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Chapter Text

Marshall had been your friend for a while now. You had both grown up in the sketchy world of trailer parks and run-down 7/11s, so it was no wonder that the two of you had grown close. The two of you had met when you were in your mid-teens-- he was two years older than you. You loved Marshall...as a friend. Or at least that's what you hoped it was. Because, being friends with Marshall did come with its cons-- most notable being Kim. She had only really brought negativity and pessimism into his life. Kim was like a storm, whenever she was around, there was bound to be trouble. If a girl so much as looked the wrong way at Marshall, she would flip out, hurting both herself, the girl, and Marshall in the process. You didn't know exactly why she was so protective and possessive of Marshall, since all she seemed to do was make is life Hell.

The only good thing Kim had ever done was make Hailey, and that was with the help of Marshall. You and Hailey were close. Since you were Marshall's only real trustworthy female friend, he often asked you to take care of his daughter. Times were tough, so of course you accepted, and besides, you liked doing favors for Marshall. You liked being around him. But as time went on, Hailey began to grow quite attached to you, and you to her. Marshall could tell, so he brought you around more and more often. You hadn't yet thought about having kids, but the more time you spent with Hailey, the more time you wished she were your own. (Not in a weird way....!) Marshall had once told you that one of the reasons why he wanted you specifically to look after her was because he wanted Hailey to have a positive feminine figure in her life. He didn't want her to grow up with Kim's ideals, and to think that she had to follow her mother's footsteps. So, whenever you were around Marshall's daughter, you always tried to set the best example you could. And it seemed to be working, because Hailey was growing up to be a wonderful girl.

You had just gotten home from work, so you were lounging around your trailer house by yourself. You had finished all the work you needed to do for the day, so you were feeling kind of bored. That's when your Motorola phone started buzzing.

incoming call- Marshall

You opened up your phone, eagerly accepting his call.

"Hello?"
"Yo, Y/N...I was wonderin if you could do me a favor?" He asked.

"Does it have to do with Hailey? Because you know I'll say yes."

"Yea, but this time I was wonderin if you would stay with her overnight? I got somewhere to be so I won't be home till 3, and Kim will kill me if she finds out Hailey was alone." His voice was tentative, as he had never asked you to stay overnight before. You had work the next day, but you were closing, so you had no where to be for most of the next day.

"Yeah, that's cool. Your place or mine?"

"You can use mine..." It seemed as though he Marshall wanted to say something, but was holding back.

"What's up?" You asked, testing the waters. You and Marshall were very open, and you told him pretty much anything and everything that was going on in your life. So, you wondered why he was hesitating now. He knew he could trust you.

"Nah, nothin, it's just Hailey's always complainin 'bout bein alone, and I feel terrible leavin her, but I gotta get these bills paid."

"I get it. Really, don't worry Marshall." Sure Marshall could party, do drugs, get drunk... but everything else aside from those things, he did for his daughter. All he wanted to do was get her as far away from the poverty line as possible.

"Thanks girl, I owe you."

"Then dedicate your next album to me," you joked.

"Girl I already got a dozen songs written about you." Something in Marshall's voice made you wonder if he were really joking. You felt your skin get hot when he said that, and you briefly closed your eyes to try and get rid of the feeling you were feeling.

"Well, I gotta go, see you at 6?" He said, smoothly covering up his previous words.

"Yeah see you then." Once you hung up, you exhaled a breath of air. The things he could do to you....(me too girl)

It wasn't a complete secret that you had feelings for Marshall. Well, only Proof knew, but you assumed that he had told some of his friends, judging my the sly comments and remarks some of them made about the two of you. Or maybe they had just caught on, because it wasn't a very rare occurrence that one of them would catch you looking at him a bit too long...
But even if you liked him, you knew that it could not progress, because of Kim. Marshall and Kim were caught in a toxic, abusive relationship, that thrived solely off of the scarce moments that they were actually nice to each other. But those were few and far between. Most of the time, they were cursing at each other while covering poor Hailey's ears. You couldn't count the amount of times that they had been 'done' with each, even with two hands. You just hope that this time will be the last time.

Looking down at your phone, the clock reads 5:43. You better get moving, Marshall's house is only ten minutes away, but you want to pick up some sour patch kids for Hailey, since they're her favorite candy.

Stepping onto the steps of Marshall's trailer, you knocked on the door. The rickety brown stairs creaked when you walked on them, but so far, they had been pretty reliable. You stood outside for a moment, gazing absentmindedly at the off-white plastic siding. You snapped back to reality after the glass door opened, revealing Marshall. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white wife beater. You hadn't worn anything too crazy, but a voice in your head always told you to look cute whenever you were around Marshall.

You hadn't worn anything too crazy, but a voice in your head always told you to look cute whenever you were around Marshall
(your fit!)

Admittedly, you looked cute today. And evidently, so thought Marshall, because you could tell he was eyeing you, looking you up and down.

"Come in," he said with a sly smile, guiding you in. There wasn't much to look at in his house, and you could say that because yours was the same. Hailey's toys were scattered around the house though, giving it the sense of life it needed. Marshall quickly headed over to his boombox, and turned off the CD, but not before you caught some of it. It was insanely good...you had a feeling that he would be going places.

My lamination of narrationHit's a snare and bass in the track fucked up rapper interrogationWhen I declare invasion, there ain't no time to be staring, gazing
I turn the stage into a barren wasteland

"New song?" You asked him.

"Yea, finished it last week." He said, smiling. You could tell that he was very passionate about his music. You had listened to some of his stuff, and he rapped a lot about his life, and all the struggles he'd endured growing up.

You were about to ask him to continue playing it, until Hailey ran into the room. She threw herself in your arms, hugging you very tightly. You hugged her back, grateful that the little girl liked you so much.

"Y/N! I missed you!" She said, looking up at you. She was so cute and innocent-- you felt terrible that she had to grow up in such a place. It hadn't been the best experience for either, as you had witnessed significant drug use and violence at such a young age. You knew that Marshall felt equally as terrible too, because he was always out working, and rap battling at night for some extra cash. You admired his motivation to care for his daughter, and simultaneously felt bad that he had to miss important events in her life. He also never seemed to have any time for himself, and sometimes you could see that the stress was getting to him, so you never denied him of a favor, because you knew that he deserved it. If anyone did, it was most certainly him.

"I missed you too, Hailey!" You replied.

"Dad said you're sleeping over, is that true?" She questioned.

"Sure is! I bought you this, by the way," you said, handing her the packet of candy. She received it excitedly, jumping for joy. Once she was distracted with the candy, you turned back to Marshall.

"You got a battle today?" There was no way that he had 'work' until 3am, so you only assumed. Marshall had brand you to the battles before, so you knew what it was like. The place smelled like 20 skunks had sprayed it, so you never really liked going there. You only liked it when Marshall was performing.

"...Yeah. I woulda asked you to come, but ion know if I'm gonna do well today." He said, looking at Hailey.

"Well you're probably gonna do great, but even if you don't, you won't be the only one."

"Damn, thanks you really know how to make me feel better," he said chuckling.

"Marshall don't stress. And don't stress about Hailey either, she's in good hands."

"Oh I know she is." He winked at you, while pulling on his jacket. It made you feel hot, somewhere in your chest. You had never felt this way before.

"I'll see you two ladies later, aight?" Marshall said, and walked out, giving Hailey a kiss on her cheek.

"Alright- what do you want for dinner?" You asked Hailey, trying to shake off the feeling of Marshall that lingered with you.

"Pizza!" she shouted. It was easy enough.

Time skip- 10pm

When the credits of Aladdin started running, you suddenly started to feel quite tired. Pizza and candy took up all the space on the small coffee table, and Hailey was lying on you, with her head on your shoulder. Trying not to wake her up, you picked up her small body, and walked as quietly as you could to her room. However, once you set her down in her bed, she woke up.

"Are you leaving?" She asked, her eyes turning slightly watery.

"No, no, don't worry."

"can you stay with me? I don't like being alone..." she said, looking in your eyes. You knew exactly how she felt, as your own parents had been busy and never around to give you the love you so desperately craved. You hoped that Hailey would never have to feel this way, but with the way Marshall and Kim were going, it was inevitable. So, you did the least you could do, and climbed into the twin-size bed, while Hailey put her head on your shoulder, once again.

"I wish you could stay...dad's always happier when you're here." She said sleepily. You were about to respond, until you felt her breathing evening out, signaling that she had fallen asleep. That left you alone to your thoughts. You wondered if Marshall felt different whenever you were around, or if his thoughts ever wandered to you when you weren't. You wished and prayed that he did, with Hailey's words giving you a new-found confidence. It wasn't long before you felt yourself nodding off, so you gave into sleep.

Marshall's POV

This is for my family, the kid who had a cameo on my last jam...

It was 2:49am. He was eleven minutes early. It still didn't erase the guilt he felt for leaving his family alone. The rap battle had gone good- great even, but all the while he was rapping, he couldn't help but worry. He worried mostly about Hailey, and even Y/N, because his neighborhood wasn't necessarily the safest. But, he took comfort in the fact that nothing bad had happened in the past.

When Marshall pulled up to his trailer, all the lights were off, indicating that both Hailey and Y/N were asleep. Marshall felt another pang of guilt when he entered his home, because this would mark the third night that week that he came home crossed. It was a Wednesday. He hadn't ingested enough weed or alcohol to be unsafe, but just enough to slightly shift his state of mind than he already was(if that was possible.)

Marshall fumbled with his key, cursing a bit as he jammed it in the lock. Among other things, his front door was on it's last legs.

Marshall headed straight to Hailey's room. He gently opened the door, not wanting to wake her. He peered in, and felt a pang in his heart. Hailey was asleep on Y/N, who was also asleep. The two of them looked so peaceful. Marshall had never seen Hailey so open and comfortable around someone besides himself-- she was even a bit wary around Kim. God knows that woman could lash out.

Truth be told, Marshall wished that Y/N was there more. She was so perfect, in the way she looked, they way she acted with Hailey, and the way she acted in general... She was one of his greatest friends. Unfortunately. Marshall could see himself as more than friends with her, but he didn't want to drag her in the middle of his relationship with Kim. If he could even call it that. He knew that if he ever pursued his love for her, Kim would not hesitate to make her life hell. But, he loved seeing Y/N and Hailey together. The three of them felt more like a family than him and Kim ever did.

Sometimes Marshall scared himself with the thoughts he had when he was crossed, because usually he didn't let himself think these things. It was hard to think about love, because his mother and Kim really destroyed his conception of it so badly... but he knew you were different. Marshall made his way to his room, and layed down on his bed. As much as he liked complaining, he knew that with a divorce on the horizon, he would soon be free to love whoever he wanted to.

2,602 words

Chapter Text

Hello ! This book is mainly random ideas I come up with, but I also want some requests! I will write virtually anything, so send them my way !! You can be as specific or vague as you want, I gotchu 😎😎😎

I am willing to write most scenarios, just send a plot line !

Reply to this chap. with any ideas !

Thank you guys !!

Comment and vote if you want !

Chapter Text

tw: mentions of death + substance abuse.

April, 2007

You were sitting at the dining room table in your and Marshall's apartment, which was adjacent to the entrance. It was already a bit late, 11:45 pm. This was the day when you were going to confront him about his issues. Ever since Proof, Marshall's closest friend had passed away back in November of 2006, Marshall had spiraled. You had supported him the best you could and tried to do everything you could to make him better. But things had gone terribly. Marshall had refused your help and chose instead to wallow in his sadness, which was normal at first... until the months dragged on. And then empty bottles soon started appearing, and after that, you would constantly happen upon one of Marshall's 'secret' stashes of pills. You recognized it to be mostly Valium, which you knew he had struggled with before. Of course, it was no surprise to you that Marshall had experimented with certain drugs while he was with his friends, rapping, whatever. But it had never gone this far. It was so extreme right now, you were scared for the two of you. You didn't know if the two of you would survive this.

At about midnight, you heard keys jingling in the lock. It could only be Marshall, so you mentally prepared yourself for the battle that was to come. You desperately didn't want to cry in front of him, but you knew you would.

"Marshall you need to stop this! You can't keep abusing drugs and crap-- you're going to kill yourself!"

"You're acting like I want to come home wasted every day!" Marshall says, throwing the empty glass bottle of Vodka onto the floor. It didn't crack, but it made a loud thudding sound when it hit the carpet.

"It seems like you do! But are you not afraid of dying? Of death?"

" Ya know what? A lot of people ask me, 'Am I afraid of death'? Hell yeah, I'm afraid of death--I don't want to die yet!'

"So Marshall you need to stop, or you'll die!" How long would it take for him to finally understand that his habits were killing him? Or maybe he did understand, but simply didn't care? You can't figure it out.

"If I could I would, goddammit!" Marshall yells back. You knew he didn't want to keep using, but you just didn't know how to help him. It pained you so deeply to see him like this, but you didn't know if you could stomach any more of this.

"What about Hailey? You're her role model, but you can hardly even stand up by yourself! What is she going to think?" You try to open his eyes, try to get him to see what hes doing. You know Hailey might be the only way to do that.

"Hailey isn't going to see shit, she's with Kim!" Marshall retorts.

"But she's going to come back... Marshall you can't keep on hiding from her!" It wasn't that Marshall was hiding from her, it was that he was hiding for her. He couldn't let her see her daddy in this state... she would hate him forever. Then, he would be just as bad as Debbie. And that would kill him worse than any drugs ever could.

Marshall shakes his head. "Y/N just stop!"

"You're making this so hard-- you won't even go to rehab!" You cry.

"I'm not going to no rehab." Marshall says, looking away. "Look, you can't change the way I think And you can't change the way I am."

"But this isn't you... Marshall you've changed." You say, trying not to cry. You were clueless-- you didn't know what to do, how to handle this situation. You had no clue how to help your boyfriend who had helped you through so much. "I don't know if I can even be with you anymore." It seemed as though Marshall was always under some kind of influence...anything you could possibly think of, Marshall was on it. It was killing you inside, so badly you felt suffocated.

"You what?!" Marshall shouts.

"I said I don't know if I can be with you!" You didn't know if you wanted a full breakup, or just a break... but what you did know was that if things were going to continue the way they were, you need to leave for a bit. Maybe you could stay at your parent's place, or your sisters...

"You're crazy! After all we've been through together, you're just gonna bail?"

"Marshall can you just leave if you're gonna act like this? Drive somewhere!" You were done with his violence, you missed Marshall. The guy that you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"I just drank a fifth of vodka-- dare me to drive?" He says, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. That was normal-- it was either alcohol or weed. You didn't know which one you hated more.

"Marshall I'm just going to say this, you can't use Proof's death as an excuse to be an addict! This is affecting everyone around you, not just you!"

"Keep his name out of your mouth," Marshall says angrily.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just want you to stop!"

"This next blunt's for you, Y/N." You look at him incredulously. You can't tell if we wants to break the habit, or maintain it!

"You're so goddamn selfish!"

"You're no better than that Kim bitch." Marshall says. You stop dead in your tracks. You turn around, asking

"What did you say?" Marshall looks at you, and took a baggie out of his pocket with pills in it. He couldn't stop himself, it was as though he needed it, was just out of instinct.

"You heard me." You look at him. No way he was about to swallow more pills-- in front of you! He knows how much you hated it, so the sheer audacity he had to be doing it in front of you was borderline offensive.

"Go to hell!" You shout, and run outside. You get into your car and just drive. You drive for about an hour, until you find a vacant lot. You break down. You and Marshall had been going amazing before last November...It was terrible how things had shattered so quickly. You had felt so much pain from this relationship that you wondered if it were even worth it to stay. Would Marshall ever get help? He only seemed to resist it, so you didn't understand how he was ever going to get out of this.

You still love Marshall. So much-- whenever the two of you touch you still feel that same rush that you had gotten years ago. The one that had made you fall in love with him. You knew it was hard to gain Marshall's trust, so the fact that you had gotten this close to him was so special. You didn't want to lose it. But it felt as though there was a hole in your heart from this emotional rollercoaster. It was especially frustrating, because you had tried so hard in the dating world, but you never really had had any luck until you met Marshall.

