Tumgik
#classic rock imagines
kashmirzeppelin · 24 days
Text
I want to go home…
And by home I mean 1973… watching all my favorite bands live in the park as the sun is setting in the sky above, and I am surrounded by good friends and positive vibes.
117 notes · View notes
emlovslennon · 7 months
Note
Ok so I have a request along the lines of the beach post you made with John and him being insecure but like reader continues to make him flustered and all blushy 🥰 I’m a sucker for flustered John
SAME HERE!!! Literally am obsessed with this
Tumblr media
Era: 1965
Plot: basically the last post i made but with more spice bc yes.
-
You and the boys decided to take a nice trip to Orlando and enjoy a relaxing day at the Beach. It was dreadfully hot and you were all basically melting even with swim suits on. You couldn’t help but look at John, tho. He wouldn’t stop messing with his stomach and trying to pull his trunks up as high as they can go, trying to cover his stomach as much as possible.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” You ask, after making sure no one else was around and taking a swim in the ocean water.
“Wha? Oh, nothing love, I’m fine.” He stuttered, clearly not fine.
“Johnny, there’s clearly something wrong. Come on, let’s go inside.” You said, reaching your hand out for him to grab, and you both entered the hotel room you both shared. Once inside, John immediately tried searching for a shirt to put on, but you stopped him.
“Love, please let go.” He said, as calm as he possibly could, but you didn’t budge.
“No, I’m not. You’re perfect, John. I see the way you tried to hide yourself every-time we take a trip like this, but you don’t need to. You’re still the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes one back in art school.” You said, trailing your hands down his body, John looked at you completely flustered, his face a crimson red and his body slowly relaxing to your touch.
“Birdie… I-“
“Sh, John, let me take care of you, please?” You said softly, John nodded frantically and you couldn’t help but giggle, you slowly laid him on the bed and got on top of him, your lips connected and you, wanting to push the limits a bit, slightly yanked at his hair, causing John to let out a surprised moan. You then moved to his neck, making sure to not leave bruises just for the sake of the others seeing, and Brian would kill him if he dared to go on stage with his lovers hickeys all over him. John’s breath started getting more ragged as your lips traveled from his neck to his stomach, until you reached the start of his trunks, but John grabbed your hair and pulled at it, causing your head to go up.
“Birdie, you’re fucking killing me. I can’t wait like this.” John whispered as he slightly pushed you off and took off his trunks, you then removed your bikini as John used his fingers to do a “come hither” motion and patted his thighs. You got back up as you slowly sink down, even after all your years together, he never fails to not stretch you out, every time felt like the first time with him.
“Fuck, you’re such a good little girl for me, you treat me so well, take me well too.” He whispered as he bucked his hips into you, causing you to moan loudly.
“I’m so proud to be yours, Johnny” you managed to get out without moaning, you both stared deeply into each others eyes, John smiled and kissed your face all over. John’s panting then turned into grunts as he began to go faster, basically pounding into you, your control was starting to fade, but you couldn’t help but mentally give yourself a high five for making him basically melt for you.
“Come on, baby, I can feel you’re getting close, good girl, my little girl, cum for me.” He groaned, your moans were pretty much pornographic, basically screaming for him. And then, the final straw for you was when he slightly grabbed your neck, you screamed his name as you came, your legs violently shaking. John smirked, like it was a job well done. John thrusted a few more times until he came inside you with a loud moan. You couldn’t help but stare as he came down from his high, his hair was completely disheveled, his cheeks were flushed red and slightly pink, and his mouth hung open. You couldn’t help but be completely amazed by it.
“We should probably go back.” You giggled, completely wore out. John helped you get up and get your bikini back on, your legs were like putty, and almost losing your balance from how wobbly they were. As soon as John put his trunks back on, your hearts both stopped as you heard the door knock.
“Hey, are you guys okay? I heard screaming.”
It was Ringo.
-
BAHHA poor Ringo my boy😭BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT I TRIED MY BEST I did wanna have a mix of dom john tho bc dude like AHHHH but yes yes here you are
142 notes · View notes
catchthewindd · 2 months
Text
Craving Kisses - David Bowie
Tumblr media
You are David Bowie’s makeup artist, and he has a new makeup idea he’d like you to try for tonight’s show…
“Do send her in, I’m ready for her now.”, David told his personal assistant. She left the room after his request, and promptly fetched you, David’s makeup artist for the tour. As you entered, you were greeted with a pensive smile from Mr. Bowie. You made your way over to the makeup chair where he already sat, ready for you to pretty him up.
“I was wondering if we could try a slightly different look for tonight’s show. And by slightly, I mean completely different.”, David asked you, cheekily delivered and all.
Being the adaptive professional you are, you swiftly agreed, “Absolutely, David. What did you have in mind?”
David did not initially answer you with words, but instead with an action. He reached out for a bright red lipstick residing on the countertop, and applied it to his lips. He then stood up, getting close enough to the vanity mirror, then beginning to pepper said mirror in perfectly placed lipstick kisses.
You watched, confused. And then his words came:
“The mirror is my face. My lips are your lips.”
You froze. It was hard enough to touch his face with just your brushes, or worse, hands on a normal day. To pepper his face with kisses from your lips and remain normal about it? It seemed impossible.
As if sensing your nervousness, which to be clear was quite obvious, he spoke again.
“It’s just me, it’s just art. Nothing to be afraid of, darling. I don’t bite- unless you want me to.”, he playfully added. He knew your response would be that of a flustered one. And flustered you were.
Unsure what to even say back to him, you slowly grabbed the lipstick from his hand, and started applying it on yourself. He cheered as you did such, and smugly awaited your touch.
“Where would you like me to start, David?”, you shyly asked him.
“Here love, I’ll just point and you just pucker, okay?”, he replied and you nodded profusely. Probably a little too profusely.
The first kiss was on his forehead.
His long, pale, finger pointed to the center of his forehead, lightly tapping there until you made contact. You cautiously started to lean closer to him, your eyes fixed on his, his eyes fixed on your lips, your lips ready to pucker, his lips resting in a smirk. You could hear him whispering “Any day now, sweetheart”, and just as he did so, you found your lips crashing into his face, a soft murmur you could have sworn was a moan escaping his lips as you did so. As you pulled back, you were certain your face was red as a tomato. Yes it was “just art”, but it was so intimate, so personal, your lip print adorning his face. He looked beautiful with just the single kiss on his face, but he wanted more. And he made sure you knew he wanted more, by tapping his left cheekbone next.
It wasn’t confidence, instead more of an experience thing (now having done this once before) that lead this cheekbone kiss to happen much quicker than the last. You let this one linger a little longer, and David surely noticed as he chuckled slightly as you pulled away again.
You slowly started to gain a rhythm. Tap. Kiss. Tap. Kiss. Re-apply lipstick. Tap. Kiss. The more you kissed him, the more you found yourself getting comfortable around him. It seems he too could sense this, so he started pointing to face-adjacent locations for you to decorate. He started with his jaw, his ears, then his neck, to almost his chest. By now, he had thought it clear that his intentions were lustful. But yet again being the professional you are, you still managed to convince yourself that this was just another makeup gig. Just another pay check. You were about to be proved wrong.
He pointed once again to his chin, which slightly perplexed you, seeing as you had already kissed him in that spot. Not wanting to lose momentum though, you leaned in without question. As your lips approached landing, David’s head suddenly jolted down, ensuring that your lips met his lips, instead of meeting his chin. He smiled into the kiss, and although it startled you, your increasing desperation and hunger for him allowed you to get lost in it all. Neither of you pulled away for a while, instead you began bringing yourselves closer to one another, him grasping your face, and you weaving your fingers through his hair. When you did finally pull away from each other, there were no words from either one of you. Intense eye contact and heavy breathing told the both of you everything you needed to know.
He came close to you once again, and whispered in your ear: “after the show.”
61 notes · View notes
pageydrinkstea · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Sleepy Led Zeppelin
278 notes · View notes
thepinkwriterr · 8 months
Text
Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty
Tumblr media
Table of Contents
Word Count: 3.6k
She liked the beard. He looked rugged, in his own special way. The appeal of his beauty was always the defiled innocence of his smooth face. When he told her that he was growing it out she thought he would look horrible. But when she saw him she didn't think that at all.
She was laying on her stomach on the bed, feet in the air, and kicking them like a schoolgirl. He was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, doing his hair and getting ready for the day.
"Have I ever told you how much I love the beard?" She asked, locking eyes with his reflection.
He smiled and turned to look at her. "No, you haven't. I was getting a bit nervous that you hadn't said anything about it yet." "Well, I love it," she kissed the top of his head, "Now I've said something." "I'm glad you do. I think it looks nice." "You look like a sexy professor like that." She was referring to his outfit. He wore a white dress shirt, complete with ruffles, and a nice pair of trousers. "That's kind of the look I was going for. Scarf or no scarf?" He held up a green silk scarf. She thought it complimented his outfit well and told him so. He nodded and began to tie it. "You should try it like this." She reached her hands around his neck.
His breath hitched as her hands brushed against his skin. The scent of her filled his nose, an unmistakable smell that only she possessed. It was floral and vanilla. He always thought it was wonderful. He thought it could be a mix of her shampoo and deodorant.
"That looks marvelous, thank you." He spoke breathlessly.
They had been together for eight months and she still made him dizzy and fumbling. He couldn't deny her effect, didn't want to. She smiled sweetly and sat back on the pillows, continuing the reading of her book. How could she be so unceremonious, so laid back, when she was absolutely breathtaking?  She was stunning, certainly the most beautiful woman he had seen, but didn't seem to care. She thought this way about him too. She often thought how he didn't seem to be cognizant of how wonderful he really looked. Sometimes he was even insecure, which was always a laugh for her. The only time he looked poorly was when he chose a bad outfit, which she always had something to say about. "You need to change. A red scarf clashes with a yellow top and the plaid printed pants don't match anything you're wearing!" "No, the red scarf matches the red pants. There is yellow in my pants and yellow on my top. It goes together." "Fine, but you're the one who is going to look bad." "I don't look bad!" "That outfit is a disaster. I don't want you to leave the hotel like that." She was mostly joking, ending in a laugh. But it was true! He looked terrible. "Is this criticism or care?" "Care, I promise. Trust me, Jimmy, it looks bad." "I disagree." He shrugged, "And I'm wearing it to the show." "Alright, but it's your fashion funeral." His outfit today looked much better. His colors matched and he was presentable. "Love, I think you should start getting ready. We have to leave soon." "I think I'll just go like this." "Can I give you some fashion advice?" "Oh, no. Does my outfit look that poor?" She laughed.
