•••••••••••••••••••••••Requests Open!••••••••••••••••••••••••
Will update upon receiving requests. Check chapter cleverly titled "⭐️Requests Open!⭐️" for more details (it's the 10th chapter!)
You can never have too many classic rock one shots, can y...
Muse: American Supermodel and Actress Donyale Luna Musician: American Singer/ Songwriter, Poet, and Lead Vocalist of the Doors, Jim Morrison Time: Late Sixties
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[Content Warning: Harassment]
If only she could cut the telephone line. The nonstops calls, letters and telegrams were getting to be too much. His showing up drunk in the middle of the night to cry and bang on her door was beginning to both annoy and concern the neighbors. Linda was almost past her breaking point. Who knew that being loved could be so miserable?
She'd met her devoted suitor — Jim — weeks ago at a celebratory dinner party that her dear friend had invited her to. He was a music producer commemorating his fifth consecutive year of hit records with the artists of his label. She attended to support him, uninterested in meeting celebrities. Linda enjoyed a quiet and simple life, and she liked it that way. But that fateful evening, the one and only Jim Morrison apparently took a liking to her, and since that night, she hasn't been able to shake him.
She'll admit that she was attracted to him. Conversation with him was, at first, very pleasant. He sat next to her at the end corner of the long, clothed dining room table, swimming in her beauty under the yellow hanging light fixtures. They talked about everything under the sun, spending the meal downing sparkling French wine with their steak and potatoes. Linda ate all of the asparagus that Jim refused to eat, and he drank all of the flutes of champagne that Linda didn't have the heart to refuse. But Jim quickly became very intoxicated, and in turn, very different. Different in a way that Linda didn't favor.
His advances grew more aggressive, his touch rougher, his eyes darker. No longer feeling comfortable in his presence, Linda attempted to excuse herself, but he followed her around the entire party. Upstairs, downstairs, basement, balcony, rooftop. He gave her quite a fright when she found him standing in the front yard only moments after she'd ran from the backyard to escape him. Damn, was he fast.
Still clear-headed and sturdy after only one glass of champagne, she stormed past him, marching on the vibrant green lawn towards her parked car. "Linda, honey! Where're ya goin'?" He called after her, stumbling over himself in intoxication.
"Home!" She shouted back, lowering herself into the driver's seat of her ride and slamming the black door shut. She yelped as she turned the keys in the ignition, shaken by Jim's hands banging against the hood of her Ford. "Please just give me a chance, Linda!" He pled with teary eyes, but there were etchings of rage decorating his voice.
"Jim, move!" The woman demanded, firmly gripping the steering wheel. Jim continued to beg and cry for her to get out of the car, but she refused, arguing back and insulting him with every profanity known to man.
His feet were planted in front of the grill and it didn't seem he had any intentions of moving. Linda screamed every threat she could think of but the man wouldn't budge. Just when she thought he would stand there until the sun rose, he climbed onto the hood and did the absolute last thing she expected. The brown-eyed girl watched in dumbfounded awe as Jim Morrison clambered up the windshield and onto the roof of her car. She was completely frozen in disbelief of what he had just done.