You knew that what you had with Marshall was real, because your body ached when you weren't with him, and you had zero strength. There was no limit on how far you would go, no boundaries, no lengths, to what you would do to help Marshall. But at this point in time it felt as though you were at a standstill. You knew that because of this, your whole relationship was at stake.

You pick up your phone, and call Marshall. Three rings in, and he picks up.

"Marshall I'm sorry but... I don't think I can do this." There it is. You had finally said what was on your mind. You know it will hurt him, but he did it to himself. At this point, you didn't really have any choice.

"You're just like every other one." Marshall says. You feel terrible, as if you are letting him down in some way. And I guess you are-- but had he not done the same to you?

You know that respect is a two way street, and Marshall had not walked it in a very long time, so he had really boughten this decision onto himself. If he wouldn't respect the fact that you were trying to help him, and make him better, than how were you going to stay in the relationship?

"I would've done anything for you to show you how much I adore you. But it's over now, it's too late to save our love. I feel like all you have been doing is pushing me away-"

"I don't know what the hell to do." Marshall says, cutting you off.

"I don't know how to get through to you! I feel like I'm 250,000 miles away from you, and you're not letting me get any closer!" You are crying now, borderline sobbing. This is probably the only time where you are grateful that the two of you are talking on the phone, because you know that if you were talking in person, you would either be kissing him now, or sobbing while running out of the house. And both ways were toxic-- you know that.

"Baby I'm sorry, I-"

"No Marshall, I'm not falling for that again! You always apologize but never make any effort to better yourself, you just fall back into this terrible cycle no matter how hard I try!" You say, ranting to him.

"Then what do you want?! To breakup?" Marshall shouted back.

"You know what? Yes! I'm sick and tired of this right now!"

"Ion even know what to say, Y/N. I can't believe this." What does he mean? He had to have had some inkling on how you felt!

"Whenever you get sober, I'll be right there. But right now... It's too much."

"God Y/N, I feel like I'm walkin' a tight rope without a circus net. I've hit rock bottom, but I want to get better!" He cried.

"Marshall I really want to help you, but you make it so, so hard. How do I know you'll actually try to better yourself now? That you won't just revert back to your old way like every other time?" You a.sk You really want to believe him, but you always have doubt based on many past experiences.

"I'm scared of who I am without the drugs. I don't want to feel any of these damn emotions."

"I get it. I just wish you would let me help you."

"I wish I would let you help me, too." He says. For a moment, there was silence. You wiped your tears with the back of your sleeve. You were wearing Marshall's hoodie. It smelled like him. It only made you cry more.

"You still leaving?" Marshall asks.

"I think I just need a break." You say. You hear Marshall sigh on the other end. You didn't know how he was feeling, and you would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Was he heartbroken? Or did he not care?

"I get it. I'm sorry. I swear I'll try..." Marshall says

"Marshall if you ever... get better, give me a call, okay?" You really mean this. If Marshall ever becomes sober, you would love to restart your relationship. But now, it's just hurting the both of you if you stay. You know that there would be no possible relationship in the future if you stay.

POV switch
(Marshall)

He had finally done it. He had finally made Y/N leave. Marshall knew that you were distressed and very unhappy with his issue, but he never knew it would get to this point. Marshall walked over to the mirror, and placed his hands on the sides of the sink, staring at himself. He was distressed by his issue. He felt as though he were a fish caught in a net, destined to either swim out, or die trying.

"Why do I act like I'm all high and mighty, When inside, I'm dyin'-- I am finally realizin' I need help." Marshall said, cursing himself out in the mirror. For two weeks he'd been having ups and downs, trying to cope with the emotions he had been trying to hard to let go of since Proof's death. But sometimes they would catch up to him in between bottle, in between puffs, while he was rolling a joint... he never knew when it would creep up on him. It was killing him on the inside. He felt terrible for putting Y/N through that, he knew it was wrong. He messed up so bad. He understood that he needed help, but he forgot what he was missing-- he forgot what it was like to be sober.

POV switch
(inside Marshall's head?)

I'm hatin' my reflection, I walk around the house tryna fight mirrors....
I can't stand what I look like, yeah, I look fat, but what do I care?

He hated the man that stared back at him when he looked in the mirror. Bigger than normal, eyes darker than normal, skin paler than normal, more depressed than normal... It had resulted in him breaking two mirrors in his house. He remembered what it looked like, with his fists bleeding, and shards of glass all around him. Strangest part was that he couldn't remember how it felt like.

He knew it scared Y/N whenever he got violent, so he always regretted it so badly. His health had gone down the drain, and he refused to eat anything other than fast food, which resulted in him gaining more weight than he ever had, further plunging him down into the worst state he had ever been in. He knew that, he wasn't blind.

Marshall, what happened at you? Can't stop with these pills
And you've fallen off with your skills
Be a man, stand, a real man woulda had this shit handled...

It pained him when Y/N asked him what was wrong with him. She knew, she knows she didn't have to keep reminding him...right?
Marshall hadn't released music in a while, making people upset with him, but he just couldn't stop. The pills were his way out, his escape, he needed them. Marshall had retreated so far into himself that he had forgotten how to rap, and how to even act normally. He had forgotten what it felt like to be sober a long time ago...

sleepin' pills'll make me feel alright
And if I'm still awake in the middle of the night
I just take a couple more, yeah, you're motherfuckin' right
I ain't slowin' down for no one, I am almost homeward bound
Almost in a coma, yeah, homie, come on, don't look now...

Was the goal to be immune? Was it to forget? Marshall didn't know, and he couldn't tell. He was confused himself on what his goal was. But all he knew was that he needed the pills. Besides, he was almost home. Almost with Proof. But what about Hailey? Wasn't home with her?

You'd be an animal too, if you were trapped in this fame and caged in it like a zoo
And everybody's lookin' at you, what you want me to do?
I'm startin' to live like a recluse and the truth is
Fame's startin' to give me an excuse to be at a all-time low
I sit alone in my home theater, watchin' the same damn DVD
Of the first tour, the last tour, he was still alive...

Marshall could do all he want and try to defend is behavior with the excuse that fame combined with loss made him like this. But to tell the truth he wasn't wrong. The press and the public were putting so much pressure on him to break down, watching him so carefully as if he were simply an attraction. And people could try the hardest they could to pressure him into doing something, anything, but the only thing he wanted to do was remember. And besides, Proof wouldn't want this. If he saw the way Marshall was acting, he would probably kill him. Kill him for treating Y/N the way he did, for ignoring Hailey, for ignoring his career, for repeatedly taunting death. Proof would be so pissed, but there was no Proof anymore. Marshall needed to accept that.

Fuckin' drug dealers hang around me like yes men, And they gon' do whatever I says when I says it, It's in their best interest to protect their investment.

If Marshall were sober, he would have realized that so many people were taking advantage of his vulnerable state. He would have realized that the people selling him meth and Vic's didn't give a crap if he lived or OD'd so long as he bought their product. In fact, there were a lot of things Marshall would have realized if he were sober. But even if he did have a clear head, he wouldn't have listened to all the red flags because he thought that he the farther down the bottle he went, the numb he would get.

And I just lost my fuckin' best friend, so fuck it, I guess then.

Was it easier to live? Or was it easier to rest...

3,003 words

Chapter Text

THANK YOU FOR 100+ READS I LUV YOU ALL !!!! <3333

March, 1999

It was a Friday night, and you and your friend Kylie had scored tickets to the D12/Eminem concert. The both of you were born and raised in Detroit, and you even had connections to the famous Slim Shady, though here he would always be known as Marshall. It wasn't uncommon that he would hang out with you and your friends. You and him had been... friends? It was difficult to define your relationship because it had been somewhat strange from the start. In fact, as it turns out, he was the only person you had ever told about your broken personal life-- not even your friends new about it. It was strange, but you had felt an instant attraction and trust to him since the first time you had met him. In the same way, you had never felt to vulnerable as you did when you were with Marshall. It was almost comforting in a way. However, you couldn't remember for the life of you what happened that made you and Marshall stop talking. You knew it couldn't have been natural, no, your feelings were a bit too strong for that... so what was it?!
About every person you had ever met from your city, knew and loved Marshall, so these tickets were a big deal. You had always admired him, and you had all of his CDs in your room, constantly on repeat. What could you say-- good music is good music?

"Y/N! Should I wear the blue or the white skirt?" Kylie asks, pulling you away from your thoughts of Marshall.
"The white! It's so cute!" You respond. You were really only half paying attention, but you trusted that everything she put on looked good on her. Kylie was a good friend, but she was sometimes quick to become jealous and stubborn. She had always been nice to you, so it wasn't often that you were exposed to her flawed side.

As you put on your makeup, you look at yourself in the vanity.

(idk why but i always gotta put an outfit in every story
(idk why but i always gotta put an outfit in every story... i hope u like them haha)

Your skirt was quite mini, and your shirt revealed a lot of your chest, but you felt hot. You put eyeliner on your water line, and an excess of lip gloss to complete the look.

It was about 7:30, so you would be leaving soon. Kylie's brother and his two other friends, Kay and Mac, were going to be driving you and Kylie. You were acquainted with them, more or less. Mac seemed to have a thing for you, as he always got a little too close, or said something too risky. You didn't really like it, because you weren't sure as to what you were looking for. You didn't know if you wanted a boyfriend, or if you just wanted some fun. Maybe both? Either way, you knew you weren't looking for someone like Mac, because you couldn't quite tell what he wanted with you, and you didn't want to find out. You hoped he would start picking up your hint.

"Girl you look amazing!" Kylie says, hyping you up. You said it back to her, than the two of you make your way outside her house to meet her brother and his friends.

Kylie's brother, Andrew honked his car horn as you got into his black Toyota. You sat in between Mac and Kylie, a little bit uncomfortable, especially since Mac was manspreading.

"What song are you most excited for, Y/N?"

"[your favorite Eminem song]," you reply

"Great choices...," Mac says, putting his hand on your leg. He seemed to always make every excuse to talk to you. And touch you, for that matter.

"No for real same!" Kylie adds, making it less awkward. "Hopefully they're some cute guys there!" Kylie was always looking for an opportunity to pick up guys, and sometimes even go home with them. You never really did this, mostly out of the fear that you never really knew what to expect out of these guys. But that didn't mean that you didn't have fun!

"Well Marshall and the rest of D12 is gonna be there so that's already guaranteed!" You and Kylie laugh together. Yeah, you love that man. You felt so grateful that you connections to him-- maybe you would even get to meet him tonight. You remember when he was selling Infinite from the trunk of his car, you had always wanted to buy one, but had been to shy to go up to him. Which you knew was irrational, because you two were already well acquainted. One of your guy friends had, however, so you were familiar with his debut. The lyrics were amazing, and the all the tracks made you think deeper about who you were. You related to some of his songs, not to any specific events, but simply at the complications of life. Detroit wasn't an easy place to grow up in, but you could probably say that about most places in the world. Either way, Marshall Mathers' music(and personality, and body-) had impacted so much of your life, all in a positive way.

The sleek metal of the car door squeaking against it's rusty hinges alerted you of your arrival. The venue wasn't the nicest in the world, but for where you came from, you couldn't really complain. It wasn't even that bad-- you wouldn't mind the venue being the inside of a porta potty, if that meant you would get to see Eminem.

Mac grabbed your arm and led you through the crowd to the entrance of the venue, where you got you hand stamped after showing your tickets. A bored looking girl sticks a paper bracelet around your wrist.

"Y'know... I don't think I told you how hot you look tonight..."Mac says, looking at you. You didn't need him to tell you, because you already knew. Either way, it was making you uncomfortable.

"Thank you, I--" you start, but then you get cut off by Kay, who says that you all should get to the pit before it starts to fill up. You agree, and run to Kylie's side, determined to get as far away from Mac as possible. You never should have made him think that you were interested.
You and your group elbow orange blondes and bottle blonde men out of the way. It was so funny how many people started copying Marshall's look, like come on-- there's only one real Slim Shady.

"Look at all these Eminem wannabees!" You whisper to Kylie

"I know right...let's hope they're tame..." she trails off, but you know what she means. Because you are all in the pit, you never know what could happen. You try to push further into the front, because you are only about 5 foot 4[or whatever heigh you are] You twist the paper bracelet nervously, and make small talk to Kylie. As more and more people file into the site, the place begins to smell more and more like weed. It wasn't a foreign smell, and especially considering your age, your were familiar with it.

The whole place goes dark. Then, his voice sounds.

"Make some noise, Detroit!"

More people rush out, Marshall, Proof, Kuniva, Bizarre...etc.

The crowd goes crazy for all the men on the stage. "Detroit, what!" Some guy next to you shouts. You couldn't believe that you were actually here!
Marshall looks quite similar to the last time when you saw him. Same bleached blonde hair, same toned athletic figure...not that you were looking at his body(u were). Oh, and he seemed to have gotten more tattoos. You had never especially liked tattoos, but something about Marshall's made you drawn towards them. You noticed that he had his daughter Hailey tattooed on his arm. It was rare to see a guy that actually valued his family, and that was... hot.

There was never a moment of silence, never a pause, as the volume always stayed on a hundred percent, not just from Marshall, but also the crowd. And you had completely excepted it, as The Slim Shady LP had been released not yet a month ago. More like three weeks prior to the concert. You knew every single song front and back.

The show passed by in a blur

As you were regaining your composure after the borderline life-changing concert, you noticed a man start walking in your direction. There was no way he was walking towards you, right? You looked around you, but no one seemed to take much noticed of him, except for you.
"Y/N, How'd you like it?" Marc says, putting his arm around you. Ugh, why was he even touching you?
"I love Eminem so much!" You respond, trying to make him catch on. You wriggle out of his grip, and stand farther away. You couldn't tell if Mac noticed, maybe the secondhand smoke was getting to him...

"Excuse me?" A man-- the man says from behind you. You couldn't exactly tell who he was talking to, but he was looking at you, so you clarify.

"...Me?"

"Yes you-- Mr. Mathers has invited you backstage. I'm Paul Rosenburg, his manager, by the way." He holds out his hand, and you shake it. No way. No fucking way. This felt straight out of a dream, you didn't even know that things like this existed. And if it did, not to people like you! Or maybe that was just your low self esteem speaking...either way, you were elated.

"Of course!" Paul looks relieved. You wonder why. He seemed nice, a bit stressed out, but also calm in a way. As if he were in a state of controlled chaos.

"Oh shit!" Kylie says. Her brother and Kay had already walked away, so it was just the two of you, Mac, and Paul. You couldn't tell if she were happy for you, surprised, or mad at you. If she was a good friend, she would be supportive.

"You're just gonna go?" Mac says, staring at you.

"Uh... yeah? Why wouldn't I!?" You respond incredulously. Is he out of his mind? Who would ever turn down an opportunity like this? He can't possibly be jealous...

"Damn, I should've known you would choose some guy you don't even know over us. Over me." Mac spits in your face. You are so done with him-- has he not been receiving any signals? You guys were not even that close, he just had a thing for you. A thing that you were sorry, but did not reciprocate.

"Oh my god Mac, give it a rest! You're acting like we're dating!" You say, walking closer to Paul. Kylie stares at you, before she turns around and mumbles "bitch," as she walks away. What the hell is her problem? It's not your fault that Marshall requested you backstage, and besides, anyone would do the same as you.

"We can go now..." Paul states, looking uncertainly between you and Mac. You nod, and follow him. You hope that he knows that you and Mac aren't romantically involved, because you don't want to appear as a cheater, or some kind of slut. You would deal with Mac later, but now? You were busy. You decided to occupy yourself on other thoughts, like what exactly had made you stand out? There were thousands of people there, so you felt flattered.

"You from Detroit?" Paul asks, holding a door open for you.

"Yes, I've lived here all my life."

"Oh, that's probably why Marshall said he recognized you, then..." Your heart skips a beat. Marshall recognizes you? Since you had met him, you had admired him from afar, especially now. You wonder if her had ever though about you.

