Of course she had. Was nothing a secret in this God forsaken place?!

His momentary embarrassment was compounded at the same time he was delightfully distracted by the sound of her sweet giggle. "I know how much fun you have typically. And I get how you dig the scene generally speaking. It just doesn't... It doesn't... It doesn't really do it for me... Not much... I mean all these people... They'd probably not spit on me if I were on fire if I wasn't with you guys. If I wasn't Mrs. Page. Hell, half of them would likely be the ones holding the match. Some of them still would now!" She cut her eyes in half dismissal half bemusement at the nail-filing bile-spitting groupies.

Naturally, she saw that too. Nothing escapes a goddess's eyes. A queen misses nothing.

"To clink glasses & break bread with them feels so false & disingenuous. Knowing all that, I mean. That's another reason I have this book." She tapped the book with a finger before closing her purse around it. "That way, I don't have to."

"Suffice to say, grateful though I am to be invited to these things, considering some of the company that find their way in... This ain't exactly my kinda party, Planty." She took her champagne glass from the table, clinking it with his bottle. "Cheers." Before downing the swallow or two that remained.

A moment passed in silent agreement. Robert having nodded at everything she said. The falsehoods of their lifestyle that were apparently hitting him hard that night, she had always seen. Hence her keeping it all at arm's length. Alice falling down a rabbit hole but landing on her own two feet. Dorothy traveling through Oz in a bubble of her own design. Pagey or not, his girl had her own magick. This he had always known. So had Pagey, he surmised, as evident by the rock on her finger as much as anything else.

"What is your type of party, luv? Missing Hampton Court?" He teased, though he knew her well enough to know better.

"No indeed." She laughed, nodding as he refilled her glass. "Thank you, kind sir." Then after a sip, she continued. "Even I know that night was a one in a million. A once in a lifetime event. Though that indeed was a night to remember as you well know."

There went that phrase again. At least this time it was worth it. That night truly was one to remember for all involved. Mariachis and Led Zeppelin acoustic jam at Hampton Court. Would wonders never cease? That had to be a first for all involved!

"But, c'mon blondie!" She nudged him, shaking him out of his reverie.

A reverie of her in her wedding whites with glittering mantilla veil coming down the aisle towards at the altar, seated next to Pagey, dancing with Pagey... And the dances he was able to share with her himself. Cor, was she a vision then. A lovelier bride he had hardly ever known.

Shaking out a wince at the thought of even thinking thar when he had his own missus at home... One who had a decidedly less ritzy do when her own turn came years earlier... He again silenced these demons with another swig of ale & turned his eyes back to the dusky goddess queen vision at hand.

"You know what it is. What my kind of party is. You know it about as well as Jimmy. Think about it."

"Jalisco?" Robert asked.

"Well, yeah." She nodded. "Yes, of course. But what about stateside? You remember. Though it's been awhile."

Robert instantly got hit with another blast from the past and he rattled off the vignettes as they came flashing back to him. "East LA. Whittier Boulevard. The Chuco." A quaint little chill hangout spot for local Chicano youth that played a mix of oldies, early rock'n'roll, Chicano groups, Latin jazz & Mexican or Latin music of all kinds.

Dahlia snapped her fingers & pointed at him. "Bingo. That's it. That's it exactly, Robert. That's my kind of party. All of it."

"Why don't we go back tonight then?" Robert offered with yet another swig from his bottle.

Dahlia paused mid thought. Mid answer. Her mouth falling open in a silent gasp & lack of immediate response. Try as she might, she couldn't really think of a reason not to. Maybe it was selfish of her, but she also really wanted to. Really wanted to. But still, she had to ask.

"Right now?" She whispered conspiratorially.

"Why not?" He shrugged. "S'gotta be better than this lot, yeah?"

Dahlia gave a quick look around & then went back to regarding Robert with a bemused smirk. "Don't you think they might miss you, your highness? I mean, how could they not miss their beloved Prince of Peace?"

He winced again at the little rib. (Dahlia was one of the rare very few whose barbs both landed & made him laugh.) But he did his best to play it off with a laugh & a wry grin of his own as he mused. "We'll be back."

Dahlia cast her eyes back over the bacchanalia, mulling things over. Another moment passed before she shot to her feet, tossing a soft voiced request over her shoulder. "Wait right here."

She then left the table & crossed over the room to Peter sitting at the bar with his ever present cigar, tapping him on the shoulder. She whispered something in his ear which had the cigar chomping bear of a man nearly dropping his cigar in shock as his jaw nearly slackened. He muttered something back, motioning to the goings on to which she shook her head, explaining further. She motioned across the room, lifting her hands in a quizzical shrug before pointing to the door, which was guarded shut. Then folding her hands together, she evidently pleads her case. And surprise surprise, wizened, hard negotiator Peter folds. He relents.

Peter motions to Magnet - of all people - pointing to her & motioning to a back entrance & hence exit. Dahlia squealed, leaping into Peter's arms & giving him a grateful squeeze. Peter grinned, hugging her back & patting her on the back with a meaty hand, making sure to keep his lit cigar away from her & keeping her safe from the ashes.

Upon breaking the hug, Dahlia turned to motion to Robert himself & tell Peter something else that nearly made him drop his cigar again. Peter's eyes widened & then narrowed. Clearly telling Peter that Robert too would be making his exit & taking his leave just then.

Peter's gaze sharpened... Not with malice... But with knowledge... He knew Robert... His types... His wonts... Or wants...

Robert knew this well...

And so it was that as Robert sidled up to both Magnet & Dahlia, he heard something above the whines & curses of the groupies. A few gruff words grunted in Cole's direction by his behemoth of a manager that cut through the din. "Get Pagey..."

Hustling himself along with her & Magnet out the door, Robert did his best to avoid Peter's gaze from then on out. Helping her into her jacket, which was really one of Pagey's more subtle, casual & less spangled boleros, Robert couldn't help but ask. "What was that about, luv?"

"Oh nothing..." She shrugged before thanking him & Magnet for opening her door & helping her into the car respectively. "Thank you. Such gentlemen." The tension Robert felt was broken by a shared giggle between the three before she continued. "I just told Peter I wanted to leave & hit up East LA for awhile before we head back to the Hyatt. He asked if Pagey was coming & I said he disappeared with Bonz for a bit & I couldn't find him. Besides, he was having fun last I knew, so I didn't want to pull him away from him being able to relax."

"I see..." He trotted over to his side of the car, slipping inside himself with Magnet shielding him from view of any lurking groupies as best as he could. "And the motioning to me & the party at hand, luv?"

"Simple." Dahlia explained, punctuating her words with the click of her belt. "I told him to tell Jimmy where I was, that I'd be back soon & not to worry. That not only would Magnet be with me but so would you & that you were leaving to tag along with me too. That you'd be there to protect me as well."

Robert felt a slight quickening of his pulse despite the innocence of it all. The innocence of her explanation. Of the situation. Yet the cloak & dagger feel of it all gave him a little heart flutter & frisson at once. He didn't quite know why. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Why was he so unnerved?...

It was his idea, after all...

They weren't doing anything wrong anyway...

It was then that Magnet got onto the road & pulled off. Now Robert knew... There was no turning back...

Though turn back he did...

Robert couldn't help it...

And so it was that as he craved his neck to glance back at the traffic behind him, Robert swore he saw a hint of a familiar tall, willowy, smoking, silver accented, black-haired figure hustling into the back seat of a car that roared to life & took off a few car's length behind them.

Only one word came to mind to describe the situation Robert found himself shoe-horning himself into now & his current state of mind.

"Shit..."

~

Hope you guys enjoy~!

As ever this is forever under construction~!

[led-topia]

jimbert fanfiction

Title: Killed by Death.

Summary: “Purgatory has nothing to do with hell, where those who have already been condemned actually go. The souls go to purgatory when their end has not yet been decreed. It is a last chance.”

link

[firethatgrewsolow]

One shot or fic idea for just mundane everyday things with Robert? Grocery shopping, etc. Despite the many situations I’d love to have a time machine to experience, casually showing him off/being seen with him in day to day life would definitely be one. Just food for thought! 😘

Oh, fun, anon! Cute idea - thank you! 😍😍 Here's a short vignette that came to mind - hope you like it. 💖

“Grab that box, will you?” Michelle wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hand, finally serving Robert a scowl. “Come on. There’s a ton more to get, and we have to ...” the admonishment dissipated as she studied him studying himself. “What are you doing?”

Robert cocked his head, still fixed on his reflection in the freezer door. “You know, the light in here is not very flattering. You might mention that to the manager.”

“It’s a fucking grocery store, Narcissus.”

He brushed a thumb along his slightly bristled chin. “Well, it doesn’t make for a very satisfying shopping experience.”

Michelle snorted. “Repeat. It’s a grocery store. Now please get that stuff on the top shelf. I can't reach it.”

