#oh god who knows what kind of horrible shit Viv is liking now that the likes are privated

[antivivziepopparade]

The thing is, is that in the context of the EPISODE Blitz actually did nothing wrong. It was Stolas who made it about sex, it was STOLAS who coerced him, and even when the creators are almost there to realizing Stolas's faults they just go back to saying "AWWWW HIS FEE FEES GOT HURT!" like he's a goddamn baby and not well-

A RAPIST.

Which is just gross all around.

[helluva-dump]

Ahhhhh here’s something I’ve been thinking about sharing but I got so nervous how fans and antis may take this 🥲🥲🥲

Yeah so, I wasn’t too keen on Adam at first since the idea of him being the leader of arch angels and he looks too similar to Blitzo… But after doing a lot of roleplays with a friend of mine (WHO REALLY IS GOOD AT WRITING ADAM. LIKE KEEPING HIM HOW VIV WANTED BUT STILL MAKE HIM KIND OF CREEPY ) So Adam is a character I’m actually fascinated by. Mainly because he sounds so cringe that I wanna shit on him in my stories XD

Though, I also want to write him as an intimidating villain too.

While me and said friend we talked about our headcanons for Heaven and how Adam was originally a sinner… I feel like that was Viv’s vision. I think he looks more like a demon and does vulgar language is because he’s a sinner who faked his redemption to get the easy way out.

But tbh it works perfect! Since I kind of originally planned for Lucy to have a horrible experience with some angelic priest… but I scrapped it since I wasn’t sure how that work, but since Vivziepop made Adam.. it somehow made me wanna go back to that idea using him.

Basically he acts like a dudebro chud with entitlement and thinks he can do whatever because he’s the “first man of God” which gave him a superiority complex. And he acts like a massive creep to Lucy, so a villainous crush trope.

After his two failed relationships with Lilith and Eve, who are promincuous and defiant in his eyes… He was drawn to Lucy due to her kind, Caring, and humble nature. How she’s a guardian Angel who happens to cook, clean, and is very good with children. To him, that is his ideal woman. A submissive tradwife that can never ever question him and is a doormat for him to take advantage of. But unlucky for him, she never had interest in him and always calls his shit out and rejects his advances.

But in a serious note, I actually want to take what Viv was gonna do for Stolas and blitzo (before Romanticizing them), that she got into a coercion relationship as well as SA.

So trigger warning, he once found out about her dirty little secret (like finding her erotica novels she enjoys reading, Lucy is Aegosexual so she only enjoys that in fiction) and decided it’s the perfect blackmailing. He found these books of hers and threatens to tell all the arch angels about her sinful books to get herself banned.

Now in order from her to behave and comply, he basically wanted her to be his girlfriend in return. And as much as she hates him and doesn’t want to… she never wanted to get banned.. Sure, she agreed and is stuck in a very co dependent relationship with him.

I’m not gonna make him super one dimensional, part of me wants to have him actually act like a narcissist. One who always sweetens her up anytime he makes her feel bad. Or makes everyone believe he’s a caring boyfriend to her. But behind closed doors, he’s terrible.

I’ve been a bit nervous to post this… I know things like this are heavy subjects but from personal experiences, I’m gonna try my best to portray a topic with care. This isn’t gonna be the actual oc x canon ship for Lucy, I actually plan to ship her work another canon character that she actually genuinely loves and feels safe with.

Also, I chose to write this because this is sadly a common thing with Christianity, the toxicity of purity culture and how it affects women and how a lot of disgusting so called preachers say sexist shit. (I watched God is Grey talking about one of them which inspired me ) but I also wanna show the good side of Christianity with someone like Lucy.

I don’t wanna treat this black and white, I genuinely wanna world build the Heaven side of the heaven since I love angelogy and I wish we got that in the show.

Oh and that Angel in the background on the first sketch, that’s a friend’s oc. He’s massively protective over Lucy like a little sister and doesn’t trust Adam.

[niksixx]

Plus One

Part 2 babes!! Yes, I changed the title to my Nikki fic. I think it makes more sense, and I hope you enjoy this next part! 