He grimaced, gesturing to tell her "a little bit". "Fine, I'll change. What is the weather like?" "Hot. It's August." "Good point." 
She chose a pair of shorts and a short top. The shirt she wanted to wear was in Lorelei's possession. She didn't mind, because she had asked. Robert and Jimmy never did. Yesterday she caught Robert sifting through her clothes! "Um, what are you doing?" She had been watching him rifling through her things like a rat. He jumped at the sound of her voice.
"Oh, Jesus, you scared me!" "I ask again, what are you doing?" She shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip. "Looking for something to wear." "Can you at least ask? Jeez. What do you want?" "That flowery blouse you wore last week." "Robert, you can't fit in that!" "Yes, I can! I'm slim." "Fine," She threw the balled-up shirt at him, "but if you stretch it out I'm killing you." "I won't, I swear." He did. She looked at the blouse now, wearing a frown. It still fit, although now loose and frumpy. Perhaps she'd just have Richard do her laundry and he would shrink it for her. He was a lousy tour mother.
He took more of a liking to her than Grant but still didn't cater to her, but Jimmy did not enjoy the way he looked at and talked about her. He had made it clear from the first day she joined that he found her attractive. He first justified the uncomfortable interaction with the notion that she was a lovely girl and he would just have to get used to people finding her fit. But Richard took it too far-- as he often did. "Jimmy, you got the best out of all the guys. Don't tell them I said that." "What does that mean?" "She's a photographer, so she's good to keep in your back pocket, she's a looker, and sweet. The way she takes care of you...Man, I need to get one of those." "And what does that mean?" He asked with a raised brow. "Y'know, I need to get a girl like that. And with her figure-" "Rich! That's his girl." Bonzo spoke for Jimmy. "My bad." He laughed. Jimmy tried his best to shuffle his anger away but it didn't work. He could feel the ugly hands of jealousy creeping in. This wasn't helped when they went to a club and men seemed to overlook him, hitting on Gwen even when they were holding hands. He was getting angrier and more jealous by the day.
He brought this to her attention, telling her it was getting hard to handle. She laughed and scoffed, and shook her head. When he asked what was the matter, the bitter bite of anger rearing at her reaction, she told him, "I have to deal with women literally trying to tear your clothes off. Do you know how many women I see literally asking to sleep with you and shrugging me off? And they're not sloppy men in a club, they're beautiful women scantily dressed. Thousands of people cheer and scream for you every single night. Women pray to god for a chance to even touch you. You know how hard that is for me?" He had thought about this, of course, but he couldn't see how that was relevant at this moment. When he told her this she seemed angry.
"You're not listening to how I feel." He exerted.
"I am, I understand. But I'm telling you that you have to get over it. I have to."
"It's not the same." He crossed his arms and pouted.
"You're right, it's worse."
"I'm a celebrity. You agreed to date me. You knew what you were getting into."
"And I'm a pretty girl. You knew what you were getting into." She crossed her arms now. They were both pouting. They'd given up trying to have an adult conversation, instead resigning to childish behavior and scoffs.
She thought about this interaction as she put on her shoes. His logical fallacy was amusing to her now, simply a musing that was pushed into the past. They'd both learned to get over their silly feelings of jealousy. At least
she
had. She hoped he had, but didn't know how untrue her thoughts were.
That night, after the show, another fit would strike. The concert had gone well, not having any interruptions or issues. Gwen took some nice photos and had a great time. Their energy always inspired her and spurred her to take wonderful photos.
As they were entranced by the music flowering from their fingertips they struck natural poses. They tried their best to face the audience, partly for her frames, partly for the audience. It was hard, though, they were so tight-knit and worked best when it was just them. Their shows felt like jam sessions when they first started, but as the audiences grew, so did the space between them.
After the show, they went to a club, as was becoming usual. Some towns didn't have good clubs or parties and those were the nights they partied together. But this was Texas and the parties were
superb
, as Robert put it.
Gwen wore her shorts and top from earlier in the day and Lorelei was in a pretty dress. The guys had showered and changed, a short detour on their way to the club. She was not excited to be packed into a sweaty lounge with loud music. They'd just been in the same environment and she didn't know why they had to go back. She wanted to wind down with a nice shower and a good book after a show.
Perhaps they were too filled with adrenaline to be that calm. She knew about this rush, not only because they'd detailed it to her before, but because Jimmy was wired after a show. He was borderline manic, his eyes wide and his mouth going a mile a minute. It was a natural drug, one that gave his reserved personality a spark.
He was charged after a show, particularly his sex drive, which was insane when the lights went out. He had detailed to her how carnal performing was. And he proved it. They weren't even back to the hotel and he would be trying to rip her clothes off. She would protest, telling him they were in public. He would shrug and continue to kiss her. She pushed him back, further exerting that he was sweaty and stinky and would need to shower before she would even consider sleeping with him. Tonight was no different.
He wanted her more than ever. His eyes drifted to her exposed legs, long and taut. He transfixed his eyes on her chest, considering it as a resting place for his tired hands. When he attempted this she slapped his hand away.
How could one person get so sweaty? He was dripping buckets! He could perform stark nude and he'd still come out slippery and stinky. He was like a caught fish.
After he was fresh and cleaned off, she allowed him to kiss her. He gladly devoured her lips in a hungry display of virile fervor. She could rise a dead man from his tomb with those lips, he thought. He was grateful she let him kiss her. He was desperate for any kind of contact with her.
She laughed and told him to get that thing down before they got to the club. She stopped kissing him, despite his whimpering protests. He was staring at her as they walked into the club. She looked wonderful. Never before had she looked this way. Although, he thought that with each passing day. Her beauty grew, swelling until it reached a sweltering heat that choked him. She was far too beautiful to be real or to be his. He'd found an angel amongst men. Someone had begun to threaten this beauty. A man, a bumbling fool, was grabbing at her. They were on the dancefloor and Jimmy was not sharing. He saw Gwen's face, scared and wanting to hide away. Still drunk on adrenaline and filled with jealousy, Jimmy pushed the guy aside with heavy force. "I'm sorry about that, Darling. But you are mine once more." He smiled. This victory was short-lived. The man came back around quickly, angry with Jimmy. "She's my girlfriend. Fuck off." He did not mince words. He was drunk and malice dripped from his tongue. She could smell the whiskey from where she was standing. It was not an attractive sight.
"My apologies, man. I didn't know she had a man." "So you'll respect me now? Just because I have a man." She spoke loudly as to be heard over the music.
He looked at her with a disgruntled expression.
"Well? Are you just going to look at me like you're stupid?" She widened her eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow.
"You're a bitch." He said simply, sneering with disgust. He couldn't believe she would be so brazen.
Jimmy sobered with those words, now stricken with fury. He was not a physical man and would not often resort to violence. "Don't speak to her that way. You need to leave, right now." His words were cutting, his eyes lowering into menacing slits.
"Are you going to make me, cheerios?" "What? That doesn't even make sense. And never mind that. I won't, but he will." Jimmy pointed him in the direction of Peter. Gwen now understood why having him in your corner was a good idea. When things got ugly you needed a guy like him. "You can leave on your own or his accord."
Jimmy's gaze got Peter's attention and he headed over to them in short strides. "This guy bothering you?" He asked, his voice was sharp and intimidating. His size was suddenly noticeable, his voice as round and sonorous as his body.
"Yeah," Jimmy said.
Without hesitation, Peter picked the guy up and threw him over his shoulder. He looked like a child, so small and defenseless in his grasp. This made Gwen laugh, loosening her grasp on Jimmy's arm. She had been clinging to him in fear. Random drunk men approaching her wasn't any less uncomfortable for her than it was for him.
"Are you alright, love?" Peter asked when he was back in their presence. He had thrown the guy on the pavement, placing him down haphazardly. He hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She smiled appreciatively. Who knows what would have happened if Peter hadn't come to her rescue? Jimmy wasn't exactly the burly type.
"Don't worry, girl, I'll always be here if that happens again." Peter clapped a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder and went back to his place next to Bonzo.
Jimmy turned back, gloating with a smile. Gwen was not as happy. She was filled with bitterness. A mixture of her discomfort and a general disdain for her environment was making her unhappy. Her mind couldn't help but wander to all of these uncomfortable places. Her discomfort was palpable as she stared into space. The familiar feeling of strange hands made her insides cringe. She pushed her feelings down and tried to get through this unbearable night. The club was not a place to fight.
-
The next morning her anger erupted. It must have been building all night, stacking up while she slept. She could feel the weight of her dread when she woke. It was a metric ton of bricks on her chest. She didn't want to bother Jimmy this early in the morning. Not only was she angry and bitter, but anxious about letting it out. She didn't want to bite his head off but also didn't want to suppress it.
She could still feel those terrible hands on her body. It made her skin erupt into a flaming rash of anxiety. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Her limbs could not stop fidgeting. What seemed like a small advance lead to a shattering of her mental state. That man was not trying to flirt, he intended to shake her.
And she was shaken. She trembled like a leaf throughout the night and into the light stretch of the morning sun. Breakfast did not help. Bonzo was especially nasty that day. Before she'd even gotten down to eat he was talking shit. She heard him talking to Robert, saying one of the worst things she'd ever heard about herself. "She's a carpenter's wet dream. Flat like a board and in need of a screw." He bellowed with a guttural laugh. She could hear the smile in his voice.
Her first instinct was to pounce. But she didn't. She waited. She wanted to hear what everyone would say. Robert spoke first, "Bonzo, that is horrible."
Jimmy and Jonesy said nothing.