Robert abandoned the makeshift mirror, his focus shifting to the task at hand. “Do you mean this?" he asked, tapping the cardboard box she coveted. "You can’t reach? It’s too high?" He quelled his amusement as she pushed onto her tippy toes in an unsuccessful and very grumpy bid to claim her prize. "I could, ah, help you up if you like. But only if you want it. My help, that is," he hummed, toying with the package.

Michelle stilled, all too familiar with the sing-songy tone. Their eyes met, hers narrowing as she recognized the glimmer shining back at her. Countdown to lip curling in three … two … yep, right on the money.

Robert slithered closer, gently gyrating his hips. “I’m pretty good at getting things up.”

Michelle barked a laugh. “So I hear. Mainly from you.” She glanced to her left, noting the gaggle of shoppers watching them. No, not watching. Staring. Entranced, naturally. She could tell that he saw it, too. Heaven help us, he has an audience. As he prepared to deliver what was sure to be another round of innuendo, she jumped up, snagging the box from under his fingertips. He let out a mighty howl as she landed on his foot. She stomped him again for good measure. "Oh, Lord, don't be so dramatic."

Lips now flat-lined, Robert crossed his arms with a huff. "That wasn’t very nice. You didn't need to-"

"Yes, I did," she shot back, pulling him down the aisle and across the expanse of the store. She thrust a crumpled scrap of paper into his palm. “Here’s your list.”

He grudgingly unfurled it, his demeanor suddenly brightening. "Oooh, lemons, I like it.”

“Only two, Robert, not two hundred.” She grinned devilishly. “And don't forget the diapers."

"Diapers? You mean nappies?" Robert resumed his examination of the sheet. "That's not really my department," he grumbled under his breath.

Michelle whirled around. "Excuse me? Not your department? I seem to recall you were very eager to play a role in it."

The singer shrugged. "That's different. That's what men were designed for. Although some of us do it better than others," he added languidly, the glimmer returning.

Her brow lifted, a soft ripple stirring inside of her. "And some don't."

"Ouch," Robert purred, sensing, or at least hoping for a fracture in her resolve. His gaze flickered to the wall clock mounted over the exit. Hmm ... we could be finished by five, back at home by a quarter til …

"I know what you're thinking."

"I seriously doubt that." He closed the gap between them, nuzzling her neck as his voice dropped an octave. "If you did, you'd likely not still be standing here."

Michelle inhaled sharply, cursing herself for the visceral reaction. God, he smelled so good, everything about him was just ... so good. Goddamnit!

"Gotcha."

His slow, sultry whisper summoned chills across her body, her mouth falling open as she canvassed his every feature. She had them memorized. The thick golden curls dusting his broad shoulders, solid and strong. The little dimples on his cheek and chin, a perfect balance of precious and boyishly insolent. The stormy blue eyes, perpetually kind, perpetually sparkling, until they weren't. And his smirk. Always his smirk. At times shy, most times bold, and without fail, her Achilles heel. Fuck! She'd never tire of any of it. On stage, on the farm, in a fucking grocery store, it didn't matter. She swallowed, doing her best to wrest control, but she knew there was no point. There never was. Oblivious to the burgeoning assemblage surrounding them, she plucked the paper from his grasp, sending it fluttering to the floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

[pizzaqueen]

A very little something I wrote when I was feeling sad. Possibly pre-slash, around 150 words

Eddie becomes a plant dad, and he introduces Steve to all his babies. There’s Tree Beard and Quickbeam and Leaflock and Beechbone and Skinbark—

“And this,” he says, gesturing proudly to a pot with long crinkly leaves bursting out of it, “is Robert.”

Steve blinks. “Robert?”

“Yeah.”

“How come all the others get weird names—”

“They’re named after Ents.” Eddie pauses. “Well, except for Smaug, the dragon tree.”

“And this one is Robert?”

“Because he’s a plant.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“No, like… Robert Plant.”

Cue a blank look from Steve.

“Led Zeppelin!”

“Oh. Right.” Steve huffs. “Cute.”

“I thought so.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“But you think I’m cute.”

“I didn’t—” Steve’s face heats. “Whatever.” He crosses his arms and nods at the plant. “Just— Tell me about Robert.”

Eddie grins, but he starts talking, telling Steve all about Robert, things Steve will maybe only half remember, hands gesturing wildly, and Steve gets lost in the daydream of a house filled with plants, and Eddie there to tell him all about them.

[samiwife]

I will always say that I love the way you write because it's really beautiful (I've read them about 10 times) Could you write some headcanons with Robert Plant or Jimmy Page? Because you're really cool at writing headcanons (I admire you😓😓)

Oh my god thank you so much!!!!! I love writing headcanons! Thanks 4 the support <3 Hope you enjoy <3

Headcanons and Preferences 𓆩⟡𓆪 (Ft: Robert Plant)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

Would always sleep in and you'd bring breakfast in bed for him

Collects records of his favorite bands

Walks around the house with a half-opened shirt exposing his chest

Great with kids

Always asks for kids

Cares a lot about his hair

Has a lot of hair products

Dances a lot in the living room

Constantly moving around otherwise he goes insane

Loves nature

Loves going on walks

Wears a lot of jewelry

For some reason he loves goats

Tries to work out but just gives up

Loves traveling

Would sing for you when you're sad

Would take care of you when you're sick

Sometimes he plays soccer in the backyard

Reads late at night

Loves fruit, especially oranges or apples

Always smells like tea, especially Earl Gray Tea

You always play with his hair

You also always mess with his hair

You tie up his hair in different ways

When he's sick he always drinks tea and listens to records

Sometimes he makes his own bracelets and necklaces

Rides his bike down the street to go to a nearby cafe

Tries to play guitar for you but gets mocked by Jimmy for not being good

Smokes cigarettes outside so he doesn't bother you

Gets jealous easily

Craves attention from you

Would stare down the person he's jealous of

Would make it known he's mad or jealous

When he's horny, he pulls you in closer and whimpers in your ear

Very slutty in bed

Moans so LOUD

VERY good during sex

He always loves it when you pull his hair during sex

Loves swimming

Eats scones a lot and drinks a lot of tea

Loves clothes shopping for you and himself

Holds your hand a lot

Has SUPER warm hands

SIngs anytime and anywhere

Would stare you up and down when taking off your clothes

Sometimes you cut his hair

He always talks in big words

Has the softest lips

Also, he has the prettiest eyes

HAS MAJOR BIG DICK ENERGY AND HE DOES HAVE ONE

Loves buying paintings and making some

Sleeps like a sick Victorian child (HAHA I'LL STOP)

Wears tight pants to show off his "size"

When you're injured, he'll carry you on his back and take you to safety

Always makes tea for you

Loves lying in the grass with you

Stealing his shirts is a must

Makes funny faces while singing

Winks at you constantly

Kisses on the neck and cheek are constant

Would say "baby" 20 times a day

Sometimes he calls you "mama"

You think he has a mommy kink (HAHAH I'M SORRY)

You sometimes think that he and Jimmy have a thing with each other

Sometimes he wears big fur hats to cover up his bad hair days

Lastly, he always cares about you. Even if you're mad at him. He'll try his best to make you happy again. He'll buy gifts, he'll hug you and kiss you to make you feel better. He will do everything in his power to make you love and notice him

THANKS 4 READING <3 TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES <3333

[chromations]

"It’s so mundane, every day, but it’s gorgeous. Maybe he’s been around Robert for too long. This is his kind of thought process.

The buzz reaches his brain; it’s peaceful."

Title: Sick Again (Smokers in L.A.)

Rating: Mature

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Fandom: Led Zeppelin

Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant

Characters: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones

Additional Tags: Marijuana, Drug Use, Shotgunning, Kissing, Hair-pulling, 1976, Sunsets, Robert Plant cane era, Anxiety, Nausea, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, also implied eating disorders but that's if you really look

Language: English

Stats: Published: 2024-03-23 Words: 1,660 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

In July of 1976, Jimmy finds himself forced to attend a formal party with the rest of Led Zeppelin. Uneasy with the environment, he sits on the balcony in the summer evening. Robert finds him and finds a way to quell the unease with his own charm.

[psychedeliagroove]

I’m having a Bob Dylan phase

[bijouxcarys]

The High Life (Robert Plant x fem!OC)

Masterlist

Summary: Set in 1979, our unnamed fem!OC, a star in her own right, spends one night out of many with an 8-year-long fling she hasn't seen in a long time, the Golden God himself. NSFW/18+, minors DNI

Smut prompts: #1 "Feel this? It's just for you." and #2 "Let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

Word count: 2.9k

Note: This went in a fluffy direction I wasn't expecting it to, but I kinda love this one. Might be one of my favourites thus far.

Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @strsmn @chromations @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @firethatgrewsolow @angrychicksposts @m-faithfull @callmethehunter (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!)

They met on a rainy day in Scotland. Kindred spirits of the most beautiful kind. Living to create, creating to live. If fate had been kinder, She would have crossed their paths sooner. But the fleeting moments in which they did stumble upon one another were enough in the midst of the chaos some would call the high life.

Both knew of the incessant fawning from a crowd of dedicated supporters, following their every move, no matter where they went. Both had long forgotten how many they had spent a night with on the lonely road. And both knew they could have any one of those flustered, breathless beauties formed in a compacted huddle outside that hotel in Glasgow.

Robert enjoyed her carefree nature, something she’d only nurtured into a heady personality since he met her at 19. Though 8 years had passed, and their meetings were few and far between, it felt like a lifetime of back and forth pining for a childhood friend. And here they were, darting into the hotel lobby together after having encountered more than passionate fans and hoards of paparazzi.

They were giggling like teenagers, hand in hand, as they found the nearest available lift, practically sliding into it.

“Press it, press it, press it!” she squealed, pushing Robert to select his floor as quickly as possible. 

“I am!” He rapidly pressed the button to the 5th floor. She had a grip on his shirt, impatiently waiting for the elevator door to slide shut so she could pull him into her, instantly connecting her lips with his. 

His hands flew up to her face, taking it between his palms to hold her in place as he kissed her back. It was the exact same position they had been caught in that triggered their cat and mouse chase from a few streets away.

“That was your fault,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“Was it?” He smirked, playfully nipping at her ear and encircling his arms around her. Pulling her flush against him allowed her to catch the hardness forming under his jeans, though it was an easy few layers of clothing deep. 

“Yeah, it was,” she breathed in his sandalwood scent. “It was your idea to stop at that off-licence for a pack of fags.”

“You didn’t seem to protest too much, darlin’…” Her knees weakened when Robert began his expert teasing along the side of her neck, lips gentle yet determined. Tip of his tongue tickling her skin. “Much like right now.” He chuckled, a little smugly, as she involuntarily lifted her leg to graze his bulge with her thigh.

“I didn’t think there’d be that many people, Robert—“

“Of course there would be, everyone was in town to see you perform tonight,” he pointed out, pulling his head back enough to look at her lovesick face. Pretty eyes beaming up at him, cheeks flushed from their exertion… 

She’s gonna look even better laid over my bed,

hair splayed around her head, 

whole body glowing a gentle red. 

Damn it, she even had him thinking in rhyme.

“And to think, out of all those people, you still want little old me…” he let out in a somewhat dramatic sigh. He already knew she was his. No matter how many admirers packed themselves into an arena to see her, it was a done deal if Robert was there. 

The same could be said for him. Whilst the past couple of years had slammed the brakes on his ventures, and subsequently the amount of gigs Zeppelin did, whenever she was around… he was done for.

“I’d be an idiot not to,” she whispered, feeling the lift come to a stop with a jarring shake. 

They were off. Like a couple of hyperactive greyhounds, they darted down the hall to Robert’s room, and soon enough, they were closed off to the rest of the world.

“Anyway, whose idea was it to abandon the car and leg it over here?” Robert continued the conversation, shrugging his jacket off and kicking off his shoes. She followed his actions, smirking at him.

“I believe that one was my idea—you try getting through that crowd just to get in a fucking car that doesn’t belong to you!”

He shot her a toothy grin at her energy, despite having run around a stage for two hours. Seating himself on the bed, he beckoned for her to join him, pulling her by her waist onto his lap.

“At least we’re here now,” he hummed up at her, nuzzling his nose into the low neckline of her blouse. He could feel it as her heartbeat picked up and her legs squeezed around his hips. “Just the two of us…” He pressed a heated kiss on her chest, before tugging at a button with his teeth. “You’ve got too many clothes on, luv.”

Biting gently at her bottom lip, she brought a hand up to slowly pop open the first button that was fastened, having neglected the top two after her show. Robert caught a glimpse of the lacey bra, the delicate material peeking over. His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, wishing he could claw his way through her jeans with his nails.

“You’re a tease, my love,” he sighed, eyes glued to any expanse of exposed skin in his sights. She was a goddess. An otherworldly beauty of nature. Nobody could blame him for forgetting the existence of every other woman out there, when she was in front of him. She was everything he wanted, and as time passed, he became all the more sure that she was everything he needed.

“Do you want me to speed this up?” she asked him softly, breaking him from his moment of disconnect. Always so willing to please… she’s perfect.

Shaking his head, he pulled her as close to him as he could. “No… just…” he paused, a certain vulnerability in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. He drank in the depths of her gentle expression. “…just stay there for a bit longer… please,” he whispered.

There was nothing off-putting about his demeanour. In fact, it was all the more alluring to her. Each time she saw Robert marked another layer of the Golden God persona shedding. This time seemed to unveil a man straddling the line between clinging to the past, and cannonballing into the future.

She liked it.

Giving him a warm smile, she nodded down at him, leaning forward to nestle her lips into the fair locks that curled and twisted over his forehead.

Robert held her there for a while, completely glueing himself to her body. Even through all the layers of clothing, he’d never felt closer to her, or anyone for that matter. His hands continued to caress her sweet curves, occasionally pulling her hips down to feel him beneath her. He revelled in the shaky sighs that fell from her lips, the knowledge of it being for him empowering each movement he made.

Eventually, the steady embrace became too heated to prolong. She had naturally begun a rocking motion, back and forth, with her hips, providing both of them with minimal, much-needed, friction. He finally peered up at her, eyes blown out with lust, admiration… hitting all the correct emotional buttons to trigger her yearning.

Then, he drew her in closer, simultaneously grinding his hips upwards and keeping them pressed together. She gasped through parted lips, eyelids hooding.

“You feel that, baby?” he asked in a hushed tone. “It’s just for you…” he proclaimed very earnestly, watching as her eyes widened ever so slightly. With a desperate sigh, he grabbed the back of her head to close the gap of heavy air between them, crashing his lips to hers in a searing, sensual kiss.

Smiling against his lips, her hands buried themselves into his windswept hair, curls intertwining with her fingers. She fell, hard, into his embrace, surrendering herself entirely—body and soul—to his being.

Robert took his time, delicately undressing her as if she were an invaluable gift sent from Heaven itself. He pressed kisses along every inch of her skin, worshipping the body Mother Nature had bestowed upon her. She’d never seen him like this, and it was a much welcomed switch up from the hormonal fucking they were so accustomed to by now.

He worked the pink nubs on her chest to a stiffened peak through hearty caresses with his tongue, lips, fingers, teeth… Her skin was almost completely covered in goosebumps at the care he took. It was like he treated every ministration with his tongue as a predecessor, a preview, for what it could do in other places. His bright blue eyes staring up at her as his tongue circled around her nipples, he silently demonstrated the movements replicated on her swollen pearl moments later.

Just like in his premonition, he had her stretched out over the bed, body in a state of desire—writhing as he feasted on her weeping nectar below. Every mewl, whimper, and gasp fuelled the fire of his longing.

No fingers were needed; he reserved them for groping at her chest, holding onto her hand, and running them up and down the plush thighs bracketing his head. He worked her up to an ardent release, her hips grinding up into his face as she pulsated against his talented tongue.

Now, he was over her, his broad, naked frame shielding her from everything around them as he gave her an intimate taste of her own honey.

“I hope you realise you’ve ruined me for everyone else…” she exhaled. He looked over her flustered face, the small amount of mascara she had on transferred under her eyes. She’d never looked more beautiful to him. And to hear this woman, out of anyone, proclaim something so profound to him sent him over the edge. It was that moment in which he realised… 

Once in a blue moon is nowhere near enough time to love you the way I want to.

“Well…” he started with a jesting tut, “let’s ruin ourselves for anyone else, then, my temptress.” He let out a breathy chuckle, moving to lay back against the fluffed pillows. Once again, he beckoned her over, offering up his lap, where his rigid, desperate cock layed prominent against his stomach. 

Once she was over him, straddling him in her warmth, he dragged his tip along her waiting folds, collecting her juices, the result of his hunger for her. She found herself glad he hadn’t used his fingers on her earlier; she always loved feeling the effects of his size, the slight sting of the stretch he provided. She loved his lasting impact on her, being able to feel it for up to a week after. It was her way of remembering their encounter, at least for a little while.

He hungrily eyed her body, focusing on the way her cunt soaked the head of his cock as he held onto her leg. With a steel gaze, locked with hers, he finally pushed himself upwards, sliding into her deliciously. They both let out heavy gasps, their union more intense than they had anticipated. “C’mere…”

She obliged, needily resting above him, his arms moving to wrap around her as he brought her in for another kiss. Using his heels for leverage, he made a steady thrust upwards, burying himself as deep as he could. He groaned against her lips, swirling his tongue around hers before breaking it to inhale deeply.

