#have I mentioned I've been really sick and could possibly have fever dreamed my way through this entire image? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lick-me-lennon22 · 3 years

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George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

#beatles fanfiction #beatles fandom #the beatles #beatles #george harrison #george harrison imagines #dhani harrison #beatles fluff #LMLBeatles

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

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Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Three

Table of Content or Part Forty-Two

Read here on wattpad

Words: 3.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, Verbal abuse, Sexual situations

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swwopyboi @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi @fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror

My head is aching from the pressure put on it after crying for hours on end, balls of tissue shrouding the bed around me.

My mind floods with how I'm going to propose attempting to do one of the two things Nikki despises most, not wanting to ask him about it from the jump, but wanting to fix whatever it is that's lacking in our marriage that has me feeling something for someone who I'm not married to.

I know what's lacking, but I'd rather he hear it from a professional so he can't accuse me of just throwing out bullshit.

Nikki's been home for a few hours now, but he's been avoiding me.

I wonder if he's mad at me for leaving during the tour, or if he hasn't even thought about me and came home, shot up and passed out.

I'm sick with myself, the approach of Nikki's homecoming causing an onslaught of self-chastisement that occurs in the form of random tidbits of Duff and I in my dream, and the possibility that I'm subconsciously getting ready to give up on my marriage, which is the last thing I want to do.

I hear the front door open and shut, along with the sound of Nikki's footsteps growing closer and closer to our bedroom, the rustling of paper bags accompanying him.

I haven't even realized he left the house.

Nerves ball up in my stomach, my hands get sweaty and my breathing starts getting deep.

"Keep your head clear" I hear Andy's voice in my mind and I calm myself down.

The door opens, and the smell of food wafts in the air.

Nikki's carrying fastfood bags, seemingly decently sober.

I sit up, sniffling, and he hands me my drink and a straw before pulling a cheeseburger out of the paper bag, handing it over to me as well as my fries.

"Do you feel any better?" He asks me, calmly, and I furrow my brows a little. "I knew something was up when you weren't waiting by the door. I came in and you were passed out." He explains, his hand pressing to my forehead. "You don't feel like you're running fever."

"I'm not. I just feel like shit." I mumble, taking a sip of my Pepsi.

"I got this while I was out." He adds, opening another paper bag from our pharmacy and I rub my lips together. "The bottle was on the bathroom counter and saw you haven't gotten a refill yet, so..." He shrugs, handing me a pill of my Nardil.

"Thanks." I say, swallowing it down.

He gets his food and knocks my balled up tissues out of the way as he gets into bed next to me.

"What all did you do?" He asks and I look at him, tensing up.

"What?"

"While you've been here? And I've been gone? What all have you done?" He repeats.

"Oh, just went out a few times with the guys. I stayed at home, mostly." I reply.

"I can tell. This place is spotless." He chuckles, eating a few fries.

"Sharise and Skylar stayed with me at night so I wouldn't be by myself." I add and he shakes his head a little.

"We gotta get you outta that, babe." He states and I raise my brows a little in confusion. "Your 'I can't be alone' mentality."

"What about it?"

"It's not really healthy to be that way, don't you think?"

"I think it's normal. Humans weren't made to be by themselves."

"Viv, not being able to be alone is one thing. Not being able to sleep alone is another." He scoffs.

"Vince doesn't ever sleep alone." I point out.

"That's because Vince fucks and then falls asleep with chicks who aren't his wife." Nikki points out.

"Well, I've fallen asleep with dudes who aren't you." I add.

"Robbin, Steven and Vince don't really count." He tells me. "Well, Vince counts a little, but that's because he's a fucking dick."

"Okay, so, who all counts?" I ask him, trying to keep the light tone in my voice.

His answer is blatantly but casually said as if it's common sense, and further causes me to curl into my shell, even more petrified to suggest what I've been planning to suggest to him:

"Anyone you can see yourself fucking." He says.

My body tenses and my appetite is at a loss.

I don't say much of anything else, listening to him go from the topic of the new album, to Tommy's upcoming wedding, and finally, his fuck up.

"Look, Viv," He starts, throwing the wrapper of his finished burger, aside, and I start putting the trash in the empty bags the food came in before setting them on the night stand on my side of the bed before laying back down, facing him. "I know what I did was--"

"--You made a mistake." I cut him short. "And you're still here, so...it's okay."