You pulled the on the hem of you mini skirt, and adjusted the straps of your top before Paul led you to a white door with a silver star on it. On the star, it said Marshall Mathers. You didn't know that the star doors real, which further added to your nerves. You had already passed by probably five other rooms, so the anticipation was really building.
"He's right in here," Paul turns to you, about to open the door, his hand waiting expectantly on the doorknob. "Are you alright...?" He asks.

"No yeah, I'm just...I'm good." You decide against dumping your strange collection of emotions onto some random man you just met. Paul nods, then opens the door. Instantly, a cloud of marijuana engulfs you as you step in the room. 20 or more beer and coke cans lay on a white foldable table pushed into the corner of the room. Marshall sits on a blue couch with the rest of D12 around him. Five trashy girls--groupies--surround them. Marshall doesn't seem to be completely interested in them, at least not as much as the rest of D12. He looks up at you, before Paul introduces you.

Marshall is wearing bright red track pants with white lines (haha) on them. He has a baseball hat on, and a wife beater. He was just built so well. Clearly, he hadn't really changed too much. He was so attractive though, and that thought set your whole body ablaze.

"Marshall here's your girl." Paul states. Wow, that was quite the introduction.

"Yo Y/N!" Marshall says, standing up to greet you. You were quite confused to how he even remembered your name.

"You really remember me?" You ask.

"How could I forget chu girl? I might have brain damage but I ain't brain dead," he laughs. He takes you back to his spot to the couch. "Close the door on ya way out, Paul." Marshall says. People around you laugh and so do you-- you had forgotten how blunt he was.

"Never expected you to be at one of my shows--" Marshall starts, but then he gets cut off by Proof.

"You gon' introduce us to your girl, dawg?" He says, looking at you expectantly. The groupie girls look at you, giving you looks. They do not seem to like you. And you couldn't really blame them...

"Damn ya couldn't even gimme a minute! This is Y/N, Y/N those are irrelevant assholes." Marshall says, putting an arm around you. His touches were bringing you back to when you were younger...

"C'mon Slim." Bizzare says, rolling his eyes but chuckling.

"Y/N, how do you know Marsh, cause he was talking a lot aboutchu backsta--"

"Yo, shut the hell up." Marshall says, trying running a hand down his face, trying not to laugh as his friends make fun of him. Oh, so this ran deeper than you thought...

"I mean, we've always had similar friends, so we've.... hung out a bit." You say. You didn't want to give up too much information. And besides, you didn't really recall exactly how you got to know him.

"Yeah, and we was smoke buddies for a bit." Marshall says, smirking...oh god how could you forget about that?! The memories start flooding back to-- it was a wonder that you could even remember everything because of how high you had been. Even so, it was probably the best Halloween ever.

bonus chapter starts here ! (or u can read it after, but there are some references, idk u do u pookies)

"Those were some good times!" You say, reminiscing. Your cheeks were slightly flushed as you regained your memory of that night. That was when you two grew close. But that was also when you cut him off--

"You shoulda called me." Marshall says. You wonder if he were hurt or offended at the fact that you really hadn't interacted much with him afterwards.

"I wanted to, but I got in trouble with Ally and Carlie!"

"That bitch? Why?" Marshall looked very confused, and even mad.

"She had a huge thing for you-- you seriously didn't know that, Marshall?" You were shocked that he didn't realized, it was practically her whole personality.

"You'd be surprised what coke can do to your memory. Anyway, I'm done with blondes. They're all hoes." He says, twirling a piece of your long hair. This was the one time where you were thankful that you were a brunette. The groupies--all of whom are blonde-- look at you and mutter something probably about you, under their breaths.

"Shut up or leave." Marshall says to them. He didn't realize how intense his feeling were to you. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Marshall was beginning to realize that that was the truth, as he didn't realize how much he had missed you. He regretted no staying in contact with you after that night. He could still remember exactly how he felt with you.

"Damn dawg, you down bad!" Kuniva says, alluding to Marshall's possessiveness of you.

"Yo, stop ruinin' the moment." Marshall says.

"How have you been?" You ask him. You really wondered, because yes, you had read most articles and seen most news segments about him, but you never really knew what was on the inside. And even without the fame, Marshall was still somewhat like an onion-- in the sense that he had so many layers, and a complicated past. No matter how much he would tell you about himself, there was always something else.

"I've been pretty good,"

"Kim still being a bitch?"

"'Course. But I think Hailey's been calming her down, y'know?" You knew all about Kim, and you had even offered Marshall some advice on how to handle their relationship a couple of times.

"What about you? You got someone?" Proof asks. You expect Marshall to make some smart comment to him, but when he doesn't say anything, you realize that he probably wants to know, too.

"No, I wouldn't be here if I did." You say. Marshall lets go of your hair, and takes a swig of his diet coke. He was so hot.

"Who was that guy you were with?" He says, after putting the can down.

"The guy? Oh, that was Mac-- you know him, right?"

"Yeah, think so."

"We're not together, but he has a thing for me, and it's kind of annoying." You confess.

"I'll break his fucking face." Marshall says. You laugh in response, and so do the other boys. All of a sudden, you start to feel shy, just because of all the people in the room. You wish it were just you and Marshall.

"Let's go somewhere private." Marshall whispers in your ear, and pulls you up.

"Good luck, Y/N!" Someone shouts as you leave the room.

As you walk with Marshall, your phone buzzes. You open it, and see you have a missed call and text from kylie. The text reads:

Kylie: So your just gonna leave us like that?? you really are a bitch you know that.

You didn't get why she was so mad. Every time you went to the club or the bar with her(or really anywhere,) she would pick up guys and sometimes even leave with them. So how was this any different? Why could she have her fun, but the one time you had yours, she acted like you opened the gates of hell. It was so annoying that she was acting like this. I mean sure, you hadn't really told her about you and Marshall's history, but even so, it didn't quite matter. You knew she would have done the same if she were in your shoes.

She even spelled you're the wrong way.

"You good?" Marshall says, pulling you out of your head. You were both now in the parking lot, with Marshall's car being pretty much the only one, save two or three others. It was isolated, so you wouldn't have to worry about any distractions or obstacles, unlike last time. This would be a do over.

"Yeah, my friend's just mad I'm here with you,"

"If you have to go--" Marshall starts, pulling open his car door. You had flashbacks to the last time you were together. Great things always happened in his car.

"No, fuck her. I want to stay."

"Stay, but only if you promise not cut me off this time." Marshall jokes. You want to respond to him, but no words come out. He's just too... irresistible. You kiss him. Usually you weren't this bold. Usually you wouldn't make the first move, but at this point you had been waiting to kiss this man for 864 days.(not that you were really counting...)

Marshall didn't even hesitate. He kissed back immediately, as he had been planning to kiss you anyway. He was a great kisser. Marshall put his hand on your thigh and the difference between his touch vs Mac's was clear. Marshall's other hand trailed down from your cheek to your neck to your collar... and lower.

You felt as though you had been missing out on him, and his presence. It was strange, and almost scary what one man could do to you, how his words made you feel hot, and his touch made you feel cold. Even your body didn't know how to react. You cursed your younger self, who had been sitting three years ago in Marshall's car, right where you were now. You cursed her for not kissing him, for ghosting him, for letting yourself distance from her. Marshall cursed himself too. But now, all that didn't matter. All that mattered was Marshall, and where he was putting his hands.

"I've missed you,"

"I've missed you more, Marshall. I'm so sorry--"

"Don't ever apologize ever again. That shit doesn't matter anymore." You felt so grateful for him, because you knew that it must have hurt him. You were so stupid and only thought about yourself, and how it would be bad for you. He had shared so much of himself with you-- hopefully you were making up for it.

"shit, Y/N," Marshall says quietly. "After all these years I really forgot about what you do to me."

you were in love.

3,719 words

Chapter Text

i will luv u forever if u vote <3

(...)

"Yeah, we was smoke buddies for a bit." Marshall says, smirking...oh god how could you forget about that?! The memories start flooding back to-- it was a wonder that you could even remember everything because of how high you had been.

October 31, 1996

It was Halloween night, and you and some friends had decided to go out to one of the many abandoned lots in your area. We were supposed to meet another group of people there, so it was bound to be a fun night. You needed this, because you had been so stressed out with your life, things just weren't going the way you wanted them to go at that moment.
It was a Thursday night, but that still didn't stop you all.

You had already cried your eyes out that day, and tried your best to hide it from your friends. You knew they didn't really care anyway, you could be bleeding out in front of them, and they would probably do anything but help you. That's just the way life goes, sometimes.

When you arrived at the lot, people were already wandering the premises. You followed your friends to where a group of guys were standing. You really needed to get high.

"Yo," One of the guys said as you and your group walked over.

"Hey Jackson!" Your 'friend' Ally said. She had a reputation of being passed around, and constantly flirted with any guy she met. You knew she had a thing for Marshall, but he never seemed to reciprocate it. Or maybe that's just what you wanted to believe.

"Anyone got some pot?" You asked. Some guys around you laugh, but none of them gave you any.

"Yeah, c'mere." Marshall spoke up. At first, you thought he was going to make fun of you, but you realized that he was being dead serious. You follow him to his car, though it was a bit awkward because neither of you had spoken. It wasn't like you didn't know Marshall, it was just that you were tense. It hadn't been a great day. Or week, or month.

"What's goin' on?" He asked you. What did he mean?

"What do you mean?" You ask, accepting the joint.

"You don't look great. I mean, you're hella fine, but you look like you've been crying or some shit." He says. Hella fine. His words make you feel instantly better, even if he told you you looked bad. And with you being an insecure teenage girl, that comment felt like the most amazing thing in the world.

"Ohh. Just family stuff, nothing too important." That was a lie. It was important. To you, at least.

"Have you met my mom? I understand, so what's wrong girl?" It was true, you had heard Marshall talk about his mother before, and none of it was ever really good.

"It's just my dad...he's an alcoholic, and he's only been getting worse, y'know? He hit my mom last week for the hundredth time, so she called the cops on him." You finally say.

"Oh...is he in jail or what."

"Yeah, he's going on trial, but the police said he's as good as dead in my life. He's not getting out any time soon."

"Shit. Are you happy about that?"

"I don't know, I mean he's great when he's sober, but when he's drunk he's so violent. I wish he would just get help."

"You're describing Debbie. Sometimes I wish she were locked up," Marshall added, "It's fucked up that we both relate to each other."

"Yeah... I mean at least you get it." You said. You and Marshall share the joint, and the two of you sit in his car. After the initial depressing conversation, the topic goes into a more entertaining direction. You two talk about people, your 'friends,' his daughter, really whatever pops into your heads. It felt so good to talk to him.

"Kim is so tough to do deal with I mean.... she really can't make anything easy."

"Yeah, I bet it sucks that you have to see her so often."

"It does, but mostly it's around Hailey, so Kim doesn't really go all psycho bitch when she's around." You and him talked about Kim a little bit more. It definitely an interesting dynamic the two of them had, but you could tell that he really didn't want a relationship with her anymore. He seemed to be really over her.

You and Marshall go silent, but not in an awkward way. More in a comforting, normal way. You look at him, and he looked at you. He leaned forward, and put a hand on the side of your cheek and tilted your face up. You were probably an inch away from each other's faces, until a banging pulls you out of your high, euphoric state. Someone pulls open the door, and you are face to face with Ally's best friend, Carlie.

"We're leavingggg. Come on." She looks drunk, but aware. You turned back to Marshall.

"Oh...I'm sorry I have to go." You said apologetically.

"Catch you later girl." Marshall said, smirking. Carlie pulled you out of he car, seemingly eager to ask you something. You knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Call me!" Marshall called after you. You smiled and felt your cheeks get red.

"What the fuck is that about?" Carlie asked you.

"W-what do you mean?" You tentatively asked her. It was exactly as it had looked like! You and Marshall were getting high in his house, before you almost kissed. Carlie knew.

"Marshall is literally Ally's man-- you know this!" She said forcefully. Carlie seemed almost scared for you in a way. "Look Y/N, if you don't want Ally to kill you, I wouldn't talk to Marshall."

"But...I though Ally was talking to someone? Surely shes--"

"Give me your phone" Carlie demands. Before you could respond, she opened you flip phone, and presses a couple buttons.

"What did you do?" You asked her. What could she have possibly done?

"You know Ally, and she definitely not over Marshall. I'm doing this for you girl." You knew that. Everything that Aly did seemed to be in an effort to win Marshall's attention. She was a pretty, tall blonde girl, so you wondered why Marshall hadn't fucked her yet-- at least that would have shut her up. Either way, she seemed to be his type, right?

"What did you do on my phone."

"I deleted and blocked his number." You just stared at Carlie. What the hell was wrong with her? Why did no one seem to let you have anything? You just wanted to be in love, like every other one of your friends. It felt like the world was against you, and you didn't know why.
A million ways you could kill both Carlie and Ally filled your head. What did it matter-- you were too much of a pushover anyway. There was no way you could ever stand up to Ally, everyone loved her. So maybe Carlie really was doing you a favor. Maybe you should just be grateful that she hadn't told Ally.

1,223 words

Chapter Text

co-written with @2000sShady , my twinnn

this is part 2/3 of concert reunion, depending on if you count the bonus as a chapter or not. happy reading !

***

"Shit, Y/N," Marshall says quietly. "After all these years I really forgot about what you do to me."

you were in love.

***

Sure as hell you were. You knew for a fact that you had never felt this way about someone before.

"C'mon," Marshall says, opening his car door. You were about to ask him what exactly he was doing until he got into the back seat of the car. You quickly followed him.

"Y'know girl, I'm so glad you're here." He says. You can tell that he's being genuine, because of the way he looks at you.

"Yeah?" You reply.

"Yeah," Marshall confirms. You and Marshall's eyes keep switching from each other's lips to eyes. His eyes turn darker, or maybe it's just his pupils expanding-- either way, a different look crosses his expression. One that you hadn't seen in quite some time. But because of this, the sexual tension almost hurts. However, just before you think you're going to explode, he pulls in to kiss you, and you kiss him back. You had always wanted to know how his lips felt, and now you were finally feeling them. And damn, was it worth it-- he was so much better than you could have ever imagined. Your eyes flutter closed, and your heart is basically beating out of your chest. You feel your face heat up, and you can practically feel the redness spreading across your cheeks. Marshall pulls back and looks at you. His face is also pink, and he's slightly smiling.

"Are you blushing?" You ask softly and teasingly

"Maybe, but not as much as you," He says with a smirk, as you pull in to kiss him again and you close your eyes, once again. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck while his hands grab onto your waist. He pulls you closer and he starts slightly opening his mouth and so do you. Marshall's touch felt like a fever dream, especially since you actually had dreamt about him before. So far, this was a thousand times better than any dream.

You pull back from the kiss and you slide your hands under his wife beater that so dearly accentuated each and every one of his muscles. You move them around softly on his chest and sides. You lift his tank-top up above his head and take it off and he does the same to yours. He leans closer to you, then pushes you down into the cushiony car seat. Marshall's hot touch against your cold skin created an amazing sensation that you wished you could feel forever. You knew in that moment that you could never let Marshall go again. You wanted to grow together, to watch your love unfurl so desperately. You wanted to be his girl.

You put your hand over his dick and then you unbutton his jeans as he takes off your jean skirt, undoing the buckle on it. Or at least, he tries.

"Damn, your belt's like a fuckin' puzzle," He exclaims, as he tries to remove it. You laugh at his struggle. He was such a man.

"Here, I'll make it easy for you," You say, sliding it off of you. You take off his red track pants and boxers, and you realize that he looks just as good whether he has clothes, or not. Marshall reaches behind you, and unclips your black lacy bra, taking it off of you. You thanked all the gods in the world that you wore your good bra, which had really been a last minute decision. It had always brought you good luck, so this situation only proved it more right!

You grab onto Marshall's dick and move your hand back and forth slowly as he gently opens your legs.

"You sure?" He asks softly. He was always considerate, which was more than most men could say they were. You valued him for that.

"Mm-hmm." You start teasing him by not putting it in. You were more ready than you had been for anything in your life.

