Classic rock one shots and imagines [requests closed]

Bob Dylan #1

My tongue slipped past my teeth and over my bottom lip as I slowly lowered my glass of strawberry wine. Tart and bittersweet. That flavour mixed with the earthy scent of the riverbank just a few paces away from the blanket gave me the perfect feeling of heaven. Dragonflies weaved themselves in and out of the scattered pollen and creamsicle sunlight, flicking themselves back and forth through the air. 

One dragonfly hovering just over my head caught my eye. There wasn't anything special about it. Nearly black in colour, it looked more like a lumpy stick than a dragonfly, but it was cool to look at anyway. The insect dove downward, then darted upward again, then shot toward the river like a lightning strike. I followed its path before a head of dark curls broke my gaze and became the centre of attention. 

Bob slung his arm forward, sending a stone skimming across the surface of the water. The river was deep enough in this area to swim without getting swept away by the current, so it made it the perfect place to skip rocks across. It also wasn't too loud with the thundering noise of rushing water, but there was enough of a drone in the background to remind one that it was there. 

I gently took another sip of wine, perking up a little as I watched Bob starting toward me. He had his head down, a lazy smile painted on his face as he climbed up the small slope to the blanket.  A thin sheen of sweat became visible on his forehead and his cheekbones as he got closer. With a laugh, he plopped down on the blanket beside me, allowing a few beads of perspiration to drip down his temples. 

"Taking a break there, Crashy?" I joked. 

Propping himself up on his elbow, Bob smirked, "funny."

I hummed and poured a little more wine into my glass. 

"Did we bring any Pearls?" He asked, turning over and reaching inside the picnic basket. 

"You put them in the river to keep 'em cold, remember?"

"Oh yeah..." he stared off into space for a moment before jumping to his feet. 

"Take this too!" I shouted after him, holding up the bottle wine. 

Bob quickly ran back to me, snatched the bottle, then ran back to river. He dissapeared for a moment behind the hill, most likely crouched down by the little spot where he had tucked his beer away in the water. It was just a little place where he had piled up rocks to secure the bottles so that they would chill in the water but not get carried away by it.

He stood up a few seconds later, a Pearl in tow, and carefully sat down on the blanket with a small hiss. 

"You okay?" I asked, leaning forward to push his wild, curly hair from his eyes. 

I lightly brushed my thumb over the stitches on his temple. In another day's time, he would get them removed. His black eye had begun to yellow, and the swelling had gone down dramatically. I told him that he was lucky his accident wasn't worse than it was. I know it could've been much worse, and I'm thankful it wasn't. 

"I stood up funny or something and my ribs started hurting." He sighed. "How long did the doctor say it would take for the bruises to heal?"

"Another few weeks, I'm afraid." I replied, watching as his face fell. "And about three months for your spine, so I'd sit up a little straighter."

"Great."

"Babe, these things take time and you just had the accident, calm down."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he waved me off, then took a swig of his beer. 

I rolled my eyes at his stubbournness. He was a pain in the ass sometimes, but that's just who he was. Everyone had their flaws, and if Bob was to have one, being stubbourn would definitely be his. 

He stared out to the river, meditating on whatever was going through his mind. He was very focused on his thoughts; so much so that when I started to ask him a question, he didn't acknowledge me. This was one thing that he had started doing after the accident that I couldn't understand, but I respected it anyway because I know how traumatized he is from it. 

He would come out of it eventually, and my patience is incredible. 

I swirled the last sip of wine around in my glass, watching as the pale pink liquid became almost clear and thinner as it spun up to the rim of the cup. I focused on that for a moment as Bob continued delving into his thoughts. Another little while passed before I started to focus on the drahonflies again. They were more entertaining anyway. 

Suddenly, Bob said, "I dreamed I saw St. Augustine."

Pulling my eyebrows together, I looked at him and listen to him continue his story. 

"Alive as you or me, tearing through these quarters. In the utmost misery with a blanket underneath his arm and a coat of solid gold. Searching for the very souls whom already have been sold."

Then I realised that he was reciting a poem. A peculiar poem at that, but it was fascinating. He would emphasise certain words and pay no mind to others.  

"Arise, arise, he cried so loud in a voice without restraint. Come out, ye gifted kings and queens and hear my sad complaint: no martyr is among ye now whom you can call your own. So go on your way accordingly, but know you're not alone."

Lazily dropping his head over, Bob concluded, "I dreamed I saw St. Augustine, alive with fiery breath. And I dreamed I was amongst the ones that put him out to death. Oh, I awoke in anger, so alone and terrified. I put my fingers against the glass, and bowed my head and cried..."

I patiently waited for another verse, but it never came. He instead bowed his head and looked at me from the corner of his eye. 

"Did you just write that?" I asked. 

"A couple nights ago." He shrugged, sitting up. "You know how I like my blackout poetry."

I nodded with a small smile. 

"I woke up from a dead sleep during that dream... drenched in a cold sweat... it got me tp start thinking about life. And death. I could've died, (Y/N)-"

"But you didn't-"

"I know, but the whole accident has got me thinking that I'm not gonna live forever. I mean, I  can't keep doing the same shit over and over again. That might work for some, but I wanna accomplish things before I die. And if something as small as getting thrown off a bike is enough to kill me, then I need to start doing stuff differently. Now."

"Like what?" I perked up, anxiously waiting to hear where he was headed with that statement. 

Bob's face relaxed into a plain expression with just the corner of his mouth flicked up. He laid down, a slight wince leaving his lips as he went back. 

"Like what?" I asked again, this time more urgently. 

He started laughing and shook his head, "like, slowing down, honeymoon. I need a break from all this touring... Maybe even music for a little while."

"Oh, the world would end." I rolled my eyes sarcastically and laid down next to him. 

"Oh, the world can wait." He finished, touching his finger to the tip of my nose and letting out another chuckle. 

~~~~~~~

Sorry this took a little long to put out, I haven't been in the right mindset lately. Hopefully it'll get better, though (and hopefully this wasn't too bad).

I really downplayed how bad his accident really was. It was easier to write I guess.

Just a quick question, what's your favourite Bob Dylan song/album? My favourite song is Tangled up in Blue but my favourite album is Blonde on Blonde. Kinda weird, but yeah. 

Love you all❤