"No, it's not okay." He argues and I rub my lips together.

"I don't know what else to say about it, Nikki." I reply and he sighs, getting a little frustrated.

"I want you to care, Vivian." He shoots back and I roll on my back, staring up at my reflection on the ceiling, rubbing my forehead to calm the subtle aching beginning to resurface.

"I do care, Nikki, I just don't understand what you want me to do about it. You're the only one who can fix it and you freak out anytime someone mentions you getting help."

"Jesus fuck." He grumbles, kicking his cowboy boot-clad foot into the mattress a little and I sigh out, agitated, as he's about to get up and probably leave.

"Can you just not run off at the slightest argument we have, for once, Nikki?" I beg, my voice cracking as my throat grows thick with tears. "I've had a horrible past couple weeks and I just need you to hold me because you're my husband and that's..." I can't finish, a wave of obnoxious sobs coming out of nowhere.

"Vivian, what is wrong? Huh?" He asks me, genuinely, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me as I lay against his chest.

It's obvious this goes beyond "I don't feel good."

People don't cry uncontrollably when they have a cold.

"I'm just going through something right now." I reply in between uneven breaths.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

I wish I could tell him everything. Every miscarriage, every repressed fear of our future...having mental sex with Duff.

I know the Duff situation shouldn't be a big deal to me, but it is. A very big deal. A very red flag. A very tiny issue that cam and will manifest if not dealt with accordingly.

Dread of the conversation of seeing a marriage counselor with Nikki sneaks into me, adding to my plate of shit I have yet to disclose to him.

"I don't know." I lie to him. "I guess I just really miss you."

"I'm right here, Viv." He chuckles a little.

I want to say, "the old Nikki", but decide against an entirely different argument, before relaxing a little as he runs his fingertips in random patterns at the bottom of my back, and falling asleep.

The thing that pissed Nikki off about my crying spells, which occurred more often the worse his use got, was that he felt emasculated by it.

He couldn't make me feel better because he couldn't get off drugs, and I couldn't even tell him about the weight on my heart from my misfortune with pregnancy and my growing confusion about my feelings for another man.

He knew he was failing me by having an affair, staying on drugs, disregarding our vows, causing me pain, which made him do more drugs to numb the pain of that knowledge, which made him act out even more.

And all I could do was scream at him, cry, flush his stash, vandalize our house, vandalize his cars and bikes, and screw the support's bassist.

But before we resulted to that...

I let out one more muffled moan as he grabs at a fist full of my hair, delivering one more thrust into me before he's finishing on my bare ass and tucking himself back in his pants.

"Nikki, I thought you said we would talk when you got back home." I lowly remind him as I clean myself off, hearing our friends in our living room.

He takes a drink of his Jack on the bathroom counter and shrugs.

"We can talk later, babe." He tells me, for the hundredth time since he's been back home two weeks, now, and I rub my lips together.

"Well, Nikki, we kinda need to talk about as soon as we can." I pull my pants and shirt back on.

"And we will. Just chill out."

"Okay, well, we should've talked about it over a week ago if that were the case. And I've been chilling out but I'm starting to get the idea that you don't care."

"If I didn't care what you had to say, I'd tape your pretty little mouth shut, Viv." He drunkenly spurs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I raise a brow. "Don't look at me like that, babe, I--Okay, look. Your buddies are here." He laughs me off, motioning to door, reminding me Slash, Izzy, Duff, Steven, and even Axl are over here--although I'm sure Axl's only here for the 5'3" platinum blonde playmate that I can hear going back and forth with Steven about how to properly play cards. "Tommy and Vince are coming over, Vince is bringing Sharise and you, her, and Tansy are like the trifecta or something so you can have girl time and catch up. It's gonna be a good time. We'll talk after, alright?" He assures me and I let out a breath.

"Alright." I mumble.

He smirks, giving me a sloppy kiss before I'm heading out to see everybody.

I roll my eyes and head to the kitchen, preparing myself to face Duff, who I haven't seen in three weeks.

We hung out once after I stayed at their place, and that's been it.

I step into the kitchen to see someone in our fridge, grabbing a beer, and when the door shuts I'm face to face with all six feet and four inches of McKagan.

"There you are." He chuckles out, opening the bottle with an opener on his keys and I try to catch my breath and not show signs of panic. "Thought you'd, like, died or something." He adds.