Last night was bad enough, to be treated as an object and only defended for some cheap honor. Jimmy wasn't defending her, he was defending his manhood. How dare someone touch his precious doll that sat on his little shelf? His reluctance, rather than his refusal, to defend her in a meaningful way was shown to her. He said nothing when it mattered.
Her face contorted with the weight of betrayal. She wasn't so hurt by what Bonzo said, but more so by Jimmy's silence. This had far surpassed a few teasing comments. Bonzo hated her, hated Jimmy's girlfriend and he didn't seem to care.
They turned at the sound of her shuffling feet in the doorway. They saw her pained expression. This pleased Bonzo. He was content to know his shot had landed on the target.
He got a twisted pleasure from hurting her. It was a special treat for a lone audience. On the days that he imbibed early in the morning, he attacked her.
She turned away with hot tears brewing on her lashline, quiet steps rushing from the scene.
The room was quiet now. They shuffled their eyes, passing awkward glances around. Robert broke the tension, as he often did. He found it hard to always be the peacekeeper, the jester, and the pretty one. But these roles needed to be filled, and he was multifaceted.
"You should go talk to her."
Jimmy grimaced and burned in hot anger. Who was Robert to tell him what he should do with his own girlfriend? He knew what was best for his relationship! But he stood with a huff and went to their room.
When he was out of their sight he broke into a fast-paced walk. He knew he was in trouble, he knew he was in the wrong. Perhaps that's why things played out the way they did. He didn't want to be wrong. He would rather die than apologize.
He was on her heels, in the room before she could even shut the door.
When he entered she just looked at him. She was overcome with feelings.
She just wanted to scream at him. "Gwen-" "Don't. Just don't. I don't want some half-assed apology." "I'm sorry." "I said I don't want it. I'm sick of you not standing up for me. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I heard what he said." She tried her best to remain calm. "I just don't know what to say." "You sure knew what to say last night." "What does that mean?" His expression was causing anger to churn inside her. It was a poorly plugged drain. The stopper was beginning to lose its seal and she soon would explode. "You can defend me when your honor is in question. This has never been about me, it's been about your ego. When your ego is concerned, you will say something. You don't care about me! You only care about yourself." Her voice raised in pitch as she spoke. "We're having this conversation again? That is not true! And you know it isn't. It's not the same when it's your friend." "Robert stood up for me. It's clearly not an issue for him." "What are you implying?" "Nothing." "Oh, c'mon, you were so brazen before. Don't be so shy now." "No, I didn't mean anything by it. He stood up for me and you didn't." "I think you meant something entirely different." "Like what?" She prodded.
She had waded into dangerous territory. No longer was this an argument about the topic at hand. They were taking jabs at one another due to unspoken feelings. She could feel the energy shifting to something nasty.
"I used to think Robert was just flirting with you because he's a whore, but now I see the truth. He's in love with you!" "In love with me? Jimmy, was just sticking up for me. You couldn't even do that." "No, you don't get it. Men don't do nice things for women unless they want something from them. He wants to take you to bed." "You sound crazy!" "I'm crazy? You're the one yelling at Bonzo and getting an attitude with me!" "Well, I think you have a problem with Robert because you feel inferior. You think he's more of a man than you and you're worried he's going to take me from you." "Maybe if you didn't dress that way he wouldn't be throwing himself all over you. Maybe Grant would take you more seriously." "I cannot fucking believe you. You've reached a new low." Her tone dropped, laying flat where her emotions lie.
She was hurt. She knew this wasn't how he truly felt, he was trying to hurt her. With nothing left to say, she left the room. Their room was no longer a place where love could be facilitated. She had to escape.
She left Jimmy's grasp immediately and directly to Robert's room. She placed three sharp knocks on the door.
It revealed a damp Lorelei. Her curls were stringy and wet, dangling down at her cheeks. Her face and arms were flecked with drops of water.
"Hey, girl, is everything alright?" She asked, scrunching her hair with a white towel. She had another one wrapped around her torso.
Gwen stepped in with apprehension. "Lore, there's something I need to tell you." She stood in the doorway, a look on her face that scared Lorelei.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
----
Taglist:
@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    
19 notes · View notes
Note
hi there!! i was just wondering if you could write something about it being cold outside and snuggling into jim because hes so warm with some smut pls? its okay if not ofc!! hope youre doing well ☺️
Hi!! I love this prompt so much. I think I actually wrote something similar to this before, minus the smut, so the beginning is similar to that one. I rewrote it, though. It's a bit softer than intended, but honestly, I think this is one of the best things I've written on here in a while, and I'm really proud of it. Thank you so much for being so nice <3 I hope your day is awesome.
You rubbed your reddened hands together, raising your shoulders and shivering as the wind continued to push at your back. It was positively freezing outside- but arriving at the place you shared with Jim gave you hope that you would be able to warm up.
Fumbling with the frozen metal keys, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, quickly closing it behind you and shedding your jacket and shoes. Once you could, you would bury yourself under a pile of fluffy blankets and take a nice, long nap. 
“Are you alright, darling?”
You looked up and saw Jim standing in the living room, face fixed in an expression of concern as you shook your head. His eyes slowly traced your body, taking in your appearance- your red cheeks, your bunched shoulders, your bent knees.
You didn’t need to say more. He walked toward you, cupping your freezing cheek in his large hand, warmth prickling from his touch. Jim kissed you gently on the forehead. “I know what’ll help you warm up.”
Without warning, he scooped you up and carried you, bridal-style, to your shared bedroom. Eyes squeezed shut, you gratefully buried your face into his shoulder, heat radiating even through his shirt. He placed you gently on the bed, pulling away the covers and tucking them around your shoulders, shaking his head when you began to thank him. Jim took off his shirt and crawled under next to you. You gratefully pressed your forehead against the wool of his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his warm body. Feeling flowed back to your frigid limbs and you pressed your legs and feet against his, soaking in the heat of his skin.
Jim tenderly held your chin, covering your face and the top of your head with kisses. He pressed gentle kisses to your nose and cheekbones, dark curls lightly brushing against you as he leaned in. Pulling you even closer, he rested his head against yours. “Does that feel better?” he whispered.
You nodded silently, too drowsy to speak.
You awoke hours later to Jim’s fingers caressing your side. Slowly, he ran his finger across your hip and down your thigh, leaning in to slowly kiss your neck. You could feel his erection pressing against your back as he was spooning you, his body close to yours.
Your eyes drifted open. Turning your head back to gaze at Jim, you returned his kiss as his right hand clamped down on your hip. Moaning deeply, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, holding his palm against the side of your face. He quickly pounced over you, pushing you against the bed as he continued to press his cock against your thigh. 
Jim bit down on your bottom lip, pawing impatiently at your shirt and pulling it over your head. He unclasped your bra, kissing and fondling your breasts, his bare chest pressed against your skin. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, nipples hardening to a point as Jim bit and twisted them hungrily.
He moved so his crotch hovered temptingly above you, making your mouth water with yearning. With a pleading gaze at Jim, you stroked the bulging fabric of his pants and he grinned, taking your fingers and wrapping them around the waistband. You tugged it down eagerly, revealing his hardened cock.
You moved to your knees and closed your lips around his cock, flicking his tip with your tongue. Licking and stroking his shaft playfully, you wrapped your hand around his length, pumping slowly as you continued to suck on his sensitive tip. Relaxing your throat, you moved in deeper, Jim’s cock slipping into you and choking you with his girth and length. 
Pulling your head back, you began moving your head slowing, cheeks hollowing as you sucked more harshly. You could feel him throb beneath your lips as he let out a sharp moan. Sensing his pleasure, you cupped and stroked his balls, tasting his hot precum on your tongue.
Jim paused and placed his hands at the sides of your head, holding you in place.
“Not yet, darling. Daddy isn’t done with you yet.”
Jim pushed you back down by the shoulders, quickly pulling down your pants and underwear and spreading your legs. He entered with a rough thrust, impatiently pounding into you, already close to his climax. The furniture rattled as the bed banged against the wall from the force of his passion. You reached around you, twisting the bedsheets in your grip as Jim buried his length inside you.
It was too much. You grit your teeth together and gasped, orgasm washing over you as Jim came into you, grasping your hips and pulling them towards him, filling you with his warm cum. 
You were a mess, weak and quivering, curled up beneath him as you closed your eyes, too overcome to move. Satisfied to see you at his mercy, Jim lay down next to you again, pulling you against his chest and putting a possessive grip around your body. 
“I love you, Daddy.” you whispered. You turned towards him, burying your face into his hairy chest. He grinned, running his hand down your back and kissing your forehead.
Nuzzling the back of your head, Jim’s voice was low and soft, drowsy and pleasured. “Mhmm… I love you, darling.”
44 notes · View notes
anna-n-hetfield · 2 years
Text
How You Met Lars
Summary: you were working a normal shift, and the band that was performing in town walks in.
Tumblr media
You worked at a diner in a busy city close to an arena.
So it wasn’t an out of the ordinary to see the band that was playing at the arena stop in after the show.
Though to be honest, you didn’t much care who they were one way or the other. They were just people as far as you were concerned.
But one night you were working the late shift and you knew that Metallica was in town.
Everyone was talking about it.
You were actually covering a shift for one of your co-workers so that they could go.
The end of your shift was coming up and you were honestly ready to go home, but you still had about two hours to go.
“Oh, my! Is that Metallica?” one of the customers that you were serving asked.
You looked up and nodded immediately recognizing them.
They sat down in your section, and you went over with menus.
“How’re you guys doing?”
The four of them smiled up at you, and they all looked a little worn out.
“I don’t know about these three, but I’m doing great!”
You looked over at Lars in curiosity. He seemed to be more energetic now that he actually looked at her.
“Well, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be serving you. Anything that I can bring you? Coffee? Juice? Water?”
“What if I’m just wanting you?”
You stood there just a little shocked, and you knew that you were blushing.
108 notes · View notes
lsd-astronaut · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Say My Name Louder (NSFW)
Pairing: Roger Waters x F!Reader
Request: okay uhm- angry studio sex with roger but not in the super dominant aggressive kinda way more just very passionate and all that bc stress :D (...there may or may not also "accidentally" be a leftover voice-recording of the happenings that rog keeps bc why not??)