"Bitch, stop teasing," He says jokingly. "I know you want me, baby." There was the cockiness-- it drove you crazy. In a good way, of course. Marshall knew he as all that, and you would probably act the same in his shoes.

You put him in you, and he starts going back and forth slowly, before beginning to pick up the pace. I mean, really pick up the pace. You start breathing heavily and you wrap your arms around him. He starts going faster and faster, and he starts breathing heavily and humming. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he started rapping.

You start moving up and down and he starts kissing you again and you kiss him back, eagerly. He starts kissing your neck and lightly biting down, which you knew would leave marks. You couldn't wait to wake up the next morning, and see how he had tattooed you. You start slightly moaning as his hot breaths fans across your neck, which sends a chill down your spine. And somehow, he picks up the speed even more. He really seemed to know how to do everything! You feel yourself getting close and you hold onto him tighter, your painted nails pressing into his perfect skin.

"Fuck, Marshall!" You cum on his dick and he goes faster

"I'm 'boutta cum." He says in a low voice that hits you in the right spot. You feel him tense up and close his eyes, as one of his hands steadies himself by grabbing your waist.

You can feel him cum inside of you, and you try to catch your breath as he pulls himself back up, still breathing heavily. He pulls out and he sits down on one of the seats and he starts grabbing the clothes from the floor of the car and separating his from yours, giving yours to you. You sit back up and you both start getting dressed. After you get your clothes back on, Marshall pulls you into his lap.

"You know how long I been wantin' to do that?"

"I think I do," You say, still calming down.

"How 'bout we take this back to my place?" Marshall says while he kisses from your shoulder to your lips.

"Sounds perfect!" You reply to him. Truth be told, you were feeling kind of tired now, because he had gone so hard on you. You liked it, but you could say you were... out of practice.

Marshall calls Paul, and lets him know that he would be leaving with me, and to not bother him for the rest of he night, and greater part of he next day.

You couldn't wait to spend the night with him. And hopefully the rest of your life.

1,250 words

Chapter Text

You sat at the bar, alone. Normally, you were accompanied by Jim, your ex, but after your breakup two months ago, you were more or less alone. It was a shame-- you always knew something was lacking in your relationship, but it wasn't bad by any means. Sipping on your drink, you watched the people around you dance. Girls in short dresses and miniskirts decorated the arms of men who gave proud looks to the people around them. That had once been you-- happy in the arms of your boyfriend.

Even though he was the abusive and toxic one in the relationship, for some reason Jim had broken up with you. And to be honest, you were grateful. You were too scared to end it yourself, so him doing it took all of the pressure off of your shoulders. You knew you were better off without him, but never in your life had you felt so utterly alone. You didn't know what you were looking for, whether it be a rebound, a one-night stand, or just to get the bottom of the bottle, you couldn't decide. You regretted not calling one of your girlfriends to join you, because you were almost certain that you looked lame, sitting by yourself. You were wearing a black halter top, with a dark blue denim mini skirt. You wore silver hoops, and chunky black wedges.

You wore silver hoops, and chunky black wedges

It was an outfit you had worn to attract some sort of attention, just to fill a void. As much as you wanted to act as though you better than all the other girls, you knew on the inside that you were just some sad girl who wanted attention.

After about half an hour of you sitting their, you noticed a man walk in. He had peroxide blonde hair, and wore baggy black pants, a white hoodie, and a strange bandana-cap combo. Strange, but cute. He walked into the club with a whole group of people behind him, which made you slightly intimidated, but curious nonetheless. Groups of girls flocked towards him and his group, but you could tell that he was uninterested, as he looked bored and shoved some of the more... touchy girls away. He turned his head and looked at you, before you looked away, blush dusting your cheeks. For some reason, he was making you shy. Turning your head back to your drink, you noticed a man sitting down next to you. He was an average looking guy-- dark hair, pale skin... nothing special or notable about him, except for a strange look in his guy. "Hey gorgeous," he said, looking at you.

"Um, hello?" You replied. It wasn't unusual for men to hit on you, but something felt slightly off about this guy. You were glad to be surrounded by people.

"Let me buy you a drink,"

"It's okay, you really don't have to do that--" you started, but he cut you off.

"Don't play like that, Ima nice guy" He said, before ordering you a drink. Tequila. You weren't looking to get drunk today, only looking to get buzzed.

"What's your name?" He asked. He hadn't been exactly rude, so you didn't see any reason not to respond to him. Why not take advantage of a free drink?

"Y/N." you respond somewhat dryly.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl. My name's Marc." You said thank you, not trying to give him the wrong impression. He touches your hair, and twirls it around your finger, before you pull back, Being the nice person you are, you try to chalk it all up to drunken actions, which you knew was not an excuse. But still. You didn't want a fight.

Feeling eyes on you, you glance at the blonde guy, and notice that he was looking at you too. You feel butterflies in your stomach, he's so cute. You looked back at Marc (getting lowkey jump scared by his ugly ahh), as he handed you your drink. Marc looked at you expectantly as if he were waiting for you to take a sip.

"Is it good?" he asked you, knowing full well you hadn't tried it yet.

"Let's see," you responded. You brought the rim of the V-shaped glass to your lips, before you felt it being knocked out of your grasp. The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and you looked up to see the blonde guy.

"What the hell did you just put in her drink?" He yelled at Marc. You were shocked. You had only looked away for a second-- had Marc drugged your drink during that time? Is that why the blonde guy had been staring in your direction?

"What are you talking about man? I didn't put crap in her drink!" Marc retorted, shouting equally as loud.

"That's bs, I'm not stupid--" The blonde responded.

Marc thew a punch at him. Well, punches. The blonde grabbed him and slammed down on the ground. You got up from your stool, you weren't dumb enough to try and stop the fight, but you still shouted at them to stop. However, on the inside you hoped that Marc would get badly beaten up, because if there had been no intervention, who knows how the night could have ended.

With the multicolored club lights, the scene looked as if it were from a movie. About a solid two minutes of Marc and the blonde fighting had passed, before security came over. The blonde's friends ran over as well, yelling things, mostly 'Marshall', which you assumed was his name. Three big security guards ripped Marshall and Marc apart from each other, asked them exactly what had happened.

"He spiked her goddamn drink," Marshall said, wiping some blood away from his nose.

"That's bull, I didn't do anything!" Marc said, trying to stand up, but being thrown back down by the security guards. His eyes still held the weird crazy look you had noticed. It looked like he was on some strange drug, and it scared you.

"Then what's this?" Marshall held up a small baggie full of white and green looking pills. You recognized them to be Rohypnol. One of the security guards called the police, and they let Marshall go.

"Yo girl, you alright?" He asked, walking up to you. You were temporarily stunned by his looks, before you responded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you...I didn't even realize. I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Marshall. And you're good, don't worry bout it. You gotta be careful though - there are a lotta bad people." He said. You nodded in response.

"I owe you-- can I buy you dinner?" You said. You blamed the couple drinks you had had earlier for your confidence. You inwardly cringed at yourself though, simply because of how blunt it had sounded.

"I'll get dinner with ya, but you're not paying."

"What? I owe you!" You responded, a bit confused.

"Having dinner with you is better than receiving money," He said, smoothly. "But first, could ya give me a hand?" He asked, gesturing to the bleeding from multiple cuts on his face.

"Yes of course-- I got some supplies at my place if that's alright? I live pretty close."

"Aight, that works. Meet me out front in 10, okay?"

You nodded. Marshall went over to his friends who looked shock but also proud of him. Proud that he bad both won the fight, and a girl.

Time skip- 10 minutes later

You and Marshall were getting into your car. It was a 1993 Honda Civic. It wasn't the most amazing car, but it was sturdy and fit four people, so it was enough for you. You hoped that your apartment wasn't too messy-- but you had cleaned it a week ago, so it was bound to be a bit disorganized. Marshall being so close to you had made you a bit nervous; not because you were scared of him, but because he was intimidating. In a good way. You had taken note of how attractive he was earlier, but he was so much better up close. His blue eyes matched the sky, and looked endless. You put the key in the ignition, and started up the car.

"Yo, you good to drive?" he asked. You had forgotten about that, but you hadn't drank too much so it would be fine.

"Yeah, I'm just buzzed, if that." You responded.

"Gotchu." He replied. "You from Detroit? I haven't seen you before."

"Well the city is pretty big..." You said, laughing a bit.

"Yeah, but I know about 90% of the city, and I sure as hell wouldn't forget ya." Forget butterflies, you had whole entire dinosaurs in your stomach right now. You didn't know simple words could have such an effect on you.

"Well you're right, I'm from [city name]."

"For real? That's far."

"Yeah, well I just needed a break, you know?" The truth was, you liked your city, but it had gotten a bit suffocating. After graduating high school, you hated the fact that you would see people you knew everywhere you went, to moving to Detroit was like a breath of fresh air. And it wasn't that you were anti-social, it was just that you needed your space. You didn't need everyone to know your business wherever you went. And besides, your city wasn't too different from Detroit. You were now extremely grateful that you had moved here, or else you wouldn't have met Marshall.

"'Course. Ion know if I'll ever move away from here. I'm tryna be a rapper." You weren't really into rap, but you knew some of the big names, Jay Z, Tupac, Wu-Tang... You knew it would be something of an oddity if Marshall became a rapper, because white rappers weren't really a thing. But something about his vibe gave you the sense that he was talented.

"Really? You need to give me one of your CD's!"

"Anything for you, baby." He said, chuckling. His words made you melt, especially baby. Jim had only called you degrading names, so baby felt like a breath of fresh air. It also helped that Marshall was the one saying it.

You opened your car door, and Marshall did the same. The two of you walked up to your apartment, which was on the third floor. Feeling a bit insecure about the shabby building, you said, "sorry, it's not the nicest here."

"Don't worry girl, I grew up in a trailer park, so this is a palace to me." It was somewhat comforting to know that he didn't have high expectations, but you also felt bad that he had grown up in a trailer park. It couldn't have been the nicest experience. You led Marshall to your bathroom.

"Here, sit." You said, as you grabbed the first aid kit you kept under your bathroom sink. You took out a rubbing alcohol wipe.

"This is gonna burn." You warned him

"I've felt worse." He said. You laughed, because you knew he wouldn't be like what was coming. You placed the wipe as gently as you could on the wound on his cheek.

"Oh sh-" Marshall yelped.

"I told you!"

"That's terrible!" He said, shutting his eyes. He put his hands on your hips to 'steady himself,' but trust me, you were not complaining! Your skin felt hot under his touch.

Once you had finished cleaning him up, you and Marshall decided to just order food in instead of going somewhere. You were both tired anyways, so it worked out. You two had settled on pizza.(idk why i always choose pizza...)

"Thank god for Marc." Marshall said.

"What do you mean?" You asked, looking at him.

"Or else I never woulda met you." He responded. The air feels heavy, and you feel a slight shift. You had known Marshall for all of 3 hours now, but you knew that you had never felt this way about someone before. The connection you two had was instant, and you knew that he felt it too. Maybe there was such thing as love at first sight. Or at first fight, in your case. You felt his hands go on both sides of her hips, and you leaned into it.
You leaned in, and so did Marshall, before the doorbell rang. Wrong timing. You cursed under your breath at the pizza man, because why couldn't he was two more minutes?

"We'll be finishing this later," Marshall said, before getting up and opening the door. A moment later, and you both were eating pizza. It felt good to finally eat.

"Ya know, you're different." Marshall randomly said.

"Is that a good thing?" You asked hesitantly.

"'Course it is. I mean, I rarely leave my boys like that for a girl."

"Well, what do you see in me, then?"

"Ion know. That's the problem. I guess we're just gonna have to find out." he said. Then, he kissed you. It caught you slightly off guard, even though you were slightly expecting it. You kissed back. It felt natural, being with him. You put your arms around his neck, pulling the two of you closer together. He moved his hands through your hair, down your back, everywhere.

"Damn, I need to write a song about you, girl." Marshall said, looking at you with those gorgeous eyes. In one single night, Marshall had turned the barren wasteland of your life into something interesting.

"Marshall...I don't want this to be a one-time thing." You tell him. You would hate yourself forever if Marshall just left-- you really wanted this to work out for the two of you. You only hoped that he felt the same.

"Me neither, can I get yo number?" He asked. You gladly gave it to him.

"It's getting late, do you just wanna stay?" You asked him.

"That would be cool." He responded. You grabbed the TV remote and together you chose a movie. You and Marshall begin to make out some more, but before you know it, your head is in his lap. He lightly strokes your hair, and you are surprised about the outcome of the night. By this point, you knew that most guys would try to take advantage of you, but all he was doing was holding you. It made you like him even more.

When you wake up, it takes you a second to get over the typical morning disorientation, but when you do, you feel yourself smile. You and Marshall are cuddled together on your couch. You felt better than you had in ages and can't wait for what the future has in store for the two of you. Ever since your breakup, you had thought that you would never find love ever again, but Marshall was starting to prove you wrong.

2,504 words

Chapter Text

'No,' you think to yourself.

'Stop stressing Y/N! you're getting ahead of yourself...' But that wasn't helping at all. Here you were, currently pacing around your hotel room as you waited for your boyfriend to come back home. He was currently out, with Dre and 'they boys,' as he referred to them. He had just finished one of his many concerts, so he had been extra tired, recently. But, oddly enough, so were you. You had been more tired than usual, and you initially thought you were sick. You had felt lightheaded and had thrown up a couple of times, but you hid it from Marshall. You didn't want to stress him out-- he already had enough going on. You really did not want to make it a habit, lying to Marshall, but this time was different. You wanted to be absolutely sure before you had to make a big life decision.

But, something wasn't right. You were late. By 14 days-- two whole weeks. A week wasn't too concerning, but anything over that sent you into a panic. But you had never panicked this much before, because usually it was just a scare. But not this time! You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that you were possibly pregnant. Sure, you and Marshall had talked about having kids before, but it was never direct. It was mostly him naming some ugly ass name, and saying, "I'm gonna name our kid that." So, not quite serious. You regretted not having some sort of serious conversation, because now you had no real idea about how he would react. That would have given you some sense of comfort, at least.

To be honest... the idea of children kind of scared you. That was a lifelong commitment, you couldn't just randomly decide to have a kid. There was so much time and effort, not to mention money, that kids required, as well. But, you knew how good of a father Marshall was. You saw how he was with Hailey, and you admired it. Hailey also seemed to like you, as well, because she always was so excited to see and spend time with you. However, you still had doubts on how good of a mother you would be. You didn't know if you were ready. But it was something that you would have to figure out, and soon.

Not knowing what else to do, you decide to call your friend/older sister figure, Nicole. She would know what to do-- she and Dre already had a kid. Well, Dre had multiple kids.

The phone rang once, twice, and a third time, until she picked up.

"Y/N?" Nicole answered, sounding slightly confused.

"Nicole-- hi!"

"What's good, girl?"

"I...have a problem?" You felt your throat closing up-- you really didn't want to say this.

"You alright?"

"I think I'm pregnant." There it was. The first time you said those words out loud. The words hit you, and seemingly Nicole, as a ton of bricks.

"WHAT. SHIT, stay right there, I'm coming. Have you taken a test yet?" All of a sudden, you heard Nicole jumping into action. You heard her presumably grabbing her keys, and standing up. You also heard Marshall in the background. You felt slightly guilty that you hadn't told him what was going on. Recently, Marshall had been pestering you to tell him what was wrong, because he could tell that something was off.

"Not yet, but I'm two weeks late, and I feel kind of sick..."

"Don't worry girl, I'll pick one up for you." You exhaled a sigh of relief, and you felt so grateful for Nicole. She was such a good friend to you, and really took care of you. She was a couple years older than you, so she always gave you good advice. Plus, she also knew how to party and how to have fun.

"Marshall's still there, right?" He crossed your fingers that he hadn't left to come home, because that would be a very strange situation, for the three of you.

"Yeah-- do you want me to make sure he stays away?"

"Maybe, at least just until I know if I'm... you know." You couldn't bring yourself to say the words again. The more you said it, the more real it felt. You knew that there was a very real possibility that you were just being dramatic, but something told you otherwise. The fact that you could be a little over one month pregnant almost scared you.

