#bijouxcaryslibrary
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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.
#robert plant#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#classic rock#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#rock music#70s#bijouxcaryslibrary#robert plant x reader#fic writer#the high life
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𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)
Masterlist
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Description: Sometimes the pain of what should never have been, opens your eyes to what can be.
Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @whothefuckisanja @celestial-dragoness @chromations @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @m-faithfull @strsmn @callmethehunter @angrychicksposts (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!)
The amber liquid sloshed gently as another glass was filled, marking a gradual countdown to a much-anticipated break.
In the heart of Walsall, John Bonham's pub buzzed with life on that particular day. The recent return of kids to school after half-term holidays granted parents a brief respite, allowing them to savour the comforting ambiance of their cherished local haunt.
Walsall might not have dazzled the urban enthusiasts accustomed to the bustling streets of London, Liverpool, or Manchester. However, for the residents, it was a haven. The community thrived in tight-knit bonds, where familiarity bred friendship. In Walsall, faces weren't just faces; they were familiar chapters of a collective story.
For Elena, the pub job John had offered was a lifeline, an escape from the logistical challenges of her previous employment that entailed rides back and forth. The relentless hour-long bus ride on days when John couldn't drive her had become a wearisome routine. Yet, she never had to ask; John's commitment to her safety was unwavering. Opting for the haven of John's pub proved to be a decision that reshaped Elena's narrative, making it the finest choice she'd ever made.
Elena gingerly massaged her lower back, easing the strain from bending over the rack of pint glasses. A flush of warmth crept across her face, and the rebellious baby hairs escaping her ponytail adhered to her forehead. Glancing at the clock above the bar had become a ritual, each tick dragging its heels toward the elusive 2pm.
The half-apron snugly tied around her waist doubled as a saviour, mopping the moisture above her eyebrows and guarding against any accidental beverage spills. A fleeting grimace transformed into a welcoming smile as the next patron patiently awaited service.
John's pub drew a crowd of amiable souls, and Elena effortlessly charmed them, especially the older clientele. Navigating conversations with the seasoned regulars was her forte. Despite the occasional pang of longing for a break, she generally relished her role. The only thorn in her side was the relentless passage of time, leaving her body ablaze with exhaustion. Today was no different; an unrelenting marathon had her yearning for a damn cigarette break.
Adjusting the grip on her ponytail, Elena’s attention was snatched by the entrance of two familiar faces, their boyish grins lighting up the pub like a burst of energy.
John and Robert, when together, had developed an aura of mischief since they met. They were both confident in each other’s presence, and both knew they were destined for greatness. Although Crawling King Snakes had disbanded early that year, the pair were still in touch and had become virtually inseparable, which in turn meant Elena saw Robert a lot more than what she would have otherwise.
It hadn’t even been a year since she met him and it felt like she’d known him an entire lifetime. She’d already picked up on his little quirks and mannerisms; the way his smile was slightly crooked, his accent thickened when talking about something he loved, and his eyes would narrow when in deep thought. Elena would poke fun at Robert when the Black Country accent warped his words into almost unintelligible murmurs, but he was always quick to bounce back with a light comment about her own accent.
Recently, Robert had started to let his hair grow out along the sides, turning his blonde locks into a short mass of messy curls that now dropped down into a fully defined beard. It was an intricate development, experiment, he was trying out, searching for a style he felt fit him perfectly.
“El!” John’s voice echoed cheerfully, arms flung wide in a theatrical greeting as they approached the bar. Elena’s face lit up in response, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Y’alright, Bon Bon?” she inquired with a sly grin, her gaze subtly drifting to the blonde figure beside John. “Hi,” she added, her voice a soft undertone.
“Workin’ hard, I see,” John teased, playfully tapping his fist on the freshly polished surface.
“Obviously. Isn’t that why you handed me this job?”
“Could’ve been just because you’re my best friend.”
“Oh, not because I’m a hard worker or anything, eh?” Elena retorted, shooting a smirk at Robert, who observed the banter with an amused expression. “I’m so glad you hold me in such high esteem, John.” With a snort of laughter, she tossed the cloth she had been using to wipe the bar into the wash bin, adding a touch of flair to the mundane task.
“Nah, just joshin’ with you, El. Look at your face! You’re clearly putting in the effort,” John nodded his head in reference to her flushed cheeks and tired demeanour.
“Oh, thanks,” Elena deadpanned, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. “Have you had a good look at your own face lately?”
“Yeah, it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” John tilted his head back, theatrically flipping his hair.
“You are so fucking insufferable. You’re lucky I love you,” Elena dismissed John with a playful grimace, a sentiment he returned with a mock offended expression. She then turned her attention to Robert. “And how are we today, Robert?”
“Ah, not too shabby, not too shabby,” he shrugged casually, leaning against the bar with a nonchalant air. “You?”
“Oh, I’m having the absolute time of my life here,” she answered Robert but darted her eyes over at John, who was occupying himself by creating a steady rhythm with his hands. He was entirely in his own world, head moving along with the beat he’d created. Looking back at Robert, she smirked. “Has he been smoking again?”
Robert stifled a laugh, standing up straight and nudging John. “Oi, Bonzo!” No answer. “My Lord…” he muttered, resuming his previous position. “Not been smoking, just bangin’ on about Ginger Baker for the last half hour.”
“Ginger Baker… why’s that name sound familiar?”
“Cream.”
“Ah, yes!” she clicked her fingers with a nod, “That’s right… Great, aren’t they?”
“Superb, yeah,” Robert nodded. “You listened to their new album yet?”
“Uh, of course I have, I never miss a new record from my favourite artists,” she told him pointedly.
“You don’t have any of mine!” John interrupted.
“Oh, so you’re competent now, are you?” Elena jested. “You don’t have any records, you plonker.”
As she and John continued their usual back and forth—nothing but love—Robert kept his eyes fixed on Elena. He’d known it within the first 15 minutes of meeting her. He just knew. Deep in his soul. As sure as he was that the sun would rise in the morning. He liked her.
She was so entirely endearing to him, and that only intensified throughout the months he’d had to get to know her. It turned him into a giddy little boy, the way she made him feel whenever she was around. Her smile was totally intoxicating, even more so when paired with that accent—that stabbing bluntness that gave her an air of invincibility.
When John had made a passing comment about visiting Elena at work, Robert was almost embarrassed at how quick he was to encourage the idea, his stomach flipping at the mere mention of her name. If it were up to him, he’d have sprinted his peppy self all the way down that road and bulldozed into the pub. He would have dove over the bar, taken her into his arms and attacked her with kiss after kiss…
But he simply could not bring himself to make that move. Never had he ever felt this intimidated about approaching a girl he found attractive. Perhaps it was the lingering knowledge that her rejection would strain his relationship with John, or the straight fact that he couldn't muster up the correct string of words to accurately convey the urge he had to be around her.
So, he did the safest thing and cherished the friendship they’d formed, making the most out of every moment he got with her.
“Listen, I got ya a lovely little job in my lovely little pub,” John gestured around him. “What’s so wrong with the decor?”
Robert was quickly brought back from his thoughts as Elena let out a jubilant laugh. My favourite sound…
“Uh, there aren’t enough plants. Try putting some plants in here, Bon. Plants make everything more lively and colourful!” She gave him a playful pout, batting her lashes in a plea for botanical relief.
Robert stood straight again, nodding his head at John. “Go’won mate, it won’t hurt.”
“Shut up, you, you’re supposed to be my friend.”
“And I am, but give the girl a plant.”
“We don’t need plants in here, El,” John tried to reason with the brunette, who had already settled with the fact she would not be getting her way this time. It was his pub, after all…
“Besides,” John continued, “The only ‘plant’ anyone ever needs is right here.” He shot a glance at Robert, whose eyes widened in a subtle appeal for silence.
Elena raised her eyebrow, arms folded, and looked over at the boy in question. It was a relief to see Elena smiling at the comment, taking it lightly, and Robert was quick to breathe out his ease. He was lucky John hadn’t caught the fleeting exchange of smiles between the two, and mentally praised his decision to keep the beard in its concealment of a pink flush.
“Fine,” she sighed, facing the drummer. “But you owe me, Bonham.”
“Anything but a plant, please,” he groaned. “What time’s your break?”
Another useless glance at the clock proved a whole 10 minutes had passed, yet it was still a gruelling 20 from her golden 2pm. With a small whimper, she told him.
“Well, why don’t you go on break now, I’ll man the bar.” He gestured for her to come out of her enclosure with a sympathetic nod of his head.
“Really?” she breathed, already moving to untie the apron from her waist. “Ugh, you’re a lifesaver, cheers, Bon.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, catching the apron as Elena threw it to him. “And take ‘im with ya,” he pointed at Robert. “If I have to hear about fuckin’ Derrick Morgan and that reggae shit for another second, I’ll wring his neck in.”
“Ses you with fuckin’ Ginger Baker, ya twat,” Robert shot back with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh, leave him alone, Bon Bon, just because he can grow out his beard,” teased Elena as she passed him by.
“Yeah, but look at this ‘tache.” He ran his fingers over the thick hair above his top lip, encouraging a laugh from Elena.
“See you in a bit,” she shook her head, the smile still lingering, as she and Robert made their way out the back of the pub.
“You put up with that your whole life?” Robert asked with a smirk as she stopped in the cloakroom to dig out her cigarettes from her jacket pocket.
With a nod, she giggled and gestured to the correct door. Pushing it open, he gave a theatrical bow in Elena’s direction. “Ladies first.”
“Oh, thank you,” she responded with an equally flamboyant nod, stepping outside into the cool May breeze. Whilst the pub’s atmosphere was laid back and welcoming, there were some ventilation issues that made it stuffier than most would prefer; especially if they were working. Elena had to take a minute to breathe in the fresh air around her before lighting up her cigarette.
The space behind the pub was a small, abandoned patch of land that doubled as the car park. It meant Elena could be alone during her breaks and smoke as much as she wanted without the possibility of judgemental eyes. Not that she particularly cared what others thought about her; she would just prefer not to find herself in an altercation.
“I’m telling ya, don’t ever work in a pub,” she advised Robert, groaning as she slid down the wall into a seated position on the floor. With a chuckle, he joined her, weary of how close he was. Just a few more inches to the right and his leg would be touching hers. Don’t do it, Rob… So he settled for bending his knees and resting his arms on top of them.
“‘S not that bad, is it?” he peered at her through squinted eyes, the afternoon sun lashing down on them. Elena shrugged, crossing her ankles together and rolling them to relieve her of the burgeoning ache.
“Nah, it’s alright. John just needs to put some proper ventilation in there.” She flicked some ash onto the gravelly floor. “There’re plenty of things I’d rather be doing, but it’s okay for an 18-year-old that doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing yet.”
Robert gave her an understanding nod and smiled to himself. “What would you rather be doing?”
“I’m not too sure yet,” she thought, resting her head against the wall. “I’ve only just finished sixth form. Everyone’s buggering off to uni—it was a struggle just surviving the last 2 years, I ain't gunna spend thousands on a bloody degree.”
“I mean, you must be smart if you made it through sixth form, at least,” Robert speculated, unable to unglue his eyes from Elena as she took a long drag from her cigarette.
“It was mostly to appease my dad,” she snorted, blowing out excess smoke into the air. “Oh, do you want one, by the way?” She turned to him, offering out her packet of Marlboros.
Looking down at the pack, he couldn’t resist. “Well, if yer offerin’,” he accepted somewhat giddily with a shrug of his shoulders. Elena giggled, passing him one before striking a match, leaning in to light it up for him. “I coulda lit it meself,” he mumbled out the side of his mouth, but gladly leaned into the flame.
Perhaps he was imagining things, but he swore he caught the scent of her perfume—or is it her hair—as she cupped her hand over his cigarette and the match, her own cig dangling from her lips. Whilst she was distracted with the small task, he took a moment to let his eyes wander over her face, still slightly red from her labour. Thick, dark brows knitted in concentration, long eyelashes untouched by makeup, the natural glow of her skin… He’d never had the chance to take a good look at her up close like this, but he wasn’t expecting to fall even deeper into whatever spell she had unknowingly cast upon him.
What he didn’t catch, however, whilst admiring the slope of her nose, was how she took her own experimental glance at him. It was brief, but long enough to truly admire the vibrancy of his eyes; she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen any as blue before.
And it was definitely long enough to notice his wandering gaze.
She felt strange being in such close proximity to Robert, but it was in no way unpleasant. His energy was warm, that much she gathered from the day they met; it was the reason she enjoyed being friends with him so much. Robert had the warmest soul she’d ever crossed paths with, even though she’d known him for the short span of 10 months.
Pulling back, she shook the match, the smoky residue thick in its ascendance, before she dropped it beside her, swiftly joined by the ash that had collected at the end of her cigarette.
With a small smirk on her face, she watched Robert as he took a drag. Yes, he was definitely looking at her…
Then, his bushy eyebrows narrowed, as if in confusion, and he snapped his head towards her. “Hang on, 18?”
“18 what?” She mirrored his expression.
“Since when were you 18?”
“Uh, since last week.”
Robert’s mouth dropped open, an almost offended expression taking over his features.
“What?” she laughed. “What’s that face for?”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
Tilting her head to the side, she pulled her mouth into an amused line. “Didn’t think it was that important.”
“Your 18th isn’t important?” he gasped.
“Well, yeah, it’s an important age, but I didn’t know I needed to tell you about it,” she chuckled.
“I coulda gotten you summet, luv…”
“Don’t be silly, Robert, you never needed to get me owt.”
“Owt?”
“Anything—you wouldn’t have needed to get me anything!” she huffed.
He held back a laugh by bringing his cig to his lips. “Okay, if you insist…” he murmured.
Even though he was taking a jab, yet a-fucking-gain, at her accent, and being allusive about her birthday, she couldn’t suppress the smile it put on her lips. She lowered her eyes to her legs for a moment, picking at the skin around her thumb, before looking back over at Robert.
“My birthday’s the 13th. For future reference…” Her voice had dropped to a softer tone, and she gave him a smile of the same candour.
“Noted,” Robert nodded. “Don’t be complainin’ if I ever get you owt, though. For future reference,” he smirked.
“You’re as bad as him in there,” she nodded her head towards the door, wondering how John was coping behind the bar and finding some unbridled amusement in the image.
There was a small silence between the two, during which she had finished her cigarette and was now simply reclining against the jagged bricks that made up the pub.
“How’s everything going with finding a new band?” she asked him after a moment, staring up at the clouds now that they had mercifully shielded the sun.
Robert’s sigh was heavy, and through stubborn lips. He shook his head, grumbling something incoherent before finally answering. “‘S alright…” He ran his tongue over his teeth, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Uh, Elena?”
“Hm?”
“D’ya think… I dunno, if I were to ask…” he paused, clicking his tongue. “Ya think Bonzo would be up for playin’ with me again?” He looked at her with genuine curiosity.
It didn’t take much thought for her to reply with a confident nod. “Oh, absolutely! I mean, he’s having a lot of fun with A Way Of Life, but he really did enjoy working with you.”
He sighed in relief, smiling to himself at the response, it being exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Who wouldn’t?”
Robert instantly looked back up at Elena with slightly widened eyes, wondering if he’d just heard her correctly.
“A-as in you’re a good singer,” Elena was quick to clarify, “You’ve got a… just this… the right…” she stuttered, before sighing and looking right into his eyes. “Energy…”
Robert’s eyes softened and grinned characteristically, with a hint of bashfulness. “Tha–”
“Oi! Have you two finished your mother’s meeting out ‘ere?!”
The pair on the floor whipped their heads towards the door to see John’s face sticking out the small gap in it.
“Fucking hell, man, don’t do that!” Elena exclaimed, her hand shooting to her chest. “Wanker…” she mumbled as she pulled herself up from the floor and dusted off her trousers, Robert following suit.
Giving him a jesting shove on the way inside, Elena begrudgingly set herself up for resuming her shift. Meanwhile, Robert slowly made his way back inside, stopping to face his friend.
“Your timing is nothin’ short of fuckin’ exquisite, Bonzo.”
Playfully flicking his forehead, Robert sauntered his way back inside. And as he did, John watched with the complete knowledge of Robert’s seemingly ever-growing interest in his best friend.
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𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)
Masterlist
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.
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Elena’s heart pounded with an urgency that defied control.
Not a single utterance pierced the air during the entire journey with John, the car navigating a path all too familiar—an unwelcome route leading to a place laden with memories she fervently sought to avoid.
The nauseating grip tightened, every palpitation threatening to dislodge the contents of her stomach. Tranquility seemed a distant prospect, and the turmoil within her hinted at a precarious tipping point.
Endless scenarios paraded through her mind, a relentless procession of possibilities. She longed for simplicity—an in-and-out, a resolution neatly packaged and concluded. That’s all it needed to be. Yet, a deep-seated intuition whispered that simplicity would elude her. It would stretch, twist, and linger far beyond necessity.
In no way, shape, or form, would David entertain brevity. Not today.
Beyond the apprehension surrounding David’s reaction to this clandestine mission, to merely collect clothing and cherished mementos, there lingered a reluctance, a hesitant acknowledgement of John’s presence. Despite the depth of trust she held for him, a trust entirely unparalleled, it failed to nullify his actions when under the influence of either one of two things—alcohol, or emotion.
Elena had yet to divulge the whole truth about her tumultuous relationship with David, and wouldn’t until she never had to see the man again. John, though privy to odd reactions to loud noises and sudden movements, remained unaware of the intricate web of torment. If John learned the full extent of David’s malevolence, he wouldn’t be accompanying Elena to retrieve her belongings; he’d be behind bars.
In their childhood, it demanded every ounce of Elena’s energy to sway John from the precipice of violence. Those boys, stationed defiantly across the courtyard, seemed hell-bent on making it their life’s mission to underscore the fact that Elena wasn’t as thin as the other 14-year-old girls at school. A relentless daily reminder that required her utmost effort to dissuade John from unleashing a physical retribution that, in her eyes, wasn’t worth it. Every. Single. Day.
In a lot of ways, she would have preferred to relive the secondary school taunting than experience another 30 minutes of David. What John would do in light of knowing the whole story was a scary thought, and one Elena wasn’t prepared to even prosper.
“El?”
John’s voice brought her out of her head for a moment, and she realised they were pulling up outside the block of flats she hadn’t returned to in a fortnight. Swallowing thickly, she willed herself to look at him.
“Are you alright?” his brows narrowed, eyes gleaming into her soul. She gave him a pathetic nod. “Y’know I can always go in myself, if ya just tell me what to pick u–”
“No,” she shook her head. “I… need to do this.”
“‘Kay…” he reluctantly accepted, but quickly added, “I am comin’ in with you though.”
“John, you don’t have t–”
“I’m not arguin’ about this, Elena, I’m coming in.”
Before she could make any further comment, John was already opening the door and stepping out into the road. A whimper left her mouth, her hand a foreign entity as she, too, pushed the car door open. It wasn’t even that hot out, but the sun felt like lasers burning right through every inch it touched. Sturdy trainers felt flimsy, the gravel beneath her feet as blatant as it could get.
She felt she was walking The Mile to her death.
“Hey…” John stopped her as they reached her floor, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him. Their eyes met, and his stomach dropped at the fear looking back at him. My God, she’s terrified… “It’s gunna be alright, El. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep…” she mumbled, her foot moving to take another step.
“I mean it.”
Looking back at him, she mustered up a grateful smile, and nodded slowly. “I know,” she whispered.
The air was thick as they reached the door marked ‘13,’ a feature she had once found excitement in—living in a flat with the same number as your birthday. Now, it just reeked of a hapless existence; a far cry from what used to be her sanctuary.
Do I knock? No, Elena, this is your home—oh, shit, it’s locked. Where’s that fucking spare key? She flipped over the doormat with her foot, expecting to see the familiar metal looking back up at her. Nothing. Fucking prick…
With bated breath, Elena lifted her hand and gave three experimental knocks to the door, each one ringing deeper and deeper through her ears. Please, don’t be home… What am I talking about? I need to do this now, I keep wearing the same two outfits, you idiot…
She daren’t look up as the door swung open. Instead, she fell eye-level with that stupid striped, skin-tight shirt that became a daily choice of clothing. In and out. Please. God, if you’re up there, just let this be simple. Please…
John stood by, arms folded, as the door opened, revealing the man he hadn’t seen since December. A tall fucker. Can’t have been any shorter than six-foot-four. And there Elena stood, a measly five-foot-seven in comparison. Shaggy dirty-blonde hair that bordered on a light brown, straight and perched just below his jaw. Parted at the side. Twat.
“Elena,” David sighed, instantly taking note of John’s presence behind her. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been worried si–”
“I don’t want to talk,” she told him, as sternly as she could. “Just came to get my things…” Without looking him in the eye, she squeezed past him. He looked over at John, his green eyes calm, before they narrowed as he turned to follow Elena.
“What the fuck are you talking about, ‘just came to get my things’?”
Elena sighed and spun to look at David, accidentally catching his eyes. The eyes that commanded her every move. Eyes she felt too worthless to meet. That’s because you are.
The click of the door shutting reverberated through the room, drawing their attention like a sudden snap of a whip. John, his gaze fixed with unwavering determination, stood his ground, sending a slow nod of reassurance to Elena.
“Did I invite you in?” David’s voice sliced through the tense silence, his words laced with thinly veiled hostility as he locked eyes with John.