*Pia’s POV*

All the words I had previously rehearsed in my head had vanish the second Nikki’s eyes lock on mine. In just plain gray sweatpants and a simple black long sleeve shirt, he’s still the finest man on the planet, and my cheeks involuntary redden.

“Well if it isn’t my dear friend Miss Pia Worthington,” Nikki smirks, leaning an arm against the door frame. “I was expecting the pizza delivery guy, but this is a much more beautiful surprise.” Just like his words, the look on his face is sincere, and the smile on his face is so natural and easygoing.

And just like that, my heart flutters.

“Pizza? Nikki, it’s ten in the morning.”

“There’s never a bad time for a cheese pizza with extra sausage,” he winks, plucking the invitations from my hand. “Oooo, you got the reunion invite too? You’re not actually going to this shit, are you?”

“I am, and so is everyone else. Tommy and Charlotte found a sitter for the boys, and Viv, who is eight months pregnant by the way, she’s even going.” Much to her husband’s dismay.

Snickering, Nikki rolls his eyes and moves to the side, allowing me to brush past him before closing the door behind me. I take my usual seat on the couch, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders as Nikki stands by the island in his kitchen, eying each individual invitation.

“What do we have here? A work party?” Nikki asks.

I shrug. “It’s more like a get together at Janielle’s. Barbecue food and desserts, nothing too fancy.”

“Booze?” Nikki asks, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. I roll my eyes as his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth. Nikki’s head is always in the gutter.

“I’m sure of it,” I chuckle my answer. “Janielle always throws a good party.”

“She married Dom Thatcher, right? From chemistry class sophomore year?”

I nod. “Yep. They married right out of high school.”

“Speaking of marriage,” Nikki replies, holding up the last invitation. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t even know your cousin Josh was dating, let alone getting married.”

I point a finger. “You know Josh. He’s the most private, most laid back person you’ll ever meet beside Mick. I know for a fact this big ass wedding wasn’t his idea. If I had to guess, his fiancee Jackie and my Aunt Rita are behind all the wedding planning.”

Nikki smiles, fingers tapping the linoleum counter. “Ah, Aunt Rita. I always loved her.” He glances down at the invitations, lips pursed. “They all have lines for a plus one. What are you going to do?”

I swallow nervously, tightening the blanket around my body. “That’s actually-..”

“Wait, hold that thought,” Nikki says, reaching for his wallet as the doorbell rings. I let out a deep breath as Nikki pays for his pizza, contemplating if I should even ask him the question I came here to ask.

Setting the pizza on the counter, Nikki grabs two plates, dishing out a slice for me. I shimmy the blanket off my body, hopping up on the barstool as Nikki stands across from me, already devouring his slice.

“Sorry P, what were you saying?” He asks around a mouthful of cheese. “God, this is better than sex.”

I cock a brow.

Nikki grins sheepishly. “Fine. Second best.”

“Anyway, you took notice of the plus one lines,” I start hesitantly, nibbling on my pizza. I’ve never been this nervous in my life.

“Oh yeah, what are you going to do about that?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping you could help me out with that problem,” I smile softly, watching for his reaction. “Would you pose as my boyfriend?”

My eyes widen as a piece of sausage lodges itself in Nikki���s throat. Running around the island, I slap him once, twice, on the back, before the spicy meat comes flying out, landing on the counter.

“Ew.” We say, and then burst out in a fit of giggles.

After our laughter calms down, Nikki looks at me seriously. “You want me to pose as your boyfriend?” He asks, voice a tad deeper than I was used to.

Fidgeting with my crust, I bite my lip. “Look, you can say no. It was a stupid question to ask, anyway. I just...I’m twenty-seven and I’m constantly around people who are three steps ahead in their lives than I am. Just for once, I want to feel like I’m not behind in life. I want to go to my reunion and show everyone that I’m a successful, taken woman. I want to go to Janielle’s and be able to sit on my boyfriend’s lap like all the other women will. And I finally want Aunt Rita to stop asking when I’ll get married.”

Nikki chuckles at that, knowing just how persistent Aunt Rita can be.

“I just want people to know that I’m not a loser.”

To my utter surprise, Nikki walks around the counter and places his hands on my cheeks, lips gently touching my forehead. I know he means it in a friendly way, but my heart squeezes in my chest and my brain analyzes how long his lips linger after the kiss.