Lately, life has not gone pretty easy on you. However, your fiancé Roger has taken the worst of it. According to him, nothing is going as planned: the melodies are not good enough, the timing is fucked up and the volume is all wrong!
The rest of the band soon enough get tired of him and ask beg you to come to the studio to see if Roger calms even the tiniest bit down. You mentally disagree but anything is better than staying home alone with absolutely no entertainment other than books or the TV showing the same movies over and over again even though it’s considered the “premiere of the week”.
So that’s how you find yourself sitting in the worn out couch looking boredly at the studio window and at the four men trying to make some music. You sigh and decide to stand up to get a glass of water from the studio cafeteria. Sipping the cold water, you look at your empty surroundings trying to spend enough time until you force yourself to go back to the recording room.
As you throw the paper cup in the trash can, the cafeteria door opens and a really disgruntled David appears, walking straight at the vending machine. You look at him a bit surprised as he pushes some buttons and a chocolate bar clatters down and he bends down to grab it. When he straightens up and turns around, a string of curse words leave his lips at your sight.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Don’t stand in silence like that. You almost gave me a heart attack!”
You look apologetically at him. “Sorry.” Suddenly, you furrow your eyebrows. “Are you guys already done?”
“Yep, seems like today was not a great day for inspiration. Rick and Nick left like 5 minutes ago but I was a bit hungry. Roger is still in the recording room I think, he’s probably tidying up his stuff.”
You nod with a smile and after wishing a good evening to David, you make your way to the recording studio.
When you arrive, you notice that the room is pretty dark. For a moment, you think that Roger has left without you but that soon is disproven when you notice his hunched figure. As you get closer, you notice that he’s writing some notes on his notebook.
Your hand reaches for his shoulder and you whisper his name. “Roger, what are you writing in the dark? You’re gonna hurt your eyesight like that.”
He grunts and tries to ignore you, returning to scribbling furiously against the paper. However, you sigh and take his pen from his hand. Before he can say any word, you harden your face.
“It’s not going to become a better song just because you exhaust and stress yourself. You know that, Roger.”
Roger snorts and looks at you with his green eyes. “How could you even understand?” He’s actively trying to hurt you but you know him too well. This is his defense mechanism; it doesn’t affect you anymore.
“I do.” You reach your hands to hold his face and he doesn’t pull away, something you take as a good sign to continue. “You always come back home pale like a ghost and you don’t even eat or sleep. Inspiration only comes to us when we less expect it but your mind and body have to be well rested. Okay?”
Roger nods and looks at you with a really tired expression in his face. “Can I kiss you?” His voice is tiny but you smile gently. “Of course you can.”
He leans down and captures your lips in a beautiful kiss. It will never fail to surprise you just how every kiss from Roger will be a completely new experience. This one is an outpour of love and passion, and something more.
You tangle your hands in his dark locks and tug them softly, making him moan softly in your mouth. It makes you smile and he taps your lips with his tongue, you gladly giving him permission. He takes the lead and as he keeps kissing you, he effortlessly lifts you and sits you on top of a table.
When you pull away for a much needed breath of air, he starts to kiss and nibble along your jaw, sucking and biting your skin. He then lifts his head and leans to your ear. “I’d eat you out in any other occasion but I’m impatient to fill you up. Is that okay?”
You squirm as heat pools between your thighs when you hear his dirty words.
“Please, Roger…” you stutter.
Roger smirks with a knowing smile and starts stroking your left thigh with a ringed finger. “Please, what? Use your words, sweetheart. Let me know what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
You swallow hard and look away, embarrassed. “I want…”
Fingers are wrapped around your chin and your head is lifted to look at your dark haired fiancé. “What was that? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”
Your cheeks warm, you manage to sputter out “I want you so badly, Roger. Please, fill me up.”
Roger pecks your lips and smiles. “Well then, why didn’t you say so earlier?”
With his skilled hands, he lifts your skirt and hooks his fingers on the hem of your laced panties, sliding them down your legs until they disappear on the studio floor. You look down and see the tent in his jeans. You try to reach and touch it but Roger grabs your wrist. “No touching, love.”
“But I want you to destress.” You whine.
“There is nothing that destresses me more than knowing I’m making you happy.”
“Softie.” You giggle and lean forward to kiss him again.
Roger pulls away after some seconds and unbuckles his belt letting his pants and his boxers slide down. He looks at you quietly waiting for your permission. You immediately nod and he slowly slides in, hitting your sweet spot in the first try. You arch your back and moan his name.
“Say my name louder.” He hoarsely says as he keeps thrusting into you, his pace even. When you look at him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably.
“Roger, please go faster.” You moan as tears start brimming in your eyes from all the pleasure.
“As you wish, darling.” His pace quickens and you grab onto the edge of the table, your knuckles whitening from all the effort.
“I’m close, Rog…” you mutter after some minutes.
“Let go, Y/N.” He orders you. You do as he said and cum with a scream and your toes curling in all the utter pleasure you’re feeling.
As Roger feels your core tightening around him, he can’t control himself anymore and cums as a white haze washes all over him.
After some moments in which you two are panting and trying to recover, he pulls out and puts on his pants again. He hands you your panties and strokes your cheek. “Are you alright? I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
You shake your head and smile at him. “I hope you’re feeling better than before.”
Roger smiles and nods. “Like a new man.” He suddenly yawns. “And ready to sleep for 12 hours straight.”
You laugh and try to stand up, your legs feeling a bit wobbly but nothing too bad. “Let me go to the bathroom and then we can go home, eat dinner and sleep.”
As Roger walks to open the door, you furrow your eyebrows. “Roger?”
“Hm?” He turns around questioning.
“Is a red light supposed to show there?”
“What do you mean-” Roger walks over to the machine you’re pointing and he widens his eyes suddenly. “Oh, fuck.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Someone left the tapes running and it recorded everything that has happened in this room.”
Your face immediately pales down. “Are you kidding?!”
“We have to bring this home so no one can ever know this happened. Wouldn’t want to traumatise them.”
You nod but you look at Roger confused. “What are you planning to do with these?”
At that, Roger smiles. “I’ll keep it for myself. Special purposes, y’know?”
I wrote this while listening to Tchaikovsky lmao so let’s hope you like it
98 notes · View notes
strangekindaerin · 1 year
Text
Deep Purple Imagines #2- Holliday Edition
Jon Lord- You and Jon spend the whole day baking cookies and other treats for family and the band. You are carrying batter when you trip on something and end up covering yourself in batter (like that scene in 2 Broke Girls where Caroline broke her pearl necklace and trips on them and ends up covered in batter). Jon was too busy mixing the cookie dough that he didn’t see you. “Jon...” You said meekly like a child. Jon turns around not expecting you to be covered head to toe in cake batter. His mouth opens in shock then he starts laughing hysterically. “It’s not funny Jon!!!” You shouted embarrassed. “Go take a shower and I’ll finish everything.” He said still very amused. So you do just that. After your shower (which took a long ass time since you had to get batter out of your hair which required many uses of shampoo and conditioner), you got dressed and dried your hair. When you came down, everything was finished. “Sorry I took so long. The batter was a pain to get out.” You giggled. “Why don’t we just relax and watch something on the telly.” He suggested. You nod in agreement. You both end up falling asleep on each other. 
Ritchie Blackmore- You and Ritchie planned to celebrate the Winter Solstice. “Do we got everything we need?” You asked him. “I think so.” He grumbled. Well it turns out he forgot something... The Yule Log. “Well let’s get everything set up so we can stay up all night.” You decorated the place before going to make Wassail. “BLOODY HELL!!! I FORGOT TO GET THE YULE LOG!!!” you heard him yell loudly. You then heard the door shut and Ritchie was gone. You giggled while stirring the spiced beverage while thinking about the past year. A few hours later, Ritchie returned. He was more grumpy than usual. “There were no bloody logs left.” He grumbled to you. “Don’t worry! We can light candles.” You said cheerfully. “Okay...” he sighed in defeat. Soon it was time to celebrate. You drank the Wassail and wrote what you wanted to let go of on small sheets of paper before burning them in the candles. You felt tired but were determined to stay up all night with Ritchie by your side. You thought about how you met Ritchie this past year. His success with his band (and the many fights he had with Ian Gillan). You soon heard snoring and noticed Ritchie sleeping. You smiled at him before falling asleep yourself. So much for staying up all night. 
Ian Gillan-You and Ian were good friends. You also had a major crush on him. You called him over to your place and asked if he wanted to decorate a ginger bread house with him. The challenge? You both were going to do it drunk. “Okay so here’s the challenge. We’re gonna do this drunk!!” You said getting out a bottle of whiskey. Ian got excited. He enjoyed drinking. A lot. So you got everything out. Gramm crackers, frosting,  candy, ect. You both took a swig of whiskey. “Ready?” “Yes.” He said eagerly like a child. You were setting up the foundation when you noticed Ian was eating the candy. “Ian!” You sighed annoyed. He froze and looked up at you like a dear in headlights. “Sorry he said sheepishly. “Start frosting the house please.” You said while taking another swig of whiskey (or 5). You were feeling the effects of the whiskey and so was Ian. He was frosting the house when the structure fell. “OH FUCK!!!” He shouted. You looked at the now broken house. “It’s cool man!! We can pretend that the gingerbread men’s house burned down by an arsonist that’s wanted by government officials!” You said happily. “OR THE MONTREUX CASINO!!” He said laughing. You also laughed which caused him to laugh harder. Soon you two had tears in your eyes. You calmed down and looked at Ian then back at the leftover frosting. “Hey Ian?” You said trying not to laugh. “Yes?” He said. You scooped up some frosting before smearing it on his face. “Y/N!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!” He said shocked. You just cracked up laughing at his expression not noticing that the singer taking some frosting in his hand and doing the same to you. “Hey!!” You cried. “It’s only fair.” He chuckled darkly. You then wiped the frosting off your face before eating it. He did the same but there was still a bit left on his lips. “Hey you still got frosting on you.” “I do?” “Yeah let me get it for you.” You got closer to him until your lips touched his. Ian’s eyes widened in shock for about  seconds before kissing you back. You made out for about a good 2 minutes or so until he finally pulled away. “I um... Um....” you stammered fearing his reaction. “How long had you had feelings for me?” He asked taking your chin in his hand so you could look into his blue eyes. “For as long as I can remember.” You sighed. Ian looked into your E/C eyes for a second before kissing you again. “Man I’m one smooth motherfucker.” You thought to yourself.