"Gotchu, I'll let Dre know. See you in twenty minutes, kay?" Nicole said. You agreed, and hung up. You sat down on the hotel couch, holding a pillow. What would the future look like? If this was real, how would Marshall react? Would he even want another child? Because, right now Marshall was shooting up in fame and popularity-- all the girls wanted him, and all the guys wanted to be with him. If this was true, would he even want to be with you anymore? Doubt clouded your thoughts, and you just wanted to cry and let all of your emotions out. Maybe later, though.

Twenty minutes later~

A knock sounded on your door. You jumped up to greet Nicole, he stood holding two shopping bags. "I got you some extra stuff!" She said, placing the bags on the coffee table.

"Thanks Nicole, I feel bad dragging you away from... boys night?" You hoped that you hadn't disturbed her evening.

"Yeah, I really miss being treated like a waitress." Nicole laughed. She actually thanked you for giving her an excuse to leave. To many guys, you know.

"Alright so, here's the test. It'll take like 10 minutes, so why don't you do it now!" Nicole said, oblivious to your stress. Or maybe she knew, and decided that you should just get over with it.

"Okay..."

"Seriously girl, don't stress. If you really are pregnant, than that's great! I'm sure Marshall will be elated, but if not, than you have the rest of your life ahead of you. Whatever it is, you're gonna be fine, okay?" Nicole said, handing you the test. "Maybe try to take two, just in case?" She added. That was probably smart-- you wanted to be absolutely sure, anyway.

"What would I even do without you!"

You walked into the bathroom-- it was a typical nice hotel bathroom. It was medium sized, and had nice appliances, and a white marble counter. You sat down on the toilet, and waited for your future to reveal itself.

"So now we wait!" Nicole said, placing the tests on the coffee table. She covered them with a paper towel, so as "not to stress you out."

"I'm actually so scared." You confessed, looking at Nicole.

"Trust me, girl, I have been through this. At first I was scared and nervous, but it really gets better. But if you don't want it, there's always abortion!"

"Yeah, but I just don't know what Marshall wants."

"I think that he just wants you to be happy. If you want a kid, then I'm sure he'll support you and be the best dad ever, and if you don't, he'll be completely alright."

"I really hope you're right. I mean, he's always bragging about his 'incredible genes,' so now that I think about, he probably does wants a kid." You laughed. That was true-- Marshall never shut up about his perfect gene pool. You had no clue how he was so fine, because he mother looked like a whole meth addict. (she's not wrong ?)

"Either way, it's up to you!" Nicole said, reaching into the plastic bag, opening a packet of sour patch kids-- your favorite! She knew you so well. Nicole turned on the TV, and flipped to some trashy reality show, and for a moment, you forgot about your troubles.

Until.

"Y/N, I think it's ready!"

"I can't look," you closed your eyes, feeling a surge of so many different emotions at once.

"May I?" Nicole questioned.

"Go ahead," You replied. Nicole took your hand, and you heard her pick up the test.

"AWW girl!" She hugged you violently, and you knew the answer.

So there it was, you were pregnant. And for some reason you started crying.

"Don't cry Y/N!" Nicole said, still hugging you.

"What the fuck." You said. You couldn't tell if you were happy, or scared, or upset-- but whatever it was, Nicole's positive attitude was rubbing off on you. She pulled back, and you looked at her.

"So? How're we feeling!" She said, smiling. She handed you a tissue, good call.

"I don't even know..." But then you started smiling too. You felt grateful, and almost excited, because you could envision your future with Marshall.

"I can't wait to be an aunt!" Nicole said, wiping your tears, laughing.

"...What?"

You looked up, and there Marshall stood, in the entry way of the hotel. I guess you were deaf, because you definitively did not hear him enter. Nicole looked between the two of you, and she stood up.

"Well, I think I'm going to head out," She said, and hugged you. "Good luck!" She whispered in your ear.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Y/N?" Marshall said, right after Nicole walked out. He walked over to the couch, and sat down next to you. You didn't know why, but you felt nervous to tell him. But that was to be expected, right?

"Marshall...I haven't been feeling well recently, so Nicole gave me a test, and realized that I'm pregnant." You spat out, avoiding his eyes. You couldn't look at him, because you were scared of his reaction. You didn't really know why, though. He had only ever loved and supported you in the past.

"Shit..." Marshall muttered, looking down. Marshall had thought about having kids with you before, at least more than you had, but he always thought that they would have one after the two of you got married and had a house together. Yes, he had thought that far ahead. Marshall had already built a whole life with you. He wanted two kids, and a cat. (He would never admit it, but he was a cat guy. He liked taking care of things, and a cat seemed perfect.)Sure, Marshall's career was skyrocketing-- some would even say that he was entering his peak. But, if family required him to take a break from the spotlight for a couple months, even a year, he would do it. All because he loved you.

"Are...you mad?" You asked, tentatively looking at him. Whatever reaction you had expected, it certainly wasn't this one. But you really couldn't blame him, this had sprung up on the two of you so suddenly.

"No I just-- no. I just didn't expect this." He said. You felt a lump in your throat, and you started crying. Recently, you had been feeling so many emotions. You didn't know if it was hormones, or if you were just sensitive, but either way you silently cursed yourself. You didn't want to cry, but it wasn't like you could really control it.

"Baby, don't cry," Marshall pulled you into his chest. You could smell some alcohol on him, but it was clear that he hadn't drank too much. He seemed to be getting a bit better at regulating his substance usage. Also, he had previously said that he didn't want to get too drunk when you were home alone.

"Look, I'm just shocked, I ain't mad, aight?" You nodded against his chest.

"I get it, it's so unexpected, I'm--"

"Don't apologize," He said, stroking your hair. "Do you wanna keep it?"

"I'm not sure. We haven't really discussed kids before, and I'm kind of scared-- do you want to keep it?" You asked, cutting yourself off. You had decided that you wanted what Marshall wanted-- solely because you wanted to have a life together. Not in a weird way, but simply in the way that you wanted to do what would be best for the two of you, and that would make you happy. You actually did want to have a family with Marshall, but you never thought that you would ever have to think about this soon. Maybe it was a good thing, though.

"Honestly...yes." To say that you were surprised was an understatement.

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, I wanna show off my genetics, y'know what I'm sayin'?"

"You're so cocky," you laughed, pulling away from him so you could look at him. He actually looked happy, which infected you.

"So, are we doin' this?" Marshall said

"Yeah, I think so."

"Shit, Y/N, I love you." Marshall kissed you, and you kissed back. You were hopeful for you and Marshall, and your baby's future-- everything would be alright. You where confident that Marshall would be an outstanding father.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked down. Nicole texted you, update me when you're done, girlie! You texted her back that you and Marshall were becoming parents; you for the first time, and him for the second.

"Do you know how far you are?" Marshall asked.

"Somewhere near a month."

"I wonder if we can trace it back to the exact--" Marshall started, and you could practically see the gears in his mind turning, trying to think about the exact moment of conception.

"Marshall!" You cut him off, as you tried not laugh. He was laughing his goddamn head off. He always had to make some sort of comment. (and we love it...)

"Not my fault you wanted to raw--"

"Shut up!" You said laughing. Marshall laughed as well, before checking his phone.

"Baby I better call Paul. Is it cool to tell him?"

"Yeah, that's alright."

Marshall dialed Paul, his manager's, number on his phone. After a ring or two, he picked up. You wondered how Paul would react-- he seemd supportive, but also slighhtly annoyed with Marshall.

"Yes, Marshall? Why are you calling at this fuckin' hour?" You hadn't even realized it, but it was nearing two am. You felt bad for Paul, but he'd be fine.

"Call me daddy," Marshall started.

"The fuck?" Paul, said incredulously. You had the exact same reaction-- sometimes the things Marshall said caught you off guard. But maybe that was why you fell for him.

"Cause I'm boutta be a dad."

"Shit, what?"

"I'm bein' so for real."

"Damn, poor Y/N. Now she's stuck with you." You started laughing, because that was, in fact, the truth. Look at Kim-- Marshall was somewhat stuck with her too, because even if he hated the bitch, he was still obligated to interact with her. Kids really could make lived better, or ruin them, if you weren't responsible.

"Shut the hell up Paul, and set up a doctors appointment for my girl." Marshall said, hanging up the phone. Marshall really gave no fucks, and that was pretty hot, in your eyes.

"I bet you it's gonna be a girl." Marshall said, playing with your hair. You loved it when he did that.

"Really? I think it's gonna be a boy!"

(what do u guys think it's gonna be <3)

"Well, you're wrong, bitch." There it was, his pet name for you. Whenever he called you that, you couldn't help but laugh.

"I gotta change my schedule, I guess." Marshall said, on a more serious note. You knew that he would have to adjust his work, and pretty much whole career. You felt bad, but you knew Marshall wouldn't want you to. You also would have to adjust your work schedule, though. It was just a shame that you had to get pregnant now-- right when Marshall was really blowing up.

"Don't feel bad, baby, this is just gonna motivate me more, ya feel me?"

"Really? How?"

"'Cause I'm gonna work hard for my girl and my two kids," He said. Marshall used you and Hailey as inspirations for his work, so you couldn't wait to see how he would act towards your child. "I'll write a whole fuckin' song for her, just like I did for Hailey." For Marshall, writing a song(a positive song, I'm not talking kim,) was the greatest compliment, and it was one of the biggest and most meaningful acts of love someone had ever done for you.

"Marshall you're so cute." You grabbed his face and kissed him. You were obsessed with how cute and romantic he was, but especially with the fact that he was such a softie on the inside.

"I love you, Y/N. Do you wanna keep this a secret or nah?"

"Maybe for your sake, yes? Just because no one really knows about out relationship in the first place. But for your friends, it's really up to you." You said. You didn't mind if Marshall's friends knew that you and Marshall were going to have a baby-- it was mostly the media, that you cared about. However, you were confident that Marshall's friends wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, Nicole already knew, and she was trustworthy.

To tell the truth, you would have preferred to be married before having a kid, however all that you were looking for was a committed relationship. You knew that you and Marshall had that. And besides, marriage wouldn't really change much, because Marshall and Kim's relationship had still blown up, even if they had been married. You loved him so much, so you weren't worried about commitment.

"Gotchu. Damn baby, you can't have alcohol no more!" Marshall said, acting as if he was having a whole epiphany. Alcohol wasn't a huge part of your life, however every so often you and Marshall went to some parties, and it was nice to just lose yourself in the moment. It was nice to crack a bottle every so often, so not being able to do that for near a year, was a bit disappointing, but nothing impossible.

"You shoulda been the pregnant one than-- you could use a break!" You laughed.

"Y'know what, maybe I'll stop it with you." Marshall said.

"Damn, that's a big decision." You joked.

"Anything for you, bitch." Marshall quipped back. But it really was a big decision. You had never seen Marshall sober for more than a week or two, so you couldn't imagine nine months of sober Marshall. You didn't really mind what state of sobriety he was in, all you wanted was for him to stay with you, and support you.

"I love you."

"Love ya more." Soft <3

"How 'bout you show me!" You say, provoking him.

"Bitch, I will." Marshall grabbed you and kissed you hard, before leading you in the direction of the bed.

3,100 words

Chapter Text

guys lowk dont know what to writeeee lmao im STUMPED !!!!!!!! request r appreciated, thank u !
anyways, enjoy the part ! <3

also, D/N means daughter's name !

It was probably two am. Maybe three? Either way it still some hellish hour. You had been tossing and turning for what felt like the whole night. You had also had a hard time falling asleep, and being eight months pregnant, that certainly did not help you. The strangest part was that the rest of the pregnancy had been calm, so this disturbance was somewhat of an anomaly.

Wanting to take quick lap, you get up, as quietly as you can, so as to not disturb your boyfriend who's sleeping beside you. The past eight months had changed the two of you so much, for better or for worse. The worse part being the fact that Marshall had grown so possessive of you-- he wouldn't even let a man look at you, without him getting pissed. However, every time you talked to him about it, he got defensive. You couldn't quite blame him, though, because you gave every single groupie girl who even breathed the same air as Marshall the stink eye.

"You're my fuckin' girlfriend, and you're pregnant with my kid. Ain't no way I'm letting some jackass even think about lookin' at you." He would say. And you would be lying to say that it wasn't somewhat endearing. He was a family man; you couldn't completely blame him. (lol)

And to be honest, Marshall was the best boyfriend you could ask for. He only had eyes for you, which was so obvious, as even his friends and manager started making fun of how head over heels he was for you. And you really were the same. However, you often had doubts-- not just about him, but about you. As much as Marshall constantly told you otherwise, it was often hard for you to feel pretty during pregnancy. Weight gain was probably the hardest part for you. But Marshall's high sex drive aided your insecurities. Besides, all the side effects were only temporary.

Another pro from you and Marshall's relationship was the fact that your love had grown stronger. He had even taken the last month off of work just to stay home with you since you were a month away from giving birth to a healthy girl. When he found out that he was getting another daughter, Marshall was ecstatic. This was probably due to Hailey, who had been asking for a baby sister. Last Christmas, she had even asked for one for Christmas. The two of you had been going back and forth on a name for her, though. Ultimately, (after much debate,) you had decided on D/N.

You walked to the bathroom, carefully tiptoeing. It was dark in the house, so you made note not to trip on anything. You felt your daughter kicking you, and goddamn, it was especially bad today. Normally, it would only last for a minute or two at most, however, this time was different. But your doctor told you that she would get more active the more you progressed into your pregnancy. But still, you couldn't get rid of your suspicions.
You were walking down the hall from your bedroom, as you just wanted to take a quick walk to take a break from the restlessness that both you and D/N were facing.

"Baby, you good?" Marshall says softly from the dark bedroom. You sigh inwardly, as you hadn't mean to wake him up. You felt a bit guilty, because you knew that he also sometimes struggles with falling asleep, hence his sleeping pills.

"Yeah, I just can't sleep," You respond, pausing in the hallway. Half truth. You didn't want to tell Marshall that D/N had been keeping you up, because you knew he would stress. You didn't want to burden him with that, so you left it in the silence.

"Do you want me to--" Marshall starts, but you cut him off. You didn't want him to do more than he was already doing for you-- he deserves a break. And if that means getting a full night of sleep, so be it. Besides, once your baby arrives, you knew that you probably wouldn't be getting much anyway.

"No, baby. Go to sleep. I'll be there in a minute!" You say. Marshall just mumbles a response, and you continue down the hallway. You make your way into the kitchen, and take a seat on the island stool.

How long is she going to keep on kicking me for?! You question yourself, silently. No, this wasn't normal. It had been sporadic during the night, coming in bursts, but now it had been happening consistently for what was it... five minutes? You stand up, trying to walk it off. You only get about ten paces from the kitchen until you stop dead in your tracks. A gush of water rushes down your legs, and lands on the floor. At first, you thought you pissed yourself. That would be embarrassing-- until you realize.

Fuck.

Your water had broken.

You had absolutely no clue what to do. Well, you obviously had to tell Marshall, but still. You hadn't yet mentally prepared yourself, as you were still a month away from your predicted due-date. You also hadn't yet processed the amount of pain you were about to be in. You knew that you should have prepared better, but you didn't think that this responsibility would spring upon you so soon. You were going to be a mother. But here you stood frozen, with water trickling down your pajama pants. Were you even ready?

"Marshall?" You call out. Not too loud so as not to wake Hailey up. Of course, Kim chose the perfect day to send Hailey to you and Marshall's house. But it would be fine-- she could last a few hours on her own. Besides, Marshall would probably just call one of his friends to look after her. But maybe it was your motherly instincts kicking in, but you couldn't help but worry about Hailey.

With no response, you call out Marshall's name again. "Marshall!" You say louder.

"Yeah?" He says, tiredly. But you hear him stand up and exit the room. "Everything aight?"

And then, for some fucking reason, you start crying. Maybe it was your emotions? They had really been all over the place, due to your pregnancy.