“You’re not a loser Pia Jane, and you never were. You know what you are, though? An overthinker. An analyzer. Your image is important to you, but you care too much about how others perceive you that you have a hard time enjoying yourself as you are. You’re incredible, and no man is going to change that.”

I don’t remember the last time Nikki and I had a deep conversation, but I can’t imagine it was anytime recently as I can feel a few tears welling up in my eyes.

“Now, with that being said,” Nikki smirks, hands gripping my shoulders. “I would be honored to be your fake boyfriend.”

I know I shouldn’t do it. Overanalyzing things is a horrible habit that I have yet to break.

But I can’t help but notice Nikki’s emphasis on fake.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Six

Words: 5k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse

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"Are you okay?" I ask Duff as we stand in the elevator of the Playboy office in Chicago where many of their photoshoots are held.

I’m actually thanking God we’ve managed to get this far without paparazzi catching on...then again they’re pre-occupied probably surrounding the guys’ hotel. 

Duff slammed back a startling amount of Vodka Tonics on the plane over here, to combat his rancid anxiety, that I had no idea even existed until we were seated on the plane and he nearly passed out after turning sheet white and breathing abnormally fast. 

"Yeah." He says in almost a slur. "I'm great." 

The plan is to get him a hotel room in the city for tonight and give him money for his flight back tomorrow, so all he brought is his bass, and the way his knuckles are turning white from holding on to the case it’s in, I can tell something’s up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“If you’re upset over the flight over here--”

“--What if these people are creeps?” He cuts me short, and I realize he’s not still upset over the flight.

“What do you mean?”

“Tansy’s had shitty luck with slimy photographers before, right? She’s told us stories of them, like, hitting on her and making her uncomfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“What if one of these motherfuckers is like that?” He looks at me.

“Well, that’s why I made sure someone accompanied me...someone, i.e. you.” I nudge him.

“Yeah and if something happens and I kick ass, I’m gonna be in trouble, Nikki’s gonna find out we’re here, then he’s gonna--”

“--Do you need more alcohol or something?” I try not to sound too harsh, genuinely worried about his mental state at the moment.

He’s just freaking out about every fucking thing there is to freakout about.

“I just don’t want you to be in trouble, is all.” He mumbles, sighing, and I lick my lips.

“I’m not going to be in trouble, okay? It will be fine. Just take a deep breath, and relax.”

The elevator doors open to reveal a set, an array of soft lighting, a faux house setting, a hair and makeup station, and wardrobe (what bits and pieces of it I’ll actually have on).

I spot Danielle, in all her gorgeous yet professional glory, and she ushers us over to where she’s sitting, talking to the makeup artist.

“Hi, it’s good to see you again.” She tells me, just seeing me yesterday.

“You too.” I reply smiling. I see her eyes catch on Duff. “This is my friend, Duff.” I explain to her. “He’s here for moral support.” I add.

“Ah, Danielle Wythers.” She tells him.

“Duff McKagan.” He replies.

“Nikki couldn’t make it?” She asks me next.

“The thing is...he kind of doesn’t know about it.” I explain to her and she raises her brows. “It’s a surprise.” I lie, not telling her the real reason I didn’t tell him is actually because he wouldn’t necessarily like it.

“Well, he’ll love it.” She assures me.

“Oh, he sure will.” I reply with the same smile.

“Okay, not that you don’t look gorgeous as is, but we’re gonna spruce you up some. Starting out, we’re gonna have you in a little clothing, and then strip down as we go along.” She lays out the plan and I nod. “This is Lucille, she’s doing your hair and makeup, Maarin is your photographer, and when we finish the shoot, I will be interviewing you.” She adds.

“Got it.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She waves before walking to the photographer.

It wasn’t as bad as thought it would have been. There really wasn’t much to it: just look like you’ve got perpetual “fuck me” eyes, follow the suggestions thrown at you by the photographer, and don’t clam up when you hear:

“Alright, let’s lose the clothes.” Maarin says.

My eyes nervously dart to Duff, who I can tell is trying to keep himself at ease like I am.

I look at Danielle next, who’s off to the sidelines, and she gives me an encouraging nod.