"Oh, no, I just didn't feel good." I explain.

"Yeah, Nikki told me." He replies, taking a sip of his beer. "Do you feel better now?" He asks me and I nod, although it's certain I'm not 'okay' necessarily. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I lie, smiling a little.

It was bullshit, he knew it was bullshit.

"Alright." He doesn't ask again, instead stepping to the kitchen door, purposely shoving at me with his shoulder, nearly knocking me down.

I fire back, shoving at him with mine, and we continue until we're laughing, racing to the living room.

There's an exposed seat beside Tansy and we both eye it before rambunctiously trying to see who gets there first.

We get there simultaneously, sitting down, scrunched into each other as we fight for our footing, more so assing, as we both make an effort to worm the other person off of the couch cushion.

"Move giraffe neck!" I demand in a laugh, struggling to get him out of the way.

"Not a chance, mother mary!" He replies in the same tone, managing to keep his beer from spilling.

He wins, eventually, getting me out of the way.

I'm about to give him a light hearted earful when he's pulling me into his lap.

I make sure to keep my ass on his knees, nowhere near his crotch, and he's not thinking anything of it, obviously, until Axl hears Nikki coming out of our bedroom, and I'm too busy laughing to notice.

Axl's black boot is kicking out and shoving me to the floor before Nikki can see me on Duff, and Duff and I look at the red head, about to go off on him, until we realize what he did.

Nikki's obviously just shot up, wiping the dribble of vomit from his chin with the back of his hand as his eyes play their tricks.

I'm assuming it was a speedball.

I know damn well we aren't having that talk tonight...or ever, possibly.

Never will be a good time.

The doorbell rings, and I'm eager to jump up and see who it is, to avoid going off on Nikki, crossing my fingers that it's hopefully Vince, Sharise, and Tommy.

I open the door, my eyes immediately going to Skylar's round, chubby little face as she wears a baby pink, velvet headband with a giant matching velvet flower attached to it, and a long sleeved, white onesie with baby pink socks on her little feet.

"Hey, guys." I say, stepping aside to let them in.

"'Sup, Viv." Tommy grins out widely, patting my head. His energetic mood is a deep contrast of Vince's.

"Hey." Sharise gives me a side hug and I let Skylar wrap her hand around my finger, looking at me with wide eyes and eye brows that clearly show the expression that she knows me but also doesn't know me.

"Hey, Viv." Vince flatly greets me, giving me a peck on the cheek, irritated, and I can see Sharise is in the same mood.

Great. Another couple that's wanting to kill each other. Nikki and I are in good company.

"Hey, Vince." I reply as he follows Tommy.

Skylar is kicking her feet, smiling and waving her hands, now, and Sharise hands her over to me.

"Hey, pretty girl." I greet her as me and her mom go to the living room with everyone...just in time to see Steven ripping a bong. "Baby!" I call, and all their attention shifts to the kid in my arms and they all groan a little.

Rule of "Baby": no drinking from bottles, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, being gross with groupies, dropping f-bombs, or being a jackass when a child is around...even if the child isn't even one year yet.

It came after Skylar let out a loud and proud "Fuh!" a month prior, and at first we thought it was a random noise she was making while babbling, until she repeated the word over time until it was pretty obvious she was practicing her pronunciation of the word "fuck," which she had heard from every person in that room.

After that, anytime someone called "baby" the cigarettes were put out, the drugs were put up, the groupies were put on behavioral probation, the alcohol was put into solo cups and the bottles were hidden, and everyone's favorite word was forbidden.

Of course they could go to another room and do anything they wanted, just not with a child in sight.

And they could complain all they wanted, but I think they liked the thought of kids being the only people able to make them clean up their act, even temporarily.

Steven puts his bong away, Duff gathers the liquor bottles and heads to the kitchen to pour it into solo cups, Slash puts out his cigarette and Nikki...

"It's fucking stupid. She's not gonna remember anything of it." Nikki snaps out a couple minutes later as Duff attempts to hand him a cup of Jack, but he refuses, motioning to Skylar once Sharise, Tansy, Steven and I are in the floor with her, and I roll my eyes.

"Babe, it's just for a few minutes. She's gonna go to sleep eventually." I tell him calmly.

"Yeah, Nikki, she usually goes to bed about an hour from now." Sharise adds.