"My water broke!" You say, continuing to cry. Marshall stands, shocked for a moment, before springing into action.

"Fuck, Y/N," He starts, before running into your room, and grabbing the bag that the two of you had made to accompany you to the hospital. He runs back out, before embracing you. He quickly pulls you back into the bedroom, and helps you change clothes. There was no way you were going to keep wearing the wet pants...

"You ready to go?" He asks you, adrenaline obviously pumping through his veins.

"Yeah," you respond through watery eyes. Marshall helps you walk to his car-- the 911 Porsche which is the same color as cranberry sauce. Once he helped you in, Marshall quickly pulls out. He looks at you and grabs your hand.

"A lil' early, huh?" He says, the jokes coming to him naturally. Of course he can't keep it serious. He can hardly even keep it serious in bed.

"I know...Marshall I don' know if I can do this..." You say, your emotions going up and down like a roller coaster.

"'course ya can. If that Kim bitch can, then fuckin' Trump can," You laugh a little bit at this. How does he even come up with these things?! "But baby, I'm gonna be her witchu every step of the way. It don't matter if you're ready or not, 'cause D/N ain't waitin' much longer. Besides, Ima be the best daddy you ever seen. Don' worry." His words kind of inspire you, because no matter what, Marshall will be there. Every step of the way. You know he would devote his whole life to D/N, just as he did to Hailey.

"I love you, Marshall. I hope you know that..." You speak. You really have never felt this way about anyone before-- he was truly your soulmate. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with Marshall, and your daughters.

"I been knowin' that, baby."

<3

The hospital is only about twenty minutes away, but for you, it felt like twenty hours. Whoever said contractions hurt was lying, because it felt like you were being killed from the inside. You try your best not to show Marshall your pain, but all of your pain translates into you squeezing his hand as hard as you possibly can. You didn't mean to, that's just what happened.

"Damn-- almost there, aight?" Marshall says, wincing slightly.

"Sorry-- fuck Marshall this hurts so bad." You close your eyes and try to imagine your future life. Or really any happy thought that you can think of. You just needed something to drown out your pain. "Marshall, can you sing some shit-- I need a distraction."

"Oh, shit you must really be in pain," he says, before stepping harder on the peddle. But, per your request, Marshall sings one of his songs. Despite common beliefs, Marshall's voice is actually quite comforting, and even calming to you. So, this really helped.

And of course, he sings infinite. One of you and Hailey's favorite songs.

(lmaoo guys this made me laugh/cringe bc ofc Marshall is singing even when shes in labor likeeee.... 😭😭)

The roads are pretty much desolate, as it is pretty much the middle of the night. D/N couldn't have waited like four hours? At least the sun would have been up by then! But at last, the bright lights of the hospital greet you as Marshall turns into the hospital.

"Marshall, could you have gone any slower?!" You whine, as he finally parks the car. The pain is so bad, you almost feel numb. You are inwardly freaking out, and you can tell that Marshall was trying to keep it together as well. It mostly little things, like how his jaw was tensed up, his arms flexed (🤤), and his white-knuckles grip on the steering wheel. As soon as the vehicle was parked, Marshall pops out of the car, and runs to your side. He racks open your car door, gently, but hurriedly pulling you out. You could see that the stress was really getting to him. Which was new, since most people knew Marshall as the man who just didn't give a fuck. Except for when his girlfriend was giving birth.

"Fuck this, you're not walking," Marshall says as he picks you up. You were in so much pain that even walking was a struggle. There really was no point in arguing with him, so it was better to just let it happen. Besides, you would be a dumbass to try to walk on your own right now.

Once two of you get past the entrance, Marshall quickly goes over to the emergency section, and you get immediately admitted. The pain in your stomach seems to come in waves, however the level of pain keeps spiking.

Nurses rush in and pump you with pain killers and hook you up to an IV. The pain is still there, however. The only highlight of this experience so far was that Marshall hadn't once let go of your hand the whole time you had been in the hospital.

A male doctor walks in and addresses you.

"So, miss..." He pauses and checks your papers. "L/N (last name,) you're a month early, right?" Wow, jumping right in, I guess... you think to yourself.

"Yes..." You respond while Marshall eyes the doctor warily. Typical.

"Alright, would you prefer a c-section, or vaginal birth?" He asks you. (sorry idk what the correct terms are lol)

"I mean, I haven't really decided yet-- I'm not too sure what to do..."

"Alright. Well, I would recommend going the vaginal route, because your womb may be a bit too small to administer the standard vertical cut, since your child is not fully developed." He says, pulling on a pair of gloves.

So, that's what you ended up doing.

(guys im not boutta write a whole birth scene...sorry...??? but ill quickly summarize it lol)

The birth wasn't the best experience. At all. You felt bad that Marshall was there, even if he hadn't once looked up the whole time. You couldn't blame him at all-- there was a shit ton of blood. It even scared you. Who knew the 'murdering and violent Slim Shady' was scared of birth...!!

But now you were laying in the hospital bed, D/N in your arms. It was a strange feeling. You were holding your future in your hands. She was small. Only 2.26 kilograms-- 5 pounds. She had already been weighed and cleaned up, and, for the most part, so had you. You were still being given pain killer, but you felt as though a weight had been lifted from you chest. Or in this case, your stomach.

Your thoughts were broken up by Marshall. He was crying into your shoulder.

"Marshall? Are you--"

"Y/N this is real. I fuckin' love you." He said, lifting his head. You smile and kiss him-- this was probably the most amount of emotion he had ever shown you. Seeing Marshall cry was a rare sight, but you were relieved to see that he was crying tears of happiness. You wondered if he reacted the same way when Hailey was born. Or if he told Kim the same things he told you-- how much he loved her, how he could never live without her... But last he told you, him and Kim weren't in the best place when Hailey was born. But were they ever? You quickly dispelled all thoughts of Kim away from your head, because she had no place there. Right now, she didn't matter. She never mattered.

"Do you want to hold her?" You ask, holding D/N out to Marshall. Her little eyes were closed, but earlier she had been screaming her head off. You had no clue how much babies could cry, even though Marshall had previously warned you.

"Yeah," he reaches out to pick your daughter up. He looks almost scared, in a way, of holding her. "Goddamn she's small as fuck!" He exclaims.

"Marshall! Language!"

"She can't understand shi-- she can't understand." He says, catching himself.

"Maybe you were the pregnant one, because your mood swings are insane," you notice how one second, he was crying, the next he was laughing, and being all soft.

"Yeah, well brain damage'll do that to ya," he jokes.

An hour off calmness passes. Your head feels light, and you feel unusually tired, but that's probably a side effect of the medicine, right? D/N wakes up, cries, then falls back asleep. Hard to believe she was still attached to you less than an hour and a half ago. It feels surreal. But what's even better are Marshall's immediate attachment to her. He could hardly even put her down! A slight pain develops near your ribs, to the right. Whenever you alternated who got to hold her, Marshall immediately tried to one up you by singing to her. She don't even know mockingbird yet. But, through all the happiness and relief, you start to develop headache. Which gradually turns more into a migraine.

The doctor walks in the room hurriedly. "Y/N, we ran some tests, bloodwork and such, and It looks like you are going to have to stay in the hospital for a little while." He says, holding a packet of papers.

"Whatchu mean?" Marshall questions, looking as though he's about to square up (with D/N in his arms!?!!!?!!?!??)

"Well, it looks like you have Postpartum preeclampsia. Are you aware of what that is?"

"N-no?" You say, nervously, as Marshall moves his chair closer to your bed.

"It develops right after birth, and it just means that you will experience pain in specific areas, high blood pressure, migraines...symptoms of that nature. If not treated, it causes seizures, but I'm sure you'll be fine."

"So, she jus' has to stay here? For how long?"

"Well, Mr. Mathers, there's no way to tell because we do not know when she will get better." The doctor quips back. Damn, attitude for what? And it seems that Marshall thinks the same way, since he looks pissed. But he (surprisingly,) doesn't say anything. Probably because of your baby. Thank god, you weren't too keen on seeing Marshall send a doctor to the fucking emergency room-- enough had happened today already.

"Ms. L/N, are experiencing any pain right now?" The doctor ignores Marshall's dirty look. Smart for him, Marshall could easily tear him apart. (my little alpha 🐺🐺)

"I mean, a little bit. Mostly just migraine, chest pain, shortness of breath..." The breath part was starting to get to you. You already has asthma, so this wasn't help at all. You found yourself slightly gulping down hair like you were hungry for it. Which you were, in a way.

"Alright, I'm going to get some nurses, and I'll send some medication. Let me know if the pain persists." He swiftly leaves the room.

"The fuck is his problem..." Marshall mutters, before turning his attention towards you.

"Baby why didn't you tell me you was in pain?"

"I thought it was normal! I don't know how to distinguish between pregnancy pain between...other pains?"

"No, you're right. Jus' rest, aight? I'll take care of D/N for ya." He says while he fixes her blanket wrap. You and Marshall had bought D/N the blanket way back when you were only three months pregnant, and before you knew her gender, so you lucked out with the color selection.

"Ya know, I was right."

"Right about what?"

"I knew she was gon' be a girl."

"Damn, I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up..." You think back to the night you had first told Marshall of your pregnancy.

"I bet you it's gonna be a girl."

"Really? I think it's gonna be a boy!"

You remembered how Marshall had initially been shocked-- you had no clue if he had wanted another daughter or not. But the night had ended up with him playing with your hair softly, then it took a turn, and ended up with you two in your bedroom. But that wasn't really important.
You still remembered exactly how you felt when you told Marshall. You had felt a lump in your throat, and you started crying. You had been feeling so many emotions. You didn't know if it was hormones, or if you were just sensitive, but either way you silently cursed yourself. You didn't want to cry, but it wasn't like you could really control it. In some ways, you could still relate to the feelings you had felt all those months ago. Your hormones were still out of their normal order, you still cried to Marshall, and you were still sensitive. Though, you could control it better now!

"Baby, you don't have to stay in the hospital with me, you have work, and--"

"Shut the hell up. There's a better chance of me hooking up with Paul than ever leaving you here." He always had something to say.

"But I don't want to be the reason you're neglecting you work...."

"Well, you are, and that ain't gonna change. But I'm choosing to do that, so stop feelin' sorry fo me. You know I would move a fuckin' mountain fo you." He meant every word. And you would do the same in a heartbeat.

"Fine, alright!" You say, laughing. You loved how Marshall always had to remind you how much he loved you. Honestly, how could you ever forget?

"By the way, can you order me some food?" You ask him.

"Shit, I shoulda done that sooner, it's already 8 am..." Marshall says, pressing the button on the side of the bed.

"Nah you're good."

"They got room service in here?" Marshall clicks the button rapidly... why was he pressing that one?! Thank the lord that little D/N was asleep, because Marshall was being somewhat loud. Especially at 8 am.

"No, you just called the doctor..."

"Hell nah, not that bitch..." Marshall groans, sliding his hands down his face.

The had risen, but the light was still orange and slightly red. It was a nice day, especially since a light rain had started. Everything was working out.

<3

3,513 words

Chapter Text

a little recap... enjoy ! :D <3

Marshall headed straight to Hailey's room. He gently opened the door, not wanting to wake her. He peered in and felt a pang in his heart. Hailey was asleep on Y/N, who was also asleep. The two of them looked so peaceful. Marshall had never seen Hailey so open and comfortable around someone besides himself.... Marshall wished that Y/N was there more. She was so perfect, in the way she looked, the way she acted with Hailey, and the way she acted in general... She was one of his greatest friends--Unfortunately. Marshall could see himself as more than friends with her, but he didn't want to drag her in the middle of his relationship with Kim. If he could even call it that.

Marshall knew that if he ever pursued his love for her, Kim would not hesitate to make her life hell. But he loved seeing Y/N and Hailey together. The three of them felt more like a family than him and Kim ever did. It was hard to think about love, because his mother and Kim really destroyed his conception of it so badly... but he knew you were different. He knew that with a divorce on the horizon, he would soon be free to love whoever he wanted to.

(...)

The chirping of birds awoke Marshall. Those loud-ass fuckers, Marshall thought to himself. He didn't like birds that much, especially since they had distracted him from the wonderful dream he had been having. Of course, the dream had been about you. And what could anyone say-- you were hot. The sun shone so brightly in his eyes, and he groaned. He wouldn't be Marshall if he didn't start his day pessimistic.

Marshall's phone buzzed multiple times. He picked up the vibrating phone and saw Kim's name at the top of it. It was already nine am, Kim was definitely already here to pick Hailey up, and probably cuss him out. If he were lucky, she would only do that. Only god knew how many times that woman had thrown random objects at him before. The creaking of the house's wooden floors made him look at the door, waiting for Kim to burst in the door. However, it wasn't Kim who was stalking his halls.

"Marshall?" You spoke. It was only you, not Kim. Marshall had almost forgotten that you had slept over at his house-- well, if that even counted. It was more of an accident, but it still counted!

"Yo," He said, getting up and heading towards the door, opening it up for her. You paused, staring at Marshall for a moment. He wore black sweatpants, and no shirt. You tried your hardest not to make it obvious that you so desperately wanted to stare at his abs, and touch his muscles, but he seemed to be almost provoking you. And knowing him, he probably was doing it on purpose.

"Uh, someone's been knocking on the door." It was hardly even knocking-- at this point, it was straight up banging. There really was no one else it could have been.

"Yeah, it's fuckin' Kim. If I was you, I would hide," Marshall said, pointing towards one of the rooms in his house. You weren't stupid-- you were very much aware of the Marshall-Kim situation, and you did not want to be caught dead in the middle of their deteriorating relationship. Well, except if Marshall fucked you that is-- but that was more wishful thinking. So, following Marshall's advice, you quickly made your way to the spare bedroom right across Marshall's.

Marshall opened up the door, and Kim's angry face stared back at him.

"Where is she." Kim said, before Marshall even fully opened up the door. As usual, she looked as though she had swallowed a lemon.

"You don't gotta be so goddamn bitter all the time," He responded. "And she's still gettin' ready."

"It's already nine fucking am," Kim said, obviously quite angry. What was even new?

"Yo chill, gimme liked five minutes!" Marshall went to Hailey's room, and was very relieved to see that Hailey was already awake, dressed, and packed. She was sitting on her bed with a book.

"Daddy! Where's Y/N?" She chirped in her cute toddler voice.

"Hai, you gotta go wit Mommy today, aight?" Marshall always had trouble explaining things to Hailey-- especially because he did not quite know how to sugar coat things, because he couldn't just tell his daughter that her mommy was a fucked up woman. And he couldn't tell her that her daddy was a fuckin drug addict.

"But--"

"Baby, I'll see you next week, okay? And we can invite Y/N too." Hailey looked up at him sadly, then said a long, drawn out fine. Marshall took her hand and walked her out of the house to Kim. With one final dirty look, Kim turned and left Marshall's door. Once the door was safely locked, you immediately walk out of the guest room.

"You leavin'?" Marshall asked, heading towards the kitchen and leaning against the counter. His arms flexed, and his veins popped out slightly. You had to tear your eyes away, yet again. He always did this to you...

"I don't know-- do you want me to?" You asked, a small smile threatening the edges of your lips, as you could see him studying you.

"To be honest," Marshall began, walking towards you. He gets so close that you press yourself slightly against the kitchen island. "I'd really like it if you stayed."

"Yeah? And why's that?" Two could play at this game, it seemed. You would not let him win this easily.

"Oh wouldn't you like to know," Marshall stepped even closer, if that were possible. All of a sudden, Marshall's grand height of five foot eight, seemed a lot more intimidating compared to your height of five foot []. (choose ur height lol)

Feeling a little bit brave, you test the waters. "Maybe." He looks you up and down and then looks at your lips and back to your eyes.

He kissed you on the lips and you kissed him back. You felt your face turn hot, and you begin to feel an intense feeling of butterflies in your stomach. It felt like now it's only you two in the whole world You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands go to your waist He starts slightly opening his mouth and so do you and his hands move down to your ass and then back up You move your hands down to the top of his jeans and he pulls back from the kiss and looks you up and down again "You wanna?" He asked softly

"Yeah." You say while smiling, half in astonishment, and half in nerves. You unbuttoned his jeans and he pulls them down, revealing his legs. Then, he unbuttoned yours and pulls them off of you, making sure to draw it out, teasing you.

