âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Robert Plant (II) •

Hey everyone! My God, I'm sorry about the wait - life is a bitch. I wish I could spend all my days writing, but apparantly I have to do this thing called 'be an adult.' I have a request incoming for Eric Carr, and I promise you it is coming, but I randomly wrote this and wanted to give you guys some 🌟content🌟. Enjoy!

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The sunlit room was rich with the smell of fresh oil paint, something that you were not unaccustomed to. In fact, opening the door to your studio only to be greeted by that rich scent was like coming home to the arms of a lover. Even better - the arms of your lover were usually waiting inside your studio.

Although you were a messy person by nature, you always made a point to keep your studio clean, something that amused Robert to no end. He found it hilarious that he had to wade through piles of unused canvas simply to give you a kiss good morning or swipe fresh paint splatters from your skin before you went on your way out of the front door.

What he was beginning to realise, however, was that he didn't find the process of creating a picture quite as hilarious.

It had been your idea, but you knew that Robert would jump at the very mention of it. After all, he was a star now. And how else could a star be immortalised in history?

"A portrait?" he had repeated your words excitedly, a grin overtaking his face. "Of me?"

It was the moment he repeated your hesitant question back to you in an almost narcissistic way that you started immediately rethinking your idea. Sudden stardom had no doubt had some effect on your lover's ego, and you regularly took it upon yourself to remind him that, coveted rock star or not, he was still only a man. Perhaps offering to immortalise his egotistical youth in a portrait wasn't the cleverest of ideas.

"Well, it was just an idea I had last night," you replied dismissively, suddenly more than ready to turn on your heel and go make yourself some lunch.

However, with the seed planted in his mysterious mind, Robert simply wouldn't leave the idea alone. Until, finally, you had set him up in front of the easel in your studio, his best wonderland clothes draping his frame, freshly washed hair cascading down his back, extreme appurtenances placed carefully about his person and a funny animal skull you'd been planning to draw balanced precariously in one of his outstretched hands.

"Are you sure the lighting looks good here?" Robert questioned furtively, turning this way and that as he glanced at himself in the mirror you'd set up for self-portraits. His eyes trailed the curve of his cheekbones, the softness of his lips, the shine of his skin. If you weren't so focused on starting your work, your fingers would probably be tracing them to.

Resisting the urge to leave the portrait for an hour or two in favour of rather more exhausting activities, you finished fastening your canvas in place and looked up at him sharply. "Robert, the only reason I'd have to move you from here is to stop you from looking in the mirror. Now, hold still, will you?"

Obediently, Robert froze almost immediately. Surprised by his dedication, you took a seat on your adjusted stool and began the arduous process of immortalization.

That had been almost 4 hours ago. Besides a brief break for a drink and a bathroom trip, Robert had been standing almost as still as a statue for the majority of the afternoon. Or at least he thought he had. You'd been subtly shuffling to keep up with his fidgeting after just 5 minutes of sitting down to start his portrait.