"Sharise, it's his house." Vince takes up for Nikki. "He doesn't come over to our house and dictate what we do and don't do."

"They can still do it, just not around our daughter." Sharise tells him.

"Exactly. There's plenty of other rooms in the house and an entire back yard." I add.

"Why bring your baby to a fucking get together like this, anyway?" Nikki asks her rudely. "You guys don't have a nanny or something?"

"Nikki." I scold him, giving him a "shut up" look.

He ignores me.

"I-I don't want a nanny raising my daughter, Nikki." Sharise states, trying to keep her cool.

"Well, then why didn't you just stay home?" He continues to come after her.

"Dude." Izzy mumbles behind us, obviously getting fed up, and I pray he doesn't say anything to Nikki or Vince to fuel the fire.

Izzy wasn't into ego, and Nikki and Vince had plenty of it...well, Vince and Sikki.

"Because I wanted to see her." I reply before Sharise can. "And the baby."

"Of course you did because stick-in-the mud Sober Sixx really knows how to keep the party going: a fucking baby." Nikki scoffs, cutting his eyes at me.

"I'd rather be known as a stick-in-the-mud than known for sticking myself at 45° angles." I snap harshly.

Everyone winces a little, and Nikki grinds his teeth together.

"What the hell is your fucking problem?!" Nikki barks at me.

"Oh, I am so glad you asked, I've only been trying to talk to you about for the past two and a half weeks!" I snap.

"Well it's not my problem I've got more important things to do than listen to you whine about our fucking relationship! You've only been doing for nearly two years now, but then you never really tell me what the fuck is wrong, so I'm kinda fucking numb to it by now!"

"I wouldn't expect you not to be numb to it, Nikki! I would be, too, if my nerves were as shot as every last cc of junk I blew my freaking money on!"

"Maybe we should go outside for a little bit--"

"--Sit down!" Nikki and I both yell at Steven before he can stand up, causing everyone else to awkwardly settle back into their seats, because they were getting ready to follow him out.

"Okay." He calmly mumbles, reaching for his cup of booze before he starts chugging.

In fact, I'm noticing them all taking more and more long sips of their drinks.

They're probably going to have grey hairs from stress after leaving tonight.

"See, look, you're turning my friends into alcoholics with your bullshit!" I accuse Nikki and he let's out a loud "HA!"

"Okay, so they're just your friends, now?!" He let's out.

By this point Skylar starts getting fussy with our screaming and Sharise attempts to calm her down.

I'm about to ask her to politely go take Skylar outside or to a different part of the house, even though by the looks of it, she's getting ready to do so anyway.

"Can you shut your God damn baby up, Sharise?!" Nikki's going after her again.

Now it seems either Izzy, Axl or Duff is about to say something, until I intervene to save them a fist fight with someone who can help their careers...not that they would even want his help anymore.

"Can you shut your God damn mouth up, Nikki?!" I stand up, ready to punch him, again, and he stands, too.

"Alright, guys--" Tommy starts but is quickly shut up with a glare from Nikki.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Viv, this is why I'm on smack! So I can get a fucking escape from being trapped in a house with you!"

"For someone who's so miserable being married to me, you sure as hell were adamant about doing so!"

"Until I realized I married a fucking psychopath!" He throws at me, pointing his finger my way.

"And I married a junkie!" I shoot back. "And all you're ever gonna be is a freaking junkie and all you're ever gonna do is junk and party and convince yourself you don't need help when you clearly do! You don't give a fuck about me or our marriage and thank fucking God we don't have kids because you'd probably sell one of them for more smack when we run out of money after your career goes down in flames when you stop giving a single fuck about music, which will probably happen in the next year since you're already writing shitty songs!" I can't stop what's coming out of my mouth, seeing him being hurt by it, disguising it as angry tears when I know I struck a chord of an entirely new emotion in him.

He was already beginning to get discouraged with his new music he was working up for the band's next album, but what I said just validated his lack of confidence.

"I'm not just gonna do junk." He calms down, which let's me know he's officially at his pique. "I'm gonna file for divorce, pack up all your shit, and have it in the yard by tomorrow night, and I'm finally gonna tell you how much I hate being married to you." He tells me and I nod like he's being serious.

"You're such a fucking--" Duff starts but I interrupt him.

I don't even think Nikki notices.