His hands moved to your ass again and down to the top of your legs, and he pushed his hands upwards, signaling for you to jump up. You instantly comply, stepping out of your jeans as he pulled you up. Marshall held you a as if you weighed nothing, like a feather.

He started walking to his bedroom, and when he got there, he put you on his bed, and took off his white shirt. You laid there as he got on top of you and pulled the bottom of your shirt upwards. You put your arms up, eager for him take it off. Eager to feel him.

He unhooked your bra, and took it off as he put his dick inside of you. Marshall leaned over and started kissing you again, his hands slowly caressing your skin. He moved back and forth and he pulled back from the kiss, and started breathing heavily, since he was already going quite quickly. You started breathing heavily, too, and he picked up the speed.(It's Marshall, of course he can go faster...) He moaned lowly, and you did the same

He leaned back over and kissed your neck, leaving little marks on you. His breaths on your neck sent a chill down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as he started going faster(I told you, he doesn't play !). You start moaning and he kisses you and you kiss back He pulls back and leans upwards and says

"Oh, shit."

"Fuck, Marshall." He starts rubbing you and you say "Fuck!" You felt yourself getting close and you moved your hips into him.

"I love you Y/N,"

"I love you more--" You came on him, and after a few seconds, he pulled out and came on you. He didn't play with his pull out game.

It would be a lie to say thar you didn't feel confused, nor conflicted, as you laid in Marshall's arms in his bed. A bed you never thought you would have ever entered-- as you had been to Kim and Marshall's wedding. Both of them. But it did not even matter, because you had been playing the long game it seemed. And it turned that Marshall may have been, too, judging by the way he had acted with you. Especially by what he had said to you.

"I love you, Y/N,"

You didn't just say those words to anybody-- especially not someone who you had only ever seen as a friend before-- right?

It seemed that you were going to have to find that out...

Chapter Text

i was in the plane for so long, so i decided to write a part ! plane themed, of course !

It was about six pm, and you were on your way to the airport, which would take you to Amsterdam. You were set to arrive quite early in the morning, which was unfortunately why your flight had been a bit cheaper— well, for the economy seating, at the very least. Your flight left at 8:50 pm, so you had some time to check in and get yourself comfortable before the long plane ride.

Why were you going to Amsterdam? The simple answer was for a vacation. However, the long answer was that you were burnt out. Burnt out especially from college, from having to juggle two minimum wage jobs upon long seminars and speeches. Oh, and your breakup. Sure, it had been two months and 12 days, however, it still felt fresh in your mind, not to mention your heart. It wasn't even that you wanted your ex back, it was simply the fact that you had been so vulnerable with him and had pretty much entrusted him with all your secrets that wouldn't tell anyone else. And also, the fact that he had cheated on you with your best friend. That wasn't the best thing that you had walked in on, that's for sure. You couldn't tell who you were more hurt by, her or him. Probably your friend Alaina. She wasn't even pretty, which made you feel worse about yourself. However, you knew that with Jim, looks didn't matter, as long you moved.

You opened the trunk of the taxi you had taken to the airport, not wanting to drive your beaten silver Honda civic, and pay a hundred dollars for a parking space.

Your suitcase felt like it weighed 50 pounds, and the taxi driver just stared at you as you yanked it out of his car. As soon as it hit the ground, the man held his hand out. "$36. Cash or card?"

Why was the taxi fare so expensive now?

"Cash," you say, as you reluctantly hand over the appropriate amount. Twenty dollars would have sufficed, in your opinion.

The security section was as full as ever, taking you 45 minutes to get through it. From then on, it was smooth. Your gate, B43, was easy to find, however when you got there it was already quite crowded. VERY crowded.

"Excuse me miss, are you on this flight?" A man in a navy-blue attire asked you. His name tag read John.

"Yes, why?"

"Could I see your seat number? We may have double booked certain seats." John looks at you regretfully, because he knew that having your seat stolen from you was one of the more frustrating experiences.

"Of course..." you beg in your head that your seat is still yours, however you are starting to get somewhat of a bad feeling.

"Alright, if you could make your way over to that desk, they will try to find you a vacant seat."

Ugh.

"Okay, Thanks."

The woman, Marie, at the desk had found you a seat, alright. First class. On that same plane.

"...Again, I'm very sorry Miss L/N. If there's anything else I can help you with, let me know." Marie says, having had to switch four other people earlier, none having quite the same luck you had just been given.

Since you were first class, you were boarding group 2. Priority, your boarding pass had said. You certainly felt privileged, that's for sure.

You sat near the gate doors, skipping through songs on your iPod, your flip phone resting on your lap. Until some man stands up, and five others surround him, making their way to the plane. They looked famous— there was a certain air around them. Especially the one in the middle of the pack, a blonde. Well, obviously not a natural one, as his hair looked like it had enough bleach to wipe out whole ecosystems. Attractively, of course. Yes, this guy was hot. He also gave off a certain energy that you hadn't yet been exposed to. You seemingly hadn't had the privilege to meet this man yet.

Group two gets called not long after the man and his entourage go out of your line of view, leaving you with a couple questions. Some of them personal, if you know what I mean.

You chalked your initial butterflies to the fact that you were quite starved for attention— I mean, your best friend and boyfriend had both left you and your life suddenly. And that meant that your mutual friends just so happened to disappear as well, claiming they "didn't want to be a part of the drama," when the actual drama was the fact that they were still friends with Alaina and Jim. Why was life so hard.

Instead of having to wait ten minutes to make it to your seat which was always located somewhere near the back, you found your seat quite easily. It was large, for an airplane seat, but it seemed to be connected to another seat, which a divider separating the two.

Setting your black backpack down, you take your seat, and look towards the divider section, however realizing that it wasn't being used. You were greeted with the striking blonde guy from earlier. He looked over at you, and smirked. You briefly wondered why, until you realized that it must have looked like you were staring at him. Which was absolutely not the case— I mean, you probably would have, had you had been there any earlier. But that wasn't what you were doing at that moment. You were just... admiring him, if that were any better.

"You want an autograph, girl?" He said, still smirking, and you caught his eyes briefly look up and down your body.

But why would you want an autograph? Just because you're hot doesn't mean that you automatically become a celebrity, or something.

"Why would I want that?" You ask, genuinely wanting to know the logic behind his question. And also wanting to know if an autograph was actually a possibility, because you would not complain if he gave you one...

"Thas jus' what most people ask," he said, nodding over to one of his friends. "Am I right, Dre?" His friend, 'Dre' turned over to the two of you, and looked between you and the blond guy, before giving something of a knowing smile. "'Course, he's so popular. It's a blessin' to be next to slim." Dre says. Dre seemed oddly familiar-- had you seen him before?

"Thanks dawg," The blonde says, before turning back face you. "What's your name?"

"Why?" You ask, trying to conceal the smile that was threatening to come out.

"Cause I wanna know what I should write on ya autograph." He speaks.

"Alright, well it's Y/N. Yours?" You say curious as to what this man's name is. And what did his friend say about 'Slim?' It surely couldn't be that, could it? Slim was not a normal name...

"You already know it?" He says, looking at you expectantly, and with a slight laugh.

"Literally how would I know it?" You say, feeling considerably confused.

"I'm exactly who ya think I am."

"I don't know who the hell you are??"

"No shit?"

"No! Just say it already!"

The man looked at you, studying your face, looking for any signs that you were lying, or, at the very least, joking.

"I'm Marshall." He says simply. Rather, Marshall says simply. He also happens to look like he's rethinking his all his life choices.

Little did you know that Marshall did that almost every day.

"...Should I know who you are?" You ask tentatively, unsure whether or not you were offending him. Maybe he actually was famous, and you just lived under some rock. No, with the way he was acting, he was definitely known. At least somewhere.

"No, It's better thatchu don't."

"What, are you some serial killer or something?" Maybe that's why he had an entourage of people following him. Maybe Marshall was some sort of criminal.

"Only when I feel like it."

"Oh. I get it." You reply.

"Why you goin to Amsterdam?" Marshall says, switching the topic, as well as subtly adjusting his body language. He seemed to be more relaxed, maybe it was because you were unaware of who he was, or because he was begging to feel comfortable around you. You would like to think that it was a mix of the two.

"Just for a vacation— I haven't really planned anything out. And you?"

"Uh, jus goin to a concert. With ma boys, ya know what I mean?"

"Yeah, think I get the idea. Who are you seeing?"

"Jus some rapper. You should come."

"I don't know, I mean I don't know rap, really."

"Obviously," Dre says, looking back at you and Marshall, laughing.

"I could teach ya." Marshall says, his words holding a double meaning— insinuating something that you wanted to explore. Deeply.

"Go ahead..." you say, right before the plane prepared for takeoff.

"We goin to see Eminem— ya heard of him?" One of Marshall's other friends asks you.

"I've heard of him, but I don't really listen to him."

"Y'know any of his songs?" Marshall asks, looking at you.

"I guess? I mean my ex used to play Superman every time we hooked up, so I hate that song now." You say, trying to repress every memory, good and bad, of Jim out of your head. He was not worth the extra attention.

"I can make you forget bout yo ex—"

"Damn Marsh, the plane just took off!" Marshall's friend Deshaun says.

"What can I say, ladies love me," Marshall says, looking at you.

"Who told you that?"

"Their bodies." What a typical man response. Why was it that men will instantly think that they are the most amazing people on the face of the earth, solely based on the fact that they can(somehow,) get a girl in their bedrooms?

"Nah I don't think so,"

"You actin like you was there," Marshall says smartly. Because he knew, and call him cocky for it, that you would love to even step foot in his bedroom(most girls would.) But what was different about you was the fact that it would take a lot more than just a simple question for you to admit that you. It was clear that you valued your pride...

"No, but it's just what I'm getting, y'know?" You say, desperately trying to save yourself from the somewhat awkward conversation that you knew you were losing.

"I know exactly what you mean, Y/N. And if you want proof, I can show you a real good time, baby." Marshall says. If only he knew about the millions of butterflies in your stomach... which he probably did.

"Doesn't count if it's only good for you." You say, trying not to laugh at Marshall's boldness. "And besides, the number of times a guy has told me that, doesn't make me seem like it's possible."

"Yeah, and they was lying, wasn't they? You never gotten a real good time, right?"

"Well... yeah."

"I'm different."

"Yeah, and you told Kim that, too, right?" Deshaun says, laughing at Marshall's expense.

"I did, but then she had to go ahead and ruin shit jus' like she always does," you look at Marshall, out of the loop. "My ex," he adds "cheated on me so many times with random ass guys." Marshall was obviously still upset with the situation, but not because he still loved Kim, but because of the fact she had to cheat on him and ruin their family-- and he got very defensive, especially when Hailey was brought up. Besides, why couldn't Kim have just broken up with him, if she was that upset. If she was that unhappy with him as a husband, divorce was definitively an option.

"If it makes you feel better, my ex cheated on me with my best friend..." you say. You hadn't really told anyone, so that may well have been the first time you said it aloud.

"Damn for real?"

"Yeah..."

"I wouldn't even cheat on you with Mariah, goddamn!" You smiled a bit at Marshall's words. So, he thought you were at least somewhat attractive. That made you feel good— great, even. For so long (three months,) you had felt like absolute shit. You had been at one of the lowest points of your life, thanks to Jim and Alaina.

"If you wanna learn bout rap, c'mere on Saturday." Marshall says, sliding you a piece of paper. You thank him and collect your bag. Once you look back up, he's gone, and you stand there, holding a piece of paper, watching Marshall's contagious humor slowly drain out of the plane, reality hitting you hard in the face. There was no doubt about it— you had to see him again.

"Only if you show me a good time..." You dare, surprising even yourself with the nature of your words.

"Hell yeah I will," Marshall responds.

(pls dont ask me abt the timeframe this all happened within ok ty <3 lmao)

As the plane slowed down ever so slightly along the runway, you clutched the piece of paper with Marshall's hastily scrawled phone number. The anticipation of Saturday weighed on your mind—learning about rap from a possibly famous guy was an opportunity that you knew couldn't pass up on. But even beyond the music, there was something else pulling you in. Maybe it was the fact that you both shared pain of betrayal, or that Marshall looked at you with a mix of humor and vulnerability, rather than pity, or objectification. You had felt those two gazes on you many times before hand. Or perhaps it was the promise of a good time, a chance to escape the shadows of your past failures that had haunted you for months. A chance to put the past behind you, and turn the page of your life. As the plane lifted off, you promise to seize this unexpected connection, hoping that among the tracks of music, you'd find healing and maybe even a new beginning. And maybe even a new... friend?

short chap (sorry D:)3-- 2,505 words

Chapter Text

It was a random cold Sunday afternoon in mid-January, about 40 degrees Fahrenheit. (About 4.4 Celsius?) You are sitting in the living room of your boyfriend's enormous house. Your relationship wasn't out to the public, so you had to sneak into his house through the back door whenever you wanted to visit him, which you think is stupid. But either way, you understood why-- you were doing yourself a favor. The reason why you were in a secret relationship was because if Marshall ever told the public that he was in a real and committed relationship, they would probably attack you. You were smarter than to underestimate what a hundred thousand trashy white girls could do to you if it were revealed that you 'took their spot'.

"You not doin' sum tonight, right?" Marshall says as he walks into the room for the adjacent garage, shutting the door behind him. You watch as he throws the keys to his Porsche 911 on the marble-topped table. You hadn't even heard him walk in, oddly enough.

"No, why?" You ask him, thinking that he is going to take you to your weekly Chipotle run, as he often liked to go there late in the night.

"Do ya like sports?" You didn't hate sports, however it really depended which ones he was thinking about.

"Please don't say we're going to a boxing match..." Marshall had been a fan of boxing for the longest time, and often watched it on TV, to your dismay. You were not all too interested in seeing big guys try and take a punch. Growing up in the city, you had seen enough of that already.

"That ain't a real sport," Marshall says, taking a seat on the couch next to you, putting her arm behind your head. That was the first time he had admitted that, surprisingly. You made a mental note to remind him of his words later. "I mean football."

"Yeah, sure," You reply, having seen a couple of games before. You had even had a Superbowl party, so you were familiar with the sport. Your dad was a big fan of football, so you had grown up watching it from a young age, now that you thought of it.

"Yeah? You wanna go with me tonight?" Marshall asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, and kissing your neck. He knew how to get you. It seemed that everyday when Marshall came home from the studio, you rediscovered how much you always grow to miss his presence.

"If you want me too," You reply, pretending that he was forcing you to go. You would crawl through Antarctica, if it mean that you would get to spend time with your boyfriend. Time was a very valuable thing, and didn't want to lose any more than you already had.

"I mean, if you don't want to, I'll jus find anotha girl who does," Marshall teased, his lips finding yours. Your worst fear was probably Marshall finding a newer, better girl, because as much as you would never admit it, you were insecure. Insecure with yourself, especially compared to the blue-eyes blondes that followed Marshall and practically threw themselves at him. This was why you were sometimes surprised that your boyfriend came home everyday to you.

"We both know I'd kill you," Marshall knew you were right. It took a lot to get you angry, but seeing your boyfriend with another girl would surely set you off.

But, as Marshall deepens the kiss, his phone rings. His hand lingers on your shoulder, while the other strokes your cheek, before he sighs and picks up his buzzing phone.

"Shit, it's fuckin' Paul," Marshall curses, pressing the accept button on his phone. He rolls his eyes to you, always hating having to talk on the phone, because it sometimes felt as if it were all he ever did. "Yo, why you always gotta have the worst fuckin' timing?" He cuts right to the chase, and you can practically hear Paul's shock on the other end. Though, the poor man had definitely heard(and seen,) worse from Marshall.

"Not my fault you do the weirdest shit at all hours of the day," Paul quickly quips back. "Anyway-- are you two going to the game tonight?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because everyone is going to be looking out for you. They know you're coming?"