“I don’t know how I manage without feeling you wrapped around me.” Another thrust. “You’re the most perfect…fuck…woman on the planet,” he groaned.

An airy whimper tickled his lips, and she furrowed her brows as she took the pace he set, his cock sliding along her convulsing walls. The hand that splayed across his chest was the only thing stopping her from completely collapsing over him. “Oh, fuck… Robert…” 

He’d never get over the way she moaned his name, from within the depths of her soul, with so much fiery devotion. The way she arched and rippled over him, taking every inch of his cock, whining and whimpering just for him… it unleashed an unbridled energy. Every. Time.

“Lean back a little, baby…” 

Doing as instructed, she sat up and angled backwards, one of her hands resting on his leg behind her to steady herself. With her upper half leaned back, Robert took a hold of her hips and pulled them forward as he picked up the pace.

“Fuck!” she gasped, followed by an elongated moan when his cock reached so deep within that it kissed the spongy surface of her cervix.

“Doesn’t that feel so good, darlin’?” he rhetorically asked with a knowing smirk. “Can you feel how deep I am?”

One thing she could never have enough of was Robert’s pillow talk. His silky voice, the accent that had ingrained itself into her mind. It sent something fierce through her veins and snapped her into overdrive more often than not.

“Here,” Robert took her free hand, fingers wrapping around her wrist easily, and placed it on her lower abdomen, close to her mound. “Press down…” he softly instructed before resuming his harsh thrusts, grinding all the way up. He watched her face, waiting for the moment. A proud smile spread across his lips when her eyes widened. She snapped her head up at him with a look of disbelief.

“Bloody hell…” she sighed, daring to press down a little harder. And sure enough, very lightly, she could feel the movements of his cock deep within her. There was something so beautiful about feeling his thrusts from an external source, and it strangely made her feel even closer to him. Connected.

They spent a good while in this position, having quickly resorted to allowing her to ride him to her heart’s content. Hands on his chest, back arched, as she ground and bounced on his red-hot length. He loved seeing her like this. Wild. Free. In the rawest human form.

“So fuckin’ beautiful…” Robert panted and grunted each time she collided with him, the lewd slapping sound resonating throughout the room. Fingers gripping into her hips as hard as they were, she was convinced there’d be lasting marks—the thought made her groan under her breath. 

Eventually, watching her on top of him drove him over the edge. He had to have her. With unprecedented force, he flipped them over and took her his way, hands on either side of her head. 

“Bit impatient, love,” she chided up at him with a bright smile, running her hands up his fluffy chest. He felt his stomach flip at her pearly grin, the endearing charm in her every expression bringing him to the highest levels of ecstasy possible. Smiling back at her, he breathed heavily through his nose, willing his hips to take them both to the finish line.

“Do you have any idea how pretty you are?” he huffed through his committed thrusts, bordering on slamming.

“I-I—mmm—I might have heard you say it a few times…”

“Well I’ll say it again… You,” thrust, “are,” thrust, “so,” thrust, “fucking,” thrust, “beautiful.”

Her moans reverberated in her chest each time his hips met hers, and she felt herself edging towards her release. Her chest rose up and down, her panting becoming more and more audible. The familiar flutters around his cock told him all he needed to know. Bringing one leg up to rest on his shoulder, he held onto her, putting every last ounce of his energy into making his lover come undone.

“Oh God… please… don’t stop, Robert,” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulder.

“Oh, I won’t, baby,” he shook his head, blowing some of his own hair out of his eyes. “Come on, angel,” he urged, pressing a gentle kiss to her ankle to counteract the pressure between her hips. “I need to feel it… need to feel you cum for me…”

She was so close. Just a little more…

“Don’t close your eyes,” he held onto the side of her face with his free hand. “Need those pretty eyes on me…”

She gazed up at him longingly, biting harshly at her bottom lip as he drove her home, sweat-sheened skin glowing from above. “R-Robert… fuck, I’m…” She couldn’t even force the words out before she was thrown off the edge of her coital cliff, back arching painfully as she clenched around his cock.

“Good girl… good fucking girl, shit,” he whined, mouth dropping open at how tightly she clung to him, inside and out. “Almost there, darlin’… your cunt always makes me feel so fuckin’ good…”

Breathlessly, attempting to recover from her high with Robert still relentlessly grinding into her, she stared up at him with teary eyes. She shakily held onto the side of his face, leaving him no other option than to meet her gaze with intense eyes.

“Please, Robert.”

“Mmm…”

“Cum inside me,” she begged.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, baby?” he growled with clenched teeth.

“Yeah…” she answered with a nod.

“Ah, fuck!” he groaned loudly, thrusts staggering as he let out a string of expletives, deep grunts that spoke of ambitious roars, and a faint wail from the back of his throat. He pumped himself dry, unloading every bit of his release deep inside her, in his mind solidifying her as his.

With untamed whimpers, he laid his head beside hers, still inside her, hips gyrating as a final attempt to make sure he gave her everything he had—as much as he was allowed to give. 

Their skin seemed to meld together in its tackiness, but neither of them cared. If it was up to them, they’d be having this moment every single night. 

Alas, fate wasn’t as kind, and feelings were meant to be locked up—he’d go home to his wife, sharing special moments with her in the high life.

[another-little-hippie]

short rant: does anyone else ship jimbert so hard they get mad when they see non jimbert zep fic, or y/n zep fic? i just feel upset and sad because it fucks with the timeline of robert’s and jimmy’s relationship that i have established as canon in my head. the timeline is compiled of various jimbert fics that i (being the genius i am) have woven together in my mind palace. and its ego is VERY FRAGILE! so yeah, i get mad. i protect my baby girls ferociously against non-existent threats 🥲

(disclaimer: fic writers, this is not a slight against you in ANYWAY! just an acknowledgement of how pathetic i am lol. ya’ll are awesome, keep writing what you write and live your best life.)

[laluxea]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jimmy Page & Robert Plant Characters: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, Patricia Page, Wallet (OC), Percy (OC), Stryder - Character, Mr. M (OC), Bast (OC), Owain (OC), John Paul Jones, John Bonham, Maureen "Mo" Jones, Pat Bonham, Peter Grant, Elvis Presley, Stefan A James (OC), Cheryl (OC), Bronwyn (OC), Anya (OC), Freyja (OC) Additional Tags: page and plant genuinely like each other, rock gods in love, rock god husbands, Cottagecore, rural life, 1970s, 1977, 1974, Birthdays, Incredible String Band Fantasy Romance Project, Bickering, old married couples, questionable invitations, Elvis - Freeform, hot dogs, annoying fans Series: Part 27 of Farm Frolics Summary:

Summary: Robert’s 29th is imminent – his last birthday before he sinks into decrepit old age, according to his darling, ever-sensitive hubby – not to mention his Saturn Return (whatever that is) – so a big celebration it is. The plan? An intimate, outdoor acoustic concert for a few friends and family, in which they live out their long-standing Incredible String Band fantasies at last. But things go awry before the gig even begins, first with the tragic and untimely passing of The King himself. They decide to power through anyway, in his honour – premiering an ‘exciting’ new composition to boot – but the gods seemingly have other plans…

[untilthenextencore]

"Nights To Remember Ch. 3: Bright Lights, Big City, Dark Sylph, Dark Lord~..."

~

~

Bright lights, big city. Taillights & headlights. Children of the sun. Suntanned skin & brown bottled beer. And a curvy, dusky skinned sylph a bit too dressy for such casual surroundings heading into the blues pumping nightclub. Cutting a swath through the milling crowd. Bathed in a pinkish glow from the neon curved lights announcing to the world the humble haven at which they, along with Robert & co had found themselves: The Chuco.

A reference to the Pachucos, zoot suiters that a lot of its denizens were birthed to or had otherwise in their family.

The first teddy boys in a way, Robert thought, right down to the flashy clothes & slicked back hair. Some of the kids still sported that "greaser" aka teddy boy look. Though Robert knew well enough to steer away from the former term & used the latter. He recognized the look anyway. Right down to the cuffed jeans & white t-shirts with the rolled up sleeves that had the cigarette packets & matchbook tucked inside.

He had attempted such a look in his youth. In those heady early days. When rock'n'roll first shook him, and blues first seduced him away. Astray.

Astray.

Astray is apparently how he continued to stay. How else would he find himself here? At a small nightclub away from the rest. Away from all others. But Magnet.

And her.

Magnet he saw chatting up a pretty, petite young thing against a nearby wall.

That just left him. And her. And about a few tens of other kids around them. But in his mind they all but disappeared. All blurring into a Renoir like smudgy frame for his gaze. Myopic as ever. Single-minded. Laser focused. His view. His vision. The vision.

Her.

Her.

Her.

