âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Jim Morrison (V) •

I'm going to run out of Jim Morrison pictures soon 😭😂 This is a request for the lovely thefeministfrog; I had lots of fun with this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

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God only knew how you'd swung the gig. One month, you were just a secretary at Sunset Sound. The next, you were going on tour with one of the biggest acts to grace their studio.

Actually, God might not have known, but you had an inkling. The leader of that big act would throw his dark brown eyes your way every afternoon when he eventually stumbled into the studio, and you couldn't resist the childish grin that crept onto your lips.

Some days you'd take him coffee, some days he'd take you to lunch - often sneaking you both out of the studio for a surprise McDonald's trip. Some days, you'd bring him in packages of cigarettes, some days he'd bring you in random handwritten notes. Some days you'd stay behind after 4:30 under the pretence of working overtime just to catch a glimpse of him walking out, some days he'd stay behind needlessly re-recording vocal lines with an eye on the door waiting to catch you walking past towards the break room.

And then there it was on your desk one morning, tucked into the day's mail. You were about to deliver the stack of letters when an envelope with your name on it caught your eye. It was handwritten, and the penmanship was almost mad.

Still, you could read it easily. An invitation to go on tour, with The Doors of all bands. As a Personal Assistant.

"You start Monday." You dropped the letter in surprise at the deep voice and looked up to see Jim Morrison towering over you, hands cupped around the edge of your small desk.

"But I can't just - what if -" You stumbled through the numerous questions flooding your mind. But Jim was already sashaying away, and through the front doors behind him came the rest of the band, laughing loudly.

Robby caught your open-mouthed expression and grinned. "Got the invitation, did you?"

Speechless, you nodded.

Robby laughed. "Jim smoothed it out with the big guy. You're stuck with us." He shrugged. "If you want."

"But what am I - what will I be doing?"

"Sitting around and keeping him in check," Robby laughed, gesturing to where Jim had disappeared.

Really, God only knew why you'd taken the gig. There were rumours, legends, lengthy Greek tragedies about shows and tours involving The Doors. And yet, early on a highly irregular Monday morning, you found yourself packing the last of your things into a small case and sitting on the front step just as the sun was rising to watch for the tour bus.

When Robbie said your job would be to sit around and keep Jim in check, he wasn't kidding. The majority of your days were spent lazing on the bus or lazing in hotel foyers or lazing in dressing rooms. Maybe, if you were lucky, you'd be asked to nip to the store to pick up snacks.

Mostly, though, you spent the strange, fairy tale hours on tour with The Doors keeping Jim company. It seemed the band were all in agreement that you were a far better companion than a whiskey bottle; Robbie all but told you as such when he pulled you aside a couple of weeks into the tour and shyly revealed it had been the band's suggestion for Jim to get a PA.

Still, there were worse companions for you to have. There was no denying that Jim possessed a degree of erraticism, an unpredictably that no amount of abstinence could dampen. Not that he did abstain, of course - but he managed to keep a level head. For the first few weeks, anyway.