“Nah, mate, you didn’t,” John replied with a nonchalant shrug, his gaze flickering past David to Elena. “I’ll be here, go get your things, El.”
David’s movements were swift, a blockade forming as he positioned himself to bar Elena’s access to the hallway. “Hold on a sec, darling,” he muttered, his voice a deceptive whisper as he edged closer to her, a somewhat predatory gaze fixed on her.
Elena shook her head, her eyes dropping to the ground as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Let me through, David. I’m getting my things, and I’m leaving,” she pleaded, her voice strained with emotion. In the charged atmosphere, she could sense David’s growing agitation, a palpable tension thickening the air around them.
John, alert to every subtle shift in the room, edged closer, ready to intervene if necessary. He noted the tightening of David’s fists with a sense of grim satisfaction, silently grateful for his own presence in that moment.
“Oi,” John interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the unease like a knife. “She said let her through, mate. You’re not makin’ this any easier by being a dick.”
Elena’s heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for David’s reaction, her shoulders instinctively hunching in a familiar stance of self-protection. A heavy breath escaped her lips as David begrudgingly relented, allowing her to slip past him and into the bedroom.
In the sparse living room, devoid of any personal touches, John and David locked eyes in a silent standoff, each sizing the other up with cloaked animosity. David’s gaze raked over John’s form, his mouth twisting into a snarl of disdain.
“I don’t know what she’s been telling you,” David began, his voice dripping with forced calmness. “I don’t know where all this has come from, either.” He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to regain control of the situation.
“She’s not told me anything,” John replied evenly, perching himself on the pine table behind the swamp-green sofa that was most definitely not of Elena’s choosing.
“Bollocks!”
“Now, now, no need for the language,” John retorted, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone.
David’s frustration simmered beneath the surface as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Look, we both know how she can get rowdy, and mouthy–”
“Naturally. I have known her since we were kids,” John interjected, his patience wearing thin as he pushed back against David’s attempts to deflect blame.
“You clearly don’t know her very well, then,” David shot back, his eyes narrowing in defiance as he locked eyes with John. “Now… I don’t want trouble with you, chief. But I think it might be best if you just leave our relationship alone.”
“What relationship?” John scoffed, his anger bubbling to the surface. “All I see is a controlling arsehole that, for whatever reason, has made it almost impossible for a girl to come and go as she pleases… Is that enough for your theory on why she’s getting as far away from you as possible?”
John watched as David’s face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and indignation, his resolve wavering under the weight of the drummer’s accusations. Taking a step closer, John met David’s gaze head-on, refusing to back down.
“She’s not going anywhere, Bonham,” David growled, his voice dripping with venom.
With a resigned sigh, John shook his head. “I think she is, actually, Henning…”
Elena emerged from the bedroom, a large bag slung over her shoulder and a cardboard box tucked under her arm. She glanced briefly at David, her expression a dangerous mix of determination and apprehension.
“What the hell are you doing, Elena?” David demanded, his tone laced with desperation. “You can’t just walk out like this. I’m all you have. Remember everything I ever told you? You’ll have nobody.”
Elena’s jaw clenched as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “I’ll figure it out, David,” she replied, her voice firm despite the tremor of fear running through her. “I can’t stay here… with you, anymore.”
David’s eyes narrowed once again, the mask slowly slipping from his facade. “You’re making a mistake, Elena,” he insisted, taking a step closer to her. “You need me. You need us.”
Elena recoiled instinctively as David reached out to grab her wrist, her heart pounding at an instant. “Don’t touch me, David,” she snapped with a panicked tone.
But David refused to release his grip, his fingers tightening around her wrist. Digging into her skin. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, low and menacing.
With a surge of adrenaline, Elena wrenched her wrist free from David’s grasp, her movements quick and decisive—just like the night she fled. “Get off!” she spat, her eyes flashing with anger.
John stepped forward, a protective stance as he positioned himself between Elena and David. “Touch her again, and your jaw will be on the back of your fuckin’ head, you piece of shit.”
David’s face contorted with rage, but he held himself back, his fists clenched at his sides. “Fine,” he seethed. “Go then. But don’t come crawling back to me when you realise you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life.”
“No, the biggest mistake of my life was saying ‘yes’ to a drink 3 fucking years ago,” Elena squared her shoulders, her resolve unwavering despite the trepidation coursing through her veins. With one final glare at David, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, John following close behind.
As they made their way down to John’s car, Elena’s steps faltered slightly, her composure fluctuating with every passing movement. John cast a concerned glance her way, noting the tension in her shoulders and the haunted look in her eyes.
“You alright, El?” John asked softly, his voice tinged with worry as he took her things and secured them in the backseat.
Elena forced a tight-lipped smile, her facade inevitably crumbling as they settled into the car. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in silent torrents.
John reached out to comfort her, his hand hovering with uncertainty over her shoulder. “El, it’s okay, you did it,” he murmured.
But Elena recoiled from his touch, her eyes flashing through an uncharacteristic anguish. “J-Just… drive, p-please… I need to get… get away,” she panted, burying her head in her hands.
“Okay, yeah, okay…” he rambled, immediately pulling away from the block of flats.
On their journey back to the Bonhams’ house, John couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his head that Elena still hadn’t been entirely truthful regarding David. Seeing him grab her the way he did, her instantaneous reaction. There had to be something more. The Elena he knew would have spun around and clobbered the cunt in the face. Except, he reminded himself, this wasn’t his Elena. This was a shell of the girl he grew up with. And he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to coax her back.
Elena felt sick to her stomach. Why do I feel guilty? There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t understand why she was finding this moment so difficult, so distant from what she expected to feel. Shouldn’t she be joyous, over the moon? To finally be free of that monster that controlled her entire life?
David’s attempt to physically restrain her back at the flat was the furthest thing triggering her uneven emotions in the car. No, she’d learned to deal with that by now. Above all else, above everything she should have been upset over… she was angry. At herself.
Thankfully, the drive back to John’s was long enough for her to get a majority of her emotions out. Crying as hard as she needed. As loud as she needed. John was the only one she would let see her in this state. It had to come out now.
When the erratic breathing and sobbing had worn her out, leaving a red and puffy face in its wake, she was able to regain her bearings somewhat. As much as she enjoyed hearing John ramble on for what seemed like hours, she was glad he chose to stay quiet this time. He knew her well enough to know when’s the time to shut the fuck up—when to give her her space.
Upon passing the familiar petrol station, she knew they were almost back. All she wanted to do was pass out. Sleep forever—at least long enough to erase any memory of the past couple of years.
“‘M sorry…” she murmured, staring out the window, her eyes still glassy.
John glanced at her, checking in, before scoffing lightly and shaking his head. “You’re the last person who needs to be apologising right now.”
“No, I mean…” she turned her head in his direction, but kept her eyes on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry for snapping at you… earlier. And that you got caught up in–” her breath caught in her throat, “In all that.”
He chuckled airily under his breath, a somewhat amused smile on his lips. “And like I just said… You’re not the one who needs to apologise.” Stopping at a red light, he had the chance to look at her head-on. “Seriously. It’s okay. Everything’s gunna be okay, El.”
Upon looking up at his eyes, those warm, trusting eyes she’d found solace in for so many years, came the first wave of relief. A sudden realisation. Instead of David’s nagging voice in the back of her head, reminding her of her shortcomings, she heard a different one. A distant whisper from a fragile conversation she’d only ever had with one person.
You’ve done the hardest part…
No idiot would do something so brave…
With a shaky sigh, she nodded, smiling almost painfully at John. “Yeah…” she whispered her agreement. “Everything’s gonna be okay…” she repeated, almost as a self-assuring mantra as she looked ahead. “The light’s green,” she nodded her head towards the traffic lights in front of them.
“Shit,” John pressed down on the gas pedal, a comically panicked look on his face that made Elena stifle a small laugh. A laugh. A real laugh…
It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay.
The air was lighter by the time they pulled up to John’s driveway, and it seemed the sun wasn’t as menacing as it was before. Catching a glimpse of Pat in one of the windows put yet another smile on her face, as if another reminder that there is life outside of David. He’d damaged her mind. Tainted all of her thoughts. It wouldn’t go away overnight, but being with the Bonhams was a refreshing prompt along the road to understanding she was free.
And she never had to see David Henning ever again.
“‘Ere, let me get that,” John offered, pulling Elena’s bag from the back of the car and slugging it over his shoulder. “Fuck, what do you have in here, the kitchen sink?”
Snorting, Elena lifted the box into her arms, nudging the car door shut with her knee. “It’s the jeans and those jackets, Bon…”
“Oh, those fuckin’ jackets are massive!” he gasped, as if he had forgotten.
“Yeah, but they look good on,” she smirked, watching her steps as they made their way to the front door. John’s face dropped a little when he tried the handle, finding it locked.
“The fuck’s goin’ on ‘ere…” Turning around abruptly, he almost collided with Elena. “Back door.”
“Jesus, do you mind not body slamming me in the process?” she mumbled, spinning round in the direction of the gate that led to the Bonhams’ back garden.
As they closed in, the familiar laughter of Jason could be heard, along with some clumsy clapping.
“Do it again!” The sound of someone’s shoes coming into contact with a football followed. Jason cheered again, his adorable cadence putting a smile on Elena’s face.
The smile, however, seemed to widen when she heard familiar laughter—and it definitely wasn’t Pat.
Rounding the corner of the house, the heartwarming scene of Jason kicking his football towards a carefree Robert unfolded.
“Again!”
“Can only do a single trick so many times, Jason,” Robert chuckled, but humoured the three-year-old, performing a brief dribble with a concentrated face. Far from a trick, but enough to mesmerise Jason in his innocent joy.
“Well if it isn’t Bobby Thomson,” John called out, catching the pair off guard.
Robert’s eyes went instantly to Elena’s, and he flashed that charming smile her way, before swiftly giving John attention. “Nah, mate, Thomson’s a left backer. I’m more of a Derek Dougan,” he said, attempting an Irish accent in the process.
“Who tha fuck’s Derek Dougan?”
Jason gasped, his presence momentarily subdued. “Mummy!” He ran inside, all whilst shouting, “Daddy just said a bad word!” Elena stifled a laugh, watching over her shoulder as his small form disappeared.
The blonde froze, giving his band mate a dumbfounded expression. “I don’t trust you anymore, Bonzo.”
Elena, with an amused smirk, glanced up at John. “Dougan’s a midfielder,” she let him know. John just simply let out an exasperated groan, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s also Irish…” She looked at Robert. “Hence the terrible accent,” she teased lightly. Her eyes still felt heavy from the car journey, but jesting with Robert came as naturally as breathing.
“I didn’t know you were into football, Elena,” Robert tilted his head to the side, hand on his hip. The small gesture and placement caught Elena’s attention, just like he had done at rehearsal. Everything about the man screamed appeal, in every sense of the word.
“I’m not,” she simply responded with a shrug of her shoulders. There was a pause between the three of them and it didn’t take very long for the two men to understand why Elena happened to know so much about football. She may have not been the one in her home—ex home—watching football, but she sure got a lot of it from David.
“Uh, I’m gonna take this inside before it cuts off the circulation to my brain,” John quipped, patting Elena’s bag. “Ya want a cuppa, Rob?”
Great, Elena, you’ve made it awkward now… Fucking idiot. You can’t say anything without fucking it u–
“El?”
“Hm?” she snapped her head to John. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I asked if you wanted a cuppa,” he repeated gently, a sympathetic gaze matching his tone. She gave him a passive nod, turning to follow him and Robert inside. Her fingers were starting to lock up from gripping onto the bottom of the cardboard box, so she instantly dropped it down on the kitchen table once they’d entered.
“What’s with the box?” Robert nodded towards it, casually nosing about in the kitchen with, yet again, his hands settled on his hips. The poor lad didn’t even realise how beautiful he looked as he inspected all the photos and magnets on the Bonhams’ fridge. Eyebrows all narrowed as he focused his eyes, a subconscious curling of his mouth that naturally stretched over his strong jaw.
Elena, pack it in. It’s Robert. Stop.
“Um,” she cleared her throat, resting a hand on top of the box. “It’s just got all these photos and random things in it that are important to me. Memories, I guess…” she trailed off.
“Oh, fantastic!” Robert chimed, hair bouncing about as he turned to look at her. “Got any embarrassing photos of Bonzo in there?”
She chuckled, glancing at said man, who was busy preparing tea. “None that don’t also embarrass me.” She carefully lifted the lid halfway off the box and strategically fished out a small stack of processed photographs that were a little worn by now, tied together by an elastic band. Robert’s footsteps came closer, until his presence was right next to her, the warmth radiating from his body.
“What happened to the corners?”
Elena pulled her lips into a tight line, eyeing the damaged corners of the lid of the box, darker than the rest of it, and requiring the utmost of care. “Nothing, just an accident…” she shrugged it off.
He peered over her shoulder, feeling a small jump in his heart at being this close to her again. He had to suppress the idiotic grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her hair… Nothing appealed to him more in that moment than to run his fingers through it.
“Oh, this was when we went camping,” Elena smiled, holding up a photo labelled ‘Bon-Bon + El, Lake District, July 1964.’ “Bon had just finished school, so we decided to go up North for a couple of days.”
Robert tilted his head down to get a better look, snorting at the boyish expression on John’s face, equipped with the adolescent beginning stages of growing out a moustache. But the 15-year-old Elena made his smile soften. She looked happy there. Wrapped up in an earthy orange cardigan, stray blades of grass stuck to her legs from pitching a tent.
“Not that fuckin’ photo,” John whined, glancing over at them. “I look like a right knobhead!”
“Well, you always look like a knobhead, Bonzo,” Robert fired back with a smirk, looking back down at the photo. “It’s a lovely photo.”
“Eh…” she squirmed a little with a shrug. “It’s cute. John looks good in it, at least.” She carefully slipped it back in with the rest of the photos.
“You do, as well,” Robert gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow.
“Pfft, I look fat in it.”
John’s hand stopped mid-milk pour, eyes diverting to the side as he overheard Elena’s comment. Since when does she think she looks fat? Scrunching up his eyebrows, he finished making their teas. Even the comments from schoolboys didn’t influence her own perception of herself. Weird. But then, it hit him. Fuckin’ David…
“No, you look nice,” Robert refuted, shaking his head. A glance at her showed she didn’t believe him. “Seriously, yer cute.”
At the counter, John’s eyebrows raised, and a shocked smile appeared on his face. Well, shit, just jump right in, Percy…
Elena raised an eyebrow, looking up at Robert, who was still looking over her shoulder. Panic briefly flashed through his eyes and he chuckled airily, shifting back.
“It’s a cute photo, that is…” With a somewhat subdued smile, he went over to John to take his tea. Elena was left to mull over the minute interaction. Seriously, yer cute… No, it didn’t mean anything… Can’t have.
“‘Ere y’are,” John appeared next to her, offering her cup of tea. She gave him a smile in gratitude, immediately sipping at it, the fresh heat of it snapping her out of the overtime her brain had unwillingly subscribed to. “Anyway, why’re you here, Rob?”
“What, I can’t just come and see how you’re doing?” Robert squinted his eyes, shielding half of his expression with the mug of tea in his hand.
John stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions, totally unconvinced by his response. “You’ve just seen me every day for months, mate…” He watched as Robert came up with an unnecessarily detailed reason for his visit, claiming he wanted to see how Pat and Jason were doing, and how the house was… the fucking house. But when all was said and done, John wasn’t passive enough to miss the plain and obvious reason for Robert’s presence.
Elena.
But he’d let it slide. No need to embarrass lil Robert Anthony…
Besides, how could John ruin this moment? It wasn’t a foreign sight; Elena’s eyes often lit up in the presence of Robert, whether she realised it or not. He was a mere observer to a natural conversation about Robert’s hair. She commented on how it had grown out since she last saw him. How much it suited him. Shamelessly, yet subconsciously, lavishing him with small compliments as if they’d never parted.
Unlike his response to the hoards of girls who usually gave him such praise on the road, Robert seemed to reduce down to that teenage boy who saw Elena for the first time, as bright and radiant as any sunbeam dancing across the lilypad of an oasis. He’d take what he could get.
“Oh, there is a reason I’m here, actually,” Robert remembered, pointing his mug at John. “Uh, Jim and I are gunna head down to Snowdonia for a couple of weeks to work on some new material. Just thought, with us three being back together ‘n’ all, we could go out for a few drinks before I go?” He let the question hang in the air for a second, looking between the two of them in a patient standby.
John and Elena exchanged glances, as though telepathically asking each other’s opinion. Eventually, like clockwork, they both shrugged and nodded.
“Don’t see why not,” Elena softly accepted Robert’s offer, smiling up at him with a cadence akin to restrained excitement. “I mean… I don’t think I’ve actually been out for a nice drink in a… long time,” she huffed with a chuckle, attempting to conceal her melancholy recollection of the last time she’d had a good time with anyone at all.
Robert’s gaze softened as he picked up on her implication, sending her a sideways smile that ignited a warm buzz in her stomach.
“Well, this is your new beginning, El,” John started with his usual grin of reassurance. “What better way to kick it off with a drink with two of the finest men you’ve ever known?” He paused, glancing at Robert. “Well, one and a half.”
Robert sent him a jesting glare, but his mind, as prone to addiction as it was, stayed adhered to Elena, and the excitement it brung to accept his offer for a drink.
Even if it was dressed up as an innocent gathering of friends.
#robert plant#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#classic rock#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#rock music#70s#bijouxcaryslibrary#writing#to love so completely#writer#author#wattpad#ao3#fic writer#Spotify
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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.
#robert plant#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#classic rock#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#rock music#70s#bijouxcaryslibrary#writing#to love so completely#writer#author#wattpad#ao3#fic writer#Spotify
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Daddy’s Attention (short imagine)
Masterlist (requests are open)
Pairing: Robert Plant x Unnamed Fem OC
Warnings: this is pure FILTH, minors should stay the hell away. NSFW. OH and there's a Daddy kink. So yeah. Shaming is not tolerated.
Word count: 1,091
I imagined Manic Nirvana (1990) era Robert for this, but it's not explicitly stated. Imagine whatever era Robert you want!
Tag list: @brownskinsugarplum76 @firethatgrewsolow @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull @chromations @celestial-dragoness (if you'd like to be added, let me know!)
She flinched forward, her lips pressed tightly together as she endured yet another sting to the supple skin of her backside. Tears pricked at her eyes. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped desperately at the silk-rope restraints around both wrists. Secured behind her back.
He was teasing her. Pretending to let up on the punishment with gentle strokes of his tepid fingers against her heated skin. Just as she thought she could take a moment to breathe, he’d land another one. Then repeat.
Don’t misunderstand; she had never been more aroused. This was the arrangement she chose to partake in. She was the one who approached him. She had no regrets.
She was his naughty little girl.
The twentieth collision of his palm with her backside sent a twentieth flutter deep down inside.
He reminded her of her misdemeanour. The failure to hold back her release earlier in the night as his talented tongue danced all over her weeping nectar.
What else was she supposed to do? Keep silent and unvexed as her older lover dropped to his knees in the confines of a ladies restroom, situated in the very public restaurant in which an entire event in his honour was being held?
Yes. That’s exactly what she was supposed to do. Yet, she failed. Miserably. Not only did she succumb to the power of Robert Plant, but she allowed herself to whimper in the process.
How dare she.
Robert looked over the state of the pretty young thing he’d made his three months prior. She was perfect for him. Provided everything he needed. The domestic bliss. The companionship. The adventure. The zest for life.
What he needed now was to give her a potent refresher that Daddy doesn’t play.
He already gagged her with his cock, slowly fucked her mouth until he himself was right on the edge. If he wanted, he could’ve unloaded right down her pretty throat, but he wanted to enjoy this. He wanted both of them to enjoy it.
As she whimpered the final count of twenty, there was a tinge of disappointment that this phase of her punishment was over. Her core was pulsating and contracting, even without being touched.
Robert was steady as he moved her to the side, making sure her head was laid against the satin bedsheets, and her delectable rear pointed North.
She was raw, ready, and yearning. She needed Daddy’s attention in every sense of the word. Whilst she was unable to run her fingers through his soft curls now, she knew that would come later; after she learned her lesson through an incessant piercing of her body from his bulging cock.
Robert wasted very little time in manoeuvring her to face the full length mirror beside the bed. He needed her to watch as he impaled her, opened her, filled her up.
And she would.
A fistful of her hair was tangled around his long fingers, a delicious pain igniting her perception as he closed his hand into a rigid fist. Her head was yanked upwards, forced to look at the mirror. They were like two strangers partaking in a sordid, synonymous encounter of voyeurism and exhibitionism.
Robert’s muscles were tense as he kept her held up by her hair, angling his cock to push inside her awaiting orifice. She clenched immediately, basking in the way Daddy made her feel so full.
He told her how gorgeous she looked. All sore and aching, tied up and under his command. So exemplary. Never had he experienced a creature so sublime, and if he had, it had been such a long time.
Pace set, it didn’t take long for Robert’s constant words of humiliating praise to turn into animalistic growls and grunts.
For a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from how viscerally she bounced off of his cock, coating him in all the honey he had induced. Her rear was glowing, and her back arched towards the bed. The poor thing even asked if she was allowed to moan. So obedient, when she wanted to be.