"No, you're gonna go feel sorry for yourself, lock yourself in the closet, shoot up, wake up, feel like a fucking prick--because you are one--then you're gonna ignore me for a few days even though you know I'm right, then we're gonna go to Tommy and Heather's wedding, and the day after, I'm calling Doc and Bob Timmons, we will be attending therapy for our marriage and you will be dragged to rehab kicking and screaming."

And thus the battle between Sikki Nixx and Rabid Bitch Vivian began with no inkling it would become a full-blown war.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt #gateway drug

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v1rg1nvodkasprite · 5 years

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Greaser → Ben Hardy (Part X)

Summary

Due to Shenanigans, you have been sent back in time to the 1960s. You find yourself in a high school. You also find someone very intriguing but he’s unrestrained.

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, hospitalization, defibrillation, crying.

Notes: this is the last part!! thank u sm for reading and lmk what u thought of the series in comments. love u guys!! x

I pulled open the curtain, looking back at Ben in his bed and the back at the man that was getting settled into his own. They had similar facial features but the older man had grey hair and wrinkles on the side of his mouth and around his eyes. There was no way.

I looked back to Ben. What was going on? What were the odds?

"He's awake. Sir! Sir, how are you feeling?" one of the nurses asked. I stood up instantly, trying to get a better look at the man. As he started to talk, a man walked by, closing the curtains.

"Bella?" I heard Ben grasply. I turned to him, sitting down instantly. "Hey, how are you feeling? Do you want the nurse?" I asked and he shook his head.

"I don't feel so good," he whispered as I sat down. I gently brushed his hair out of his face. "I know, babe. I know," I said and held his hand.

A nurse knocked at the wall beside the curtain. "Come in," I called out, not moving my eyes from Ben.

"How is he feeling?" she asked, putting on some gloves. "Not so good, doc." he said, his voice strained. "She popped on a protective, plastic cover onto the thermometer. "Open your mouth," she instructed, placing the thermometer under his tongue.

A minute later, it beeped and she took it out of his mouth, glancing at the temperature, "Your fever has gone down to 100.6 degrees. We'll still need to monitor you and figure out what is really going on with you. I'll get someone to bring you a jello and water," she said, popping of the protective cover into the trash before walking out.

"It's not just the flu, is it Y/N?" he asked, looking up at me. I shook my head. "Apparently, your body is eating itself away," I said, my voice cracking, "I should've never let you come."

"No, babe. I wanted to. I wasn't happy where I was. I was barely living. This isn't your fault," he said, squeezing my hand. "Ben, I've only known you for what? Two weeks?" I pointed out. "Two and a half," he muttered under his breath. I scoffed.

"We barely knew what was going to happen. We hadn't even known each other for a month. It was foolish of me to let you come with me and know look at where you are!" I exclaimed, loudly. Surely the nurses walking by could hear us.

"But it isn't your fault. Who knows what this possibly could be from?" he said after sighing. "What else would it be from Ben? The man in the room across from you has the same fever as you and the same name. None of this is just coincidental," I said.

There was a prolonged silence before Ben broke it. "So, what's going to happen?" he asked. "I don't know, babe."

The curtains slide open and the nurse from earlier walked in. "Here's your jello and water. Just press this blue button if you need anything," she said. We quietly thanked her before she left.

"Please come here," Ben said rasply, "Please." He moved over in his bed, making as much space as possible so that I could fit. I laid down next to him, resting my right leg over him. His body was still warm and his heartbeat was sped up slightly.

"What if you have to go back?" I asked, without thinking. "Why would I have to, love?" he was slightly confused at my question. "What if this doesn't get better. If it's not temporary. What if it's fatal?" I rambled on.

He hugged me closer to him and kissed my forehead, "If it is then I maybe I'll go back." I didn't say anything after that. I just laid next to him listening to the sound of his heart beating and drawing circles on his chest.

After about half an hour, he had fallen asleep, exhausted from everything that had happened. I carefully got up, trying not to wake him. I walked out of his room and speaker through the curtains from the older Ben's room.

He was sleeping peacefully, just as Ben was in the other room. His hair was a bit shorter and grey. He had gained some weight and his arms had lost some of their muscle.

My eyes lowered to the ground and I backed up from out of the room. If the present Ben was here in this lifetime, could my Ben survive here as well? I wondered if that was why they were both sick. It couldn't possibly be just a coincidence.