I try not to shake as I take the skimpy top they gave me, off, seeing Duff avert his gaze as they have me lay down on my stomach for a few shots of my body against a faux fur rug.

After I’ve gotten everything they want me to get in that position, Maarin is glancing around before I see his eyes lock on Duff’s bass case that’s resting at the tall blondes feet.

“Hey, you.” He says to Duff, catching his attention and Duff looks at him. “What’s in that thing?”

“...A bass?” Duff replies, slightly confused.

“What does Nikki Sixx play?!” Maarin slightly raises his voice to get an answer from anyone who knows.

“Bass?” I tell him.

“Perfect. I want pictures of you with the bass.” He tells me, motioning to Duff to get it out of the case.

“What?” Me and Duff ask at the same time.

If I get pictures with Duff’s bass, Nikki will recognize it, and kill the both of us if it makes it into the final cut.

“Bass. Naked girl. Now.” He repeats, and Duff looks at me.

“It’s fine.” I assure him, lying, but not wanting to waste anymore time because these people have busy schedules.

“Fine.” He mumbles, getting his bass out, carefully handing it to me, trying not to look at my naked body.

Not only was I mortified, nearly, when he told me to put the bass between my legs--covering my netherregion whilst holding onto the neck, being sure to position my arms where the only thing people could see were the round of my  boobs--but when he told me to, and I quote, verbatim, “make love to the bass” (as if my bare pussy and tits weren’t already all over it) me and Duff both looked like we were going to jump out of the window.

Within two more hours, the shoot and the interview is over--our final shot is of me sitting against a black backdrop, not a stitch of clothing on, covering my chest with my arm, with my legs crossed to keep myself as modest as possible for the cover.

“So now what?” Duff asks me as we head to the exit of the building when we get to the lobby.

“Go to the hotel.” I say.

“...The hotel the guys are at?”

“Yeah.”

“But then--”

“--We can just say I didn’t want to fly alone.” I shrug.

He thinks for a moment, then sighs.

“How about, I catch a cab back to the airport and go back home.”

“Duff, why?” I ask, a little disappointed, stopping before we get to the door.

“I don’t want to start shit between you and him and it doesn’t make any sense to say you didn’t want to fly alone so you brought me with you.”

“I don’t want you getting back on another plane so soon if you--”

“--I’ll be fine, Viv.” He assures me and I furrow my brows a little.

“Duff.” I start.

“Vivian, it’s fine.” He tells me. “I’m being serious. Don’t fucking argue with me, it is okay.” He sternly, but friendly, promises.

“Okay.” I finally relent, nodding a little.

“Just call me tonight, alright?”

“Yeah.” I agree.

He gives me his best smile before I’m hugging him.

“Thank you.” I tell him. “And I’m sorry I molested your bass.”

We both laugh, remembering the odd predicament, and I pull away looking up at him.

“It’s an honor.” He sarcastically lets out, and I wrinkle my nose. “I love you, be careful getting to the hotel.”

“I will.” I hand him the wad of cash he’s going to need to get a ticket back to L.A. and he takes it.

“Thanks.” He accepts it. “See you later.”

“See you later.”

We give each other one last look before we leave, except I go left, and he goes right.

My theory about the hotel being wrapped up in media is 1000% correct as I arrive, the driver saving Fred a trip as he gets out to help me through the ten feet to the door.

"It's great, we're great." I tell a reporter that asks me "how are things with Nikki?"

"What business did you have in Los Angeles?" Another one asks as I approach the front doors of the hotel where Fred is waiting. 

"My dad's birthday." I lie, feeling relief the second Fred's large hand pushes lightly against my back, ushering me inside. 

"Your dad's birthday?" He asks, knowing that was bullshit and I roll my eyes, taking my sunglasses off when we get in the elevator. 

"It's like an act of congress to take a shit without someone asking me how it affects my marriage." I state and he laughs. 

"How're you feeling?" He asks me and I furrow my brows. "Your blood pressure."

"Oh, I think it's okay. I have an informative  sheet of paper to dictate what I eat and drink and what other medicine I can and can't take while on my antidepressant. The second I can get onto a different medication, I'm taking it." 

"Well, be glad you're alive. You dying would've really inconvenienced Doc McGhee." He tells me and I chuckle. 