Ian Paice (Paicey)- “Do you wanna build a snowman?” (I just had to okay) you asked your BF Ian Paice or as he was called in his band, Paicey. “Yeah!! Do we have carrots?” You went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. “Got them!!” You said happily. You two then put on your jackets and you noticed something. “Hey did Ritchie leave his Pilgrim hat here?” You asked Paicey. “Oh he did!!” You looked at your boyfriend smirking. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” “Yeah. Snow Ritchie!” he laughed. You two bolted out into the fresh white snow. Paicey rolled the 1st ball while you did the second one. You also looked for branches and rocks for the face. “Found some rocks and a sticks!!” You called out to him as he was finishing putting the body together. You added the eyes and made the mouth into a frown since it was going to be Ritchie and that motherfucker is always in a bad mood. “Do you got the nose?” “Yeah.” Paicey replied. “Um your glasses are fogging up.” “I can see that. Actually I can’t.” he giggled taking them off his face and wiping them with his scarf. He then put on the snow Ritchie’s nose. “Now the eyebrows!” you giggled making them into angry brows. “Arms!” Paicey chirped putting on the arms so they looked like they were crossed (or an attempt to look cross). “Now... the hat.” You said laughing putting on the hat. You two both stepped back and admired your work. “It’s fucking beautiful.” You giggled. Soon a car pulled up in front of Paicey’s house. “Hey is that...” You see Ritchie get out and walk towards the two of you. “Paice did I leave my...” He then saw the snowman. He just stared at it for a few seconds then back to you two. “Who’s idea was this?” He said kinda annoyed. “Um both of ours.” You said looking at the ground. “And why did you make me into a snowman?” He questioned Paicey. “Thought it would be cute.” He said sheepishly. Ritchie then just went up to the snowman and grabbed his hat before going back to the car and driving away. “Now what?” You asked Paicey. “Wanna get hot coco?” “You bet your sweet ass I do!” 
Roger Glover- “I’m so glad you’re doing this with me Y/N. Toffee making, or how’s it pronounced in Welsh “Noson Gyflath” is a very important tradition to us.” He said smiling. “I never made toffee before. What if I mess it up?” “You won’t Y/N. Just follow my lead.” Roger then poured in the ingredients in the pan before stirring it. “Now let me take it out and you can help me twist it. It has to be gold. It’s pretty tricky not going to lie. “Ready?” He said getting the molten sugar out of the pan. “Now just twist and pull at it.” You obeyed looking to Roger for help. “Am I doing it right?” “Yeah. Just like that.” You smiled continuing to twist and pull at the molten sugar as it was starting to turn into a golden color. “Y/N your a natural at this!” Roger smiled. “I am?” “Yeah! It’s like the perfect gold color.” So you allowed the toffee to cool before having some. 
8 notes · View notes
ganymede-princess · 10 months
Text
Hanging Up My Heart | Duane Allman (The Allman Brothers Band)
Tumblr media
ship: Duane Allman x fem!OC
warnings: drug use/smoking, promiscuity, sexual references
summary: Duane gets a shave from his favourite groupie.
word count: 3544
a/n: Bit of a niche subject, but I hope everyone enjoys it! I spent a stupid amount of time making the timeline add up to their actual Autumn '69-Summer '70 touring schedule, which I know doesn't really matter to anyone but me, but y'know. I also did a fair bit of digging to find any recordings I could of Duane speaking out loud, and I found an album on Spotify called Skydog Tales, which is like an hours worth of radio recordings of his voice. So if you're curious just have a look for that. Anywho, thanks for reading!
written by @ganymede-princess
Cigarette smoke and incense mingle into a mind-melting haze in the stuffy hotel room den. Gregg perches on the vanity, talking low and quiet to Astrid who stands in between his knees, their eyes locked together as twin blue flames. Berry languishes on the seat by the window, menthol between his teeth, plucking a melodic bassline on the lower strings of an acoustic guitar. Laying on the bed beside me, Lorelai snorts a line off her pocket mirror with a dollar bill and shakes her head in satisfaction. I let a contemplative drag filter through my lips and ash out the cigarette butt on the tray on the side table.
"Hey, Tammy?" Lorelai stretches out and rolls onto her side. "When do you s'pose you're gonna leave the tour? 'Cause I know some of the guys from Traffic and I think I'm gonna join with them at Cosmic. I could get you a spot with them if you want to come with me."
"Oh, Lori I..." I reach out and run my fingers through her silken hair. "I don't know... That's so soon."
"Oh c'mon." She rasps. "Traffic are far out. It'll be fun... and I'll miss you if you don't."
"I dunno, I'll think about it." I lay back and look at the ceiling fan as it spins. "Steve Winwood is pretty cute though."
"Oh my god, he is! He'd be so perfect for you."
"You think?"
"Uh-huh. You gotta come, he'd love you."
"We wouldn't think you're disloyal or anything if you went." Berry flops down onto the bed and lays his arm over Lorelai's waist. "It's all love."
"It's not really about that." I bite my lip. "I mean, you guys are my favourite band, yeah, and obviously I care what you think, but... it's just something I'm dealing with personally, okay?"
"Shit, mama, is it terminal?" Berry grimaces.
"No, no, I mean... maybe." I giggle. "It's not gonna kill me, it's just..."
Lorelai grabs my hand, concern written across her face.
"Baby, are you pregnant? Is it Duane's?"
"No! God, no! Duane and I never even... not with any of them-"
"Well, what the hell do you do when you're alone for so long?"
"Talk."
"You talk to him?" She gasps. "Just talk? You never..."
I shake my head.
"Well, baby, what kind of groupie are you?"
"An interesting one."
We collapse into a fit of giggles. Berry has clearly grown bored of the conversation and begins working his lips against Lorelai's neck.
"Just promise me you'll think about it." She groans, already getting distracted.
"Sure."
I prop myself up on my elbow and lay a soft kiss on her lips. Our mouths move together in a familiar motion and her hand finds the back of my neck as she deepens the kiss. We keep it up for a minute or two, lightly moaning and squirming around for Berry's benefit, until a low whistle interrupts us. I look over to see Duane leaning up against the doorway, arms folded; his red-gold chops are a lion's mane, and an ever-present smirk lights up his face. Lorelai tugs my hair, silently asking me to re-join the fray, but I push her away.
"Hey, Skydog."
He says nothing to begin with, just letting his eyes roam across the scene before him, expression unreadable. Then, he smiles.
"Miss Callaway, I wanna see ya in five."
"You're not the boss of me, Duane."
He laughs and holds up five fingers, winks, and then slinks away into the hall. My body prickles deliciously with uneasy excitement. I make the move to follow him, but Lorelai catches my hand.
"You want some blow before you blow him?"
"Lori." I scoff.
"Your heart is probably beating hard enough already!" She cackles before Berry engulfs her in a frenzied embrace.
"Shut up." I mutter, opening the side table drawers in search of a downer.
"You won't find anything in there." Gregg grumbles. "Willie locked 'em up 'til after the show. Lucky Dick had that 8-ball o' cocaine up his ass."
"God damn!" I cringe. "You're kidding."
"True story, he- mmph!" His response is muffled by Astrid crushing her lips against his.
"Ew, dude."
I shuffle out of the room, taking a second to catch my breath in the hallway. My heart races as a hundred imagined scenes run through my mind. Trying to find peace, I rake my eyes across the cracked popcorn ceiling, smoke-streaked floral wallpaper, and faded carpet. I think of all the similar hallways we have left behind, and every dingy hotel bed I laid in next to Duane, talking for hours about The Lord of the Rings, harmonica blues, and native peyote rituals among a slew of other topics. I think of his low drawl and the humorous spin he puts on even the darkest conversations. I think of the first time I saw him on stage last November, back home in Macon on my twenty-first birthday. My first gig since my post-Woodstock, post-Rick Danko heartbreak, hibernation and freak out. Duane glowed with a cosmic energy unlike anything I had ever seen, and I felt my heart thaw out as he sang to me through his guitar. Though we didn't have the chance to talk face to face, I found him occupying my thoughts for months after. I think of the first time we spoke by the side door in Atlanta in the crisp March evening, our voices hushed and fleeting, the way my hands shook as I scribbled my number on the back of a pack of fries, and the way my name sounded on his lips. I tremble, plunged back into the memory for a moment.
"Fuck outta here, Gregg!" Berry's shout snaps me out of my reverie, and moments later Gregg and Astrid come tumbling out of Berry's room, lips and hands still locked onto each other.
I duck out of the way and retreat a few doors down to Duane's room. The gentle sound of the blues trickles under the door, drawing me in like the Pied Piper. I inch the door open, peering in to see Duane sitting on the loveseat under the window noodling away on a beat up acoustic. The summer breeze filters into the room, shifting his rusty hair and disturbing the stream of smoke emanating from the cigarette between his teeth. He hums lowly, a rare sound from Duane since he's grown shy about his singing voice. He looks up calmly, still humming, then grins around his cigarette.
"Hey, peach." He purrs in his southern drawl, laying the butt in the ashtray on the windowsill. "C'mere, listen."
I gingerly pad over and sit down beside him, and as I do, he takes my chin in his hand and kisses me soft and quick. His moustache tickles me when he smiles against my lips, and he parts from me before I can deepen the kiss. He pecks me repeatedly on the cheek, making a low, sweet noise in his throat, and when he's satisfied, he begins to pluck a soaring melody on his guitar. Still breathless and seeing stars, the sound sends my mind rushing to another realm. I close my eyes and let my spirit fly out of me like a wedding dove into the beams of brilliant golden light emanating from the strings. As he finishes, I let my eyes open slowly and return to myself. Duane looks up at me with expectant puppy-eyes.