Robert couldn’t deny hearing the feminine noises that he forced out of her as he fucked her so vigorously from behind. The way she’d make little sounds that reverberated in her chest every time his hips bolted against her. In the reflection, he caught glimpses of her marked chest, observing how he manipulated the movement of her beautiful breasts, pert nipples erect and sensitive from his earlier attack.
She let loose. Panting, whimpering, wining, screaming… it felt so good. The behemoth of a man behind her took full control, dominating every ounce of her being, her life, with his skilled, experienced body. She inched closer to her grand release, delighting in his full, tight balls slapping relentlessly against her throbbing clit.
The boys her age never treated her this good. Never made her writhe, mewl, and sob like Daddy did.
He let go of her hair, but swiftly moved to grab a hold of her neck. He yanked her up, leaning himself backwards so she was pressed against his fuzzy chest. She could feel the cool metal of his chains shocking her back as he forced them into a position that resembled the reverse cowgirl.
But Daddy was still in control.
He grunted into her ear, telling his good little slut to soak him, to make a mess, to cum all over his cock.
“Daddy!”
He’d never get tired of hearing that. It made him twitch inside her, and he found himself once again holding back on exploding. His thighs burned as he continued cracking his hips upwards.
Upon hearing her desperate begging, he encouraged her, validated and demeaned her all at once, to let go. She’d earned it. She’d been such a good girl. She’d taken her punishment so well.
Her hips jolted as Daddy’s stimulating slaps to her clit detonated her with an erotic force, choking his cock with her release. In the midst of her daze, Robert pushed her forwards until he was laid almost flat over her, gyrating his hips until he had no choice but to flood her with his love. His hands grabbed onto the silk rope around hers, his nose pressed into her shoulder as he relished the comedown.
She laid there, a satisfied smile on her face as she took in the warmth of her Daddy covering her. Exactly where she wanted to be.
And as Daddy drifted off into his slumber, to lay dormant until his next summoning, Robert commenced his duty of aftercare.
#robert plant#robert plant x reader#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#robert plant smut#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#rock music#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#classic rock#writing#writer#fiction#fanfic writer#short story#fanfic writing#bijouxcaryslibrary#fanfics
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Spotlight (Robert Plant x fem!OC)
Masterlist
Description: Robert Plant has been pining over Mallory Jackson for more than a year now, admiring her from afar, as many around the world did. But on the night of his Shaken 'N' Stirred release party in New York, he finds out just how much the pining is reciprocated…
Word count: 9.8k
Tags: @celestial-dragoness @callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @tangerine1969 @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @angrychicksposts @inanebula @strsmn @m-faithfull @friccinfricks
1980s Britain. A time teeming with unemployment, depression, inflation, and political instability. Regular folk made do with the circumstances they found themselves in, and stars laid down their egos in support of those who made them who they were. Little boys wanted to be Indiana Jones, and little girls pined for their pop star fantasy. And every teenager sought for an escape from the pressures of knowing their carefree years were rapidly coming to an end.
Husbands worked endless hours, housewives worked to maintain a semblance of balance. And within each of these homes, under layers of unpaid bills and rent, sat the one form of media everyone could enjoy, afford, and revisit.
Magazines.
Feminine faces plastered on cover after cover, all with different stories, different styles… maybe one day that little girl could look like that, or that teenager would be able to attract someone as ethereal to marry.
A model’s world is not just about her hair, her eyes, or her body. It’s the very essence she possesses. It seeps through the glossy paper, and speaks to you, captivates you... If she’s talented enough.
And those talented enough were lucky enough to enjoy the subsequent luxury of being a star.
Mallory had laboured in her desire for success. For fame. Just the word alone was enough to set her soul ablaze. She studied her own reflection for hours on end to perfect her movements; where to place her hands, which angle to tilt her head in, how wide her eyes should be. By 17, she’d suffered a dozen rejection letters, but it only fuelled her further.
She would not stop until she had the best of the best. Until she was the best of the best.
That came at 20, when a chance encounter at a coffee shop led her to becoming a featured face throughout the August 1983 edition of Elle magazine. With time, people started to compare her to the likes of Elizabeth Taylor with a Brooke Shields oddity.
By her 21st birthday, she’d become the face of i-D, Harper’s Bazaar, and Vogue. She’s garnered the attention of many, including the powerful Hugh Hefner of Playboy, and whichever big-time artist found themselves in need of a pretty face with long legs and a stern work ethic.
Amongst those big-time artists infiltrating the charts and taking advantage of the skyrocketing commercialism, laid the has-beens of the 60s and 70s, approaching middle-age and desperate to adopt modern styles, trends, and sentiments. A whole new generation, a whole new audience to win over—to remind that they were once akin to a God.
Yet, lurking in the shadows of modern pop, those with the desire to evolve as artists went about their lives, steadily adapting to the new era.
Robert Plant embodied the latter, and was terrified of the former.
He welcomed the 80s with open arms, though he didn’t have much of a choice. Something had to change. And it did. Between the separation of Zeppelin, and later his wife of 15 years, Robert embraced his new life. He enjoyed his solo career, cherishing every experience and endeavour.
Not one to turn his nose up at the ever changing landscape of entertainment, he chose to live it.
Savour everything it had to offer, earthly pleasures and all.
Happy with the moderate following his solo career had garnered, and therefore the buzz surrounding his newest venture Shaken ‘N’ Stirred, Robert did what he did best and celebrated in style.
Of course, he recognised her from across the room, his release party in full swing. He wasn’t immune to stumbling across certain magazines, and the occasional advertisement in Piccadilly Circus, that had the lovely Mallory’s face plastered all over. Even from afar, through the gaps between each bustling attendee, she surpassed any expectation set in place by her media presence.
It was like a spotlight consumed her, everywhere she went.
He’d heard whispers that she may be attending this evening, and though he didn’t vocalise it, he secretly hoped she would. After all, it was a rarity for her to miss a release party of this candour. Unapologetic in her lust for life, and her zest for the glitz and glamour that came with every superficial venture she’d taken in her 22 years on Earth.
Mallory had already lived the life of someone twice her age, and Robert could sense it. Even through cover pages, television screens, or lit-up billboards. It was potent. Heavy.
And something he found oh so alluring.
Never had Robert felt particularly nervous to approach a girl, or at the very least the pressure to impress one. Not in a very long time. Usually, they flocked to him. He was the one to lay back, and let his magnetic aura attract every female of every shape, size, culture, height, and age. Then, he could meticulously cherry pick a handful to make his for the night, and if she was lucky, one would stay in contact with him.
Not tonight.
In his alcohol-induced buzz, Robert had encountered multiple women already throughout the night. He’d cuddled up to them, given them all the attention they needed within the boundaries of a public setting. But what he really wanted—no, needed—was that raven-haired young woman sucking on a lemon slice after a particularly strong shot of tequila. The symbolism was not lost on him.
Unbeknownst to him, Mallory had been subtly sizing up Robert throughout the entire soirée. Starting near the entrance, she engaged in chit-chat with anyone within earshot—maybe more than your average person would have found charming. But Mallory wasn’t your run-of-the-mill guest; she revelled in the attention and the curious eyes that inevitably followed her every move in her own stardom.
While graciously accepting compliments and manoeuvring through corporate-esque small talk, Mallory had a mental map of the room, like a seasoned explorer navigating uncharted terrain. She strategically identified groups that formed a path leading to the centre of attention—Robert himself. Direct approaches weren’t her style; Mallory operated with finesse.
To say she felt self-assured with each step toward Robert would be an understatement. Approaching big names was familiar territory for her; any inkling of anxiety evaporated as adrenaline surged with the realisation that he was her next target.
Luck was on her side as Robert wrapped up a conversation with another woman who gracefully excused herself. He momentarily froze mid-sip when he turned to find Mallory, the captivating woman he’d been eyeing all night, closing in. However, he quickly composed himself, a smirk playing on his lips.
Taking a moment to appreciate her attire, he couldn’t help but notice how elegantly it gripped her curves—just as he had dreamed about doing all night. Her chest, a perfectly sculpted feature, held his gaze a tad longer than necessary. The silk dress she wore left little to the imagination, but having seen her modelling lingerie, he effortlessly pictured the little black number crumpled on his bedroom floor.
“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Plant,” she teased, a friendly smile gracing her lips, painted in a muted maroon that seemed to hold the secrets of a thousand whispered conversations.
God, her voice—a velvet symphony that played on the edges of Robert’s senses. His signature smirk, a mischievous dance on his lips, responded to her greeting. “What are the odds, eh? Almost like it’s my party,” he quipped, his smile deepening at the spark in her eyes, a laughter-filled serenade.
“Well, they don’t just let anyone run loose in a place like this in New York.” She tilted her head, a subtle game of observation playing in the depths of her eyes, decoding every nuance in his reactions and emotions.
“My dear, truer words have never been spoken,” he replied, a conspiratorial glint in his gaze. His free arm, an extension of casual confidence, wound itself around her shoulders. The smirk mirrored on her perfect lips, couples with the smoky allure in her eyes, hinted at her unspoken approval. She, too, seemed to yield to the gravitational pull, stepping closer into the captivating orbit he had initiated.
“How would you know who they do and don’t let in here, anyway?” he inquired, his head tilting down toward her, his hand maintaining a firm grip on her shoulder.
“Hmm,” she mused, allowing a tantalising pause to hang in the air, leaving him to wonder. “I’ve gotten around quite a bit,” she confessed with a cheeky grin, savouring his immediate interpretation. “Not quite in the way your imagination might conjure… though, I wouldn’t entirely rule that out.”
“So, that settles the burning question of ‘What exactly does Mallory Jackson do when she’s not enchanting the world with her incomparable beauty?’” he bantered, audacity colouring his words.
Mallory’s brows arched, a hint of astonishment gracing her features at his fearless demeanour. Yet, she reminded herself, this was Robert Plant—slightly tipsy and delightfully unpredictable. One could never predict what gems might spill from his gifted mouth.
“You know who I am, then?” she asked, a blend of question and confirmation.
“You don’t sound very surprised, luv.”
Mallory chuckled silkily, gracefully circling around to position herself directly in front of him. Her hand glided up, securing a steady hold on his button-up shirt. Gently drawing him closer, she practically purred up at him:
“Darling… Everyone knows who I am.”
With a daring yet barely-there peck on Robert’s lips, she released him. A rush of power surged through her, sending sparks of newfound confidence coursing through her nerve endings, even the most sacred ones.
Whilst she backed up, her hand remained delicately wrapped around his wrist, giving him a small squeeze in a silent provocation. His eyes narrowed down at her, as if trying to decode her. Figure her out. A fellow Brit in The Big Apple, young and carefree—a little like him at his most naive. But Mallory held something he didn’t when Zeppelin made their US debut; wisdom. A 22-year-old drowning in the misery of wisdom only someone twice her age could muster. She took the menacing possibility of a downtrodden existence, kicked it into another universe, and took life by the horns.
I have to have her.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him, her hair dangling to the side with the movements of her head. She had a knowing smirk on her lips, the question sounding as rhetoric.
Composing himself, Robert met her gaze, equally as intense and foreboding. Then, suddenly, he manoeuvred his hand to her waist, drawing her back into him with a steady force. Lowering his head closer to hers, he dropped his voice to a beguiling utter.
“I’m thinkin’ about how much I’d like to see this pretty dress on my hotel room floor.”
Mallory’s breath caught in her throat, the admission expected but achieving the effects of the most delicate foreplay. The cluster of people around them became insignificant to her, to him, the moment unfolding as a telepathic agreement.
“What else?” she dared to ask, her hand tentatively moving up to his muscular arm, fingers tightening around the material of his button-up.
“I’m not sure I should divulge such classified information in such a public setting…”
Running her tongue along her teeth, she tilted her head upwards to look Robert in the eye. Challenging him. “Well…” she breathed, her eyes flicking down to his lips for a brief moment. “Perhaps you should… show me… in a more… private setting?”
Got her.
Thickly swallowing, Robert cleared his throat and idly passed his almost empty cup off to a random passerby, before swiftly taking Mallory’s hand and leading her away from the crowd and out into the hallway.
Got him.
Mallory discarded her own cup on a nearby table quickly enough to allow herself to be swept away by Robert in the direction of the conjoined hotel lobby located just at the end of the narrow hallway. She kept quiet as he slowed the pace and bid the receptionist a good night, the girl responding with a flustered smile. Mallory smirked at her reaction, squeezing onto Robert’s hand as they enclosed themselves in one of the elevators.
“Seems like you have quite the influence around here, Mr Plant,” she teased, allowing him to take her into his arms after pressing the required button to his floor.
“Yeah? And what gives you that idea, Miss Jackson?” He freely lowered his hands to hold onto her waist, twitching below at how nicely she fit between his palms.
“The receptionist.”
“Hmm, pretty girl, isn’t she?” He narrowed his eyes, gauging Mallory’s reaction. Half expecting her to respond with an air of jealousy, as most girls would, and have.
“She most definitely is,” she simply agreed, matching his intense stare.
“Perhaps I should ask her to join us?” Testing the waters. Slowly. Steady, Rob.
“As enticing of an offer as that sounds,” she started, rolling her hips forward to get a taste of what he had waiting for her under those trousers. “Maybe that can wait for another time… I want you all to myself tonight.”
Robert let out a gruff breath, lifting a hand to hold onto the side of Mallory’s head. “You are such a little minx,” he grunted, before pulling her forward and finally locking his lips with hers in an intense kiss. She practically melted, letting out all of the tension building up inside her through an exhale as she meshed her lips with his. He was frantic, needy. Hoisting her up the elevator’s wall by hooking his arms around her legs, until she had no choice but to wrap them around his waist.
Their tongues rippled in a circular motion, caressing each other in a silky swirl. They tasted like vodka and orange. Smelled like the clash of perfume and cologne, and a light musk from the heated environment. But no heat could match the one stirring between her legs as she arched into him, his greedy hands grabbing all over as he devoured her with his kiss.
When Robert’s lips made a steady journey down the expanse of her neck, the grip of her fingers on his shirt tightened. Desperate. A passionate yearn for more. A choked moan rumbled in her throat as he bared his teeth, gentle ridges nipping harshly at her delicate skin.
Mallory glanced at the row of golden buttons, a wave of relief washing over her as she saw they still had some time to be wrapped up like this before they reached the 7th floor.
“You better not be leaving marks on me.”
“Or what?”
“Ugh,” she huffed, her head resting back against the mirrored walls of the lift. Surrendering to his actions. Like it was meant to happen. His smirk was felt against her as he continued, holding the other side of her neck as he bit down brusquely, hollowing his cheeks and sucking like his life depended on it. It seemed to last forever, like he was draining her of her energy. Her ability to maintain her composure. Pain was pleasure, goosebumps spiking every inch of unclothed skin.
Her legs tightened around him as he released her with a faint pop. He then kissed over the mark he’d made, satisfied with how deep of a shade it was, even upon completion, knowing it would only darken throughout the course of the evening.
“If I could bite a perfect ‘R’ along your beautiful skin, I would…” he breathed, jutting forward to nip at her lower lip. “But I guess impaling you on my cock will have to do.”
Oh, my goodness… Her breathing hitched, stunned at his words. She knew he was good, but not this good…
“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted you to speak to me like that,” she hummed, head light and fuzzy at the sensation of Robert’s fingers forking through her hair.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” she nodded. “Ever since I bought my first record… I heard that voice…” She ran the tip of her finger around the collar of his shirt, the ding from the lift sending a jolt of anticipation straight to her cunt. With a smirk, she whispered hotly against his lips. “And I knew I had to have you one day…”
It was a challenge for Robert to navigate the stretched out corridors of the New York hotel, his room located right down at the bottom, but seemed much further. His brain was imploding, going through all the things he wanted to do to the woman he had under his arm. She was so perfect. He wanted to do everything and more. He couldn’t choose a single sordid move to focus his mind on, even for a second.
He imagined her on top, underneath, on her side, on all fours. Against a wall, over a table, out on the bloody balcony. He wanted her in every position, anywhere, and everywhere.
What does she taste like? A lady of such elegance and beauty has to taste sweeter than the finest honey curated from the softest hive…
To swallow her, eat her up, indulge—to get wholly doped up on her essence. What a tale for the cerebral chronicle of his 37 years on Earth.
“Do you like whiskey?”
He had briefly subdued, painfully suppressed, his fantasies for a moment to cater to the gallant nature of his heart. Mallory appreciated it; to know he wasn’t wanting a quick fuck and dump. A long term situation appeared out of the question, and she knew that going into this, but she was not about to be used as a swift fix to satiate a libidinous rockstar.
She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
“I do, as a matter of fact,” she answered, admiring the interior of his room. “I drink like an old man…” she casually added.
Robert chuckled, pouring two short glasses of Aberlour-Glenlivet on the rocks. “That, my dear,” he spun, passing her one of the drinks, “Is the best way to drink.” They lightly clinked their glasses together and took sips with the sweet accompaniment of eye contact, countering the bitter bite of the liquor.
As Mallory licked her lips, savouring the expensive taste, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. With a hum, she brushed her hair behind her shoulder, tilting her head to inspect Robert’s damage on her neck. Huffing in amusement, she raised and lowered an eyebrow.
“My make-up team is going to hate covering this up…”
He grinned crookedly, chewing his lip in boyish wonder. Proud of himself. Elated that he’d caused such semi-permanent markings that would remind her of him every day—long enough to stir the most tawdry thoughts. Enough to make her want more.
And he wanted to make more.
“Can’t say I’m sorry, darlin’.”
Mallory smirked at him. “Can’t say I’m surprised by that statement, Mr Plant.”
“You love it, though,” he shrugged, taking another sip. She merely gave him a smile of concurrence, knowing he had hit the nail on the head. She did love it.
Robert watched her like a hawk, from her red-bottom stilettos, up her sculpted, shiny legs, and straight to her long and layered dark locks, as she stalked the room with an unconscious refinement, finally reaching the bed, where she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the plush quilt.
“So. I guess it’s my turn to ask you.” She crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward to rest her arms over her leg. Like down at the party, he unabashedly feasted his eyes on the way her dress crumpled at the neckline, soft landscapes of her chest shimmering in the low lighting of his temporary home.
“Ask me what, luv?” With a hand in his pocket, he himself strode over slowly, stopping a healthy distance that allowed him to peruse to his heart’s desire.
“What does the incomparable Robert Plant do when he’s not dazzling the world with his unearthly vocals and…” She looked him up and down. “...Inebriating allure?”
What a way with words… He’d heard girls shower him with compliments for years now, and they all spoke of the same broad insinuations. Mallory left no room for insinuation, and all the room for a response as true as the blonde spiralling from his head.
“Well,” he inhaled, “When I’m not prancing around on stage, I tend to spend my time reading… possibly a bit of football here and there…” He trailed off, a roguish leer tugging at his lips as he averted his eyes. “And on occasion…” He took a smooth step closer to Mallory, the blue in his regard flooding her dusky gaze. “I get to take care of some of nature’s most sublime creations.”
Whilst stricken by his choice of words, she couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh, raising her glass up to her lips. “Don’t tell me it’s only on occasion.”
Robert responded with a chuckle of his own, and faux timidity in a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m sure yer well aware of my escapades, Miss Jackson, but I can assure you it’s not every day I get to spend my evenings in the presence of someone like you.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, tilting her head with a playful grin. “What do you mean by that?”
“What I mean is,” Another step closer. She had to crane her neck upwards to meet his eyes now. “It isn’t often I get to be with someone I just so happened to be fawning over for months myself…” Robert’s eyes shifted to the small collection of magazines at the foot of the bed. Mallory followed his line of sight and felt her face flush crimson.
Paper media with her face, her body, plastered on the front page. Vogue, Elle, Harper’s Bazaar… and her infamous Playboy appearance.
With a somewhat jesting expression, she leaned over and pulled the latter from the collection, her eyebrow raising suggestively in his direction. Placing her glass of whiskey on the bedside table, she flipped through the September 1984 issue, chuckling to herself.
“People hated me for this, you know,” she told him apathetically. The bed dipped beside her as Robert took a close seat, his jeans confidently brushing against her bare leg. Without a second thought, she boldly moved her ankle over his shin, her foot dangling in a carefree manner at the end of the crossed-over leg. Her eyes, however, stayed glued to the pages in her hands.
“Why did people hate it?” Robert asked, leaning closer to her to peer over her shoulder. His chin skimmed her shoulder, breath dangerously close to her neck once again.
“I don’t know…” she mumbled. “I think people saw me as more of a… reserved person. With a little more class, I guess.” She shrugged, turning the page to the centrefold. Robert pressed his lips gingerly to her shoulder, dragging them along the thin black strap of her dress.
“Seems pretty classy to me, luv,” he hummed, moving his lips closer to her neck. “I, for one, thought it was one of the more elegant features. I mean, look at that…” His hand crept along her arm, fingertips hot in their wake as he trailed them over the pages. He paid special attention to the main shot of Mallory, wearing nothing but a sheer lingerie set. Not quite nude, but just scandalous enough to be axed from the more family friendly brands.
Robert went quiet as he took a moment to appreciate the beauty as he had done time after time already. It struck him, somewhere deep down in his gut, how one could only just see the slightly darker skin of her nipples through the pricey lace bra she adorned. How the same could be said for the flimsy material of her underwear, strategically covering all the places he wanted to admire so badly, but not opaque enough to conceal the dark patch of hair between her legs. It left barely anything to the imagination.