She was bathed in light. A pink light. Blushing violet pink. The shade was a near perfect match to the signage outside. It lit her & everyone else in the room. Making them look like the denizens of one of those pulpy romance comics. All dark features & strawberry light. All dark features except for him. Which, despite his better nature, only served to have him further feel like the protagonist in one of those pulpy romances.

All dark features. And strawberry light. All he saw then was dark features & a figure lit by strawberry light. From the club's tinted lighting, yes. From the rose colored glasses Robert always seemed to sport- especially regarding her - also yes. But also from within.

She lit up.

She came alive here.

She was incandescent.

Her eyes sparkled. Glittered. Shone really. Her mask of previously remote features now fully removed if not shattered. Now her lips curved in the proudest gleaming grin.

She raised her arms in exultation, releasing a cry of exultation from deep within. One which ended up being a cry of call and response. As many around her responded with a similar cry in return.

Thankfully she was far enough ahead - while of course still remaining well in Robert's sight - that no one around them let out any other screams at Robert's striding his 6 foot, blonde, white, English country boy self inside.

Indeed he saw some glimmers of recognition, disbelief, then outright confusion. He could read their features like a book. A silent movie at play before him.

Is it him?

It is!

Why the fuck would he be here?

There's no way!

Little did they know.

There was a way.

One way.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Robert took a beer Magnet gave him in passing. He then noted with his first sip, that Magnet as he passed, was currently flitting on his way to another girl still with the first in tow. Three's company. His kinda company clearly. Clearly hopeful that a threesome was on the way.

Classic Magnet.

Upon taking this beer, Robert raised it to those eyes of recognition. A toast. In return, he pressed a finger to his lips & gave a conspiratorial smile. Thankfully, miraculously, this seemed to be enough to quell any tongues that might've been set a-wag by his arrival. Smiles were returned. Nods & cheers with their drinks in return. A few blown kisses by some young lovelies.

And it was then that even though Robert found his "cover blown," so to speak, he found himself in the clear.

With his way now clear, Robert made his way to Dahlia. She had hugged a few old friends in warm, enthusiastic greeting, chattering animatedly in a quick catch-up. Catching them as she was arriving & they were leaving. After waving goodbye, she then strolled over to the bar, picking up a beer & taking a swig herself as her bent elbow rested on the bartop she leaned back into.

As Robert approached, the soundtrack of sorts, incidental music, continued to tease him in a way that seemed anything but incidental, accidental, or by happenstance. This time, it was Junior Walker & his All Stars.

"What does it take…

(What does it take)...

To win your love for me?...

(To win your love for me)...

How can I make…

(How can I make)...

This dream come true for me…"

He reached out in what seemed like slow motion. Reaching for the vision in raspberry light. Strawberry light. A brilliant smile that seared itself into his mind at first glance. A lyrical laugh that rang out above the clinking beer bottles & trickled over him like the lightest, sweetest waterfall. And silken, tawny skin that burned him alive simultaneously as his fingers slid across her velvet soft hand. The one without the ring.

Her eyes cut over to him. Her gaze at first flickered in confusion before alighting in recognition, smile back to full strength. She mimicked the song then playing in her greeting.

"Hello, stranger." She then added yet another one of her light, playful teases. "Long time no see." Clinking bottles with him, she continued. "I was wondering when you were gonna amble your way in."

"Ah…"

For once in his life, Robert struggled for a snappy line.

So he scrambled for the closest thing.

A grin curved his lips, easier than he felt inside. "Well I can't very well leave you to the wolves now can I?" His delivery wasn't as smooth as he'd have liked, alas. His voice shook slightly. Hopefully she just took that for barely checked laughter.

As it turned out, she took it in stride. It barely checked. It barely registered.

"Wolves?" Dahlia tossed her head back in a laugh of her own. "What wolves?" Motioning to all that was around them, she stated proudly. "This? This is family! We're among family here, Planty! Don't you see? Can't you tell? We're home!"

Home.

Home indeed.

For her.

Dahlia, the girl from East LA. Hometown girl. Local girl made good. Just as her historian father Alberto Dominguez-Alvarez was a local man made good. His books and scholarly lectures and presentations were full of their glory days, both past & present.

Children of the sun.

Chucos.

Chicanos.

He'd caught one of those presentations & lectures in Birmingham in his Pre-Zeppelin days. That's where he got Alberto's books. That's where he got a primer on Mexican culture. Pre-Columbian & current. On Mexican youth. Past & present. On her.

Her father had used her pictures as an example - if a rather self-indulgent one - of modern Mexicanidad. Mentioning her then current early enrollment in UCLA.

There was a collage of pictures of her with her acceptance letter. In a brown beret uniform in East LA where they hailed from. In her Quince dress from the society page. In a button down & jeans in the slightly more upmarket part of LA the family had then moved to. In a classic, demure dress in Mexico. Using her as an example of possibility, of accomplishment, of their multifacetedness. All in one.

Later, he admitted when questioned that yes, she had been in the Sunset Strip curfew protests that some had termed riots. But he stressed that they were protests. And social engagement, community engagement was not a crime and should not be considered a crime due to a difference in melanin between the protestors themselves or between them & those they were protesting against. A knowing reference to the Civil Rights Movement.

Neither Alberto nor Robert had no idea how prescient those words were. He would later. Later. Later when Dahlia showed pictures of both herself & her father in the East LA walkouts, backing up people back home. Backing up friends. Backing up family.

And again at the Chicano Moratorium.

One of the few Zeppelin gigs she had missed she missed on purpose, flying into LA to take part while they did a gig. She headed back to East LA where her family had moved back to by then. Ready to support. To protest. To be heard. The pics she later showed them showed them looking hopeful. Proud. Expectant.

That was before, due to unforseen circumstances, things went left that day. Dark. Deadly. Black.

As soon as he heard, Pagey was on the phone. Peter too. As soon as he heard from Dahlia herself - thankfully safe at home & able to take the call - that she & her family were fine, Pagey had her fly back out to meet them on their next stop on the next available flight. Pagey had her in his arms. Locked in his room with him. Grant assigned them - her really - a bodyguard, under his, Jimmy's & honestly everyone's agreement.

Saying another silent prayer for Ruben Salazar, the one casualty that day, and any others affected, Robert decided to shake the darkness from his mind.

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the light.

Pink light.

Raspberry light.

Strawberry light.

Warm light.

Her light.

He saw his teen self in his mind's eye as he was then at the presentation. Gawking at the pictures. She was bleeding beautiful. Two years younger than him. Where did they make birds like that? Brains and beauty. Dusky skinned determination. Heaven-sent & hip as hell. LA? East LA? Right then and there, he pledged that if he ever made it to the States, he had to go there, wherever that was. Los Angeles, he knew. How far east he'd have to go, he didn't.

What he also didn't know at that time - not until much later - was just how close just such a girl was to him then. Not just such a girl. That girl exactly. For the time was spring 1967, and not only was Alberto in England.

But so was Dahlia.

Alberto, of course, was lecturing Robert & others in the north in Birmingham.

Meanwhile, Dahlia at the time - as he would later find out - was staying southward in London.

She had left the hotel room her father had gotten her, leaving her to study for a paper she was going to do on English History as he traveled about. The hotel room then stood mostly empty. Instead, she saw fit to stay with another attendee of one of her father's lectures that he'd given in London before coming up north.

A friend.

A penpal.

An on again off again budding potential love & beau.

On Shooter's Hill.

In Pangbourne.

With one who would later - now - be his songwriting partner & close friend.

Yes.

With one James Patrick Page.

There she was holeing up with him. Hitting up his local haunts with him. Scotch of St. James in between her studies. Granny Takes a Trip between corrections of one draft's grammar most likely. Giving herself to him for the first time. First of many. First of many on that trip he figured as well. Knowing Pagey. In the car if he had one. In the boat. In the boathouse. Every bleeding where in the boathouse. Again knowing Pagey, Robert figured there was hardly a surface in the place, down to the couch he sat on that first day when he came down, that hadn't been so christened that time in '67.

Granny's, the Scotch, in bed (and other places) with a dusky, driven & foreign little brunette dish. All the places Robert could then only dream of being.

Now he had his dusky brunette by way of Maureen. But she was back home with the kids. And he'd had others since then. Plenty others. Many others. He even had several around him that day.

All his focus went to only one though.

One that was off limits.

Very decidedly off limits.

The one that was closest to him funny enough.

Or as Brenton Wood sang then.

"I run after you...

Like a fool would do...

But mama didn't raise no fool...

And I should know...

That baby you got it...

That's all I can say to you..."

Brenton even seemed to see in her what he did.

"You got soul, too much soul...

Foxy clothes, the cutest nose...

The greatest shape...

There's nothing fake about you...

Baby you got it..."

But when Brenton continued, Robert felt it once again hit too close for his liking.