"It's beautiful, Duane." I breathe. "Absolutely beautiful."
"Thanks, sugar." He sets down his guitar with a bashful smile. "You want a smoke?"
"Sure." He lights us both a menthol and lays his arm out behind me so I can rest my head on it.
"Does the song have a name yet?"
"It's barely a song." He grumbles. "I guess Gregg'll name it after he writes the words."
"Hmm." I take a ponderous drag. "It's so pretty it could just be an instrumental."
"You think?" He quirks an eyebrow.
"Yeah. It's kinda catchy as it is, so you could just build on it with the other instruments. Maybe you could add a b-section too, I don't know. I kind of imagine it like Elizabeth Reed but more mellow, y'know?"
"You're onto something, girlie." His eyes crinkle when he smiles. "Why don't you play me your own songs?"
"Mm." I scowl. "I already told you, it's too embarrassing."
"What if I died tomorrow?" He deadpans.
"Duane."
"What if?" He blows smoke in my face. "Huh? I'd be dead and I'd never have heard-"
"Duane!" The cheeky grin drops off his face. "God damnit, shut up!"
"I'm just kiddin' around, ya sourpuss." He mumbles dejectedly and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
I take a deep drag of my cigarette and let the smoke out with a shuddering breath.
"Lori wants me to get off with her in Atlanta." I admit, desperate to change the subject. "She says she knows somebody from Traffic who can get me a place on their tour."
If Duane is hurt by the idea, his steady gaze doesn't show it.
"What did you tell her?"
"I said I'd think about it."
"Well," He itches his sideburns. "What do you want to do?"
I look into his blue-grey eyes, trying to glean some sense of what he is thinking, but Duane is, as always, unreadable.
"I wanna stay here." I cave under the weight of his gaze. "But I feel like I've outstayed my welcome."
"What makes you say that?"
"I've been on tour with you guys for two months already, and since I haven't been fucking anyone, I feel like a bit of a dead weight. I'm not really doing my job."
"You don't have a job." Duane teases.
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"Peach," He kisses my temple. "I assure you, you're not a dead weight."
"Yeah? 'Cause I figure there's six of us and six of you, so surely one of you isn't getting any."
"You really don't fuck anyone?"
"You know this, Duane." I assure him. "Unless you count Lori, but that's just us blowing off steam."
"Hmm."
"Gregg's still trying."
"I bet he is, the jit." Duane snorts.
"Part of me wishes I could just cut loose and say yes to him," I admit. "But I'm not sixteen anymore. I can't just... let things wash over me anymore. I have grown-up feelings now."
"God awful, ain't it?"
"Oh it's the worst!"
We share a quick giggle before a comfortable silence takes over. We finish our cigarettes by the dim lamp light, relishing the warm Floridian breeze.
"You wanna do me a favour?"
"Here we go." I tease.
"Forget I asked."
"No, no, no, what is it?"
"I need a shave and a haircut." He runs his hand over his chops. "I'm gettin' scruffy."
"I like scruffy."
"M'yeah me too, but not this scruffy."
I did have to admit, his chops could use some work. They were so long they were hanging halfway down his neck.
"Well, you picked the right girl for the job." I say. "I've been cutting my little brother's hair since he was six years old."
"I know, you told me."
"I did?"
"Mm. We were talking about your grandparents' ranch, and you mentioned Bobby had long hair like a girl, and he caught it on fire setting off a rocket, so you had to cut it, and you did so well that you've been doing it for him ever since."
"Damn." I squint. "I really did tell you, huh."
"Mm. I don't forget."
"Okay, well, go clean up and get your razor out and I'll do it for you."
He pecks me on the lips and disappears into the bathroom. I lay down on his bed and watch the ceiling fan spin. Three months in and my heart still races at the slightest hint of his affection, and I'm beginning to hate it. I curse my total lack of foresight in joining this tour, and the fact that I cave to his every demand. I should have known myself better, known that basking in the glow of his soul would quickly become an addiction. I should have known that he would be another knife in me. I wipe away the tears that leak from the corners of my eyes and sigh, steeling myself against the trial of touch I will have to endure.
"Alright, alright." Duane pops his head around the door, grinning like always. "I'm ready."
He disappears back inside, and I grit my teeth as I follow him. He sits on the closed lid of the toilet, shirtless, with his hands on his knees and a towel around his shoulders. My stomach squeezes at his rough beauty, the rusty hair on his chest and the way his lean arms are slightly toned from carrying his equipment. Noticing me staring, he smirks and flexes his arms.
"You like these guns, huh?" He kisses his bicep. "That's all muscle, baby."
"Tshhh." I pick up the can of shaving cream and pretend to read it. "You wish."
"I been trainin'." He deadpans. "Pretty soon I'll be able to swing Gregg around by the ankles."
"Yeah, bet." I keep looking at the can, swallowing my laughter.
"By the end of the tour we'll save a ton on fuel 'cause I'll just push the bus around."
"Uh-huh."
"Peach, it's shaving cream not the Declaration of Independence."
Giggles bubble out of me before I can stop them.
"God, shut up!" I cover my face. "So stupid."
"Yeah, you love me."
"Yeah." I realize what I'm agreeing to a moment too late, so I put on a flamboyant Boston accent in a futile attempt to distract him. "Sowh, Mistah Awlman, what cayn Oi do fowh ya?"
"Just a trim, sweetheart." He drawls, suddenly quiet. I tremble inside as he strokes the front of my hair. "Do this thing for me too, where it kinda falls closer at the front."
"A little blending?"
"Mmhm." He runs the back of his fingers over my cheek, leaving it hot and tingling.
"O-hokay." I clear my throat. "I'll see what I can do."
"I want the chops up to my chin, too." He tilts his chin up and runs a hand down his neck. "And clean up the hair under here."
"Anything else, your highness?"
"Clip my moustache. It's too long, keeps gettin' in my mouth."
"Are you gonna say 'please?'" I quirk my eyebrow.
He takes my hand, kisses it, and smiles.
"No."
"You're a bit of an asshole." I scowl, beginning to comb his fine blonde hair.
"Can't fault you there, sweetheart." He chuckles. "But you do love me."
"Yeah." I mutter reluctantly.
He closes his eyes and groans lowly as I pass the comb over his scalp. His hair is so soft that the tangles melt away with the slightest touch.
"That feels good, sugar." Blushing, I turn away to grab the scissors. "Why'd you stop?"
"Shh."
"You're awful quiet."
"I wish you would be."
"I don't know what you're antsy for all o' sudden." Duane rolls his eyes. "It's a damn drag."
My heart is running like a thoroughbred, and I'm surprised he hasn't heard the hoofbeats thudding through my chest. Keep it together, Tammy. I lose my breath for a second as I take a lock of rose-blonde hair between my fingers. A snowfall of gold floats away as I begin clipping.
"I can't focus with your yapping. You'll look like a one-eared hound dog if you don't shut up."
Patient as always, Duane leans over and kisses my hand, then makes a lip-zipping motion.
"Thank you."
Relishing the way his silken hair slips between my fingers, I keep cutting until it sits just below his chin. When it is time to blend the front, and clip his chops and moustache, he closes his eyes and hums softly as my fingers brush against his cheeks. I battle against the animal urge to straddle him right then and there. When it's done, I take the razor and shaving cream from the sink. Duane looks at me with half lidded eyes.
"Don't cut me now, peach."
"I didn't say you could talk yet." I huff.
"Too bad, sugar, I just did." He straightens up and stretches. "Be careful, my face is my greatest asset, I'm sure you agree."
"Oh, for certain." I nod, tilting his chin up with my finger and patting some cream onto his neck. "Definitely not your sense of humour, or your talent..."
"You think I'm funny." I want to bite the infuriating smirk off his lips.
"And talented. Now, don't talk or you might actually get cut."
I drag the razor slowly up from the base of his throat to his chin. He sighs lightly, his breath warm against my hand. Suddenly, the world feels closer, as if Duane and I are alone in our own tiny universe. His eyes are like the sky before a rainstorm, yet life shines through them like a Jacob's Ladder. Emboldened, I slip my hand into the hollow of his cheek and keep shaving. As I finish the next stroke, Duane takes my hand off his cheek and kisses it, long and soft. As the razor slides up his neck, he rubs his calloused thumb over my knuckles. I feel his gaze on me like hot water. I finish up the last stroke and rub off the rest of the shaving cream with a wet towelette, taking a moment to appreciate my handiwork. As I pat some lemony aftershave onto his soft skin, he takes my face in his hand, tracing my lips with his thumb.
"Stay with me." His voice is rough as gravel. "I want you here."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He smirks mischievously. "Who else is gonna stay up and listen to me talk about Tolkein for hours like a goddamn speed freak?"
"You're right," I struggle against the waver in my voice. "I'm the only one who can tolerate you."
He rolls his eyes, but soon after his face softens and he suddenly seems vulnerable.
"Peach, I..." He looks away, cheeks reddening. "You know I dig you, right?"
I nod, biting my lip. He sighs and looks up at me.
"I gave my black book to Gregg last week. I want you to be my girl. Exclusively."
"Like going steady?" I blurt out.
"C'mon, peach, I'm being serious! This is heavy shit I'm laying out here."
"W-well, I am too." I wring my hands. "You really got rid of your book?"
"Uh-huh." He takes my hands, forcing them to be still. "Peach, I... Tammy, I love you. You're... you're spectacular. You're beautiful, intelligent, fucking hilarious. I mean, you listen to me bitch and moan all goddamn day and you still have a sense of humour about it. Hell, you're the only woman I've ever seen shotgun a Jax. I just... Every time I see you I can't get enough of you. I think I'd walk into hell with you if that's where you needed to go. I think you're probably my best friend, and... shit, peach, I been lookin' for home for a long time, and... and you feel like home. Please, just give me a chance."
"Oh, Duane." My throat tightens as tears tumble down my cheeks.
"Oh, no, peachy, don't cry!" He frets. "I'm sorry, I'll never mention it again, I swear."