“You’re the perfect little tease, Mallory,” he continued, a slight rasp in his throat. His finger continued to trace her body on the page. “You could have bared all for everyone to gawk at, yet you didn’t.”
Mallory’s cheeks remained tinted a light pink, unknowingly tilting her body towards him, resting into the arm that held him up behind her. “That was the idea behind it… They weren’t completely sold on it, but I insisted. And I told them that if it wasn’t good enough for them, then I could always leave, and they wouldn’t have a special feature for that month anymore.” She glanced at him. “Needless to say, it worked,” she emphasised with a smirk.
Robert returned the smirk, leaning closer into her. A bold one… “Good for you, luv.” He was still transfixed on the photo, his finger stopping on her painted lips as though he was feeling the plush flesh in person. Then, he steadily traced his digit further down, over her chest, her stomach, and finally to her cleverly concealing underwear. His finger lingered there, making small stroking motions, before he took a deep breath. The gesture had Mallory squeezing her thighs together under the glossy covers of the magazine, unable to eliminate the thought of him touching her rather than the photo.
“And now,” he breathed, lowering his hand from the pages and to her leg, his palm hot against her skin as he squeezed into the flesh of her thigh. “I get to have the real thing…”
With that, he gently took the magazine from Mallory’s hands, placing it back where it belonged, before taking his own whiskey from his other hand and placing it beside hers on the bedside table. On his journey back, he caught her in another kiss.
He slowly guided her onto her back, his broad form hovering over her. Her hands gripped at his shirt once again, tugging at it needily as her tongue reunited with his. Robert breathed out through his nose against her, deepening the kiss in a desperate attempt to consume her entire being. Propping himself up on his elbow, his free hand caressed every inch of her body within reach. The silk of her dress was soft in his touch as it lowered to her legs once again.
He kept her completely distracted and caught up in the passion in their kiss, taking her by surprise when he inched his hand up her inner thigh. She sighed against the smirk on his face, still connected by their lips, as he reached a familiar lace she had hidden away.
The pads of his fingertips pressed down daringly along her clothed core, an obvious dampness to the material that had been building up all night. Her leg instinctively fell to the side, giving him easier access, allowing him to slip his hand into her underwear with an unrestrained hankering.
Her intimate curls were as soft as the silk, and Robert found himself relieved of her defiance in the face of popular trends. He broke the kiss momentarily, searching her eyes as his middle finger stroked along her slick folds, bearing a teasing pressure that made her hold on his shirt intensify and her lips part in the release of a breathy sigh.
“Have I gotten you all worked up, darlin’?” Robert asked with a smug glint in his eye. Peppering her chin and the ticklish spot just below her lips with the lightest kisses, he pressed further down against her, his finger easily slipping past her folds. A pleased grunt escaped him as he massaged the hot flesh.
“Robert…” she half moaned, half sighed, before attempting to grind her hips upwards, needy for more friction.
“Nuh-uh,” He shook his head, hooking a leg around hers to keep her tamed. “Just relax, Mallory. We aren’t in any rush, eh?”
“No, I guess we’re not,” she huffed. Robert couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from his lips at her impatience.
“Oh, is this the part where I find out you’re also a little brat?”
Whimpering, she pulled at his collar. “I’m not a brat!”
“Shh,” he subdued her, covering her mouth with a heated kiss, pressing her back down into the bed. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become frantic, a symphonic blend of his breaths, her moans, and the growing wetness below.
It was messy, the way they grabbed at one another. His hand clamped onto her hair, hers replicating the tugging motion on his. Robert’s other hand, trapped between her weeping cunt and the soft lace, performed the most erotic dance. From circling her tiny pearl, to dipping two fingers into her tight entrance.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he hissed, sloppy kisses trailing down her neck. He revelled in the way she arched into him, her head hanging back as one strap fell from her shoulder. His lips had reached the neckline of her dress, and he needed more. As his fingers continually pumped in and out of her, seemingly on their own accord, he made the animalistic move to pull the strap down further, easily allowing him access to part of her chest.
Even though the dress she had worn all night provided little protection against the cold night air beyond the walls of their coital labyrinth, the air around them hit her harsher than any blizzard once Robert had gained access to her breasts. His mouth was strikingly hot as he wasted no time in taking a nipple into it, suckling and swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. His fingers, sending her into overdrive, so long and deep inside her. If he could make her feel like this by just his fingers alone, she struggled to even fathom what his cock could do to her.
Her fingers thread and clamped around his hair as he nuzzled her chest, progressively increasing the speed of his hand. He could barely believe his luck, oddly enough, that he had this goddess of a woman laid over his bed. That he was able to feel how hot and inviting her cunt was, even if it was just his fingers. And although he was going to wait to feel her cum, to taste her sweet release, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Mallory’s arm wrapped around his neck when he came back up to trap her in another kiss. She breathed heavily against his lips, his palm brushing against her clit with vigour, perfectly in tandem with the rhythm he had curated with his tepid digits.
“Fuck, Robert,” she moaned against his lips, her hand shooting down to hold onto his arm, feeling the muscles tensing and rocking with each movement he made.
Robert clenched his jaw, watching every contour of her face. “I was gunna try and wait it out, darlin’, but I don’t think I can. I need to watch you cum on my fingers…” His voice was not far from a growl, as though he was already inside her, milking himself with her body. Yet, he was still safely tucked away in his jeans, hardness surely growing, but purely trivial in the event of her pleasure.
“Well, if you keep going, you won’t have to wait for very long…” she purred up at him. What was supposed to come as a sultry tease, instead came as a breathless whisper. She was already on the edge. “Oh, God…” she groaned, head pressing back into the bed.
Robert scanned over her body, down to the rapid movement of his hand between her legs. He imagined how soaked she’d make his fingers, how they would glisten upon removal. Without having to see her, he already knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a taste.
She was going to cum over and over again tonight. He’d make sure of it.
“Mm, I can feel how close you are, darlin’,” he rumbled, biting his lip as she writhed beneath him. “Look at me, Mallory.”
The command was simple enough. But there was an underlying desperation in his tone that prompted her to lift her head, locking her eyes with his. Giving her a satisfied smirk, he pressed their foreheads together.
“That’s it… I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum.”
Her hand slipped into the collar of his shirt, nails digging into the back of his neck as he finally let her grind her hips into his hand. Fucking his fingers, wishing it was his cock. But that would come later. Patience, Mal…
Mallory was panting, chest rising and falling. She couldn’t escape the piercing lock of his eyes. They brought her closer and closer, each second, until it was impossible to hold it in any longer.
Robert barely noticed he was holding his breath, as if he was awaiting a monumental moment—well, he was. To make this amazing woman feel good. He breathed out, sharply and hotly, feeling the burn in his muscles as Mallory finally convulsed around his digits, and a long whine fell from her lips.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” she moaned.
“That’s a good girl,” Robert nodded, grinning as he ground his own hips into her, desperate for friction against his hardened length. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”
Placing her hand over his, she gyrated and inhaled deeply as she rode out her orgasm. Once she’d let his hand go, he gently slipped it out of her underwear, leaving her empty and wanting more. His fingers were glistening, soaked.
Looking her in the eye, he proceeded to drag his tongue over the pads of his fingers, savouring the teaser.
“Hmm…” he hummed, before lowering his hand to her lips, performing a discerning swipe over them. “Open up, darlin’,” he whispered, biting his lip as she obliged, and slipped the digits into her mouth. She clamped her lips around his fingers, tongue swirling around them to catch a taste of her own juices.
With a provocative flourish, she took his fingers as far down her throat as they could get. Her smoky eyes were hooded as she let them go with an audible pop.
“I’m gunna tell you somethin’ now, luv,” he grumbled, lowering his head down to hum in a captivating candour. “I’m not usually one to listen to gossip, but…” He gently nibbled at her earlobe. “I’ve heard some interesting things about you and your… talents.”
She snorted, their fingers automatically threading together. “Elaborate?”
Robert chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Hm, well let’s just say that it’s got somethin’ to do with yer mouth.” He kissed down her neck and returned back to her chest, tugging the other strap down.
“Why don’t you just take it off?” she laughed, noticing his hunger.
“Good point,” he snickered, moving up on his knees.
The previously heavy-with-lust air had dissipated momentarily as Robert helped Mallory remove her dress. There was a hint of humour in each movement, a subdued and disguised excitement that they were doing this. Two humans with a large following, unknowingly following each other since the dawning of their careers, finally coming together to execute the most exquisite dance of prolonged pining.
Eventually, Robert had to remove his shirt, feeling too constricted and restrained. Then again, anyone with common sense would have to alleviate themselves in some way or another upon the glorious sight of Mallory Jackson in nothing but her lace knickers and sharp heels.
“Where are you going now?” Mallory asked with a smile as Robert turned to rummage through his bags.
“Stay there, I’ve got something ‘ere… Where the fuck is it…” he mumbled to himself. “Ah! Found it…”
In his hands, as he spun on his heel, was an immaculately kempt Canon T80. A camera she was no stranger to.
“If you don’t mind?” Robert asked, cocking his head to the side like an innocent Alsation. “I’d like to have some mementos.” His smile was boyish, mischievous. Quintessentially Robert.
“Darling, I spend my life on camera,” she purred. “Of course I don’t mind.”
“Naughty girl,” he jested, chewing his lip as he turned the camera on and lowered onto one knee.
“The most interesting proposal I’ve ever seen,” she teased his stance, before getting up onto her knees in the middle of the bed. “Tell me how you want me.”
Like a starved boy for juvenile satisfaction, Robert proceeded to instruct Mallory on pose after pose, making sure to catch her at all the same angles he adored whenever he spotted them in magazines, billboards, and on the television. But these would be for him, not the rest of the world.
“My God, you really are gorgeous, aren’t you?” Robert murmured, mostly to himself, as Mallory stretched out across the bed on her stomach, hips raised and ankles crossed in the air. Her hair was draped perfectly over her back, a majority of it falling behind her shoulder so Robert and his camera could catch her face. She truly was a natural at working a camera, understanding all of the singer’s instructions, no matter how much he struggled to direct her at times.
With Robert’s eyes so fixed on her body placement, he didn’t even notice that she was hungrily eyeing the bulge in his jeans. It was so prominent every time he leaned forward, or shifted his weight. God, she wanted him in her mouth, in her hand, in her cunt. She didn’t care, she just needed him buried deep inside her.
“‘Kay, that’s enough of that for now…” he rose to his feet, setting the camera down on the bedside table, next to the glasses of whiskey and melted ice.
“Did you get everything you wanted, Mr Plant?” She smirked, watching him unbuckle his belt.
“Hm, almost, darlin’.” He dragged his eyes over her form, still laying her stomach down on the bed. Her backside was so perfectly round, just waiting for his handprints, his lips, his hands. Anything.
Noticing this, Mallory pushed herself up onto all fours, back arching in a tantalising fashion. It was almost like she was a doll, perched patiently on a shelving unit, waiting for him to take her as his own and play with her to his heart’s desire.
And he did just that; he instructed her to stay as she was, limiting her ability to see as he pulled his remaining item of clothing from his body. Mallory knew that, just inches away from her, was Robert in all his nude glory. All she could do was listen as the bedsheets rustled. Eventually, she felt his large hands encase her hips, fingers teasing along the hemline of her underwear.
“Sit up, luv…” She obliged, propping herself up on her knees and leaning back. Swiftly, he tugged her further, landing her on his lap. Fuck, she could feel him.
Robert’s eyes roamed every inch of her, from her shapely curves hugging his hips, to her ruffled hair, lengthy and wavy down the expanse of her back. He took his time, praising her soft skin with the tips of his fingers. He could tell she was getting impatient; he knew she could feel how hard he was for her, and she had no choice but to deal with it through nothing but a thin material separating the two.
Mallory shifted her hips, eliciting a sigh from her lips. With a smirk, he moved his hands around to sneak them upwards, barely touching her.
“Robert…” she warned.
He chuckled darkly, before suddenly pulling her hips downwards, thrusting his own upwards to grind against her clothed core.
“Shall we get these off, baby?” he hummed with a gravelly tinge, pulling at her knickers and letting them go to twang against her skin. She couldn’t have moved any faster as she practically ripped the underwear off, not caring if she actually did tear some of the delicate lace in the process. “Bit eager, aren’t we?”
“Well, yeah, you’ve been teasing me,” she huffed with a small roll of her eyes. Robert couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the small glimpses into her defiant character.
“Bit of a mouth on ya, eh?” He raised and lowered his eyebrows before ushering her back on top of him. “I want you this way…” He smirked to himself.
Before she knew it, her thighs were encasing his head, and she was face to face with his rock-hard length. Hm, she thought. Just as big as what people say…
She couldn’t wait to have him inside of her. To feel those veins against the slick walls of her awaiting cunt. The flutters had already begun, his breath mere inches from where she needed him.
His hands ran over her thighs as he took in the view, not sure if he wanted to delve in, or just admire a little longer. But, alas, the temptation was far too strong, and he had to take a taste. With an urgency, he pulled her down against him, attaching his lips to her weeping folds.
“Fuck!” she gasped, grabbing onto his leg to steady herself as his tongue lashed away at her. He growled against her, fingers digging into the plush flesh of her backside.
Mallory tried her best to keep up with him, giving the head of his cock kitten licks and light suction. She knew if she truly matched up to his actions, he wouldn’t last much longer, even though she’d barely touched him. It was obvious, the way his red hot tip seeped translucent pearly drops.
She writhed, moaned, whimpered, whined, through Robert’s every motion. He was unrelenting, flicking and swirling at her swollen clit, hot breath hitting her in all the right places. Her hand was obedient, running it up and down the length of his cock, squeezing at the tip, practically drooling at the sight.
Through her daze, she just about managed to catch Robert’s subtle gesture for her to stop her movements on him, before fully engrossing himself in her hot core. Tugging at her, he brought her even further up until she had her palms flat on his toned stomach. She followed the rhythm his hands set for her hips, steadily grinding against every suck and lather.
“Oh, fuck… yes…” she hissed, jolting at the sudden sensation of his tongue teasing just a little further upwards, testing the waters of unknown territory. She was sure she could feel the smirk on his face, but was too enthralled with his talented mouth to think too far into it.
“D-don’t stop…” she airily pleaded, wincing when one of Robert’s strong, ringed hands, landed a brisk slap against her skin.
“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he almost inaudibly grunted, words muffled by her cunt as he feasted. “Mm—cum on my tongue, baby, do it...” He was rambling by this point, the experience just as pleasurable for him as it was for her.
Back arching, she edged closer and closer. Making a steadfast approach to her second orgasm of the night. And when it finally hit, Robert’s fingers dug so harshly into her backside that they’d surely leave marks. Another thing for her makeup team to cover up…
He hollowed his cheeks as he drank in her release, chin covered in her essence. Thighs shaking beside his head, her body convulsed and jolted at the growing sensitivity she knew would compliment the inevitable release exquisitely.
She shakily ran her hand through her hair, clearing her vision of the few strands that had adhered themselves to her skin, as she crawled further down the bed to turn and face Robert. In his own world, he was busy licking his lips, enjoying the aftertaste of Mallory Jackson. Even better than he expected, which was a lot.
“I guess… it’s true what they say,” she breathed, inching closer to him until he could wrap his arms around her. “With age, comes wisdom.”
“Wisdom in what, luv?” he asked with a smirk, fingers threading through her hair. He caught her blush, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. “Time allows a man to learn the ins and outs of pleasing women…” he trailed off, a smug, crooked smirk on his lips. “...Not that I’ve struggled much in the past…”
Mallory rolled her eyes at him again with an amused chortle. “My God, all you rockstars are the same…”
Robert’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And why’s that, then?”
“The… pseudo-arrogance is potent, my love,” she hummed.
“Pseudo?”
“Mhm…” she nodded, pulling him to her, steering his form on top of her, where he wedged himself between her legs. The heels of her stilettos grazed dangerously over Robert’s lower back, threatening to press down at any moment. She revelled in the instability—the unknowing in her inner sadist. It could come out at any point.
“You don’t believe I’m actually arrogant, then?” he asked, glancing to the side in slight trepidation at the feeling of her heels on him.
Mallory smirked, choosing to ignore the elephant in the room as she innocently, nonchalantly answered him. “No…” Her voice was a whisper, genuine and smooth, a stark contrast to the sordid threat lower down the bed. “I think you’re amazing,” she started, running her hands down his fuzzy chest, finger stopping to play with the pendant of one of the two necklaces dangling from him. “Talented…” Stroking his ego as gently as she did his chest. “One of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen.”
In such an intimate moment, Robert practically inhaled her praise. Her words proved her authenticity—she wanted to take the time to catch his aura before jumping into bed with him. Just like he had done with her. They knew each other from a gargantuan distance, never face to face apart from endless forms of media, but now they bonded. Souls adhered, now on the precipice of partaking in a lustful union of mutual attraction.
“And if you don’t mind me saying,” she finally took the plunge, applying the smallest amount of pressure into his back with her heel, causing him to careen forward, hips unintentionally gyrating into hers. He still had his hands clasped around her back, and he couldn’t help the need to pull her into him, bodies pressing flush against each other.
“You’re the only man who’s managed to make me cum more than once without actually fucking me.”
Fuck… He swallowed harshly, eyes narrowing down at her. He was certain this woman could make him come undone without actually touching him.
“Well…” he sighed, exasperatedly. “I’m honoured to be the only one to do th–”
“No, I didn’t say the only one…” she interrupted, smoothly kicking off her heels and pushing them off the side of the bed. Robert’s brows furrowed in confusion, searching her eyes.
“I said the only man…”
It took him a minute to understand, but once he did, he felt his cock jump at the mere thought of Mallory and another woman. And she felt it.
“Fucking hell, Mallory…” he breathed out against her, lips teasingly close to hers. “That’s why you said about…”
“About the receptionist,” she giggled with a nod. “Now…” she giddily bit her lip, rolling her hips upwards. “I need you inside me.”
“Yer don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.” With a peck on her lips, he leaned back on his heels, parting her thighs with a pressure that angled her in such a lewd manner. “You’d be surprised how many girls get rid of this nowadays…” he commented whilst running his hand up her leg to her mound, dark curls partly glittering with her arousal. “I don’t know why anyone would do that.” He shrugged, before focusing on the tip of his cock, dragging it along her slick folds, up to her clit, and then back down where he pushed against her, finally, yet steadily, filling her with his girth.
Mallory’s eyes fluttered shut as he did, the sensation already overwhelming her being. The stretch was intense, the stinging pain. As if he was taking her innocence for the first time ever. 6 years of experience, and she’d never felt anything quite like it.
“Open your eyes, baby,” Robert whispered, rubbing his thumb over her clit. She can’t have realised how much she’d tensed up, but he sure did. As her brown eyes met his, he gave her a reassuring smile, slowly pulling back, and then forward. He repeated this, inching deeper each time, until he was completely buried inside of her. “You’re so pretty,” he huffed, brows creasing as her cunt tightened around him with each thrust.
She couldn’t do anything but moan in response. Lay back and let this god of a man take her in ways she’d only dreamed about since she was old enough to understand it.
As he sped up the pace, his hands grabbed at her thighs, pushing them further towards her chest until she naturally resorted to resting her calves on his shoulders. Hitting her in all the right spots, cock nuzzling her spongy walls. Her breasts moved in tandem with the rhythm, the view otherworldly to Robert and too intoxicating not to notice.
His hands laid flat on either side of her head, his necklaces dangled in her face, and the piercing blue in his eyes drugged her as skin slapped below and bed springs croaked.
“That feel good, baby?” he gruffly asked, clenching his jaw. She nodded, lips parted as small whines fell. “Yeah?” She nodded again. “Say it—fuck, tell me, Mallory… tell me how fuckin’ good my cock feels…”
“Shit…” she hissed, flinching at one particular thrust, one that slammed against her cervix. “Yes, it feels so fucking good!” she groaned, hand shooting to his bicep, where she clawed at his skin.
Obviously pleased with her response, Robert picked up his stabbing force. “Yeah, it feels so good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes!” Her head was thrown back, giving Robert the perfect view of where he’d marked her earlier into the evening, and the sleek sculpture of her jaw. He was almost too distracted to catch the words that followed.
Almost.
“I fucking love how your cock feels inside me, Daddy.”
His thrusts faltered, but for a mere second. Mallory immediately lifted her head, heart hammering against her ribcage—oh, God…
“What did you just call me?” he managed to utter, stilling when he settled his entire length within her.
Swallowing, her inhibitions were truly scattering, and she didn’t care how pathetic she sounded.
Only a Daddy could fuck her like this.
“I called you… Daddy,” she said with an air of vulnerability.
“I thought that’s what you said…” he nodded slowly, seemingly thinking over a fleeting idea, before he pulled himself back up onto his knees. Before she could question him, he instructed her to turn around. All fours.
Within seconds, he was back inside her, pushing into her as harshly as she bounced back against him. He could finally take her hair into his hand, creating a makeshift ponytail as he tugged and pulled at her, building momentum as they collided in erotic eruption.
“You’re so perfect for me, baby… so tight…” he grunted, groaned and panted through each thrust. She grabbed at the headboard with one hand, the other grabbing a fistful of the pillow below her. Her moans were stabs of provoked pleasure, synchronised with each pummelling of his hips.