"My friends say no can be...

You're not the girl for me..."

Bullseye!

Try as he might to distract himself with another sip of his beer, the next song was no better.

"Just pull them little strings...

And I'll sing you a song...

I'm your puppet...

Make me do right or make me do wrong...

I'm your puppet...

Treat me good and I'll do anything...

I'm just a puppet and you hold my string...

I'm your puppet...

Your walking, talking, kissing loving puppet...

I'm hanging on a string...

I'll do anything, love you 'n' kiss ya..."

"Here…" Dahlia snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down. A peace offering. Another bottle of beer to replace his now drained one.

Another clink.

"Cheers." She locked eyes with him, pursed lips grinning behind her bottle.

"Why won't you...

Take a chance on me...

And let me show you...

How wonderful to love can really be...

I can love you for all eternity...

Take a chance on me..."

God damn it if it wasn't Brenton Wood again summing it all up again.

"Dahlia…" He breathed her name in more of a sigh than he wanted to allow at that point. Her name always sounded like a sigh. Always. From day one. From the first day he heard it. A sigh.  A dreamy sigh. To him. From others. And most importantly from him.

"What is it, Robert?" She slid her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze again like she had in the car. "You feeling alright?" 

That voice.

That hand.

That silken skin.

That touch.

That tenderness.

A tenderness that was always so apparent in her.

A gentility amidst her all-encompassing warmth that ranged from the flickering of a flame, dancing & playful like the mirthful light that shone in her eyes to molten, incandescent, torrid & sizzling. It scorched him. Seared him. Searing him deep within. Burned him. Burned within him. Burned him inside out. Made him feel feverish.

And again, the song playing around them said it all.

"The touch of you (baby, baby, the touches from you)...

Is drivin' me out of my head, oh, boy (baby, baby, out of my head)...

What a touch from a little hand can do (can do)...

Especially coming from you…

Turn my life all around (all around)...

I can't seem to settle down…

Oh, baby…"

"Dahlia, I…" He started before he even knew what he was going to say.

Thankfully…

Mercifully…

He was cut off before he could figure out much more to say.

Both by a random lad in an awed hush. "Holy fuck! Now there's two of them, dude! Am I seeing things?"

But no…

He wasn't…

The lad wasn't seeing things…

Because there he stood in the doorway. All six feet of PreRaphaelitic glamour. A brooding Black Irish English stallion. The dragon. The "Dark Lord" himself.

Or as Dahlia gasped, trotting over to him excitedly.

"Baby!"

James Patrick Page.

Count on him to make his entrance to a song with a twangy guitar intro.

Of course he would.

Jimmy extended his arms, welcoming Dahlia in his embrace with a smile. He hugged her tight. Warmly. Protectively. He mumbled something to her to which Dahlia nodded. Pressing a kiss to her hair, her forehead & lifting her chin, then her lips, he claimed her. Sealing it with a kiss. Or three.

And as ever, Robert was left with the unintentional soundtrack summing it up for him.

"Love...

Love is strange...

Lot of people...

Take it for a game..."

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

As ever, this is forever under construction~...

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty

Table of Contents

Word Count: 3.6k

She liked the beard. He looked rugged, in his own special way. The appeal of his beauty was always the defiled innocence of his smooth face. When he told her that he was growing it out she thought he would look horrible. But when she saw him she didn't think that at all.

She was laying on her stomach on the bed, feet in the air, and kicking them like a schoolgirl. He was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, doing his hair and getting ready for the day.

"Have I ever told you how much I love the beard?" She asked, locking eyes with his reflection.

He smiled and turned to look at her. "No, you haven't. I was getting a bit nervous that you hadn't said anything about it yet." "Well, I love it," she kissed the top of his head, "Now I've said something." "I'm glad you do. I think it looks nice." "You look like a sexy professor like that." She was referring to his outfit. He wore a white dress shirt, complete with ruffles, and a nice pair of trousers. "That's kind of the look I was going for. Scarf or no scarf?" He held up a green silk scarf. She thought it complimented his outfit well and told him so. He nodded and began to tie it. "You should try it like this." She reached her hands around his neck.

His breath hitched as her hands brushed against his skin. The scent of her filled his nose, an unmistakable smell that only she possessed. It was floral and vanilla. He always thought it was wonderful. He thought it could be a mix of her shampoo and deodorant.

"That looks marvelous, thank you." He spoke breathlessly.

They had been together for eight months and she still made him dizzy and fumbling. He couldn't deny her effect, didn't want to. She smiled sweetly and sat back on the pillows, continuing the reading of her book. How could she be so unceremonious, so laid back, when she was absolutely breathtaking?  She was stunning, certainly the most beautiful woman he had seen, but didn't seem to care. She thought this way about him too. She often thought how he didn't seem to be cognizant of how wonderful he really looked. Sometimes he was even insecure, which was always a laugh for her. The only time he looked poorly was when he chose a bad outfit, which she always had something to say about. "You need to change. A red scarf clashes with a yellow top and the plaid printed pants don't match anything you're wearing!" "No, the red scarf matches the red pants. There is yellow in my pants and yellow on my top. It goes together." "Fine, but you're the one who is going to look bad." "I don't look bad!" "That outfit is a disaster. I don't want you to leave the hotel like that." She was mostly joking, ending in a laugh. But it was true! He looked terrible. "Is this criticism or care?" "Care, I promise. Trust me, Jimmy, it looks bad." "I disagree." He shrugged, "And I'm wearing it to the show." "Alright, but it's your fashion funeral." His outfit today looked much better. His colors matched and he was presentable. "Love, I think you should start getting ready. We have to leave soon." "I think I'll just go like this." "Can I give you some fashion advice?" "Oh, no. Does my outfit look that poor?" She laughed.

He grimaced, gesturing to tell her "a little bit". "Fine, I'll change. What is the weather like?" "Hot. It's August." "Good point." 

She chose a pair of shorts and a short top. The shirt she wanted to wear was in Lorelei's possession. She didn't mind, because she had asked. Robert and Jimmy never did. Yesterday she caught Robert sifting through her clothes! "Um, what are you doing?" She had been watching him rifling through her things like a rat. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, Jesus, you scared me!" "I ask again, what are you doing?" She shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip. "Looking for something to wear." "Can you at least ask? Jeez. What do you want?" "That flowery blouse you wore last week." "Robert, you can't fit in that!" "Yes, I can! I'm slim." "Fine," She threw the balled-up shirt at him, "but if you stretch it out I'm killing you." "I won't, I swear." He did. She looked at the blouse now, wearing a frown. It still fit, although now loose and frumpy. Perhaps she'd just have Richard do her laundry and he would shrink it for her. He was a lousy tour mother.

He took more of a liking to her than Grant but still didn't cater to her, but Jimmy did not enjoy the way he looked at and talked about her. He had made it clear from the first day she joined that he found her attractive. He first justified the uncomfortable interaction with the notion that she was a lovely girl and he would just have to get used to people finding her fit. But Richard took it too far-- as he often did. "Jimmy, you got the best out of all the guys. Don't tell them I said that." "What does that mean?" "She's a photographer, so she's good to keep in your back pocket, she's a looker, and sweet. The way she takes care of you...Man, I need to get one of those." "And what does that mean?" He asked with a raised brow. "Y'know, I need to get a girl like that. And with her figure-" "Rich! That's his girl." Bonzo spoke for Jimmy. "My bad." He laughed. Jimmy tried his best to shuffle his anger away but it didn't work. He could feel the ugly hands of jealousy creeping in. This wasn't helped when they went to a club and men seemed to overlook him, hitting on Gwen even when they were holding hands. He was getting angrier and more jealous by the day.

He brought this to her attention, telling her it was getting hard to handle. She laughed and scoffed, and shook her head. When he asked what was the matter, the bitter bite of anger rearing at her reaction, she told him, "I have to deal with women literally trying to tear your clothes off. Do you know how many women I see literally asking to sleep with you and shrugging me off? And they're not sloppy men in a club, they're beautiful women scantily dressed. Thousands of people cheer and scream for you every single night. Women pray to god for a chance to even touch you. You know how hard that is for me?" He had thought about this, of course, but he couldn't see how that was relevant at this moment. When he told her this she seemed angry.

"You're not listening to how I feel." He exerted.

"I am, I understand. But I'm telling you that you have to get over it. I have to."

"It's not the same." He crossed his arms and pouted.

"You're right, it's worse."

"I'm a celebrity. You agreed to date me. You knew what you were getting into."

"And I'm a pretty girl. You knew what you were getting into." She crossed her arms now. They were both pouting. They'd given up trying to have an adult conversation, instead resigning to childish behavior and scoffs.