"No, no, Duane, I-" I swallow thickly. "I just never- I didn't think... I been through a lot in my life, y'know, and, and Rick Danko and..."
"Hey, hey, shh." Duane stands up and pulls me in against him. I lay my head against his chest and try to still the breathless weeping. "Shhhh, you don't need to tell me now."
"Duane." When I finally speak, my voice comes in a squeak. "I been hung up on you since the day I saw you."
"Atlanta?" His face lights up.
"No, Macon." I dry my face and itch the back of my neck. "I saw you back in November at the City Auditorium, but I was still kinda buggin' from all the shit Rick put me through, so I didn't talk to you. But I swear I stared at you all night."
"Surprised I didn't see you." He chuckles, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. "You light up a room."
"So do you." I put my arms around his neck and get on my tip toes. "I love you too, y'know. You drive me wild."
"In a good way?"
"The best way."
I lean in, and after a lingering moment of almost-touching, Duane thrusts his lips against mine hungrily. Finally unafraid, I part my lips, letting him kiss me deeper than he ever had before. His hand firmly on my chin, I am at his mercy, and it feels perfect. As my knees tremble, his hands move to anchor to my hips, holding me up as he relentlessly kneads his lips against mine. When he's finally satisfied, I almost collapse in his arms.
"Sorry, sweetheart." He locks his arms around me. "You okay?"
"I love you." It's the only thought left in my head.
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" He chuckles. "I love you too, peach."
"Are... are you okay?"
"I feel about ready to fly out the window and do an airborne lap o' Tampa." His laugh is like music to me. "Now, c'mon, I gotta get down for the soundcheck or Willie's gonna beat my ass."
"I thought you said you're strong enough to swing Gregg around by the ankles." I follow Duane out to the bedroom where he promptly starts rifling through his luggage.
"This is true." He tosses a silk paisley shirt onto the bed. "I could fold Willie like an accordion, but then we'd be up shit creek without a manager."
"I think you're full o' shit, Skydog."
"Oh, yeah?" Before I know it, Duane has tossed me over his shoulder, spun me around, and dropped me down on the bed.
"Not fair!" I exclaim breathlessly as he hovers above me, his hair a golden halo in the lamplight. He lays a kiss on me, deep and ferocious. My head spins until he eventually relents, moving his lips to work against my neck. "D-Duane, what about... soundcheck?"
"Fuck soundcheck." 
5 notes · View notes
unculturedswine-101 · 2 months
Text
Dream of only me Neil Diamond x reader
Tumblr media
A/N: I am outraged that there are no Neil Diamond fics on here, or virtually anywhere so here we go (this is basically for me only, cry about it)
WARNINGS: Nicknames (baby, honey), Drug use (cigarettes and weed), heavy petting, groping, kissing?
You were backstage at The Greek, another show for Neil, another night of watching him move his hips, body with that guitar of his for all to see. Because of this, it would sometimes be hard to wait until the show was over to be alone together amongst other things...He had about 15 minutes till he had to be onstage so you slipped past security showing your pass and made your way to his dressing room, with his door adorned with a shiny gold star that read 'Neil Diamond' in black cursive letters.
You knocked softly on the door and just as soon as you returned my hand to my side Neil was there meeting me with kind eyes…and no shirt on. "Hey gorgeous" he said in his usual deep tone and pulled your waist in for a kiss, you let out a small moan in surprise as he deepened it, plush lips melding against mine. "Mm, hello to you too" You sighed as he returned to his dressing table and sat back down. He watched as you sauntered to where he was sitting and stood behind where he was sitting as he pulled a cigarette out of his case "I gotta say Neil I like this new look of yours, gonna show all those girls whats mine?" You mused, while running your fingers through his extensive chest hair. Neil chuckled, "Don't worry honey, I got that number ready for tonight" you turned your head and followed his finger to a sequined adorned silver shirt with long lapels , complete with a black sequined vest. “Ha, of course" you smiled as he took a drag of his cigarette. As you went to further inspect the costume, you felt his eyes on you, Neil had been touring non-stop and although you decided to tag a long a couple of times it was certainly not enough for you or Neil. He placed his cigarette oon the ashtray, soon to be long forgotten, "That's a really nice dress babe, you trying to show all the guys whats mine?" You giggled at the repetition of your words from just minutes ago, and began to feel his big arms envelop your waist as he began to plant wet kisses up and down the column of your neck. "Mmm, you sure you have go out there tonight baby" you sighed as Neil turned out around and began sucking marks onto your chest "Neil! people are gonna see those!" You swatted at his arm as he smiled and captured your lips again. You moaned into his mouth and began to run your fingers through his thick brown hair, tugging on it slightly in an attempt to get even closer.
Just as Neil begins to snake an arm up to your tits, a loud wrap comes on the door "Neil ya gotta be on stage in 5" he groans "alright, coming" he groaned separating himself from you, much to your chagrin. "The show must go on" he sighed as he took the shirt fromm behind you and slipped it on and began doing up the buttons one by one. "Let me get that for ya" you smiled as you did up the last two, making sure to leave plenty of room for him to show off his chest. "Thats better" you smiled up at him and letting your hand linger on his chest as you leaned in to give him a quick peck. “Now remember honey, they’re just gonna film me from behind as I go out on stage”, you nodded “wanna go out together?” You asked as you grabbed his hand, and you both walked out of the dressing room towards the stage. Although it felt a little weird knowing there’s a camera filming the both of you, you walk down some stairs until you’re both met with the backstage curtains. “Have a good show honey" you smiled as you Neil gave you a final kiss and soon after jogged out to meet his adoring fans as the roared and clapped.
The concert was an obvious triumph, having people stand up the entire concert, Neil picking out members of the crowd to sing on stage (including Henry Winkler from "Happy Days") and of course Neil’s incredibly tight outfit.
After waiting for what seemed like an eternity for his crowd to stop clapping, Neil finally walked off stage, sweaty and laughing to himself. "God, that was an amazing show, baby," you smiled as you wrapped your hands around his sweaty neck and kissed him deeply and passionately. "Shit, that good honey?" he smiled pulling back. "Mhm," you giggled as you locked hands and headed back to his dressing room. Before you could even step foot into the room, one of Neil's friends came around the corner "Hey Elton's playing at the Troubadour, you guys coming?" Neil turned to you, looking for your response. You were terribly tired and right now your priority was getting Neil's tight pants off, but you both hadn't seen Elton in a while, you shrugged with a smile and Neil smiled back "sure, I think we're just gonna stop off at home to change, these clothes are soaked, man." His friend nodded and walked away, meanwhile you pulled Neil into the dressing room "yknow I really would have said no, if those pants left more the imagination," you smiled up at him with wide eyes. "Oh yeah?" he smiled, leaning to kiss you, "yeah," you replied smiling into the kiss. Just as your hands snaked around his neck however, they were met with the sweat soaked fabric on his collar.  "Mmm, as much as I would love to continue baby, you really need to change" you said, pulling away. "Fine, fine let's head out." Neil huffed.
You were both finally ready; you had on an even shorter dress which was bell sleeved, black and rings that connected the skirt to the top. Neil sported some bellbottmed jeans and a matching denim shirt which he tucked in. "Can you help me with one more thing honey" you nodded and clicked your way while Neil handed you a gold chain you had gotten him for his birthday last year. You smiled to yourself as you went to secure the necklace behind his neck. You both stopped and stared at eachother for a moment, you were both so happy and in love it was hard to help. Neil broke the contact as he went rummaging through your cigarette box on your coffee table. "Neil you and I both have cigarettes on us" you sighed, looking at your watch. "Not this kind baby" Neil chuckled retrieving what he looking for; a joint. You giggled "I guess it has been a little while.." you laughed as he grabbed a lighter from his jean pocket.
Neil being the gentleman that he is, placed the joint between your plump lips, giving you the first hit. "Let me light your fire, babe" he laughs, concentrating on lighting the joint evenly. You take a long inhale, only to promptly cough, which Neil seems to find hilarious. "Y'okay?" he asks in sincerity, you cough for the final time with a sour expression as you hand the joint to Neil.
You both are stoned by this point, having finished the joint between the two of you and lounging on the couch. "Mmm, this dress is evenn better than your other one, babe" he slurred, his large hand beginning to wander the expanse of your upper thigh. "Heh, it is nice isn't" you smiled lazily toward him, while stroking the side of his face. "Yknoww, we can always have Elton over here sometime, I think I gotta find out whats under this dress of yourss" Neil suggested hiking your already short dress up your legs. "Thats soo true" you giggle as you both slowly lean in to connect your lips. The kiss is sloppy, tongues running along each other, searching for something that you both won’t find. Neil growled as he maneuvers you to straddle his waist. You continue the kiss, while pawing and grasping for flesh; Neil opting to massage the meat of your ass through your panties, and you running and tugging as his thick long hair.
You defiantly didn’t make it to the concert that night.
0 notes
kashmirzeppelin · 8 months
Text
I'm bored with this era, man..
Can we just figure out time travel already so we can go party it up with the hard core groupies and watch Led Zeppelin in the park for $5?
127 notes · View notes
emlovslennon · 2 months
Text
really really thinking ab writing another teddy john smut cuz lord it’s been a minute and just him existing makes me s(cream).
Tumblr media
like, precious? baby? darling? dear? boyfriend? husband? sweetie? dearest? hubby?
60 notes · View notes
elvispresley · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
John Lennon + his iconic orange glasses (1971)
597 notes · View notes
pageydrinkstea · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
some Led Zeppelin pictures
165 notes · View notes
thepinkwriterr · 10 months
Text
Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tumblr media
Table of Contents
Word Count: 2.3k
-
"Hey, Willie, it's Gwen."
"Hello, Gwen, how are you doing on this fine Tuesday?"
I sighed. "I'm fine. But I have to tell you, I don't have all the shots you asked for."
"Why not?"
”I wasn't feeling well so I skipped a couple of shows. I'll need another week on the deadline."
"Okay, well I'll do what I can. But you know that's going to delay the people buying, right? We need sales to go up. If sales don't go up, then I have to cut you."
"Cut me? I thought everything was running smoothly."