There was something animalistic in Robert’s response to her back arching towards the bed, taking him deeper with her stretch. He landed another smack against her backside, embracing her body’s wanton reaction.
Thighs burning, she continued to rock backwards, meeting his hips, feeling his full balls hitting her clit each time. Her senses were at the highest point possible—or so she thought.
Robert allowed a droplet of his saliva to fall, watching as it landed on the sight below him. Cautiously, whilst steadying his thrusts, he ran his thumb experimentally over the same unknown territory he’d teased with his tongue, and gauged a shiver from Mallory earlier.
“This okay, darlin’?”
Mallory smiled to herself, chewing her lip and nodding. “Yeah…”
Still thrusting his hips, Robert proceeded to apply pressure with his thumb until the tip of it was snugly resting within the tight ring of muscle. Already, it added to the sublime level of ecstasy Mallory had found herself in, and she groaned under her breath, the triple stimulation ramping her up.
“Good girl…” Robert praised, resuming the ferocity of his movements from before. Each careen forward, meant his thumb sank deeper, and eventually she fell into a string of whimpers, moans that bordered on screams, and pleas of encouragement to keep going.
“P-please… God, please don’t stop.”
He smirked, cock twitching and throbbing inside her. Holding out. Patiently impatient for her release.
“Say it again…” he growled breathlessly.
She cried out, nails clawing into the wooden headboard. “Please, Robert, please don’t stop…”
“Who?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Daddy! Oh, fuck, please… Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, Daddy, please…” she pled vulgarly, voice worn and high, echoing and reverberating in her chest from how harshly he was slamming into her.
“Listen to you, baby… Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes… Yes, yes, yes…” She nodded, biting onto her lip so hard she was sure she caught a metallic taste.
“You’re Daddy’s dirty little girl, aren’t you, hm?”
“Yes!”
“Say it.”
“Oh, fuck, right there…” she panted, head falling forward as Robert released her hair to land a hard smack against her backside again.
“Say.” Thrust. “It.” Thrust.
“I-I’m Daddy’s dirty little girl—I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she blithered, unable to stop her body from arching back into him.
“That’s a good girl, cum for me, darlin’, let me feel it…” he grunted, moving his hand up to wrap it around her throat, pulling her back against his chest. They lowered, Mallory spread open across his lap as she continued to move her hips, grinding in pursuit of orgasm. Robert’s other hand pulled from her backside and shot between her legs, playing with her clit in his fingers.
She was trapped. Fully encompassed in his arms as she tipped over the edge, surrendering to the magic of Robert Plant. Gripping onto his hirsute forearms, she laid her head back onto his shoulder, muscles twitching and tensing all over. Crying out, groaning; entire demeanour manipulated into nothing but a withering phenomenon.
“Christ, you’re clenching so hard around me, little girl,” he whispered hotly into her ear, hips stuttering as he found himself on the cusp of his own release. “Fuck, come here.” He pulled out of her, ushering her back up to the pillows so he could lie down on his side, bringing her back to his chest. He lifted her leg up, easily sliding back into her from behind, with his face practically hovering over hers at the same time.
He made her cum again, and again, and again, until she was shaking, flushed, completely weakened by his cock. Somehow, he’d managed to stave off his orgasm. Watching her in fits of ecstasy was just as good as experiencing his own.
But now, he knew he had to cum. There was no holding it back any longer.
Mallory found herself sitting back up, only this time, facing him. Kneeling over her like a statue honouring an icon. Only she was honouring him.
Robert’s fingers held onto her hair as she bobbed her head up and down his cock, cheeks hollowing and eyes blown with lust, staring up at him and his contorting expressions.
“Fuck, yes… Keep going, baby, I’m gunna cum down your throat,” he encouraged, suppressing the desire to start thrusting his hips against her mouth. She was doing a good enough job on her own, humming whenever his tip hit the back of her throat, circling his tip with her tongue, paying special attention to the fullness of his balls. She didn’t miss a single thing. She knew how to please a man just as much as he knew how to please a woman. And it was as clear as day why celebrity gossip practically eulogised her oral skills.
Mallory Jackson is perfect.
“Mallory… bloody hell, I’m cumming—ah, good girl, good girl…”
Her perfection was pristinely punctuated by the way she opened her mouth, giving him the full view of the thick ropes that shot from his cock, every drop coating her tongue and lips.
Her name spilled from his lips, over and over again, as he twitched and jerked against her mouth, eyes squeezed shut and jaw tightly jutted outward. She smirked as best as she could, never having witnessed such ethereal beauty in the heat of climax.
Once she was certain he was finished, she looked him in the eye as she swallowed his load, cleaning up the excess that ran down his shaft in the aftermath of convulsions. Shakily, he bent down and caught her tired and swollen lips in a heated kiss, collapsing back on top of her against the pillows.
Sheets stuck to them, heartbeats thumped a tremendous rate, whiskey on the side remained lukewarm and privy to the night’s sordid events. The two of them barely spoke as they tried to settle, holding onto each other in a haze.
“What… what time is it?” Mallory asked, chest heaving, looking over her shoulder. Robert lazily angled his head to look up at the wrist he donned a watch on.
“Half one…” He dropped his head back down, pulling Mallory further into him by her waist. “Party’s still goin’ on…” he added.
Shutting her eyes, she dragged her fingers along the damp hair on his arm to soothe them both. “Did you want to go back down?”
Robert chuckled airily, pressing his forehead into the back of her head. “Don’t really want to, but… Guess I should, really, shouldn’t I?”
Smirking, she gave him a light giggle in response. “Maybe… it is for you, after all…”
“Mhm…”
“But then again,” she turned over, laying her head close to his, “You get to choose what you want to do at your own event, no?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Very good point, luv.” He planted a sloppily aimed kiss to her lips, mostly getting just the corner of them. “You’re bloody brilliant, y’know that?”
“Hmm, I don’t know, I have my moments,” she hummed against his mouth.
“Well, how long you in New York for?”
“Couple more days… Why?”
Enveloping her in a complete embrace, Robert attached himself to her, like he had done to many in the past, but many so unlike Mallory.
“Maybe I could remind you how brilliant you are until you leave, then?” he posed, gazing down at her with hooded eyes.
“I’ve got a shoot tomorrow afternoon,” she informed him.
“I’ll come with you, then,” he shrugged.
“You’ll come with me?” she snorted. “Do you realise how massive that’d be? There’d be paps everywhere…” Despite her words connoting agitation, it was in her blood to enjoy the attention.
“Honey, you and me, we live for the spotlight, and we’ll bloody well die in it, too,” he grinned, “What’s the harm in a little provocation now and then?”
Mallory smiled, convinced this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see Robert Plant in her lifetime.
“No harm at all, Mr Plant.”
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Fine Wine (Robert Plant x fem!OC)
Masterlist
Description: Our fiery OC from Cherry Lips receives a call from the man she's seen the world with, after months of distancing himself. She may just be the medicine he needs in his time of uncertainty…
Word Count: 6.5k
Tags: @celestial-dragoness @firethatgrewsolow @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull @chromations @angrychicksposts @friccinfricks @inanebula
He was greeted with an icy draft as he pushed open his door. A stark contrast to where he’d been two hours prior. A fleeting bask in the heat of his past. But that’s all it was. Fleeting. In the past.
Robert knew it had to happen. Ahmet would have enjoyed seeing the lads back together, even if it was just for one last show. It was necessary to remind himself of that fact, otherwise the work gone into the past month would be for nothing. Though, his brain—that guy up there—tried to convince the rest of him that it was truly fruitless. And he knew what he’d have to deal with for the next year or so…
Robert, is there any chance of a Zeppelin tour again?
Mr Plant, how did it feel to be up there again?
Do you think Jason lived up to his father’s name?
Are you and Jimmy planning on working together again?
What’s your relationship like with John Paul Jones?
Why wasn’t Stairway To Heaven released as a single?
How do you think your voice has changed?
Robert, why don’t you want to talk about Led Zeppelin?
Bob, can you sign this for me? Bob?! Who the fuck do you think you are, mate? You’re only gunna sell it on eBay.
Scratching at his head, Robert reluctantly turned the light on, revealing his current home exactly how he left it. Hah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s nobody here to disturb it…
There was so much of the world he still needed to discover, to figure out. More music out there to be made. So much bigger than the walls of this London flat sat high up in a building full of more flats, with even more people, with even more stories–Oh, shit, are you Robert Plant? I need to call my best friend and tell her you live right near me!
Thankfully, that common situation was less common in the area he chose to live. It made him feel dirty, buying such a luxurious flat in such a well-established complex. Some called it a penthouse, but no, that was two floors up. Alas, he did have a pleasant view of… the city. Okay, maybe not that, but at least he could go for a walk to the nearest coffee shop… Okay, maybe he couldn’t have that human experience, either.
To think that 34 years ago, he would be in the deep end, engaging in whatever post-show debauchery the band could muster up, and now he was here… A 59-year-old man unable to escape the 25-year-old boy that hadn’t experienced the true meaning of heartbreak yet. He was free, seeing everything in bold, whilst now he lived in a precarious state push and pull.
Desperately wishing for the world to see him as Robert Plant the musician, as opposed to Percy of Led Zeppelin.
Oh. There it is… There lies the conflict—his conflict. If he was hell-bent on enjoying music in all forms, being who he was at heart, why on Earth was he sitting on the edge of his bed, curtains drawn, dwelling on the fact that he wasn’t, in fact, Percy anymore?
Nobody told him the truth. Nobody told him when he was wrong, how he could improve himself. With the odd exception, there wasn’t a single person he came across in his ventures of life, who didn’t automatically compare him to, what he considered, that peacock prick of the 70s.
However, be that as it may, the audacity of Percy still ran rampant through Robert’s veins. If there was one thing age taught him, it was to grab life by the horns, come hell or come victory.
In his self-pity, still slightly buzzed from the bit of alcohol he’d already ingested that night, he took the leap in finding that familiar contact name in his phone, holding it to his ear as the dial tone held his breath with its frequencies.
Her phone rang just as she was about to take her first sip of wine, idly wandering in the kitchen of her sleekly designed flat. Half expecting it to be another call from the supervisor, she answered with an exasperated “Hello?,” bypassing the sensical act of glancing at the caller ID.
“Cherry…” he rasped, the name tasting bittersweet on his tongue.
Stiffening her posture, her previously tired eyes had blown open at the voice on the other end, as clear and crisp as it was in person. “Robert?”
“Cherry,” he repeated the silly nickname he’d given her a decade prior.
“Uh…” Delicately setting her wine glass back on the counter, she leaned against it, quizzically dropping her eyes to the floor. “This is unexpected…” She heard a gruff sigh, followed by some movement, coming from his end.
“I’m sorry…” he apologised, running a hand over his face as he stared out of his bedroom window. His phone felt heavy in his hand, bearing the weight of his audacity. Audacity he knew he should have kept at bay. “I guess age makes ya more of an arsehole…” he mumbled.
“Age? What are you talking about? Are you alright?”
“I’m as alright as an old man can be…”
“Your crypticism isn’t helping you seem less like an arsehole, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab her wine again, making her way over to the sofa.
A lengthy pause followed. There’s a reason they describe silence as deafening. It irritated her to no end; she was able to take two whole sips of her wine during the time he left her in this ominous limbo.
“Why are you calling me?” she finally asked through a sigh, perching herself on the arm of her sofa, swirling the fragile liquid in her glass.
“Just… wanted to talk.” His words were unconvincing. Like a stroppy teenager insisting they want the beef stew bubbling on the stove, all whilst eyeing the takeaway menu on the fridge. She could read him, even through the phone. Plenty of practice by now.
“Well, so far it’s just been me talking…” She waited for an answer, even checking her phone to see that they were still connected. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”
“Nothing’s up…”
“Okay, and I’m currently in Russia,” she responded dryly.
“Are you?”
“Seriously, Robert?” she huffed, scrunching her eyebrows up at his atypical ignorance. “Look, if you’re not going to tell me why you really called me, I’ll just hang up, I’ve got zero patience for this right now.”
Yes, that’s it… Tell me I’m wrong. Give it to me straight. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his head in relief.
“Please tell me what’s wrong…” Her voice softened, almost mimicking a beg.
He chewed his lip, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. Was he really this pathetic that he needed a woman to come over and make this already stressful evening a little less gruelling? Well, yes, he was. To him, at least.
“Do you, uh… think you’d be able to come over?” His voice faltered.
Pausing mid-sip, she double checked that she was hearing things right. That her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be that outlandish to suggest auditory hallucinations at this point; it was bizarre enough that he was calling her in the first place. “You want me to come over? As in… to you? Right now?”
“Please…”
The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the distant hum of traffic outside Robert’s window. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for her reply, acutely aware that he was asking a lot.
Finally, she broke the silence with a soft exhale, her voice tinged in a subtle mixture of disbelief and curiosity. “I guess I could… Why do you want me to come?”
Robert’s mind raced, searching for the right words to explain the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I… I just need somebody,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Someone who won’t sugar coat things… Someone who knows me.”
She felt her heart stumble at his vulnerability, how fragile his voice sounded on the other end of the phone. Despite the fact that their interactions had become sparse over the last year, she couldn’t ignore the connection that still lingered between them, forged in the crucible of the years they’d spent in each other’s company.
Without another word, she made a decision, fuelled by compassion: rarely felt, but cherished when present. “Alright,” she said softly, her resolve firm. “I’ll come over. But you have to promise me something…”
A spark of hope ignited within Robert’s chest as he listened intently, hanging on her every word.
“...You have to tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t try and downplay it, either. Deal?”
A wave of relief washed over Robert as he nodded, a sense of gratitude playing eagerly at his heart. “Deal,” he agreed.
That leads them to the present, sat across from one another in his living room. Neither of them knew how the night would end, but all Robert knew was that he appreciated her willingness to come over at all.
“I thought you might have been out,” she speculated, accepting a glass of wine as a gallant replacement of the one she had to pour down the sink at home. Robert immediately shook his head, resting into the sofa with a hand rubbing around his bristly beard, unknowingly complimenting his fine wine allure. “Didn’t fancy another rodeo, huh?” she wittingly asked.
“I should imagine Jonesy’s all cosied up with Mo by now. Don’t know if I can say the same about Jimmy, though,” he huffed through a rueful laugh.
Biting her lip, she smirked to herself at his implication that Jimmy hadn’t lost his wild streak. “Well, I think it would be rather bizarre if Jimmy was with John’s wife right now, don’t you?” Injecting a bit of light into the atmosphere with her jesting tone, her smile grew with Robert’s in response.
Robert’s gaze lingered on her, from the light dimples on her cheeks, to the lips he would kill for. Though, now, they remained painted with a more natural tone as opposed to the deep cherry tint he associated with her. So beautiful.
She had to admit, upon noticing his wandering eyes, a familiar flicker kindled in her stomach, taking her back to the moment he first surveyed her from afar, all those years ago. “So…” she breathed, angling forward with her elbow resting into the cushiony surface of the chair arm, adjacent to the matching sofa Robert had relaxed on. Nestling her chin into her hand, she studied him. “What’s going on?”
Smile falling slightly, Robert cleared his throat and took a sip from his wine. It was discernible how desperately he was clambering to find the words, thoughts racing a millions miles a minute.
“Robert, I can’t help you if you don’t tell m–”
“Do you think I’ve lost my looks?”
Now, she wasn’t expecting that one.
Anyone who took one transient careen at him instantly concluded that Robert Plant knew of his appeal. So aware of his allure, it bordered on arrogance. He always played the game, no questions asked.
She let out an unintentional scoff, amused by his inquiry. Surely, he wasn’t serious. However, upon leering into his eyes a moment longer, she quickly realised he was being anything but frivolous.
Through a fated smirk, she asked him, “Is that really what you’re so upset about right now?”
He winced, huffing as he shifted on the sofa. “Not really. Well–yes, but no…”
“My God, men are so indecisive.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he shot back with a boyish grin.
“Stop,” she pointed her finger at him. “Stop being so charming and funny, it doesn’t work on me.”
“Are you sure about that, darlin’?”
“You’re diverting.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who called after not bothering for months on end, am I?” And…there it is.
He knew this was going to come up at some point, and he was inclined to agree with the vexation it bestowed upon her. As he kept his eyes firmly locked on hers, he saw as clear as day the betrayal that encompassed her. Perhaps a strong word for their situation, but the hurt in her eyes spoke of nothing less.
“Cherry… I’m sor—“
“That seems to be the only word you know lately, Robert,” she interrupted him coolly. “Y’know, I came over because you sounded upset, and believe it or not, I still care about you.” She rose from the seat, making steady back and forth paces across his flat. “God knows why I care about you, but I do.”
Robert parted his lips to speak, but she kept going.
“Do you know how happy I was when I got your text the other month?” she asked, turning to look at him. “Even if it was just to say happy birthday.” She shrugged. “Maybe some tiny little part of me wished that you’d have kept in touch, but then I came to my senses and realised that you’re Robert fucking Plant!” She chuckled airily, running her hand through her hair.
His gaze fell to the floor, pondering her words like a bout of bad news. With a swallow, he slowly responded. “And why is Robert Plant so different?” Her scoff brought his eyes back to hers.
Then, almost as if it pained her to utter the words, a stern gleam in those big brown eyes, she answered with the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth.
“…Because nobody comes close… to being like you.”
Compliments. More compliments. He shook his head with an exasperated resolve.
“No, don’t shake your head, when you know it’s the truth.” Taking a deep breath, she stepped a little closer to him, staring him down like a predator cornering its prey. “So I’m gonna ask you again…” she uttered, “What’s wrong?”
“I told you—“
“You asked me if I thought you’d lost your looks, you told me nothi—“
“I’m old!” He finally snapped, voice uncharacteristically raising. Distressed. Vulnerable. He shot up from the sofa, peering down at her with hesitant eyes. “All those people who came to see me tonight,” he pointed in the direction of the window, “They wanted to see that bare-chested young lad strutting around the stage and wailing like a newborn fuckin’ lamb!”
Robert breathed out heavily. It was his turn to start pacing, everything that had built up all evening practically spilling out of him like nickels from a glass bottle.
“Ya know, I’ve tried for the past 25 years to not be that anymore, to get as far away as I possibly could from all the bollocks, but tonight was a real fuckin’ grim reminder that all anyone ever cares about is my name!”
She’d never seen him this irate. He had his moments, irritable and unsatisfied with certain situations and people around him, but never failed to remain calm and respectful at all costs. The man she watched bounce back and forth in the dim light of his very un-Robert-esq home was the personification of a life lived to the fullest, only to reach a point in which there seemed very little left.
“Robert, I—“
“I realise I’m a massive fuckin’ hypocrite, by the way—being upset about people always expecting the young, virile Robert Plant, but also wishing I could have been that tonight.” Spinning on his heel to make another lap of the room, he was halted when she stepped in front of him, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. “Does any of that make sense, Cherry? Or am I going bonkers?” he asked with a hushed tone.
Sighing, she looked over his attire. Silky shirt with some sensible black slacks, encasing a body that displayed his advancing age. The lines on his face spoke of an earthy wisdom and a lifetime of laughter. Hair, previously a vivacious blonde, now faultlessly whisked with an ashy tint. His stomach was no longer landscaped, and one could no longer catch the intensity of his muscular build.
No, he wasn’t what the world instantly pictured when faced with his name. But he was still, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
“Robert…” she breathed, bringing a hand up to gently trace the pads of her fingers over his beard, along his jaw, before stopping to place her hand flat against the side of his face. “My sweet, darling Robert… You have no idea, do you?” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she took in the edges of his features, how the blue in his eyes still shone brighter than any star in the sky.
The warmth of her hand against his skin made him weak. His eyes hooded, and he found himself instinctively resting into her touch. “About what?” he replied, matching her tone. His hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her near.
Endearing was the word that sprung to mind. He was so endearing at that moment. So naively heedless. She couldn’t help but smile, as if a whole new light was gleaming down on him. Layers she had never been able to peel away were now crumbling at the lightest touch.
“How perfect you are…”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“Maybe not by the official definition,” she agreed. “But my definition… it’s all you, Robert.”
Any anger she may have felt for his distancing himself, any iota of annoyance at his unintentional ignorance, was insignificant when compared to the kind of love she felt for this man. “I don’t care how old you are. I mean, you’re not even that old,” she chuckled. “I don’t care that you’re not… Percy, or however you want to describe yourself back then.”
Robert’s eyes shut as he gently rested his forehead against hers, hands lowering to grip onto her waist like he’d never get to again.
“I never knew you as that person, and I don’t want to. Because the man that’s been in my life for the past 10 years has given me more to live for than any arrogant little peacock could,” she grinned at her own wording, knowing she was using his own opinion of himself as ammunition. He picked up on it, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.
“And let’s not forget,” she smirked, snaking her arms over his shoulders. “A lot of girls have a preference for older men, Robert, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re the ideal. Plus, we don’t call you Daddy for no reason…” she giggled.
Even through his subdued demeanour, a tint of light pink coloured his cheeks; he hid it by dropping his head to her shoulder, tilting to take in her scent. “I don’t care about a lot of girls right now…” His words were muffled, but the way his lips gently tickled the side of her neck spoke for him.
“Robert?”
He lifted his head to look down at her. “Hm?”