She thought about this interaction as she put on her shoes. His logical fallacy was amusing to her now, simply a musing that was pushed into the past. They'd both learned to get over their silly feelings of jealousy. At least

she

had. She hoped he had, but didn't know how untrue her thoughts were.

That night, after the show, another fit would strike. The concert had gone well, not having any interruptions or issues. Gwen took some nice photos and had a great time. Their energy always inspired her and spurred her to take wonderful photos.

As they were entranced by the music flowering from their fingertips they struck natural poses. They tried their best to face the audience, partly for her frames, partly for the audience. It was hard, though, they were so tight-knit and worked best when it was just them. Their shows felt like jam sessions when they first started, but as the audiences grew, so did the space between them.

After the show, they went to a club, as was becoming usual. Some towns didn't have good clubs or parties and those were the nights they partied together. But this was Texas and the parties were

superb

, as Robert put it.

Gwen wore her shorts and top from earlier in the day and Lorelei was in a pretty dress. The guys had showered and changed, a short detour on their way to the club. She was not excited to be packed into a sweaty lounge with loud music. They'd just been in the same environment and she didn't know why they had to go back. She wanted to wind down with a nice shower and a good book after a show.

Perhaps they were too filled with adrenaline to be that calm. She knew about this rush, not only because they'd detailed it to her before, but because Jimmy was wired after a show. He was borderline manic, his eyes wide and his mouth going a mile a minute. It was a natural drug, one that gave his reserved personality a spark.

He was charged after a show, particularly his sex drive, which was insane when the lights went out. He had detailed to her how carnal performing was. And he proved it. They weren't even back to the hotel and he would be trying to rip her clothes off. She would protest, telling him they were in public. He would shrug and continue to kiss her. She pushed him back, further exerting that he was sweaty and stinky and would need to shower before she would even consider sleeping with him. Tonight was no different.

He wanted her more than ever. His eyes drifted to her exposed legs, long and taut. He transfixed his eyes on her chest, considering it as a resting place for his tired hands. When he attempted this she slapped his hand away.

How could one person get so sweaty? He was dripping buckets! He could perform stark nude and he'd still come out slippery and stinky. He was like a caught fish.

After he was fresh and cleaned off, she allowed him to kiss her. He gladly devoured her lips in a hungry display of virile fervor. She could rise a dead man from his tomb with those lips, he thought. He was grateful she let him kiss her. He was desperate for any kind of contact with her.

She laughed and told him to get that thing down before they got to the club. She stopped kissing him, despite his whimpering protests. He was staring at her as they walked into the club. She looked wonderful. Never before had she looked this way. Although, he thought that with each passing day. Her beauty grew, swelling until it reached a sweltering heat that choked him. She was far too beautiful to be real or to be his. He'd found an angel amongst men. Someone had begun to threaten this beauty. A man, a bumbling fool, was grabbing at her. They were on the dancefloor and Jimmy was not sharing. He saw Gwen's face, scared and wanting to hide away. Still drunk on adrenaline and filled with jealousy, Jimmy pushed the guy aside with heavy force. "I'm sorry about that, Darling. But you are mine once more." He smiled. This victory was short-lived. The man came back around quickly, angry with Jimmy. "She's my girlfriend. Fuck off." He did not mince words. He was drunk and malice dripped from his tongue. She could smell the whiskey from where she was standing. It was not an attractive sight.

"My apologies, man. I didn't know she had a man." "So you'll respect me now? Just because I have a man." She spoke loudly as to be heard over the music.

He looked at her with a disgruntled expression.

"Well? Are you just going to look at me like you're stupid?" She widened her eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"You're a bitch." He said simply, sneering with disgust. He couldn't believe she would be so brazen.

Jimmy sobered with those words, now stricken with fury. He was not a physical man and would not often resort to violence. "Don't speak to her that way. You need to leave, right now." His words were cutting, his eyes lowering into menacing slits.

"Are you going to make me, cheerios?" "What? That doesn't even make sense. And never mind that. I won't, but he will." Jimmy pointed him in the direction of Peter. Gwen now understood why having him in your corner was a good idea. When things got ugly you needed a guy like him. "You can leave on your own or his accord."

Jimmy's gaze got Peter's attention and he headed over to them in short strides. "This guy bothering you?" He asked, his voice was sharp and intimidating. His size was suddenly noticeable, his voice as round and sonorous as his body.

"Yeah," Jimmy said.

Without hesitation, Peter picked the guy up and threw him over his shoulder. He looked like a child, so small and defenseless in his grasp. This made Gwen laugh, loosening her grasp on Jimmy's arm. She had been clinging to him in fear. Random drunk men approaching her wasn't any less uncomfortable for her than it was for him.

"Are you alright, love?" Peter asked when he was back in their presence. He had thrown the guy on the pavement, placing him down haphazardly. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She smiled appreciatively. Who knows what would have happened if Peter hadn't come to her rescue? Jimmy wasn't exactly the burly type.

"Don't worry, girl, I'll always be here if that happens again." Peter clapped a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder and went back to his place next to Bonzo.

Jimmy turned back, gloating with a smile. Gwen was not as happy. She was filled with bitterness. A mixture of her discomfort and a general disdain for her environment was making her unhappy. Her mind couldn't help but wander to all of these uncomfortable places. Her discomfort was palpable as she stared into space. The familiar feeling of strange hands made her insides cringe. She pushed her feelings down and tried to get through this unbearable night. The club was not a place to fight.

-

The next morning her anger erupted. It must have been building all night, stacking up while she slept. She could feel the weight of her dread when she woke. It was a metric ton of bricks on her chest. She didn't want to bother Jimmy this early in the morning. Not only was she angry and bitter, but anxious about letting it out. She didn't want to bite his head off but also didn't want to suppress it.

She could still feel those terrible hands on her body. It made her skin erupt into a flaming rash of anxiety. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Her limbs could not stop fidgeting. What seemed like a small advance lead to a shattering of her mental state. That man was not trying to flirt, he intended to shake her.

And she was shaken. She trembled like a leaf throughout the night and into the light stretch of the morning sun. Breakfast did not help. Bonzo was especially nasty that day. Before she'd even gotten down to eat he was talking shit. She heard him talking to Robert, saying one of the worst things she'd ever heard about herself. "She's a carpenter's wet dream. Flat like a board and in need of a screw." He bellowed with a guttural laugh. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Her first instinct was to pounce. But she didn't. She waited. She wanted to hear what everyone would say. Robert spoke first, "Bonzo, that is horrible."

Jimmy and Jonesy said nothing.

Last night was bad enough, to be treated as an object and only defended for some cheap honor. Jimmy wasn't defending her, he was defending his manhood. How dare someone touch his precious doll that sat on his little shelf? His reluctance, rather than his refusal, to defend her in a meaningful way was shown to her. He said nothing when it mattered.

Her face contorted with the weight of betrayal. She wasn't so hurt by what Bonzo said, but more so by Jimmy's silence. This had far surpassed a few teasing comments. Bonzo hated her, hated Jimmy's girlfriend and he didn't seem to care.

They turned at the sound of her shuffling feet in the doorway. They saw her pained expression. This pleased Bonzo. He was content to know his shot had landed on the target.

He got a twisted pleasure from hurting her. It was a special treat for a lone audience. On the days that he imbibed early in the morning, he attacked her.

She turned away with hot tears brewing on her lashline, quiet steps rushing from the scene.

The room was quiet now. They shuffled their eyes, passing awkward glances around. Robert broke the tension, as he often did. He found it hard to always be the peacekeeper, the jester, and the pretty one. But these roles needed to be filled, and he was multifaceted.

"You should go talk to her."

Jimmy grimaced and burned in hot anger. Who was Robert to tell him what he should do with his own girlfriend? He knew what was best for his relationship! But he stood with a huff and went to their room.

When he was out of their sight he broke into a fast-paced walk. He knew he was in trouble, he knew he was in the wrong. Perhaps that's why things played out the way they did. He didn't want to be wrong. He would rather die than apologize.

He was on her heels, in the room before she could even shut the door.

When he entered she just looked at him. She was overcome with feelings.

She just wanted to scream at him. "Gwen-" "Don't. Just don't. I don't want some half-assed apology." "I'm sorry." "I said I don't want it. I'm sick of you not standing up for me. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I heard what he said." She tried her best to remain calm. "I just don't know what to say." "You sure knew what to say last night." "What does that mean?" His expression was causing anger to churn inside her. It was a poorly plugged drain. The stopper was beginning to lose its seal and she soon would explode. "You can defend me when your honor is in question. This has never been about me, it's been about your ego. When your ego is concerned, you will say something. You don't care about me! You only care about yourself." Her voice raised in pitch as she spoke. "We're having this conversation again? That is not true! And you know it isn't. It's not the same when it's your friend." "Robert stood up for me. It's clearly not an issue for him." "What are you implying?" "Nothing." "Oh, c'mon, you were so brazen before. Don't be so shy now." "No, I didn't mean anything by it. He stood up for me and you didn't." "I think you meant something entirely different." "Like what?" She prodded.

