âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Bob Dylan (II) •

Hi everyone! Thank you for just over two thousand reads! To celebrate, as requested, here's more Bob Dylan - some eventually soft Bob Dylan too! As mentioned last time, my schedule is out of the window, but I am working on several pieces. If you have any requests, don't hesitate to leave a comment or send me a message. I hope you enjoy!

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"It's not that I don't want to," Bob insisted hoarsely, fumbling with the unlit cigarette clenched between his fingertips as he searched for the lighter that he had accidently dropped the night before. "It's just I'm not sure if it'd be, er, the best for us."

Finally, he found it, and leant back against the headboard once more. The thin sheet he shared with you had pooled at his waist, revealing his scrawny chest and trimmed muscles as he lifted his arms to set his cancer stick alight. Truth be told, all Bob wanted in that moment was to fall right on back to sleep.

But you were sat up beside him, giving him the large eyes he couldn't resist and talking to him so softly he had to pull you closer to hear.

"How could a puppy not be good for us?" You questioned, creeping your fingers over to his head to push some of his tousled locks out of his face while he leant his head back against the wall to let out his first exhale.

Bob seemed frozen in time for a moment, a cherub statue of beautiful marble with his lips pursed and eyes closed in the most faithful imitation of an angel you had ever seen. For a second, you almost forgot the point you were trying to make as you admired the incredible oddity that was your boyfriend in one of his most vulnerable moments. His face lay still, barely illuminated by the crack of weak sunlight forcing its way through the chink in the curtains, and you passed the time waiting for his reply by connecting the moles on his face, shoulders and chest.

The last of the smoke tumbled from his lips like drifting clouds, and time caught up with him as he opened his eyes to find yours.

"Well," he began, taking another drag from his cigarette and lightly drumming the fingers of his arm that cradled you beside him on the small of your back. "Who would feed it? Walk it? I'm away for days, and you're working all day."

You had desired a puppy for so long that you were sure you had a rebuttal for every argument Bob could come up with. Easily, you prepared your counter argument before putting it to your boyfriend with a casual shrug.

"I can come home on my lunch breaks, take him out, feed him. He'll keep me company when you're touring. And when you're not, you'll get some serious bonding time. You'll see that puppy more than me," you laughed, and Bob grinned slightly.

"Maybe I don't want to see anything more than you," he replied in his semi-serious way, passing you the now half-smoked cigarette and poking one of his skinny fingers into the ticklish spot on your neck for good measure.

"Hey!" You giggled in surprise, trying to dodge his tickling tactics and almost dropping the cigarette in the process. Unfortunately, Bob's arm had taken on a vice-like grip, and there was no escape.

Eventually, he relented though, and your laughter died down until the stillness settled around the room once more and you settled back into Bob's warm arms. You wanted to broach the topic of bringing a puppy into your small family once more, and you considered your next approach as you smoked your way through the cigarette.

However, it was Bob that found the way of bringing the conversation back.

"How's about we go take a look today?" His offhand question almost got lost in the locks of your hair that his mouth was leaning against, as you were on the verge of falling back to sleep while racking your brains. But, when you focused on that quiet question, you perked up immediately.