“You’re beautiful,” she told him firmly. “Okay? I don’t ever want to hear you saying otherwise, because it’s bollocks. Pure bollocks. Alright?”
Okay, well maybe one person tells me the truth…
With a smile, he bit his lip and nodded, willing to take any word that fell from her perfect lips as gospel.
“Good.”
“Can I kiss you now, or am I still in troub–”
She cut him off with a heady kiss, hand holding the back of his head and fingers gripping at his corkscrew locks. A sigh of relief fell from him as he mirrored the passion, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to cradle her, encompassing her in his hold. His own fingers made a venture, delicately threading through her thick hair.
Eventually, he found himself backing her in the direction of his bedroom, willing footsteps following his lead. She didn’t even have to give herself to him. All she needed to do to keep his mind at bay, stop the intrusive thoughts from swirling in the recesses of his rapid mind, was be there.
But his Cherry was always insatiable, no matter the situation she found herself in. Like his own, her libido intensified in her 30s, and he deemed himself lucky to be on the receiving end of such licentious longing.
“I’m not gonna lie to you,” she hummed as Robert trailed his kisses along her cheek, eventually stopping at her neck. “When I got home from work, I wasn’t expecting anything like this to be happening tonight.” His bristly facial hair was tough against her skin, but provided a stimulating tingle nonetheless.
Chuckling, he nipped at her neck and guided her further backwards until she had no choice but to let her weight fall onto the bed, his following suit. His face hovered closely over hers, taking in her features. Admiring. Silently worshipping. She was everything.
“What?” she whispered up at him, stroking her thumb over his cheek.
Shaking his head, a small smile appeared on his lips. “Nothing… Just happy you’re here. With me.”
She huffed out a small laugh, placing a barely-there kiss to the tip of his nose, before nudging him to lay down so she could settle on top of him, legs trapping him under her. Using her hand flat on the bed beside his head, she propped herself up as she lingered over him. His hands were urgent as they gripped onto her hips, needily pressing his fingers against her curves. God, he wanted her so bad… It was next to impossible to be in the same room as her and not experience the familiar twitch below. That bloody blazer… She made every article of clothing look perfect, and she looked perfect wearing them.
Clocking his distracted gaze with a smirk, she smoothly brushed stray curls from his face. “What do you want, Robert?” she whispered, watching the way his eyes dilated and flickered through a mirage of emotions. “Tell me…” she encouraged, her lower lip slipping between her teeth in anticipation of his answer—an answer she was certain she could predict.
He sighed heavily, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t want you to think it’s all I called you over for, darlin’...”
She responded with a sweet smile and an airy laugh, shaking her head. “Hmm, no…” she mumbled, glancing down at his lips. “You told me why you called me over…” Lowering her face to his, their lips narrowly skimmed over one another.
“Now, I need you to tell me why you want me to stay…” Her voice had dropped to a sultry whisper, accompanied with a bold shift of her hips.
Jaw clenching, his grip on her tightened, goading her to keep up with her movements, to which she complied. “You really want to know, luv?” he gruffly asked.
“Dying to know…” she replied through a breathy sigh and a subtle smirk.
It seemed a mere millisecond had passed before one of his hands came up to hold onto the back of her head, pulling her down so he could speak directly into her ear.
“I want to feel you again,” he began, inching his other hand steadily from her hip in the direction of her backside. Guiding the paced movements she was still conducting. “Want to feel you forever,” he continued, words muffled against her.
By now, the strength keeping her propped up had waned and she found herself collapsing against him, once again completely wrapped up in his embrace, adhering to his ministrations, playing into his hands.
“I miss the way you wrap around me, baby,” he kept talking, barely realising each syllable sparked flutters between her legs. “And how sweet you taste…” Maybe he’d forgotten how much she enjoyed his voice in these intimate moments, but as she continued the rolling motion of her hips, the friction against her heightening arousal dragged a choked moan from her throat.
“Oh, ya like the sound of that, do you?” he provoked, his hand now holding onto her rear, but no longer guiding her; she was doing that all on her own. Taking her face in both of his hands, he brought her back up to face him. The familiar flush on her face, hooded eyes, the way her lips had parted and gentle gasps had fallen… “You like me talkin’ like that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she breathed with a wanton nod. “Please…”
“Please, what, darlin’?”
“I-I need you…”
“You need me to do what?” His fingers began a steady journey over her chest, down to her stomach, where he inched his hand under the thin material of her blouse. Skin to skin. Fuck…
She whined, gripping onto his shirt, a furrow in her brow. “You know what I want, Robert…”
“Hmm, not sure I do–”
“I will leave if you keep playing with me.” As much as she wanted her threat to sound genuine, stern, her body was completely ablaze, and there was no way it sounded any stronger than a desperate plea.
Robert smirked at her, sneakily managing to slip his hand further down, until it was snuggly hidden within her trousers, her arousal prominent against the soft lace of her underwear. She gasped as he applied pressure, grounding her hips involuntarily.
“Somethin’ tells me yer not going anywhere, luv.”
Smug prick… Always so fucking charming…
Her eyes fluttered shut as he released the pressure against her underwear, but instantly reapplied it.
“I can already feel how badly you need me, sweetheart,” he casually commented, loving the way he could break her down. Just with a mere touch. “You just have to tell me… then I can give you everything you need and more…”
“My God, just fuck me already…” she murmured, craving more than a simple touch over a layer of clothing. Robert responded with a throaty chuckle, beaming at her as he removed his hand from her trousers and swiftly pulled himself up into a seated position, her legs immediately wrapping around him to stop herself from falling back.
With a challenging glint in his eye, he leaned forward, arms encircled securely around her as she dangled from his lap off the side of the bed. Her hands were holding onto his shoulders, giving him a warning glare.
“Now, now, don’t give me that look…” he chided, lowering his gaze down to her attire. “You look gorgeous in this blazer, but I think it needs to come off now.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She obediently shrugged the heavy fabric from her shoulders, trusting that Robert wouldn’t drop her in the process. It fell to the floor, landing in a crumple—she’d surely chastise herself when the time came to put it back on, but at that moment, she couldn’t have cared any less.
A sharp squeal exited her mouth as Robert suddenly stood up, swung around and dropped her on the bed. He gave her a cheeky smirk, before lifting her legs to perch on his shoulders. Turning his head, he delicately worked the buckle on her heel loose.
“I like these shoes,” he nonchalantly complimented as he pulled it off her foot, dropping it down the side of the bed, before he repeated the action on the other. He pressed a kiss to her ankle and lowered his hands to unbutton her trousers, tugging at them when she lifted her hips.
There she was, laid over his bed, in nothing but a white, gossamer blouse and the contrasting underwear in a characteristic black lace.
“Y’know…” Sighing, he crawled over her, allowing her to slowly pop open the buttons of his shirt when he got close enough. “I’ve always wondered—with you in particular—how I managed to get so lucky.” He ran his hands up and down her bare thighs, savouring the smooth skin under his fingertips.
She didn’t necessarily answer him, only sent him a playful eye roll before pushing the intricate silk from his shoulders, where it was then tossed to the side to join her trousers on the floor.
Robert displayed no sign of hesitancy in his shirtless glory; he looked like a transcendental entity—a god of his own likeness. So deserving of everything good, yet the creator of the very same thing.
Her wandering eyes flooded with lust. She cursed the inability to squeeze her thighs together at the sight, at the situation. But before she could mourn the friction, he was down there in its place, as though he saw right through her longing. The soft fabric of her blouse became too constricting as her heart hammered away at the image of Robert knelt down on the floor with his upper body slotted between her legs, so she unbuttoned the garment, the air around them hitting her skin in a stark revelation.
“I told you I missed how you tasted,” he mumbled against her thigh as he peppered small kisses along the flesh, inching closer to her aching core, but bypassing it to replicate the motions on the other leg. His beard added a bout of sensation, hips rolling upwards in her thinned patience.
When he pressed his mouth against her clothed centre, she exhaled deeply, the simple touch sending sparks all throughout her body. Robert hummed against her as he caught her scent, mouth aching to taste what laid beneath the flimsy material. Soon enough, his own stoicism scattered—he had to have her against his tongue, now.
With a hungry resolve, he pulled the lace down her legs and pushed her open, the sight stirring his fervour below. He glanced up at his Cherry, deftly tracing his thumb over her already teary folds. She had her head settled against the soft sheets, managing her breathing in preparation for the delicious sensations that were to come. My perfect girl… Robert leered proudly, looking back down at the view.
He gently spread her open, her bijou pearl enticing and ready for the taking. Pink, glistening…
“So pretty…” he murmured to himself, taking an experimental lick just below the sensitive nub, eliciting a small flinch from the goddess laid in front of him. He licked his lips, relishing his appetiser. Next, he flattened his tongue against her entrance, collecting her arousal, and dragging upwards until he gave her the contact she so desperately needed.
By the time he attached his lips to her clit, she was already pining, throbbing. A small cry fell from her lips as he performed a suction motion, tongue swirling around her in lazy circles. She was trapped in his hold as he wrapped his arms around her legs, keeping her open and completely at his mercy.
Robert proved, with the sublime movements he bestowed upon her, that old men do, in fact, do it better.
With a grunt, he pulled his head back long enough to lewdly spit, mixing their fluids together in a union of lust. Her pants were a pleasant breeze to his ears, and her writhing form was his reward.
“That feel good, darlin’?” She nodded her head, one of her legs pulling him closer to her. “Look at me.” With a whimper, she lifted her head with the strength she could muster to meet his stormy eyes—eyes punctuated by grooves of sagacity. “Yer still my good girl,” he praised with a knowing smile, the wisps on his lower face shimmering with her juices. “Aren’t you?” She nodded again, practically unable to speak through her yearning. “Words, luv.”
“Yes… I’m still your good girl,” she shakily succeeded, swallowing thickly.
“Yeah, you are…” he whispered, pressing a brief kiss to her core. “Still Daddy’s good girl…”
She furrowed her eyebrows at the name she hadn’t heard in so long. The name she hadn’t even uttered to anyone else since the last time she found herself in this position with Robert.
An untamable animal under a gentle predator with an even stronger desire to tame.
“I’m gonna make this pretty little cunt cum now, darlin’,” he hummed, “You just lay back and enjoy every second…” He eased her back down with a hand on her stomach, before lowering his head and resuming with his erotic assault.
An elongated moan expelled from her body as Robert seemed to return with a vengeance, tongue rapid against her pulsating, swollen clit, edging her—driving her—towards a much craved release.
Once he slipped a finger inside, stroking upwards in tandem with his tongue, she was done for. Her moans turned to cries, her whimpers turned to whines, and his name flew from her lips at a rocketing pace.
Hips gyrating, back arching, she was in ecstasy.
Gripping tightly onto the bed sheet beside her head, her legs tightened over his shoulders, drawing him closer than ever.
Another finger.
More suction.
Closer.
And closer…
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop,” she gasped.
He didn’t.
What followed was nothing short of an otherworldly climax, tensing all over, gripping his fingers and pulsating into his mouth. Her hand shot to his hair, grabbing at the ash-blonde curls as he growled in validation, drinking in her release with the vigour of a water-starved cheetah.
She rode her orgasm out, body shaking and twitching as his comedown kisses hit sensitively against her. Eventually, he ceased his motions, snaking up her body, marking her on his journey. Each searing kiss to her flushed skin accompanied an indentation of his teeth. When he got to her chest, he dragged his lips between her breasts, up her neck, and finally punctuated with a heated kiss to her lips.
Her remaining clothes were quickly shed, as was his, as they fell deeper into their salacious reunion. Inching up the bed in the scorch of their connection. Both eager, desperate, urgent. It didn’t even feel real when he eventually eased his cock between her legs, filling her up with a steady thrust of his hips.
Robert never seemed to pull back from her; only stayed as close as possible, absorbing her every reaction, even the most miniscule, the most subtle… He noticed everything.
The pace he set. The small tightening of her limbs wrapped around him. The rhythm of her breathing. And, of course, the ripples and twitches and flutters from her welcoming cunt. She took all of him so well—she always did.
How he’d gone so long without her was a mystery. A foolish decision on his part, for he never felt more alive than when in her presence.
Hooking his arm underneath one leg, her body titled, cock kissing the hilt of her walls with every passion-filled jive. Her moans were melodic at least, with no limitations in their effect on Robert’s reverie. Fingernails raked over his back. Noses brushed against one another. Eyes fought to stay adhered. It was the copulation of a lifetime; even the first night they spent together sat miles from this.
“Cherry…” he groaned, evidently darkened chest hair grazing along her bare skin.
“No…” she managed to choke out, shaking her head. “D… Don’t call me that…”
Even more than her words, her eyes begged him to drop the silly nickname; it scarcely matched the moment, and gave their kinship too superficial a meaning.
With a smile of admiration, he pressed his lips to hers, free hand raking through her hair as his thrusts gained a jolting flair, building them up. Closer, and closer…
“Grace,” he finally whispered against her lips. “Grace, Grace, Grace…” he breathed, dropping his head to her neck.
Her name was exemplary on his lips. He practically chanted it the more he drove into her, knowing he was bringing them both closer by the second.
A lifetime could have passed, and neither one of them would have noticed. Completely, utterly, wrapped up in their mutual admiration for each other. Nothing else mattered. Their jobs, and all the emotions that came with them, were peripheral. Faded into the background. All that remained were the two of them.
Robert and Grace.
“R-Robert…” she panted, lips brushing against his shoulder. “God… fuck, I’m close…”
“Yeah?” he mumbled against her neck, his nipping quickly turning into biting, sucking, claiming.
“Mhm,” she nodded with a whimper, lifting her hips to meet his eager thrusts.
“That’s it, baby…” he approved, ensuring to match their rhythms. His breathing waned in its regularity, a heat rolled over his entire body. Just need to feel her… “Cum for me, Grace, please… can’t hold it any longer—fuck, you feel so good.”
It took mere minutes after Robert moved to press his forehead against hers, staring her down, for her to finally succumb to his behemoth gifts. She held onto the side of his face, nails digging into his shoulder painfully as she clung to him.
Ears buzzing. Eyes blurring. Head thumping with the beat of her heart. The way she gripped around him, paired with the breathtaking expression of her face as she reached her zenith, was almost too much for him to handle.
“Fucking hell…” he groaned, taking in her responsive form as validation of his abilities. During her descent, he spilled into her, restrain seeming like a fargone possibility. He gyrated, growled, and ensured to empty himself completely inside of her.
Their bodies were tacky, hot, flustered, trembling, as they laid there, entangled in each other’s limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, focusing on the overhead lights in his room that were yet to be switched on since his return home. Having him in her arms, in his bed, was a long-awaited scenario she never thought would come to fruition.
But it had.
Eventually, he rolled over, bringing her into his protective hold. Somewhere, lingering in the back of his mind, he feared she wouldn’t be here come sunrise. That she’d realise she was making a mistake, take one look at him upon waking up, and disappear as quickly as possible. The grip he had on her was his way of keeping her there, with him, for as long as he could.
Though, it just wasn’t enough to ease his mind…
“Grace…” he called out slowly, his voice practically shot.
“Yeah?” She looked up at him, head resting on his chest.
“Can you stay?”
What a question to ask… She raised an eyebrow, looking into his eyes. The uncertainty baffled her. How he thought she might leave was an enigma to her.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” she assured him with a whisper.
He responded with a sigh of relief, and a kiss to her hair, before shifting the two of them further up the bed so they could comfortably bury themselves under his sheets.
There was no second guessing herself as she wrapped her arms around him, his back pressing against her chest. She held him close, smiling to herself when he found her hand, lacing their fingers together in such an affectionate position.
They laid there, lit by only the city lights that spilled through the edges of his curtains, for a few more minutes. Listening to the beating of each other’s hearts, and the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing.
“Will you stay for breakfast?”
Grace opened her eyes, giggling softly. “Yes, Robert. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
Oh, darling… that would be forever.
#robert plant#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#classic rock#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#rock music#70s#bijouxcaryslibrary#writing#writer#author#wattpad#ao3#fic writer#cherry lips
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⛧𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆⛧
Requests are closed apart from the occurrence in which I reblog a prompt list.
All of my works are intended for mature audiences, and are not recommended to those under the age of 16. I am not responsible for any minors who may read my work.
Click below to access contents:
Hi! Thank you for taking the time to look around.
First off, my name is Carys, I'm 22 and I'm from the United Kingdom. I've been writing fanfiction for 10 years. I started off on MJFiction.com writing Michael Jackson fanfic, and I found I absolutely loved it!
I'm autistic and am absolutely riddled with undiagnosed ADHD, but I don't bang on about it, so don't worry. I rarely ever talk about it. That being said, without having autistic special interests, I wouldn't be here writing for you all!
My special interests include the 60s, 70s, and 80s, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Aerosmith, Michael Jackson, Ariana Grande, Demi Lovato, films, WWE, and... MUSIC.
I write fanfiction about Robert Plant and Brian May, which is what my blog is mainly centred around.
Don't be afraid to shoot me a message; I may be Northern English but I am very nice. Promise.
((Side note, if you are one of those Jimbert stans who fully believe that they were in a relationship/have very real feelings towards each other... Navigate my blog with caution, because that ain't it for me. I support everyone's freedom to fantasise and write fanfic, draw fanart, etc of anything, but when it goes beyond fantasy and starts becoming something real, that's when I draw the line. Y'all know who you are.))
Archive of our Own
Wattpad
Donate/leave a tip
Silly Discord that barely is active but is always nice to have
Spotify (in the process of creating all the relevant playlists for fics)
In the event of not being able to access my works through the links in the masterlist, please go to the search bar and type in "bijouxcaryslibrary" and all the necessary content will come up (hopefully.)
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:
Smut
Fluff
x Reader
Personalised (you choose the name insert)
x OC
FxM pairings (smut and fluff)
FxF pairings (smut and fluff)
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:
Creepy shit. Like... obviously dodgy areas. Pedophilia, necrophilia, non-con, etc...
Food kinks and pregnancy kinks (no kink shaming here, I just personally feel uncomfortable with it)
MxM pairings (smut and romantic fluff)
Pairings of real life people such as band mate x band mate
I will pretty much write anything apart from the above, don't be shy to be specific with your requests. The more detailed, the better!
To Love So Completely (Robert Plant x fem!OC mini series)
Got My Timing Right (Book 3 of my Brian May series)
Allure pt. 2 (Sequel to my Brian May one shot Allure)
Herbal Clouds (1969 Brian May one shot)
Robert Plant anon request
𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐘
Peace Lovin' Guy Series
Book 1: Peace Lovin' Guy (completed, in the process of uploading on Tumblr)
Book 2: Get Your Heart Beating (completed, in the process of uploading on Tumblr)
Book 3: Got My Timing Right (ongoing)
Book 4: Can't Understand It (TBA)
Book 5: A Sweetheart Hand (TBA)
Book 6: Through the Madness (TBA)
One Shots
Allure **
𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓
Honey Bee ** | Part 1 Part 2
Little Wayward Girl **
Daddy's Attention **
Aphrodite **
To Love So Completely (Masterlist)
Cherry Lips **
The High Life **
Fine Wine **
Spotlight **
Honey Bee | fic board
To Love So Completely | fic board
Peace Lovin’ Guy (PLG Book 1) | fic board
Allure | fic board
Get Your Heart Beating (PLG Book 2) | fic board
Got My Timing Right (PLG Book 3) | fic board
Little Wayward Girl | fic board
Daddy’s Attention | fic board
Aphrodite | fic board
Cherry Lips | fic board
The High Life | fic board
Fine Wine | fic board
Spotlight | fic board
To Love So Completely | fic playlist
Allure | fic playlist
Honey Bee | fic playlist
Peace Lovin’ Guy | fic playlist
Get Your Heart Beating | fic playlist
Suffer and Brew
I Did It Again
Turn Out The Lights
Still Alive
Royalty
Blood To My Vein
I Deserve It
Someday
You'll Never Be Loved
Antidote
If I Die
Bother
@celestial-dragoness writes some fantastic Robert Plant fanfiction, and is one of the sweetest people ever. She's also a talented crocheter :p
@firethatgrewsolow has some of the best Robert fics on the internet, and is just as unhinged as the rest of the Zep fandom, and fucking lovely.
@callmethehunter has great Zeppelin content, like analyses, reblogs, thoughts, um... studies of sorts... and is just an all around genuine person.
@brownskinsugarplum76 again has very realistic and steamy Rob fics.
@nature-and-music is an amazingly talented writer, and I suggest indulging to your heart's content.
#70s#classic rock#brian may#queen#freddie mercury#john deacon#roger taylor#brian may fanfiction#fanfiction#freddie mercury fanfiction#classic rock fanfiction#rock n roll#ao3#wattpad#60s#80s#90s#music#70s music#80s music#60s music#90s music#led zeppelin#fanfics#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#bijouxcaryslibrary#masterlist#⚔️🌈 forever
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𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)
Masterlist
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Summary: Sometimes the pain of what should never have been, opens your eyes to what can be.
**Special thanks to @celestial-dragoness for looking over this whilst I was having a small meltdown over it. You're an angel!**
Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @m-faithfull @strsmn @angrychicksposts (if you'd like to be added, let me know!)
It was a journey they had taken many, many times. John behind the wheel, Elena right beside him.
And they were taking it again. For the first time in over a year and a half.