She had waded into dangerous territory. No longer was this an argument about the topic at hand. They were taking jabs at one another due to unspoken feelings. She could feel the energy shifting to something nasty.

"I used to think Robert was just flirting with you because he's a whore, but now I see the truth. He's in love with you!" "In love with me? Jimmy, was just sticking up for me. You couldn't even do that." "No, you don't get it. Men don't do nice things for women unless they want something from them. He wants to take you to bed." "You sound crazy!" "I'm crazy? You're the one yelling at Bonzo and getting an attitude with me!" "Well, I think you have a problem with Robert because you feel inferior. You think he's more of a man than you and you're worried he's going to take me from you." "Maybe if you didn't dress that way he wouldn't be throwing himself all over you. Maybe Grant would take you more seriously." "I cannot fucking believe you. You've reached a new low." Her tone dropped, laying flat where her emotions lie.

She was hurt. She knew this wasn't how he truly felt, he was trying to hurt her. With nothing left to say, she left the room. Their room was no longer a place where love could be facilitated. She had to escape.

She left Jimmy's grasp immediately and directly to Robert's room. She placed three sharp knocks on the door.

It revealed a damp Lorelei. Her curls were stringy and wet, dangling down at her cheeks. Her face and arms were flecked with drops of water.

"Hey, girl, is everything alright?" She asked, scrunching her hair with a white towel. She had another one wrapped around her torso.

Gwen stepped in with apprehension. "Lore, there's something I need to tell you." She stood in the doorway, a look on her face that scared Lorelei.

----

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    

[firethatgrewsolow]

Robert shivered as he reached the bottom step, peering across the oil stained tarmac. Christ, it was freezing, he mused dismally, his warm breath virtually crystallizing in front of him. His head throbbed, a gentle reminder of the revelry at the pub the previous evening, and he rolled his aching shoulder, winching in pain at yet another reminder - same revelry, different night. Fuck it all ... and now the Jag is finished. He'd been lucky coming back from Mother's. It could have shut down the tour. Instead, he'd only been banged around a bit, nothing life threatening, but perhaps a dent in his pride and vanity - and certainly the Jaguar he loved. Save for Bonzo, he’d not mentioned it to the others, although he’d noted their curious perusals. He’d made a mistake, nearly a damned costly one. He wasn’t of the mind to listen to a lecture about it, but he knew he’d been foolish, irresponsible. They’d come a long way in a very short time … from a cramped gym to the most renowned venues in the world. It was a freight train caught a whirlwind, a rocket with a mind of its own, and it was just the beginning. They were on the cusp of something big, very big. Bigger than the Albert Hall or Carnegie. He could feel it. They all could. The magic they’d sparked on that fateful August afternoon was accelerating, destination unknown. And he didn’t need to fuck it all up.

“Where is it, mate?” 

Robert’s brow wrinkled as he met Bonzo’s gaze. “Where’s what?”

“The ghost you’ve been looking at!” the drummer cracked, making sure to slap his friend just so on the shoulder. “Or is it a bird?”

Robert shrugged him off, gritting his teeth. “Fuck you.” 

“That time o’ the month, eh?”

The singer shook his head as Bonzo carried on, well aware that any protestation would be met with more of the same. Why was he so bloody cross? They’d absolutely destroyed the Albert Hall. In fact, all of the gigs had been explosive. The crowds were receptive, the last album was still in the top five, and they’d be in Montreux in a week for a quick holiday. Everything was falling into place. He’d even convinced Jimmy to go to Wales with him during the break, so what in the fuck was his problem? With a sigh, he glanced back at his mate, who was still yammering.

“In like a lion, and out like a horse’s arse, yeah, Planty?”

As usual, Robert hadn’t the faintest idea what Bonzo was talking about, but his boisterous laugh proved infectious. A smile crept onto the singer’s face in spite of himself, and he nodded, happy to dispose of the cryptic reverie. “Yeah, Bonz, that’s right … like a horse’s arse.”

[talesofbron]

IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR ZEPPELIN FANDOM ELDERS

(By elders I mean, anyone who was around 15-ish or more years ago) - I found an old old fanfic called I Ching that was originally posted to the old old Zeppelin Slash liveournal (zeppelin-slash.livejournal.com) in the depths of one of my old gmail accounts. I guess I downloaded it at one point, and it seems to since have vanished from the internet. I stupidly didn’t write down the author’s name. Does anyone happen to know this one, or who wrote it? (Or maybe the author is still here??) It’s one of my favorites and I would like to share it with friends, but I’d like to have the author’s permission first. IF ANYONE HAS LEADS PLEASE HMU !!!

[samiwife]

Sick Day ੈ✩‧₊˚ (Jimmy Page x Reader)

A/N: Hey everyone. Hope you're all doing okay, I know I haven't but it's okay! Hope u enjoy the fanfic <3

P.S: This is going to be told in Jimmy's POV

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

I've been touring for months and I finally got to go home and see Y/N. I missed her so much. I missed her eyes, lips, laugh, and everything. I took a bus to the apartment where I and Y/N lived together. I finally stopped at the apartment, took the keys out of my pocket, and unlocked the door to the apartment. Y/N greeted me and hugged me. I kissed her soft lips and stroked her silky hair. She quickly took my bags and placed them in our bedroom. She ran back out and took my hand and led me to the couch. "Darling, I'm so glad you're home. I missed you a lot!" Y/N stated as she looked up at me. Her eyes were just gorgeous. "I missed you too baby, there were so many beautiful places I would love for you to see," I said holding her hand. She smiles widely. "Well you must be tired, you should get some rest and maybe tomorrow we can go for a nice picnic," Y/N said as she held my hand and stood up. I frowned since I wanted to talk more. But I was indeed tired. I nodded and followed her into the bedroom and got ready for bed. I lay in my bed with Y/N by my side. I slowly shut my eyes and drifted to sleep.

I woke with a stinging pain in my head and soreness in my throat. Y/N was already up since she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. Y/N walked into the bedroom and was about to kiss my lips. However, I stopped her. "Darling, you shouldn't kiss me. I think I have a cold." I said in a whispy voice because of the soreness in my throat. Y/N looks down at me and frowns. "Oh no sweetheart, what are the symptoms? I can get you some medication." Y/N said holding my hand tightly. "I have a headache, sore throat, and cough." I described as she listened. Y/N quickly stood up and went downstairs to grab some medication and water for me. I figured I must've gotten sick while on tour. I was traveling a lot with a lot of people around me. I was hoping I didn't Y/N sick. As I was thinking, Y/N returned to the bedroom with the medication and water. "Here, take this. It'll make you feel better." Y/N said placing the medication on the side table nearby. I sat up and took the medication. It tasted wretched. I said back down in bed. Y/N looked worried about me.

"I'll get you a robe and some soup," Y/N said as she played with my hair. I smiled at her and thanked her. That's what I loved about her. She was so caring and loving. I laid in bed thinking this, Y/N walked in with some water and soup. She also had a robe over her shoulder. She handed me the robe first. I sat up and got out of bed to put it on. I was fragile while standing. I was so soft in fact, I fell over. Y/N quickly ran to my side and held me up. "Jimmy darling, you need to be careful. You're too weak to stand. Just lay in bed. I'll take care of you." Y/N said lifting me up and laying me on the bed. I sighed and nodded. Y/N smiled faintly and pulled the blanket over me. She was about to kiss me but she realized I was still sick. I smiled and told her it was okay. Y/N walked out and went downstairs.

I laid in bed thinking about when I wasn't sick. If I wasn't so sick, I would've hugged and kissed her. We would've gone on a picnic and talked for hours. I tried to close my eyes to fall back asleep but my head pounded like bullets. I couldn't sleep without Y/N by my side. But, she couldn't be by my side. Even though she was nearby I couldn't help but feel alone. I couldn't take it anymore, I called out Y/N's name. She comes running into the room like the house is on fire. She looked scared, but until she saw me in bed. Her face became soft again. "Jimmy! Don't scare me like that!" Y/N said sternly but in a loving tone. Y/N walks to my side.

"What do you need honey?" Y/N said running her hands through my hair. "Can you stay with me?" I said looking at her. Y/N smiles widely and kisses my cheek. "Yes of course sweetheart." She said while walking over to the other side of the bed and sliding in. She lay next to me talking to me, she didn't care if she got sick. All she cared about was I was with her. We talked for hours. We talked until the late nights until our eyelids felt heavy and we drifted off to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, I felt myself feel a lot better. I rolled over to Y/N who was still asleep. However, this wasn't for long when she opened her eyes. Y/N sat up wincing and holding her head. I could already tell she was sick too. I smiled and got up to take care of her.