"Yeah, that evil genius knows how to work the public like a vibrator with never ending battery life." I scoff and he looks at me. "What?"

The doors of the elevator open on our floor apparently.

"I've missed you." He admits.

"I'm glad you have. Bet everyone else has been thanking God I haven't been here to cry on their good time." I say as we walk down the hall. 

"Actually, I was gonna talk to you about that." He says and I raise my brows as he glances around to make sure the coast is clear. "Sixx hasn't been doing too good." 

"Oh, no, how horrible. Wasn't like he publicly humiliated his wife--or at least let another woman do so by announcing their entire relationship on national TV for everyone and their mom to see, or anything." I sarcastically let out. 

"Viv, I'm being serious, here." He tells me, reaching in his pocket for my room key, unlocking my door. 

"I know you are. And I'm saying if anyone has the right to be in hell right now, it's me. I don't want to hear about how hard he's taking it. He wouldn't have to take anything if he would've given a damn sooner, rather than waiting for his mistress to air out his bullshit in front of his wife and thousands of other people."

"Who says I give a damn now?" I hear Nikki's voice behind us and I stop in my tracks, seeing Fred with his eyes closed as if preparing for a time bomb to go off. 

I turn to face Nikki, who's inches infront of me, and he looks down at me with a clenched jaw, looking like he just rolled out of bed, only wearing his leather pants from last night. 

"Oh, if it isn't the marital fuck-up." I throw at him. 

"Nice to see you, too, wicked cunt-bitch of the west coast." He hisses. 

"Okay, if you two are gonna go back and forth, please do so where hotel guests who're trying to enjoy their stay, aren't at risk of witnessing it." Fred suggests, motioning into the hotel room.

"I'd rather castrate myself than be trapped in a room with her." Nikki argues. 

"Please do so, maybe it'll keep you from tripping and falling, landing you in other women I'm friends with and becoming engaged to them." I snap back. 

"Bitter much?"

"Go play in traffic."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." 

"Anything's a good time to you if it involves not being a half-way decent husband, at the least."

"Okay, like you're 'wife of the year' Miss 'run when shit gets messy'."

"Need I remind you 'shit got messy' because you had an entire girlfriend, got engaged, and then she proceeded to indulge me and everyone else in the world when it was broadcasted nationwide?"

"No, baby, I remember it like it was three fuckin' days ago judging by how long you just fucking up and ran for without giving me a chance to explain a damn thing." 

"Just making sure you didn't forget since I can only imagine how much smack you've been shooting yourself full of to drown out the self-hate--which is well deserved, by the way."

"Just like it's gonna be well deserved when I bend you over my lap and--"

"--Okay, get in here." Fred tugs me inside to avoid our fight getting physical.

He’s shutting the door before Nikki can say anything else, shutting him outside, as I set my bag down and go pee.

“Vivian, I’m not done talking to you.” Fred says from the room and I roll my eyes.

“I’m peeing, Fred, can we talk about my imploded marriage when I get done?”

“No, because we’re leaving for Chicago early tomorrow morning.” He leans against the bathroom door frame, covering his eyes to keep from seeing me on the toilet.

“Okay, then talk to me.” I tell him, getting done, wiping and flushing the toilet, standing at the sink to wash my hands.

“We know he’s on smack again, Viv.” he informs me.

“I could’ve told you that.” I reply, drying my hands.

“No, no, he’s on smack again but he’s trying to act like he isn’t.”

“Because he knows Doc will strangle him and he doesn’t wanna hear it.” I shrug, stepping past him.

“He was doing good until this Vanity mess got between you two.” He states.

“Nikki was shooting heroin again before the Vanity thing happened. He was on heroin the night of our anniversary.”

His eyes widen when I tell him this.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” He asks me and I raise my brows.

“I didn’t want him to get in trouble.” I admit honestly and he groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Vivian.” He complains.

“What, sorry, I thought he’d get a grip back on it...at least he told me he would.”

“Yes, because the past few days have obviously proven he can be trusted.” He argues. “He can’t even keep his vows, Viv, what the fuck made you think he’d get back on the wagon after falling off?”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t keeping his vows at the time, Fred, sorry.” I brush him off, pulling my hair back from my face with a ponytail holder.