It was a journey that should have been full to the brim with energy, just like every other time they took it. But there was just something…
Slightly…
Off.
Elena remained virtually silent since they hit the road, en route to the studio. Seated close to the door, she clutched her body tightly, shoulders tensed, and gazed out the window with frozen eyes, fixated on the passing blur of scenery.
John sensed the palpable tension emanating from her, an unease that felt unfamiliar. For a moment, he worried he had inadvertently done something wrong, questioning if she regretted joining him for rehearsal. Despite the silence, an odd smile played on her lips whenever he shared details about Jason or recounted offbeat stories about the States, dispelling his concerns.
Elena operated like clockwork, strategically easing the tension caused in John with a forced chuckle or sideways smirk. It wasn’t intentional; the past few years had trained her in the art of deflection, though it couldn’t entirely mask the discomfort lingering in John’s car.
She despised feeling this way in the presence of her best friend, a rare moment that fuelled her resentment towards him. She blamed him for making her feel this discomfort. However, her rational thoughts occasionally surfaced, acknowledging that these fears were implanted by David. Her defence mechanisms promptly pushed aside these thoughts, trapping her in a cycle that grew increasingly exhausting. Despite her initial belief that fleeing the way she did would solve everything, she now recognised its naivety.
John, as gently as possible, attempted to break the silence in the car. “D’you want the radio on, El?” Much to his shock, she shook her head. Denying the therapy of listening to music—something she’d done for as long as he’d known her. “You sure?”
“Yeah…” she mumbled. Not once did she avert her gaze back over to John. Her eyes were heavy. She was just so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally… it all showed through the fatigue in her composure. Truly, she didn’t care if John put the radio on, or not. But she was specifically asked, so the answer was a resounding no. Music makes you thicker than you already are, Elena. She shut her eyes, wanting nothing more than to block out the echoes that had ingrained themselves into her memory, but she knew they wouldn’t be tamed so easily.
“John…”
“Hm?”
She swallowed, feeling her throat becoming dry. “Are…” She stumbled on her words. “Is… are you sure it’s okay that I’m coming with you?” Her voice was small. Timid, even.
Her question took him by surprise, and he had to take extra care to not veer off-road in his shock. Averting his gaze the best he could, he scrunched up his eyebrows. “Wh—Elena, what are you on about?” He let out a laugh. “Of course it’s okay you’re coming with me, has it ever been a problem?”
Finally turning her head fully in his direction, she briefly met his eyes, and was instantly filled with regret. “I…” The word came out as a restricted whisper, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” And she turned to look back out of the window.
“Hey,” John reached over and placed his hand over her arm. He was sure he felt a small jolt under her jacket, and her body stiffen under his touch. “Why’re ya askin’ me silly questions like that, eh?”
“I said it doesn’t matter,” she replied somewhat sternly. “Just don’t think the others like having me around that much, that’s all.”
“That’s ridiculous!” He chortled with a shake of his head. “Obviously they like having you around, whenever you have been, that is…” he trailed off, with the knowledge that Elena’s presence had been scarce for the majority of the time Zeppelin had been together.
“Yeah, like I said, it doesn’t matter, does it?” She looked ahead of her, watching as the road came towards them with every movement. “I’m just being stupid.”
There was nothing John wanted more in that moment than to prod at Elena, get her to talk. He’d been trying for the whole week, tactic after tactic, but no matter how much he tried, Elena would very swiftly, and smartly, divert the conversation. She wasn’t stupid, he knew that. And deep down, she did too. But hearing her call herself as such sent a pang of irritation through John’s chest.
He knew there was something off about that man as soon as he stepped into her life… and there was so much that needed to be told. For Elena’s sake.
But he couldn’t force her. She needed him now more than ever, otherwise she wouldn’t have shown up in the first place, pleading for him and Pat to let her stay.
Hollick & Taylor studios sat pristine and grand in the middle of Grosvenor Road. Though Led Zeppelin had grown to the point of it being possible to uproot their lives over to London, the city of big stars and even bigger studios, the boys preferred to keep their working periods separate from whatever depravity they found themselves in whilst in the capital. H & T became a hotspot for Zeppelin’s rehearsals between touring, so it made all the more sense to set up there.
Elena had never been to this studio before, and she was fascinated by the layout; the collages of music greats, and the distinct art styles plastered on almost every wall. It took her mind off of her troubles for the time being, and it gave her that ounce of comfort she needed in that moment.
Unfortunately, the pretty pictures didn’t distract her from the fear of the others seeing her.
The few times Elena had been in the presence of all four of the lads, even with Jonesy and Jimmy, she felt welcomed. There were never awkward moments where she wondered if she should have really been there, or if she was infiltrating, intruding.
It was different now.
And she hated it.
John almost became a protective shield as she trailed behind him into the studio space that Jimmy had booked out, his body completely blocking anyone from being able to see her. She focused on the delicate patterning on the back of his shirt as some kind of calming exercise. Focus on the swirls, Elena. Study the swirls. Then he moved, as if unveiling her existence.
Her palms clammed up as she completely clasped her hands together, a tragic reenactment of being her own best friend. Eyes glued to the floor, her chest thumped. She was too exposed without John in front of her, and she barely heard Jonesy’s surprised greeting from across the room.
No eye contact, Elena. You’re not worthy of something so intimate.
So, instead, she opted for a quick glance in his direction, mustering up the friendliest smile she could. Nobody had seen her since December, and even then was cause for concern. But nobody expected her subdued entrance—the blatant avoidance of any contact. Even Jimmy took note of it.
What cut the deepest was the struggle within her to meet the gaze of those once-familiar blue eyes, windows to a passion and vitality she had almost forgotten. Eyes that used to reflect her own fervour. Out of the corner of her vision, she caught glimpses of fluffy blonde hair crowning the shoulders of a blue-shirted figure. He was right there, inches away. Instead of embracing him as she had countless times before, she stood frozen, unable to spare him even a fleeting glance. He had become a forbidden zone, an untouchable space.
A complete no-go area.
John’s voice, a lifeline breaking through her internal paralysis, finally reached her. It jolted her out of the mental fog just enough to release the tension gripping her shoulders.
“Uh, I hope you don’t mind me bringing El along,” John’s words emulated a fragile bridge back to reality.
“Course not,” Jimmy dismissed with a casual wave of his hand.
“It’s never a problem,” Jonesy chimed in.
“It’s nice to actually see you, luv,” Robert added with a chuckle that acted like a magnetic pull for Elena. Succumbing to the temptation, she turned her head in his direction, fixing her gaze on anything—his chest, whatever lay within her line of sight. Just… not his eyes.
“Should I set up, then?” John interjected, sensing the shift in Elena’s demeanour in Robert’s presence. It was his subtle way of diverting attention from her, giving her a moment alone with someone who, he knew, missed her being around, perhaps even more than he did.
Being in Elena’s presence once again was a refreshing reprieve from the seemingly dull grey that had coloured his life off-tour. Robert was somewhat glad that most of his time lately was taken up by travelling; it gave him less time to think about what Elena was doing. If she was okay. If she was thinking about him. Whenever those thoughts did come to infiltrate, though, he mentally scolded himself. It’s a stupid little fantasy, he’d convince himself.
After their last encounter in December, however, it became harder and harder not to think about her. To worry about her. And judging by her timidity, only a spark 5 months prior, he had every right to be worried.
He truly didn’t know what to say to her. She wouldn’t even look at him. It was like she was a mere shadow of the person he used to know.
After what seemed like an eternity, wasted on just standing there in each other’s company, he only had moments to get a few words in. But his intentions were quickly dashed as the smaller human in front of him stepped towards him, arms fragile as they encircled his waist, and Elena’s head rested very gently against his chest.
Robert let out a shaky breath of relief, wanting nothing more than to bury his nose into the thick, dark locks of hair just inches below him. Though her hold was delicate, there was an urgency, a desperation in the embrace, as if it were a last resort.
His eyes involuntarily fluttered shut, and he carefully returned the embrace, arms wrapping steadily around her shoulders. If he could hold onto her like this forever, he would. If he could hide her away from every ounce of evil in the world, he would.
If he could rewrite history to call her his own… he would.
Even though she hadn’t looked at his face yet, she already felt the warmth rushing back. Just from that one hug. And even though she had this looming feeling in the back of her mind that she would face detrimental consequences for embracing Robert, she couldn’t stop.
There was an underlying pang of regret settling in Elena’s stomach the longer she stayed in Robert’s arms. He knew nothing of the current situation. Completely ignorant to the fact she was now housing with the Bonhams, much less the reason why.
“Are you alright?”
God, that question. The question she would’ve been sick of hearing if she hadn’t been virtually homebound for months. And it sounded so gentle coming from Robert’s mouth.
All she could do was whisper an unconvincing “yes,” squeezing her eyes shut in utter embarrassment at how weak her facade had become.
“Rob, you ready?” called Jonesy. Robert shifted his attention to his bandmates, noticing they were ready to go. Jimmy was doing what he did best: improvising disguised as ‘warming up,’ when everyone knew his ultimate goal was to pull something extraordinary from the dark recesses of his mind.
“Yeah, just a sec,” Robert nodded, before pulling his head back to look down at Elena. With a hand resting lightly on her shoulder, he used his thumb to nudge at her chin, and eventually—finally—those gorgeous chocolate eyes of hers reluctantly gazed up at him. Even 5 months without seeing her couldn’t diminish what those eyes did to him inside. Beautiful. So beautiful. But so laden with sadness…
With a feather-light touch, he stroked just under her chin, drawing the slightest smile from Elena’s lips. “We’ll talk in a bit, yeah?” he whispered.
She nodded, the slight smile turning appreciative. She wasn’t sure what he would want to talk with her about, nor was she over the moon with the fact that she may have just inserted herself into a conversation she couldn’t get out of. Robert had this striking talent for reading someone’s eyes; as much as she may have wanted to dodge every difficult topic, she knew he would pick up on it instantly.
“Hey, you’ll actually get to listen to some of our new stuff!” Robert beamed, pulling back completely from Elena, but keeping a hand on her upper arm. It was like a switch had gone in his head, triggering him to enter performance mode, and to show Elena everything she had missed over the last year.
John, sitting ready at his drums, looked on as Robert excitedly positioned Elena, making sure she was sitting directly in front of them. Like she was at the forefront of a sea of fans in a sold out show at the Playhouse Theatre. To Robert, this wasn’t a mere rehearsal. Now that she was here, it had become a specialised performance for an audience of one.
Giving a drumstick an experimental twirl, John chuckled to himself; the image of Elena gazing up at his band mate’s enthusiasm for her presence refreshing and much-missed. He wasn’t the only one who noticed this interaction either. Even Jonesy and Jimmy became aware of Robert’s demeanour, and let him stall the rehearsal for as long as it took.
She surprised herself as she let Robert manoeuvre her to where he wanted her, hand large and steady on her shoulder until he decided on a suitable place. When he looked back up at her, his eyes spoke of something she’d never seen before. What that something was, she couldn’t make out. But it was jarring, almost—enough to send her stomach flipping.
It was fleeting, but oh so foreign.
“You just stay there, alright?” Robert grinned crookedly before hesitantly taking his hand from her shoulder.
“Okay…” she nodded, finding it virtually impossible to hide the small smile that had been summoned by him simply being him.
As always, Elena remained focused on the lads as they played through multiple songs. It had been such a long time since she had gotten to sit in on a rehearsal—since she got to see them play in general… That’s what made this moment all the more remarkable; it was a flood of nostalgia, of contentment, emotions she had long dreamed of coming back in her period of darkness. For a moment, she was 17 again, embracing new music with the lingering knowledge that it would change the world.
But now she was here, in the presence of groundbreaking talent that had already swung into the mainstream with the unapologetic gusto of a Samoan Warrior, leaving an indelible mark on the structure of rock ‘n’ roll. A mark that she was sure would never fade.
It was bittersweet to hear some of these songs months after their release. She wished she would have enjoyed the buzz of their most recent album with the world. But she couldn’t have. No chance. It just…wasn’t a possibility.
Ramble On was so quintessentially Robert. She instantly picked up on the Tolkien references, watching as his mouth curved into a satisfied smile during the vibrato his voice adopted, singing about Mordor and Gollum. It was like the teenage boy in him was jumping for joy at the combination.
It was during Ramble On that Elena began to find it impossible to tear her eyes away from the well-rounded vocalist she was so scared of seeing 45 minutes earlier.
And in some way, she wished she could’ve.
She didn’t understand why, as they worked on a transition into Whole Lotta Love, she found Robert more alluring. Why the way his shirt was a smidge too small, too tight, for him, put her on edge. Why the simple way in which he flicked his hair behind his shoulder turned her into a coy little girl.
Sitting in this metal chair, she crossed one leg over the other, the embroidered denim under her fingers as she held onto her knee. At that moment, Robert became the only person in the room. A spell. An enchantment. Under the vice grip of his onstage presence.
Then he started singing.
Never in the 4 years of knowing Robert Plant, had Elena been in conflict with her own urges to ogle at him. Moving his hips the way he did, any girl would’ve been locked in. But Elena? Of all people, Elena?
Licking her drying lips, she absorbed, breathed in, the lyrics. I’m gonna send ya back to schoolin’… way down inside… If she wasn’t so exhausted, she would’ve shivered just at that.
What the fuck is going on?
A far cry from avoiding any eye contact when she first came in, that was all she could do now. Much against her own will.
It was so unexpected. Why was she looking at him like that? It’s Robert, Elena! Sweet, bubbly Robert with a love of football and fantasy! The boy you’ve known since you were 17!
She was able to get a hold of herself when Jimmy broke out into his solo, an almost strained look of concentration on his face. She sent a smile over at John, hating that her attention was completely consumed by Robert. But as soon as she averted her gaze from her best friend, she was once again locked in by those blue fucking eyes.
Robert wasn’t even thinking as he made the bold decision to send a wink over at Elena, his foot tapping along with the rhythm. It caused a momentary lapse in stability, and she was certain he’d just telepathically extracted her ability to breathe.
Eventually, it was time for an intricate restructuring of Moby Dick. Elena had no idea what that was, much to her own dismay, but it became clear that vocal practice was not necessary as Robert jumped down from the riser the band were playing on.
Elena felt helpless, following Robert over to one of the sofas situated at the other end of the studio floor as he offered her a cigarette and plonked himself down.
Oh, no… she thought. This is the talk…
She timidly took a cigarette from Robert’s packet, placing it between her lips as he leaned over to light it up for her. Some of his wild hair grazed the back of her hand in the process, and she felt her body stiffen at the contact. Only this time, she wasn’t sure if it was a mere reaction to being touched, or to these very new and unusual feelings she felt when looking at someone she’d never considered more than a friend. At least not to the point of objectifying the poor lad.
“So,” Robert began, taking a drag from his cigarette, “you’re here.”
Watching the paper fraying away and turning to ash, Elena nodded. “I’m here…”
“What’s happened?”
God, where to start… A loaded question if there ever was one.
She gave herself a moment, and another inhale of tobacco goodness, before answering. “What d’you mean?”
Robert leaned back, angling himself so he was facing her, with one arm stretched out along the back of the sofa. “Ya don’t have to tell me, I’m just askin’, luv.”
“I know,” she sighed, looking up to meet his gaze. The events of the past 6 months had meshed into one dank image. It may have been a simple question, but one of which held the most complex of answers.
Saying it was harder than she expected. It made it all too real. She hadn’t even uttered those five words to John; he had to navigate through a series of yes and no questions just to get to the point.
“D…” she attempted, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “David and I…broke up.” It was a shock to the chest, saying it out loud. But somehow, the thunderous rhythm from John’s set allowed her to detach from the words at a comfortable level.
Now, Robert wasn’t expecting that one. Perhaps it sat at the back of his mind, but as more of an outlandish ideal than a possibility. Selfishly, he’d been wanting to hear those words for years now. The scenario would be perfect. Yet…this was far from it.
“Elena…” he breathed, pulling his brows up into a furrow of concern. “I’m so…sorry.” His lips remained parted, and his cigarette remained on the burn, neglected in his moment of silence.
She was quick to shake her head. “No.”
No sympathy, please, Robert… I can’t take it.
“It…needed to happen.” She placed a steady emphasis on her words, choosing them carefully. “I, um,” she swallowed, “didn’t have much of a choice.”
She could sense Robert’s confusion. Or was it concern? He had such an intense energy about him that sometimes it was difficult to separate one disposition from another.
But what she did know was that Robert was not John. Very similar in their emotions, completely different in the face of managing them.
“Robert?” she gently called out to him, snapping him out of his train of thought.
When he looked into Elena’s eyes at that moment, all he saw was a scared child. It was unnerving. Nothing like what he’d seen of her. Ever.
It was like something was clawing at the inside of her throat, desperately trying to make a long-awaited escape from her round lips. Lips he had yearned to claim since the day they met, now a mere vehicle in earnest need of a nudge.
“What is it, Elena?” he asked quietly, moving closer to her.
Her eyes darted away, making sure John was still completely occupied with rehearsals, before reluctantly meeting Robert with a glazed-over look.
“I can’t go home...” It came as a choked whisper, and her bottom lip started its gentle quiver.
He said nothing. Just gave her a slow nod of encouragement.
“H-Have you noticed anything…different about me? The last few times you’ve seen me?”
Robert almost let out a stifled chuckle, the answer as plain as the nose on his face. “Yeah,” he nodded knowingly.
“Well, there’s a reason for that.” She took another drag of her cigarette.
“David.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew. Fuck, he knew. He’d known the whole time, but convinced himself it was his jealousy, his ego, altering his perception of the man Elena had been with for over 2 years. But no… he was right. Fuck!
Elena watched as Robert’s face hardened, jaw clenching very subtly. The disdain was evident, a physical force that vividly washed over his features for no longer than a few seconds, before they returned to their natural state: gentle and inviting.
“I’m staying with Bon at the moment,” she told him once she saw he understood. “Have been for about a week.”
“That’s good…” he nodded. “Are you gunna throw David out of the flat?”
“Nope,” she answered with a stiff sigh and gritted teeth. “The bastard managed to talk me into signing it over to him. Fuck…” She let out a rueful laugh, running her hand over her face. “I’m such an idiot.” She squeezed her eyes shut behind the protective shield of her hand.
“Hey,” Robert said, coaxing her hand away from her face. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, barely applying pressure. Remembering what he had seen at Christmas… he had to be careful.
“Nothin’ about you is idiotic, darlin’.” His eyes were rigid in their contact. “Don’t call yourself something yer not.”
“It’s so hard, Robert…” She relaxed her weight against the back of the sofa, her head inches from Robert’s hand. “How did I let it happen?”
“The man was a talented manipulator,” he told her bluntly. “It’s not your fault. Between you and me, you’ve made the right decision.” You’re much too perfect for someone like him, anyway…
“You’ve done the hardest part. Ya left the cunt. No idiot would do something so brave.”
How sweet… I wonder if he thinks his words will work…
All Elena could do was give him an appreciative smile as she finished off her cigarette.
Robert had finely chiselled through the outer layer of Elena’s bruised armour. As rehearsal came to a close, he promised her he’ll be in touch. Like the first time they met, he watched John wrap his arm protectively around his best friend as they left. And instead of a piqued curiosity, he was left with an insatiable need—a responsibility—to tear that battered armour away.
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𝐓𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 (𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)
Masterlist
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five
Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.
Tags: @celestial-dragoness @whothefuckisanja @callmethehunter @tangerine1969 @angrychicksposts @firethatgrewsolow @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @chromations ((if you want to be added to the list, just let me know!))
Being 19 is the perfect age. Not quite young enough to be treated like a child, yet not old enough to accept complete responsibility for your mistakes. It’s the bridge between coming of age, and the gruelling prospect of a life kids are conditioned to navigate as robotic entities.
Not Robert. No, Robert’s 19th was exciting for him. Even more exciting to know he was closing in on his 20s, and then eventually his 30s, 40s, 50s… So much life ahead of him, he could hardly contain the excitement. Well, there was that, and the fact that she would be there to celebrate with him.
Somehow, he had managed to work a conversation in the direction of celebrating his birthday, naturally offering Elena and John to attend. Nothing big, he assured them, just a gathering at the house he had been staying in, along with some old school friends. He wasn’t that thrilled about it being in the centre of Birmingham, but when he learned it was somewhat closer to where Elena’s recently rented flat resided, he could overlook the concrete jungle outside his window everyday. Though, deep down, he longed for the tranquillity of nature; almost as much as he longed to be in Elena’s presence 24/7.
There had been multiple times, since he and John visited Elena at work, that Robert had made sub-par attempts at approaching her. Flirting without it being too blatant, too embarrassing, and too damaging to the dynamic the three of them had formed. If he had an ounce of control, attempts would be next to none. Robert eventually, reluctantly, accepted the fact that Elena had a hold on him, unknowingly making it next to impossible for him to keep his distance.
And there it was: the crux of it. Robert was completely fixed on this feeling. Elena was everything. Elena. Elena, Elena, Elena… Everything he did, he thought of Elena. I wonder what Elena would think of this… I bet Elena would like that… I hope Elena’s having a good day today…
The only moments he found himself void of these thoughts were those in which he could inadvertently tell her how he felt through performing, and actually being with her. Just her presence was enough to temporarily curb the craving for something a little more.