"It is, in a way. But in another way, it's not. I stuck my neck out for you. I've been busting my rump to make sure I get your work out there. Let me tell you, these guys are no joke. They want a hard sell."
"Is there anything I can do in the meantime? We have a break in shows after today."
"Just get me your Black Sabbath photos as soon as possible."
"You got it, boss!"
He let out an awkward clearing of the throat, "I'll see you on the 21st. Don't be late."
"I won't. Love ya, Will." I hung up the receiver and pushed my back against the wall next to it. A heavy sigh escaped my lungs. So much to do and so little time to do it.
I collected my things and headed down the hall to Bonzo's room. When I reached room 207 I gave the door a harsh banging. "Detroit police, open up!" I kept banging until the door gave way to the man. His pants were unzipped, an unbuttoned shirt hanging off his frame.
"What in the fuck are you doing? You scared me half to death!"
"Tiff in there? I need to talk to her." I pushed past Bonzo, making my way into the room. I looked around for her but to no avail.
"She's in the shower. What do you want?"
"I need to talk to her."
"I thought you were here for us," He stepped in front of the bathroom door and lowered his voice, "you agreed to keep her out of the papers for me. I don't want this to get back to Pat."
"Keep your panties on, Johnny. We agreed to play cards today. I need some real women to hang out with. Even with your beautiful locks, you're not pretty enough." I pulled at his damp hair and gave him a cheeky smile. "Plus, your boobs are too small."
"Like you've got any room to talk."
"They were big enough for your mom last night."
"Okay, okay, let's get off of Mothers. I just got off of yours!"
"You have no shame, huh?" I patted his shoulder and made for the door.
"I'm just giving back, love. It seems you're lacking as well. Given what I can see through that shotty cover-up job. Maybe get some Maybelline." My hand flew to my neck, covering the marks from Jimmy's attack last night.
"Fuck you." I slammed the door.
-
I caught up to Tiffany later that day. Her tawny skin was captivating even under the fluorescent lighting of my hotel room, the beams bouncing off her caramel features. The bridge of her nose was long, the aquiline shape bringing out her beauty.
"Where are you from, Tiffany?"
I made small talk as she dealt the cards. I didn't know much about her. Between shoots and fighting with Bonzo and Jimmy, I didn't have time to talk to her. There was also the immense guilt I felt every time I saw her. She made me nervous. Whenever she was around I felt like I was breaking out in hives. I wanted to tell Lorelei about her and Robert, I really did. I always chicken out. I was too afraid of causing more issues. I was scared of what would happen if I opened my mouth and said what I really wanted to. The guilt was eating me.
We were having lunch in the sun. The burning bulb was finally making an appearance, lighting our wonderful picnic. Jimmy and I were sharing a Tupperware container of strawberries and red grapes. Two sandwiches sat in front of us. His was dressed with everything, lettuce, onion, tomato, pickles, meat, and mustard. Mine, the same but without pickles and tomato. But it was not wonderful to me. I was still filled with dread. I could feel it in my feet and my hair, the stain of guilt.
He had devoured half of his meal and gulped down his water. I was still poking at the remnants of crust and staring at the fruit. He didn't seem to notice my fidgeting. He was looking around, absorbing all the beautiful sights and soaking up the sun. He looked gorgeous, that much I could not deny. Even in my haze of anxiety, I took note of his appearance.
"Are you alright?" He asked, putting an arm around my waist.
"I'm a monster..."
"What?"
"I'm a monster!" I dramatically threw my head onto my folded arms, tears threatening to form. I tried to hold back all of the ugly sounds that would escape me if I started crying.
"What? Did you do something to my sandwich?"
I looked up at him with watery eyes and laughed. I shook my head. "No." I averted my eyes from him, turning my head to look at a team of ducks. They were quacking at each other and dipping their little feathered heads in the water. "Then what's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just... Just drop it. It's not important."
"Hey, look at me," I turned to him, meeting his eyes again. He was so very lovely. It almost hurt to look at him when I felt so terribly. His face was round and innocent, far more demure than the horrible thoughts racing through my head, "It's gonna be okay." He brushed some hair from my eyes, his fingertips resting on my cheeks.
"Stop it," I pushed his hand away, "I can't let you pretend I'm innocent."
"What do you mean?"
"Tiffany and Robert. I know about them and I haven't told Lorelei." He furrowed his brow. "Why would you?"
"Because Lorelei is my friend."
"So?"
"So she would be hurt if she knew Robert slept with someone else."
"Oh, love, you have to put those feelings aside. This isn't the real world, things don't work like that on tour."
"You say that like it makes it any easier to lie to her."
"You're not lying you're just... hiding the truth."
"That's a lie."
"It's a half-truth."
"According to Hebrew proverb, that still makes me a liar."
"Then I'll be your witness and we're both liars."
"Doesn't make it any better. Now I'm dragging you down with me."
"We'll be dirty, lying sinners together, then." He grabbed my hand and caressed my skin once more. His words and actions did little to calm me. I wasn't warmed but I was getting there. His warmth was thawing me.
"Like my ethnicity?"
"Well, no, I just meant specifically. Y'know, where do you lay your head down when this is all said and done?"
"I'm from Spain, but I moved to L.A. when I was a kid. So I guess I reside there. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes the bands take me with them, sometimes they don't. Zeppelin has a reputation for not taking us from the states. But I like John, so I stick around."
"Well, that does make sense. They've all got wives and kids at home."
"Even your man has a status to him. You're the longest girl he's had, other than Pamela."
"Well, I am aware of that. But I'm a firm believer in not asking questions you don't want the answers to. Ignorance is bliss, and I'd like to stay in my state of euphoria. He doesn't care about my past, and I don't ask about his."
"That's a good policy." She crushed her cigarette in the glass tray that sat between us. Her fingernails were long and red, with a sheen of glitter that sparkled.
"I think you're better off not knowing. I think John and Robert are pretty low for doing what they're doing. It's nothing against you, or what you girls do, but they have children. They're fathers, in reality, not in this fake little bubble of fantasy they live in. And it's not fair to anyone. Not fair to you, Pat, the kids, the band. It's all wrong. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, y'know?"
"I hear you, but you can't get too in your head about it. I'm doing this because it's fun. And as soon as I stop having fun, I'm out. But the fun never stops with John."
"Oh, I'm sure it doesn't," I said with a chuckle.
She took sips from her glass of water from a pink straw. When she pulled away I could see the ring of lip gloss left behind. It was a calling card. She was a lovely girl, a beauty not to be understated. I wonder who she could be if not a groupie in L.A. These guys took advantage of them and saw them as nothing more. The thought of my friends being the ones perpetuating this made me angry. I meant what I said, about thinking poorly of the guys. John was the only one with any kind of spine. Even if he indulged, I'm sure he wasn't treating anyone like a whore.
"Well, I fold."
"Awe, c'mon, you can't fold! One more game," I pouted my lips, asking her to stay for longer.
She sighed. "Okay, fine, we can do one more game. And then I have to get going. We have dinner plans."
I cheered and dealt another hand for the both of us.
We talked longer, having nothing else to occupy our time with. She told me all about what music and movies she liked. It turned out that Tiffany was a huge film noir fan. She also really liked The Mamas and The Papas, which was surprising. I took her for more of a BeeGees or Hollies girl. She also loved The Beatles, but who didn't?
-
I gave her one last look and then she made her way to her room. As she walked out I thought about the men I was with. Who they were in actuality. I put aside the talent and the mythos that surrounded them. And I was left with this conclusion; they took advantage of these women who were in love with them. Even if they didn't want to admit it, I could see it in their faces, the familiar bloom of excitement that graced their features whenever they walked into the room.
Loralie was in love. It was a forbidden and tragic love, but love nonetheless. And I thought about what that did to a person, to fall in love time and time again, only to have them spit in your face. I'd heard whispers of Tiffany's past involvements. Vanilla Fudge, Deep Purple, and even Jefferson Airplane. It pained me to think of what she was giving away each time she fell. Not just her body, but her mind and her heart.
We had 45 minutes until check out and Jimmy was already packing his things, pacing around the small room. I could see all the gears in his head turning. He was wired, marching around frantically, looking for his clothing and bits and bobs he'd brought. This was the daily ritual. Every time we left a hotel he'd spend the last half-hour in a frenzy. I tried my best not to get in his way during these times. Whether it was all the anxiety coming out or a desperate plea for control, he wasn't himself in these times. But today was different. I had a bone to pick and a disregard for his feelings.
"Tiffany told me some interesting things."
"Oh yeah?" This rebuttal was haphazardly thrown my way, as he did not look up from the careful packing of his suitcase. His gaze was cast down into the set of green luggage. He had been unfolding and refolding the same 10 shirts.
"Yeah. She's from Spain, you're a man slut, and she wants to be a model." His hands stilled in the pile of garments. His face wrinkled like parchment and he sent me a nasty look as he picked his head up.
"I'm a what?"
"A man slut. She told me about your reputation."
"I hardly think that's any of her business."
"Maybe not. But I found it interesting."
"Well, tell her to stop her chattering. I don't like to be the topic of conversation." He said with a grimace as he folded a pair of pants.
His anger was amusing to me. Perhaps it was immature of me to pick at him because I was upset. I wouldn't tell him that it troubled me to hear of his past. We'd already had the conversation about him sleeping with other women. He always denied it and said he never thought of another woman since being with me. I wondered if it were true. The thought of it being a lie tore me apart. The thought of him being with another, the way Robert was, killed me.
"I'm sorry, I'm being immature." I didn't elaborate further.
"It's alright. Jesus, I can't fit these in here. I can't figure it out, it's the same amount as the last time I packed it!" He didn't ask me to go any further. I figured he wasn't really listening, or if he was it was only in the way of hearing me.
"Let me help you." I sighed and walked across the room to him. I took all of his things out of the suitcase and started to rearrange them. He stood over me, watching intently as I worked. "Can I help you?" I asked, stopping and looking at him. He uttered an apology and took a step back.
I finished packing his things and shut the suitcase, "There, all done." I patted his arm and stepped away.
----
Taglist:
@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    
4 notes · View notes