“...Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll talk to Doc, we’ll figure something out before he starts spiraling.”

“I doubt he’s going to start spiraling, Fred. He tends to only let it get out of control when he’s bored.” I quickly remember him shooting up on stage during the last tour, and ODing in London… “We’ll figure something out, alright? Don’t go panicking to Doc and if you do tell Doc, don’t make it obvious to Nikki that you know what’s up and you want him to stop. He feels attacked and lashes out when people do that. Just keep an eye out for dealers and try to keep him company so he doesn’t feel lonely or alone.” I suggest.

“Well, I know when I tell Doc, what his makeshift solution will be.” He says and I raise my brows.

“What’s that?”

Reason number 1,468 that proves Doc was absolutely crazy…

“Oh, absolutely not.” I state the next night as me, Doc and Fred are walking backstage to get to the guys’ dressing rooms.

“Viv, just listen--” Doc starts but I cut him short.

“--We’re already having to lie to everybody and act like we’re still together, what the hell do you mean ‘make up’ with him?!” I snap, turning on him and he exhales.

“I don’t mean forgive him, I mean as long as he feels like everyone is against him, that might drive him further into his black hole--”

“--So, it’s my responsibility to make sure he doesn’t do heroin, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Vivian, I feel like it would be best if you didn’t add to the many reasons he already feels like he’s gotta hurt himself over, just until this tour wraps and we can get him some proper help.” He tells me.

“Oh my God, I am actually about to have another stroke if you keep fucking talking!” I throw my hands up, stomping away from him, but he stays on my heels.

“Vivian, just listen.” He says as I open the dressing room door and barge in to see Vince, Mick, Tommy...and Devil Spawn.

“Doc, why don’t you just drop your pants and I’ll get on my knees and start slurping at your balls because that’s obviously what you want me to do!” I scream at him.

“Vivia--”

“--Nothing is good enough! You want us to play nice for the cameras, we’re doing that, you want us to bullshit the fans, we’re doing that, you want us to postpone a fucking divorce filing, we’re doing that, and now you’re wanting me to pretend he didn’t screw me over publicly just so he won’t feel bad that I can’t fucking stand him right now?!”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asks.

“None of your fucking business!” I sneer at him.

“Get the fuck out, Vivian, Jesus.” Vince starts up.

“Oh, go scissor Bret Michaels and mind your own fucking business, bitch boy.” I shoot at him.

Liquor is drenching my dress when Vince is grabbing Tommy’s drink and throwing it on me, causing me to see red.

“What the fuck, Vince?!” Nikki barks at him, as Vince says:

“Get get your fucking ring back from the bitch Sixx chose over you.”

I’m lashing out, my nails dragging across Vince’s cheek as my flat palm hits his other cheek as hard as it can, causing the harsh stinging noise to echo through the room, as Doc and Fred both yell at us as we’re pried apart.

“Rabid Bitch!” Vince seethes, trying to fight past Doc to get to me, but Fred’s stepped in front of me, keeping me from going to Vince, too.

“Murderer!” 

The room goes silent immediately, their faces falling in shock as Vince just looks disgusted with me.

"Vivian." Doc starts, about to scold me.

"Everyone's got a fucking slap on the wrist, doesn't matter if you fucking overdose or actually kill someone, everybody just gets a fucking slap on the fucking wrist but the second I finally act like something isn't okay, the second I protest just glossing over the fact Nikki Fucking God Damn Sixx did something shitty, I'm a fucking bitter, hateful, rabid, disgusting bitch because apparently 'I should've known better'!" I outburst, taking a few deep breaths, calming down, trying not to cry before I focus on Doc. "I can smile for the cameras. I can force myself to stomach the idea of loving him in the public eye. But I refuse to just turn the other way and act like everything's okay behind closed doors, and you can't fucking make me." I say venomously to Doc before I'm storming out of the dressing room, seeing all the roadies that were around to hear the hell breaking loose behind the closed door of the dressing room.

The next couple days consists of me just staying in my hotel room, avoiding everyone except Fred, that is until…

I keep my head down, my hand gripping at Nikki’s as we all file out of the bus in the parking lot of the hotel as my other hand shields my sunglass-adorned eyes, hearing the shouts of questions from the paparazzi as all of us head to the entrance of the hotel with security trying to keep fans and the media at bay.

