âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Jimmy Page •

Writer's block is a bitch of epic proportions, but I'm glad to say I'm happy with how this one turned out. I started writing three other pieces over the last few weeks that I had to give up on cause words literally failed me. So, any tips on writer's block would be greatly appreciated!

In other news, did anyone see the Doors '68 Hollywood Bowl Concert Remastered a couple of weeks ago? Cause I sure did, and it was magnificent! It was so surreal seeing Jim and Ray on the big screen, it was like it was only recorded a couple of months ago, but they were absolutely amazing! If anybody saw it, let me know what you thought!

I'm not 100% sure about the characterisation in this one, but I do hope you enjoy it 😊 Have a scrumptious week everybody ❤

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How you managed to get yourself into these sticky situations, you'd never know. One moment, Robert was proclaiming to the group about how much he loved his dog Strider, the next you found yourself clutching onto Jimmy's hand as the pair of you were led into the basement of a stranger's home with nothing but a flickering torch to light the way.

Your mind was hazy, but you were certain the interlude had involved plenty of bottles of beer, a few strips of acid, and endless runs through the burnt-out streets of London with nothing but the soft lamplight to illuminate your burning skin.

It was halfway between The Nag's Head and The Red Lion that the beer your stoic Jimmy had been drinking since midday had loosened him up a little too much.

"(Y/N)?" The rest of the boys were a few paces ahead, stumbling through the puddles and singing classic riffs off key, but you and Jimmy had stopped just on the edge of a street lamp, not quite in the light but not fully covered by the darkness either. His arm was around your waist, holding you close against his body, and you were wrapped around him against the cold like a fur coat. You were watching the beginnings of dawn striking through the sky, and he was watching the way the breeze tousled your hair. At the sound of your name, you looked up to meet his guarded stare.

His eyes were stained red, pupils overblown, but you could still pick up on the golden highlights that made his irises look like a forest beneath the summer sun. The booze had made his gaze unblinking and intense, but these long, benumbed nights were so familiar to you now that it made no difference anymore. "Let's get married."

It took an addled moment for you to realise he was serious. At first, you chuckled with a minute shake of your head, and gently slapped at his side where your hands were resting.

"Right, Jimmy," you exclaimed, still giggling. Yet Jimmy remained as sincere as ever, staring earnestly down at you through the tawny-coloured haze he was currently living in.

It was only then you realised he was really serious. Your laughter died awkwardly down, your face falling with it, but Jimmy didn't seem the least bit bothered about your reaction. He just looked down at you the way he had always looked at you, as though the Earth and its skies had been created in your mind.

He shrugged. "I know you want to." You were totally taken aback. Jimmy wasn't shy in proclaiming his love to you in private, but marriage was always something that seemed to clam him up. It's not that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with you (God knew Jimmy had lived at least three lifetimes in his 31 years, and it was enough to force any extrovert into hiding), it's just that so many things always seemed to get in the way. Jimmy's music, your career in film production, the band's rowdy nights, family events, things that you both felt were more important than the rest of your lives.

If you were honest, you'd been starting to suspect that Jimmy was afraid of the commitment a piece of paper would represent. You trusted him, he was honest and affectionate and you knew he loved you, but you had begun to wonder if that was all he needed out of a relationship. Now, however, you knew you'd had him wrong. It was clear he'd been turning this over in his mind for a long time. You could tell from the slight creases in his forehead, a dead giveaway that he was relieving a thought that had been weighing down his soul for many a night.