Ben now was married, in his old age and probably had kids as well as grandkids. The chance for me with him would be if I had been born when he had, back in the early 1950s. That, or go back and be with him which I honestly didn't know if it was worth it or not. I loved him but I could just throw my life away. It wouldnt work out.

I walked back to Ben's room, curling up beside him. His arm wrapped around me and he nuzzled into my hair, half asleep. He would have to go back.

"I love you," I whispered, not intending to receive any response. Ben hummed, still half asleep.

I awoke by a nurse frantically shaking me. "You need to get up, now!" she said, almost yelling at me. I sat up and looked over. They had Ben's shirt off and he looked deadly pale. They were prepping the defibrillator.

I quickly jumped out from the bed, looking at Ben in shock. Tears welled up in my eyes. Was he dead? "Ma'am, you need to step out," one of the doctors ordered. I heard the buzzing of the electricity from the defibrillator. I backed out of the room, as they shocked Ben, making me jump.

I turned around and doctors and nurses were frantically doing the same in the older Ben's room. I slightly shook my head, sitting on floor backed up against the wall. I had to get Ben back as soon as possible.

After 15 minutes or so, they had managed to stabilize his heartbeat. The same with the man across the room. How did they not realize they had two men who had the same name and condition. A nurse mentioned that I could go in and see him which made me push the thoughts into the back of my mind.

I sat in the chair beside his bed and held his hand, moving my thumb across his knuckles. I just watched him. I would miss him so much.

A little while later, I heard rustling in a the bed and a deep groan. "Y/N," he called out. "I know, babe. I'm here. You're okay," I whispered to him and he groaned again. I squeezed his hand, assuring him that I was here.

A moment or two passed before I called out for him. "Ben, you need to go back," I told him and he nodded his head, "I know."

He moved over to make room for me in the small hospital bed. I carefully climbed in and he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me as close to him as he possibly could.

"Just one more day, please," he begged, his chest softly vibrating as he spoke. "Ben, look at you. You almost died. You did die. Who knows what will happen if you stayed here for another day," I said.

He just nodded, understanding the situation. His grip tightened on me and my fingers grazed her his hard chest. A knot in my throat started to grow and and tighten. I tried to swallow it as tears welled in my eyes. I started to quietly cry into his chest.

"One more hour than, just an hour," he pleases and I nodded, looking up at him. He smiled, lifting his hand to my face. He gently swiped the tears from my cheek with his thumb. "I'm so in love with you," he whispered softly. I smiled sadly, "I'm so in love with you," I whispered back.

I brought my hand up to his face, my fingers dancing from his temple to his cheek then to his lips. He was so beautiful.

We laid there just cuddling and studying each other's features. It went by too fast and the clock chimed. An hour had passed. The familiar knot tightened in my throat as I started to cry. Ben hugged me, reaching over to grab my phone and then handed it to me. I sighed, typing in the password opening up the tab with the link on it.

I slowly handed it back to him. He looked to me, leaning in to kiss me. Our lips moved slowly against each other. It was passionate, yet gentle.

Suddenly, his presence disappeared from me. I fluttered my eyes open. Ben was gone, my phone sitting on the bed beside me.

I got up, slowly. It was like all of it was a dream. He was gone. I walked out of the room and walked to the present Ben's room. Or I guess now, just Ben's room.

I peaked through the curtain and saw that he was awake. His eyes met mine and I backed up, gasping. "Bella?" he called out. My breath hitched in my throat. I pushed open the curtain to meet him.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. He was just as vulgar as he was when he was young. "You're just as I remembered. Did I just leave?" he asked. "You remember?" I asked and he nodded.

The tears that been building up in my eyes started to roll down. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed and he got up from his bed, slowly. He hugged me close to him as I wrapped my arms around him. He was still taller than me.

"It's okay. I'm okay," he told me. I stepped back, nodding. "You need to move on. I always kept you in my heart. Now I have a family of my own. I'm married and have a son and a grandson, who is your age," I nodded, smiling, "I'm happy for you."

"Goodbye," I said, backing up. "Bye, love," he said, waving. I smiled, turning around and walking away. Suddenly, I bumped into a hard chest.

"I'm so sorry," I said, looking up. "You're fine, love," the boy said. He looked so much like Ben. "This is my grandson, James," Ben said from behind me. I smiled, "Hi, James," I greeted him, smiling. "Hey, beautiful."

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