Almost as soon as we step foot into the hotel lobby, free from the press and witnesses, Nikki and I are dropping our hands from each other and pulling away as quickly as possible as if we’re magnetically repellent.

“Alright, shower, strip club.” Tommy names off their agenda to Nikki, Vince, and Mick. “Viv, you wanna--”

“--No.” I turn him down before he can even properly invite me, my eyes shifting to Nikki, who averts his gaze from me the second I look at him.

“But, Viv--”

“--Just leave her out of it, Tommy. She doesn’t wanna go.” Nikki tells him flatly, heading to the elevator.

“I can speak for myself, thank you.” I hiss back to him.

“Don’t start shit with me, Vivian. I’m not in the mood.” He snaps.

“What, fight with your girlfriend?” I ask as the elevator doors open.

“Go fuck yourself.” He snarls out, walking into the elevator and I’m right behind him.

“Don’t worry, I have been, being that you won’t ever touch me again.” I argue.

I guess everyone else decides not to ride in an elevator with us in case a fist fight ensues and they get caught in it.

I stare at him, his eyes covered with his sunglasses, his hair matted and sweaty from his show, his skin pale from his body purging the toxic mixture of drugs and alcohol from his system.

“Quit fucking staring at me.” He mumbles, and instead of saying something smart back or just hitting him, I look away, feeling a sadness wash over me as I notice he hasn’t taken his wedding ring off yet since we left the press behind.

“You’re not gonna take it off?” I ask, suddenly, trying to keep my tone neutral.

He doesn’t even have to ask what I’m talking about, he just knows.

I see him glance down at his ring finger before balling his left hand into a slight fist before relaxing it.

“We’re still married.” Is all he says before the doors open and he heads to his room.

I make my own separate room, unlocking the door, being met with the bland smell of a simple hotel room.

I’m used to hotel rooms smelling like Nikki.

Getting my jacket off, I step to the bathroom and get my makeup off and brush my teeth for bed before getting pajamas on. When I get to my bed, I notice something that wasn’t there before I left for the show: one of my tshirts that I left at the last hotel we were at in Texas.

Knowing who grabbed it for me, and why I should not smell it because it’s just going to make me sad, I bring it to my nose and feel my body tense in on itself, my heart heavy as his smell infiltrates my senses, and brings tears to my eyes.

How many times have I nearly talked to him, kissed him, touched him, smiled at him, all out of habit, only to realize why we are where we are in this shit to begin with?

I miss him.

He is with me everyday but I still miss him.

I exhale and climb into bed, clinging to the shirt that smells like him, closing my eyes and pretending I’m with him.

It suddenly occurs to me that the last time I kissed him, hugged him, held him, laughed with him, saw him in the shining light that I did--I didn't realize it was the last time.

Now I’ve got myself crying, and I wipe the stray tears, trying not to think about it anymore but I can’t help it.

I thought I put my absolute everything into every laugh, every kiss, every hug, every smile...but I didn’t. If I knew then what I know now, I would have.

I squeeze my eyes closed, before snatching the covers off, and go to my door, opening it, and marching to Nikki’s door.

A part of my hopes he hasn’t gone to the strip club yet, another part of me--the sane part--hopes he has.

I knock on the door and in a couple minutes it’s swinging open to reveal a hellish looking Nikki.

Trying not to cry, but failing, I lick my lips and finally get it off my chest.

“I didn’t get to say ‘goodbye’ to us.” I state, shakily, and he looks as defeated as I do.

“Vivian--”

“--You robbed me of getting to say ‘goodbye’, of being prepared to say ‘goodbye’. I wasn’t ready to not be with you, I wasn’t ready to have every reason to leave you thrown in my face. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you, and you stole that from me.” I tell him. “I didn’t get to say ‘goodbye’.” I repeat, a tear falling past my lashes.

He just looks down, letting me say what I need to and I take a deep breath, sniffle, and press my lips to his, catching him off guard.

It takes him no time to respond, the both of us letting out relieved hums as our tongues meet and he pulls me into the room with him, slamming the door behind me.