Now, here he was, a can of Carlsberg down by 7pm, as he awaited her arrival with John. Despite it being his birthday celebration, his attention was entirely devoted to the house. Making sure it would be okay enough for Elena. I may live with unkempt idiots, but I promise I’m not one of them, Elena! So many friends surrounded him, unearthed opportunities to lose himself in the joy of being 19. Yet all he cared about… was Elena.
What is she doing to me?
Robert was busying himself with unveiling a brand new Little Richard record his mum had gifted him, savouring the fresh vinyl and the glisten across the grooves the low lighting of his living room provided, when three hearty knocks against the door broke the casual murmur.
On the other side of the door, Elena and John stood patiently. Elena was trying her best not to pick away the black nail polish she’d meticulously applied earlier, wanting to maintain the appearance she’d worked hard on crafting for the evening. She rarely dressed up to go anywhere; a small bit of mascara and a nice shirt was usually the perfect ensemble for a drink or two. However, tonight inspired a nagging need to make a little more of an effort.
Flares were making a bold entry in the world of fashion, and Elena eagerly embraced the trend, revelling in the opportunity to showcase her latest wardrobe addition. Tonight, she had chosen a striking pair of orange velvet flares, their fabric hugging her curves before cascading into a classic flare silhouette past the knee. The vibrant hue added a pop of colour to her ensemble, a welcome departure from the subdued tones of her usual attire.
Selecting a shirt was a breeze for Elena, as she boasted a diverse collection of button-ups in her wardrobe. She had settled on a brown and white short-sleeved button-up adorned with an intricate swirling pattern. Tying the hem at her waist, she effortlessly accentuated the beauty of her trousers while infusing her look with a touch of casual elegance.
Her chocolate eyes sparkled with the smoky allure of meticulously applied eyeshadow, their depth accentuated by subtle artistry. Framing her face, her deep brunette hair had been carefully styled with rags into gentle waves that laid comfortably over her shoulders and down to her chest. To complete her ensemble, she’d slipped into a brown corduroy jacket and matching boots boasting a chunky heel.
“You are such a girl.”
“Shut up, I need to make sure the ‘tache is perfect.”
“Why? Who are you tryna impress?”
“Myself.”
“I’m sure you’ve got a fucking vagina…” Elena mumbled, watching John as he leaned into the door, fixing his moustache in the reflection of the frosted glass panels.
Just then, the door swung open, leaving John face-to-face with Robert, who pulled his head back in a jarring motion when he realised how close he was.
“Bloody hell, I know it’s me birthday, an’ all, but I don’t need ya to kiss me.”
“I was fixing me bloody moustache!” John groaned, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Elena laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth and leaning forward a little. Robert grinned, pushing the door open further to allow the pair in, fixing his gaze on the little brunette and her bright giggling.
“Hi,” he said softly down at her as she passed him, placing a hand on her arm as he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. She responded likewise, planting her own gentle peck on his bearded cheek, or at least as close to his cheek as she could reach.
“Happy birthday,” she stepped back to allow him to close the door behind him. As he thanked her, she dug into her pocket and glanced down the hallway to check John had moved into the living room, greeting some of the people he knew.
“What do you want to drink?” Robert asked, seemingly making his own way into the other room. But Elena’s hand shot to his wrist, gently stopping him. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” she looked down at her pocket, scolding her packet of cigarettes that had gotten in the way of what she was trying to retrieve. “Guess who got you something?”
“Oh, God…” he almost whined, crossing his arms, but still smiling giddily. He watched as Elena pulled out a small green box, not much bigger than the pack of Marlboros she yielded.
“I, uh… Sorry it’s not wrapped or anything…” She handed him the box. “I would’ve done that, only it took the stupid shop ages to actually get what I asked for… They only got it in today.”
Robert eyed her curiously, taking the box from her with care. “Y’know you really didn’t have to get me anything, Elena…” he told her as he gently pulled open the lid.
“Shh,” swiftly shushing him, she slipped her hands into her pockets, nervously watching as he unveiled his gift. “I just… hope you like it.” She looked down at her feet, shuffling against the carpet.
Peering up at him, she struggled to hold back a smile as she saw Robert’s mouth practically drop open at the contents of the box. He snapped his head up to her, gobsmacked.
“You didn’t.”
“I did…” she answered with a breathy laugh, the smile finally cracking through her suppression. “D’ya like it?”
“Like it?!” He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “I’m never gonna take this off, luv.”
Moving with the utmost care, Robert lifted a silver Kingman ring from its protective foam, intricately adorned with carvings of archer’s arrows and snakes, all encompassing a large turquoise stone in the centre.
“It’s the, uh, the B–”
“The Black Mountain one!” His eyes lit up further, and his grin only grew wider. The moment, to him, seemed to stretch on beyond the interaction. She’d taken in so much information from the year of knowing her, clearly noting his love for Wales, and traditional jewellery. There was a slight mystical element to the ring, something that spoke of a world untouched by mortals, yet he was somehow worthy enough of wearing such an item.
She believed he was worthy enough of such an item.
“Thank you. Seriously, I love it…” he said earnestly after slipping the ring onto his right hand’s third finger. Not being able to hold himself back any further, he stepped forward and enveloped Elena in a warm hug, arms wrapping securely around her. Heart skipping a beat, he was sure she could hear it banging against his ribcage—feel it in his neck as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
Their embrace enveloped them in a cocoon of warmth, igniting a flicker of something deep within Elena’s soul. As their bodies melded together, a sense of familiarity washed over her, as if she had found a rightful place in the curve of his arms. With her eyes gently closed, she surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his touch, losing herself in the comfort it brang.
A soft sigh escaped her lips, a whispered melody of contentment as she basked in his warmth. Her thumb brushed against the soft curls at the nape of his neck, a tender caress too gentle to will the rest of her hand to do the same.
For Robert, each moment with her was a fleeting treasure, a delicate balance between cherishing the present and fearing the uncertainty of the future, as much as he eagerly awaited it. He breathed in the scent of her hair, committing it to memory with a silent vow to carry it with him always.
But their sanctuary was shattered by the sudden crash of breaking glass from the living room, jolting them back to reality. With a sigh, Robert reluctantly broke their embrace, his gaze darting towards the source of the disturbance.
Left breathless and bewildered, Elena found herself adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. A spark ignited within her, a stirring in the depths of her being that left her both exhilarated and unsettled. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite name, yet one that lingered in the recesses of her mind, silently begging to be explored as urgently as it faded with each soft thud of Robert’s departing steps.
Elena’s daze was fleeting. But it didn’t stop her from experiencing a similar jolt every time he looked at her throughout the night. Every time they’d be at opposite ends of the room, engaged in completely different conversations with other people, and they’d lock eyes. It happened then. When a song they knew they both enjoyed started playing through the stereo. It happened then, too. If John did something silly, it would be an instantaneous glance at one another. Yep… there it is again.
And the more alcohol they ingested, the more unavoidable it became.
By the time the party had moved over to the local pub, Robert and Elena became inseparable from one another. Virtually joined at the hip. If either one of them lagged behind, the other would wait for them to join. Even though the streets of Birmingham teemed with lively youths, adorned in vibrant colours, Robert’s attention never wavered. It was all Elena. Everyone else around them faded to a black and white hue, whilst she was doused in full technicolour.
With a watchful eye, he observed the ease in which Elena interacted with his friends—people she’d never met until that night. It didn’t take a genius to notice the charm she possessed, not only as a woman, but as a human all around. Now that she was a few pints and three shots deep into the night, her confidence was more prominent than ever.
Elena had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she clasped a sixpence between her palms, moving her hands around in a circular motion to disorientate her onlookers as they eagerly attempted to keep an eye on where the penny was. Then, with a swift and light-speed motion, she smacked her hands onto the table.
“Right, who wants to go first?” she asked with a smirk.
The row of lads in front of her, all with varying amounts of amber liquid in their pint glasses, drunkenly switched their gazes between each of her hands. Finally, Steve took the plunge, hesitantly pointing to her left hand.
“You sure?” she tested.
“Not really, no,” Steve huffed, taking a gulp from his drink.
“Steve says left… Alan?” she turned her attention to the man next to Steve, raising an inquisitive brow.
“Gunna go with Stevie boy,” he shrugged.
“Alan says left… Interesting…”
“C’mon, don’t mess with us!”
“I’m commenting on your guess, don’t get ya kegs in a twist.”
“The fuck are kegs…?” Alan mumbled as she turned to ask each lad down the line, most of them willing to throw poor Steve under the bus and go with his answer. Somebody to blame if they were wrong, really…
“Bon-Bon!” she chimed, a grin taking over her features as she rocked side to side giddily to the beat of the song playing in tandem with the pub’s lively atmosphere. I’m A Believer by The Monkees… It hit the chorus as John mulled over his decision, and the two of them instantly bopped their heads, laughing as they sang out the small key hook after the words ‘and then I saw her face.’
“Bon, come on, which hand is it under?” she coaxed him out of his musical trance through a giggle. The two of them shared an intense gaze, locking onto each other as though he was trying to read her eyes. He knew her. He could read her eyes. Easily. When sober.
“Ah fuck it, I’ll go with the left one as well.”
“Aw, you don’t want to risk the right hand, eh?” she pouted, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t be so scared of a right hand, boys, it happens to be my strongest,” she addressed the rest of them with a cheeky smile. Robert, positioned beside her throughout this whole game, stiffened as he went to take a drink, hearing her provocative jest. Eyes widening, he stifled a chuckle, rocking back on his heels.
Each of the lads let out a rambunctious “ayyy” in response, some of them clinking their drinks together. Aside from John, who instantly grimaced at his best friend’s implication. And then there was Robert, who simply stayed quiet, somewhat glad that he stood out of her eyeline as she had herself bent over the table.
“Alright, don’t get ahead of y’selves…” she snorted, shaking her head, before finally turning her head to the side, looking over her shoulder up at Robert. “Robert?” He took a step closer, drunk eyes gazing down at her. “Which hand do you want?”
The question was innocent. It was one she’d asked everyone else that stood around the table. But it was the drop in her tone, the delicate cadence. Like it was only the two of them, talking in a booth in the corner of the pub, away from the chaos. After that joke… I’ll take whichever hand you want, Elena.
However, the competitive streak in him wanted to win this little game, no matter how insignificant it may have been, and he, too, leaned forward on the table with one hand, squinting his eyes as he stared into Elena’s. With a gentle sigh, he reached out and placed his index finger on the back of her right hand, letting the light touch linger as he gave his answer.
“I’ll take your right hand…”
With a bright smile, she looked down at her hand, catching a glimpse of the ring she’d gifted him as he pulled his hand away.
“Okay… so Robert chooses the right…” She looked up at everyone. “At least one of ya ain’t afraid to take a risk.”
“Hey, I chose right, too!” Roy defended, swaying forward.
“Okay, you and Robert are the only risk takers here, it seems,” she chuckled. “Right, are we ready, lads?”
“Don’t keep us waiting, luv,” Robert encouraged.
Building the tension, Elena intentionally waited a moment before lifting her hands from the table. She crossed her arms as a majority of the group groaned, all turning to Steve to relay the blame, whilst Roy and Robert let out cheers, clanging their glasses together in celebration.
“I literally hinted at it the whole time,” Elena laughed, picking up her drink and finishing it off. The dramatic reactions from the guys amused her greatly, bouncing on her heels as she put her empty glass back on the table.
“See, some of us are just more vigilant, darlin’,” Robert laughed, before boldly holding his arm out to wrap it around Elena, pulling her into him. He gave her a small squeeze, akin to a side hug, but proceeded to keep her there. She continued to laugh, wrapping her own arm around his waist as they remained in this casual embrace.
She was more than certain she was imagining things in her drunken state when she felt the pressure of Robert’s lips pressing against the side of her head. Yet, she found herself resting her weight into him, closing herself into him as much as possible.
Sober Robert would never have made such an audacious move on Elena. But as she stood there, tucked into his side, temporarily his, he couldn’t restrain himself. Worst case scenario, she hated it, and he could blame the alcohol the day after. But she didn’t. She only held onto him tighter.
However, the feeling wasn’t satiated. Her hair, as perfect as it was, wasn’t enough to satisfy the need to be near her. So, after a brief moment of contemplation, Robert lowered his head to plant a kiss on her cheek.
He wasn’t expecting Elena to move her head at the last minute, his lips landing at the very corner of her mouth.
“Shit, sorry,” he immediately apologised, pulling his head all the way back. “Meant to…” he gestured to his own face. “Cheek…”
The spot blessed with Roberts lips tingled, as if he’d unloaded some of his energy onto her with the swift, accidental, action. Elena looked up at him in slight shock, her eyebrows raised. Thankfully for Robert, she just shook her head and laughed it off.
“You’re alright, it’s fine…” she reassured, letting her own eyes dance around his flushed features. “Do you want another drink?”
Stop talking like that, Elena, I’m on the verge of crossing a boundary here…
Still somewhat embarrassed by his sloppy approach, he nodded. “Yeah…” He placed his empty glass on the table beside Elena’s, reaching for his pocket.
“No, no,” Elena stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “I’ll get it…” Noticing the unconvinced expression on his face, she continued. “It’s your birthday, Robert, I’m buying your drinks tonight.” No shift. With a small huff, she stepped closer to him and clumsily took his face in her hands, his coarse beard scratchy yet heavenly under her palms. “Seriously…” Upon his reluctant nod, she smiled gently. “Another Carlsberg?” she asked in a whisper. He nodded again. “‘Kay…” Dropping her hands, she gave him a small wink as she passed him, heading to the bar.
Robert let out a long exhale, closing his eyes briefly. He ran his hand through his hair, silently begging his heart to slow down. John’s voice calling him over for him to take a look at Alan’s work-induced scar on his hand brought him down just enough to get through the rest of the night. Fuckin’ Elena…
At the bar, Elena tapped her nails idly along the surface, watching as the bartender darted back and forth. She had jammed herself between the hoards of people waiting to be served. Patient. Be patient, Elena. After a while, she found herself getting agitated, and it became clear that her attempts at getting the barman’s attention were all in vain. I’m gonna have to wait here until everyone else pisses off… Ugh…
“Uh, ‘scuse me, mate, this lady’s been waiting here for a while.”
Lifting her head from her hands, she met the most strikingly green eyes she’d ever seen. She looked over at the bartender as he approached her with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, love, we’re a bit chock-a-block tonight. What can I get for you?”
“Uh,” she glanced to the side. “Two pints of Carlsberg, please.”
As the barman turned to fulfil her order, Elena turned to look at the man next to her. He was sipping on a bottle of Double Diamond, gazing up at the vintage artwork behind the bar. “Um, thanks.”
He turned his head to look down at her mid-swallow, and shot her a charming smile. “No worries. Started to get a bit restless there, didn’t ya?” He nodded down at her feet that had now calmed from the relentless tapping.
“Yeah,” she breathed with a shake of her head. “Guess that’s what you get for being smaller than a man.”
“Yer not from around here, are ya?”
“No, uh, I’m from up North. Just outside of Manchester.”
“Ah, Manchester!” He nodded slowly, his smile growing. There was a silence as he took another sip from his bottle. “So, are you at university or somethin’?”
“No, no, I’ve lived here since I was, like, 4-years-old. Moved down to Redditch, and I’ve recently just got me own flat in the city.”
“Independent woman, then, eh?”
She snorted. “Not much choice for an 18-year-old other than to spend thousands on uni or go to work.”
“And you chose the work option, I assume?”
“You’d be assuming correctly, yeah,” she nodded with a smile. “Me friend owns a pub, so it wasn’t that hard to find a job.” She shrugged, standing upright as the bartender placed her two pints in front of her.
“That’ll be thirty pence then, love.”
Elena went for her pocket, but was stopped swiftly by the mystery man next to her. “Let me.”
“No,” she rejected politely, looking back over at where she had left Robert and the lads. “It’s my treat for my friend’s birthday.”
“Fair enough…” he watched her as she paid for the drinks. “Well,” he turned his body to face her properly. “If you won’t let me buy you a drink or two tonight, perhaps you could give me the honour of buying you one another night?”
Elena simply stared at the man, trying to pick apart his brain and search for any hint of deception. Nobody had ever been so straight with her before… It was alluring. A nice change of pace. What could go wrong? Just say yes.
“Alright,” she accepted with a confident nod. “I don’t see why not.” Biting her lip, she watched as he grabbed one of the pub’s feedback cards along with the pencil next to it, quickly jotting down his number and his name.
“Just call me when you get the time,” he handed it to her, but didn’t let it go until he added, “I’ll hold you to that… Sorry, I never got your name?”
“Elena,” she responded softly, looking down at the card once he’d released it. “I’ll make sure to give you a call.” Another glance down at it. “David Henning.” A shy smirk played upon her lips as she folded the card in half and slipped it into her pocket. “Uh, see you around.”
With that, she grabbed the two cold pints, heading back over to where Robert awaited her presence, once again.
#robert plant#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#classic rock#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#rock music#70s#bijouxcaryslibrary#writing#to love so completely#writer#author#wattpad#ao3#fic writer#Spotify
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To Love So Completely (Masterlist)
Main Masterlist
Robert Plant x fem!OC
Description: Sometimes the pain of what should have never been, opens your eyes to what can be.
Playlist:
One
Two - August, 1966
Three
Four - May, 1967
Five
Six - August, 1967
Seven
Eight - August, 1968 *COMING SOON*
Nine *COMING SOON*
Ten - June, 1969 *COMING SOON*
Eleven *COMING SOON*
Twelve - December, 1969 *COMING SOON*
Thirteen *COMING SOON*
Fourteen - April, 1970 *COMING SOON*
Fifteen *COMING SOON*
#robert plant#robert plant x reader#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#1975#1971#rock music#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#request#70s#1970s#classic rock#writing#writers#writer#fiction#fanfic writer#short story#fanfic writing#bijouxcaryslibrary#fanfics#romance#Spotify
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ɪꜰ ɪ ᴅɪᴇ
Original
Sometimes
I sit and wonder
Where I'll be when I'm older
In six years or so
It's hard
To see a future
At least the one I picture
A cautionary tale
Been told since I was younger
I'm a soulful firecracker
Just like Janis, but how she
ended, do you remember?
Maybe in six years time, I'll
play my tragic chord progression
Not to you, just maybe to
the gates of Heaven
Tried too hard to see through the purple haze
A piece of my heart trapped in those days
Broken dreams, back to the blackest black
Open the doors, kept me running back
Sometimes
I sit and wonder
About the lithium
world that we are under
Will our fires ever light?
Will they ever shine as bright
as those who came before us?
I'll be honest with you now
It's getting hard to see the how
In my survival and the why
In my existence
If I die.
Masterlist
#writing#writer#poem#poetry#original#original work#original writing#original poem#bijouxcaryslibrary
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Original Works (Masterlist)
Main masterlist
This is a masterlist for all the "poems" or whatever original piece of writing I've conjured up. Not saying any of it is good, it's just a collection of in-the-moment exorcisms of whatever I was feeling at the time of writing it.
Suffer and Brew
I Did It Again
Turn Out The Lights
Still Alive
Royalty
Blood To My Vein
I Deserve It
Someday
You'll Never Be Loved
Antidote
If I Die
Bother
#writing#writer#poem#poetry#original#original work#original writing#original poem#bijouxcaryslibrary#poems on tumblr#original poetry#my poems#poems and poetry#author
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ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
Original
You don't have to bother
Saying you care
You don't have to be here
When you're never there
'Cause the thing with trust
I give too much, too soon
When all is said and done
With too much to lose
You don't have to bother
Promising me
Don't wish me happy birthday
When it was last week
The big thing with trust
Giving too much, too soon
And it all ended up
With too much to lose
I'm gonna
save your time
Don't want you to
waste your breath
Saying what
you don't mean
Body saying
more than less
I'm trying my best
So
I'm not going to bother
With making plans
You don't have to miss me yet
I know how this ends.
Masterlist
#writing#writer#poem#poetry#original#original writing#original poem#original work#bijouxcaryslibrary
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ᴀɴᴛɪᴅᴏᴛᴇ
Original
It's funny how
I learned to love myself from what the world hates most
And it's funny how
All my demons gather with me and raise a toast
To how I've grown
To realise I don't need you to grow
So I know
I'm on the right track
I don't need an antidote
Try to teach me how to swim
But all I did was swim with the beast below
Try to teach me how to kneel and pray
But all I prayed for was for Her to come and play
To be myself
And I didn't care if I lived or died
My soul was a vice riptide
You don't want to know
I don't need an antidote
Couldn't comprehend why my heart beat for everyone
Didn't want to know that I could love anyone
May not have fit the mould
Though now I'm growing old
Watching my future unfold
Is my prime, my dime, my gold
But for all that it is worth
We're a speck of dirt on Earth
So does it pain you to know?
I don't need your antidote.
Masterlist
#writing#writer#poem#poetry#original#original work#original writing#original poem#bijouxcaryslibrary
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ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ
Original
Don't hate me
For the way you treated me
A reflection of your own insanity
To make you do what you did to me
You may be hurting
But that's your fault
You threw your life away
You're not sorry at all
In fact, I doubt you remember
The pain you caused me
The trauma you inflicted
Since I was three
Guess what? I know I'm loved
You must hate that
Knowing you'll never be loved
'Cause you are what you attract.
Masterlist
#writing#writer#poem#poetry#original#original work#original writing#original poetry#bijouxcaryslibrary
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