His hands are immediately pulling my shirt up, and I’m fumbling to get his belt unbuckled, being interrupted by him tugging my pajama shorts off, his lips grazing over my thigh, up my abdomen, between my breasts, and pressing to my neck before finding my lips again.

I let out a soft sigh, wrapping my arms around him, my bare chest pressed against him, his tongue moving in sync with mine.

He's pulling away in a few seconds, taking deep breaths, staring down at me, confused.

"What?" I ask softly, blinking up at him. 

"What are we doing, Viv?”

I don’t answer, not really knowing what to say to begin with.

“Huh?” He questions. “We never got to talk about it, we never--”

"--Nikki--"

"--You didn't want to talk to me about it, you didn't--"

"--There was nothing to say--"

"--I had plenty to say, Vivian." 

"Nikki, it doesn't matter now."

"It doesn't matter? Are you fucking crazy? 'It doesn't matter'?!" 

"I-It does, but--"

"--But what, Vivian? You just wanna pretend it didn't fucking happen or something?" He snaps.

"No, I don't want to pretend it didn't happen, Nikki, that's why I got so upset with Doc the other night because he wanted me to act like everything was fine, even behind closed doors, and I don't want to do that."

"Then why the fuck are you here?" He asks me. 

Apparently I get the wrong look on my face that blatantly tells him what I'm up to…and he starts laughing.

"You're gonna fuck me and leave me?!” He cackles, taking a step back and I go to speak, but I’m unable to. There’s nothing I can say, and my silence confirms it. "Holy shit you sneaky cunt."

“Nikki, stop--”

“--Were you gonna tell me you had no intention of trying to actually work shit out with me and you were just using me to make yourself feel better for a couple hours, or were you just gonna hand me fucking divorce papers and a pen the second I came in you?” He sneers.

“Nikki, I’m not trying to use you.” My voice cracks as tears come to my eyes.

“Did you come to talk about what happened and try to get somewhere, or just fuck one last time for the hell of it?” He demands and I take a breath, trying to get my head together enough to try to figure out why, myself. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Get the fuck out.” He pushes me away from him.

“If you’ll let me explain--”

“--The fuck is there to explain?! I cheated on you, you left, then you come back, patronize every fucking person that's fucked up, and then try to get your rocks off on my dick one last time like some pathetic slut. You either fucking hate me and you’re leaving, or you don’t and you’re not. I’m not doing the whole ‘friends with benefits’ bullshit with my own fucking wife!”

“A majority of our marriage has been ‘roommates with benefits’ so why the hell does it matter to you now that I just want one last night?!” I outburst suddenly and he rolls his jaw.

“Get the fuck out.” He repeats, shaking his head a little.

“No.” Tears topple over my lashes and I lick my lips, shaking my head.

“Vivian, I’m not fucking telling you again. Get the fuck out or I’m making you leave.”

“Nikki, plea--”

He’s suddenly grabbing at my arms, pulling my naked body from the floor.

“--Nikki, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“--You were gonna hump and dump me and you ‘didn’t mean’ it?!” He pulls me to the door while I struggle against him.

“Nikki, it was just for one last time, just so I could remember.” I plead, my hands grasping at his shirt, my eyes--blurry from tears--looking up at his. “Please, just one last time.” I beg, weakly, and he clenches his jaw, the ghosting of tears in his eyes for a second before he says:

“If it’s gonna be the last time…" his voice cracks, before it seems like he's forcing himself to "man up." 

"...I don't want to remember it." He says next.

“Nikki, please--no!” I fight with him when he gets his door open. 

"Bye, Viv." I almost don't recognize the man speaking to me, he sounds so fucking distant, cut off, as if the Nikki Sixx I met at the Starwood years ago took a step back and someone else had to come forward and get me out.

“Nikki, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just please, don’t do thi--Nikki!” I cry when he shoves me out of the room, completely naked, and slams the door after leaving  my pajamas at my feet.

My theory was and is today that, that moment, that "bye, Viv" was his way of finalizing what he thought was the end of us, because after that night, he acted like he despised and hated me, up until the last few nights of the Crüe's Japan tour when he called me multiple times in the middle of night, crying, fucked up, pleading, finally telling me how much he loved me.