"The fuck? How?" Marshall groans, wondering who leaked his business. Again.

"I don't know-- look, Marshall, I don't know if it's the smartest idea to--"

"Nah, I'm not fighting again 'bout this with you. We gotta go public at some point-- ion wanna hide forever."

"I understand, but is this really the smartest way to do it?"

"Well if not know, then when? At this point, you're jus dragging it on for no real reason, and by the way things are goin' right now, we'll go public after our third fuckin' kid," Marshall confesses. He had been feeling that way for a while now, because he didn't understand why he couldn't publicize his relationship with you. All his other ones had been public, so what was the problem? (Kim.) He didn't want to have to pick up his girlfriend in a rental car, and have to tiptoe around public spaces together-- he just wanted to go on dates, and spend time with you in public without the constant fear of ending up on the front cover of a gossip magazine. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time, but either way, it wasn't ideal.

"I mean, in the end, it's your life, Marshall. I can't exactly stop you from doing this, so just know that people are going to have questions. A lot of them." Paul says, before he hangs up the phone, leaving Marshall alone on the other end.

"I can't with all these people tryna dictate my whole life, goddamn," Marshall grumbles, throwing his dark grey flip-phone somewhere on the couch.

"I know, and besides-- we can't keep this a secret forever," You agree.

"Exactly. Why don't you get dress, aight? We gonna leave in a bit,"

"I don't have any football shirts..." You say, never having gone to a game before.

"Right, come wit me," Marshall leads you to his closet-- which was surprisingly neat. Marshall liked to keep all of his possessions in order, sometimes stopping his day to organize. He shuffles through his closet, pulling out blue and white clothes.

"Found one. Try it on," Marshall hands you a blue jersey, that looks a bit too large. You take off your shirt in front of your boyfriend, yet still getting a bit shy, you turn away from him.

"I was gonna say that you don't gotta turn away, but I like this view too," Marshall says, obviously checking you out.

"You bitch," You say, throwing you old shirt onto him. With the jersey now on, you realize how correct you were-- it was a bit too large. The bottom of the shirt hit somewhere above the middle of your thighs The shoulder hem hit your upper arms in the center, and the V-neck top was giving an off the shoulder look. Strangely, you were kind of into it. And seemingly so was Marshall, as he grabs your hand and spins you around.

"Does it fit alright?" You ask, one of your hands clutching the bottom of the shirt
"Does it fit alright?" You ask, one of your hands clutching the bottom of the shirt.

"Hell yeah, you look hot. It's yours." Marshall says, still looking you up and down. "Can't wait to take it off of you tonight,"

"Calm yourself!" You say, teasing him. Couldn't have him getting too excited. (iykyk..!)

After about fifteen minutes of you doing your hair and makeup while Marshall grumbled about how girls 'always take so long,' it was finally time to go.

"Aight, the driver's here," Marshall says as he pulls his Jordan's on. You rush to put your own shoes on, not wanting to take up anymore tie than you already had.

"Okay!"

"Damn, finally," He says after you join him outside. Like a true gentleman, he opens the limousine's door for you. You had been initially surprised that Marshall had asked for a whole limo, but his reasoning was that he wanted to give you an entrance. He wanted people to know that the two of you were serious, so no better way to show that by...entering in a limo?

The stadium was only about a half an hour drive from your boyfriend's house, which wasn't too bad, though the traffic wasn't great either. Marshall spent most of the ride trying to keep his hands off of you, which didn't really shock you.

The stadium looms closer, its colossal structure casting shadows over the surrounding area. You can hear the distant roar of the crowd, full of anticipatory excitement and fervor. Marshall's hand finds yours, his grip firm and reassuring. It's as if he's silently saying, "don't worry."

"I can't believe that your bodyguards aren't here," You say, wondering where they were. There was no way that they had just let you and Marshall go to a highly public space without them, as Marshall could hardly go to the grocery store without some sort of secure companionship. They were practically attached at the hip with him.

"No, they're meeting us there, unfortunately." Oh. That certainly made a lot more sense. "Shit luck we have,"

"I'm sure they won't bother us..."

"Yeah, they better not. Just gotta warn you, these paparazzi hoes are...a lot. You'll see" Marshall says, and you nod in response, wondering what exactly he meant by that.

About 45 minutes later(15 minutes later than you had expected,) the two of you arrive at Ford Stadium. It was very large and enclosed, and it looked as though it could seat over sixty thousand people.

"Marshall!" someone shouts. "Is this your new flame?" You suppress an eye-roll. The media always loves a juicy narrative. But Marshall doesn't miss a beat. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Yeah," he says, his voice low and possessive. "Meet my girl."

As Marshall helps you out of the long car, you spot at least twenty people holding cameras, all of whom rapidly approaching the two of you. As you stand up with your boyfriend and face the crowd, people start shouting his name, and some asking you all sorts of questions like,

"What is your name?"

"Who are you?"

"Are you sleeping with Eminem?"

But the weirdest question someone had asked you was hardly a question at all, more was it just a single word.

"Kim?"

You stare at whoever asked you that, before continuing to walk down to the doors, desperate to find your seat. The paparazzi's relentless pursuit is a reminder that fame, or being intertwined with someone who's famous, comes with a price—one you're going to have to learn how to navigate.

"You likin' the paparazzi?" Marshall whispers in you ear, laughing at your stunned expression. He remembered how he felt when women started swarming his stands(like some screaming Usher fans,) or when guys with cameras and girls with microphones began to almost stalk him. He had been in a daze at first, until things ultimately started getting creepy, as some people started to keep tabs on where he was going, who he was with, and what he was going to do. Marshall hoped that people would leave you alone, however he wasn't stupid.

"Aight, if you get uncomfortable, lemme know-- the people can get a bit much,"

"It's okay right now,"

"Good, cause we got VIP anyway, so I doubt they'll continue botherin' us."

Marshall had two bodyguards meet you guys at your seats, which overlooked the Lion's endzone.

"Mark, Don," Marshall says, nodding at each of the guys.

"Who're they playing today?" You ask as you shake hands.

"The Cowboys," He says. "they're shit, so don't worry," He adds. To be honest, it didn't matter to you whether they won or not.

"You say that about every team,"

"Cause it's true," You laugh. "Also, if you hungry or something, lemme know, cause we can always get sum," Marshall loved to take care of you.

Your conversation was interrupted by a man(if you could even call him that,) seemingly in his early--very early-- twenties. He starts off by taking photos of you and your boyfriend, before gradually approaching. You hoped for the boy's sake, that Marshall wouldn't spot him, or else you were sure he would get yelled at--

"Yo, you need something?" Marshall's voice is low and assertive.

"Yeah, just a couple shots—" The boy stammers, fumbling for something in his black messenger bag. He mutters something that sounds like "notebook" under his breath. His large black camera is in his right hand, the lens big and magnifying.

"Coulda jus asked, cause right now you botherin' my girl," You hold in your laughter, as you never got to see Marshall's angry side first hand. He always made a point of being respectful around you, as he wanted to prove both to you and everyone else, that a lot of what he rapped about in his music was fictitious.

"Your girl?"

"Yeah, my girl-- you got a problem wit that?"

"N-no, I just..." The boy trails off, clearly flustered. You wonder what he's digging for in that bag. Maybe a press pass? Or perhaps he's just an overzealous fan. Either way, he's treading on dangerous ground.

Marshall's gaze narrows. "I suggest you think twice before bothering us again," he says. You're sure that if the situation continues to escalate, the boy won't fare well—especially not after Marshall's last conviction. Was it a pistol-whipping incident? You can't quite remember, but you know better than to underestimate him.

You and Marshall finally settle down, and take a seat in the blue chairs in the VIP section-- your first time. The game's anticipation palpable in the air, and even you are starting to understand the hype around sports, interestingly enough. The stadium roars to life on the massive flat-screen TV, and you can almost feel the energy of the crowd reverberating through the room and in the air. The Cowboys versus the Lions— a clash of the most hated team, and the most loved, at least in Michigan.

But as the kickoff approaches, so does another unwelcome intrusion. The paparazzi, relentless as ever, have tracked you down. You thought the boy snapping photos of you and Marshall had been a one of incident-- simply a small inconvenience, but this was different. This time, there were many of them, more than you had ever expected. Their cameras flash through the stairwell and it's landing which separated you from the other surrounding sections. The sporadic flashing casted erratic patterns on the walls, and you look over to your boyfriend, only to find him simply(and surprisingly,) ignoring them. You try to ignore as well, trying to focus on the game, but their presence is like an itch you can't scratch.

Marshall shifts uncomfortably, his jaw clenched. He's used to the spotlight, but this time feels different. Sure, it was annoying that people constantly invaded his privacy, buy he had practically invited it when he chose to become famous. But you? You hadn't chosen to be stalked and followed by cameras-- the only thing you had chosen was him. And that made Marshall feel guilty for subjecting you to this, even if you insisted that you were fine.

"Think they'll ever leave us alone?" you say, your eyes still glued to the field, watching a wide receiver dance on his feet and make the catch. You could hardly hear your boyfriend's response as the whole stadium erupts into cheers.

Marshall grunts, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. "Doubt it," he says. "They thrive on drama. And we're their favorite target, now. We're prolly gonna make the front page too, though!"

You steal a glance at him. His tattoos peek out from under the sleeves of his Lion's hoodie, and his eyes—usually fierce—are softer now. He's vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. The man behind the lyrics, the personas, and the headlines. Despite the circumstances not being the greatest, Marshall did seem genuinely happy to be at the game. It wasn't often that he got to go to sports events, so this was just a special for him as it was for you.

"Touchdown!" Marshall shouts, jumping to his feet. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you cheer alongside him. The Lions are on fire, and the Cowboys are seemingly slowing down. Maybe, just maybe, this game will distract the paparazzi long enough for them to lose interest. By this point, Mark and Don have moved to sit in the spots blocking you and Marshall from view, so the paparazzi's get bored. If they did stay, though, the only photo they would be getting would be of Don's shiny bald head. (☠️😭)

But deep down, you know it won't. They'll be back, lurking like vultures, waiting for the next opportunity to pounce. And you'll continue to navigate this strange dance between fame and privacy, all while rooting for your team. And your relationship, because as much as you didn't want to admit it-- the game was the least of your issues, because you showing up and making an appearance had opened a can of worms that were bound to come out.

As the game continues to unfold, you steal glances at Marshall. His focus is unwavering, only pausing to look at you, or kiss you. And for now, that's enough—the game, the man beside you, and the shared hope that maybe, just maybe, the Lions will emerge victorious, both on the field and off. It seemed that now you actually did care whether they won or lost-- at least, more than before.

3,051 words

Chapter Text

1K READS HERE WE COME <333333333 (on wattpad lol)

As you walk into Interscope studio, you fiddle nervously with your top, your stomach twisting. You were nervous because this would be your first time in a professional recording studio.

Two weeks ago, you had performed at a fairly large showcase in Detroit, near the city's most prominent hotspots. You were number seven, so you had caught the crowd at a perfect time to enrapture them with your music. At first, you had felt somewhat underestimated, as most people who had gone before you had all been rappers or MCs of some sort. So, it was no surprise that you had stood out. You had come onto the stage with only a backing track in your hand, as you didn't play any instruments, and all your friends had been booked. You were scared to finally expose your live vocals, but it had gone better than you could have ever imagined.

The show wasn't a competition of any kind, and was mainly for exposure. You didn't think anything of it, so it was no wonder that you were so surprised when a man with a clipboard came and asked for your name, email, and phone number. The man's name was Paul, and he gave you a card. Five days later, he called you and presented you with an opportunity to showcase your talents further, though this time, at Interscope. And as you scribbled the details on the form, your heart raced.

The door stood clear, offering an unobstructed view of the studio's inner sanctum. A security guard, stern-faced and vigilant, held his post in front of it. As you approached, your footsteps hitting against the sun-drenched sidewalk, you hesitantly made your way toward him. "Excuse me, am I allowed to enter?" You feel slightly embarrassed at your choice of words, as you sound like a fan. Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the CD case that potentially contained your entire career.

"Do you have an invitation?" He asks, skipping straight to the point. His gaze bore into you, assessing you and sizing you up. You nod, and pull out the card that Paul had given you. he guard examined it, scrutinizing every detail, before his gloved hand gripped the door's silver handle. With a nod, he swung it open, revealing the studio's glorious interior.

A woman sat at the white front desk which contrasted nicely against the rest of the large decoration. The walls were a warm shade of dark wood, and plush navy blue couches were spread out comfortably around the room.

The front desk woman, Andrea, perked up at your approach, her smile genuine. Her name tag glinted under the soft studio lights. "Looking for someone?" she asked, her voice warm.

"Oh—yes," you stammered, feeling slightly out of place--which you most definitely were. "I'm supposed to meet someone named Paul."

"Are you Y/N?" She asks, typing something into her computer. The keys were very clacky, and echoed throughout the space.

"Yes," Andrea leads you down a hallway and up a flight of stairs, before she heads down another hallway. As you ascended a flight of stairs, you glimpsed the studio's inner workings—rooms with massive soundboards, and microphones that could single-handedly pay your rend for the next month or two. Your fingers graze the exposed white brick wall as you walk, the texture reminding you of something familiar. The hallway continued to seem to stretch infinitely, its walls decorated with framed platinum records—all from artists who were signed under Interscope. A real testament to the magic that happens within these walls and . You catch glimpses of names: Eminem, Lady Gaga, Dr. Dre. Real artists who have left their mark on the world. You would do anything to become even remotely like them.

"Okay, right this way!" Faint music was playing the more you progressed, until you finally reached room #5, it said. Andrea knocked with a confidence that bordered on aggression, and when the door swung open, you met Paul—the man who had they keys to your future in his hands. He looked as though he were about to tell the front desk woman off, until he saw you. His initial annoyance melted into surprise as he took in your face.

"Y/N! Come in!" Paul's voice resonated, pulling you across the threshold. If confusion hadn't already knotted your stomach, it certainly did now. You'd anticipated a one-on-one encounter—a vocal test, perhaps, or a chat about your music. But this? This was unexpected. Two other people sat in the room, chatting and joking.

And, you recognized them.

Eminem and Dr. Dre

Eminem and Dr. Dre looked at you before popping up and immediately holding their hands out to you.

"Yo, I'm Marshall nice to meet you," Emine--Marshall says, his hand shooting out while your voice catches in your throat. Dr. Dre introduces himself to you as Andre, insisting that you just call him Dre. You nod, starstruck at the fact that you had just casually met two of your idols.

"So I heard that you prepared a sample of something for us?" Dre says, motioning for you to sit in a black chair across from him.

"Paul you don't gotta stay no longer," Marshall says to his manager. Paul nods before exiting, though you notice a slight look of annoyance creeping onto his face, as he mutters something under his breath.

"Yes, It's right here," You hand him your CD, trying the hardest you can to stop your hands from shaking. Marshall and Dre look over the track list, their eyes scanning the paper.

"Aight, so which one is your best?" Marshall asks, his perfect blue eyes looking up to meet yours. You are grateful that he asked which one is the best, because you had to admit that some were subpar.

"Probably...fallen." You say.

"So we're just gonna review some songs with you, 'cause we were thinkin' about potentially signing you to Interscope," Dre says. You knew that you weren't called into the studio for nothing, however hearing someone say it out loud only fueled your passion and drive for a career in music heightened. "Marshall's here just to help me-- believe it or not, he's got a good ear for other music besides rap and hip hop." You laugh in response, and Marshall chuckles. (i hate that freaking word.) Your music had a bit of a hip hop influence, because you grew up in a neighborhood where it was popular, though you were primarily into r&b and pop.

Dre places the CD in a player, and all of a sudden you hear your voice start playing through the loud speakers, the smooth instruments instantly setting the room alive.

You complete me
Like air and water boy, I need thee
And when I'm in your arms I feel free
Fallen
My head's up in the clouds in love
I'm proud to you say it loud
Like an accident it happened
Out of nowhere it just happened
And I ain't mad at all
Because I've

Fallen, head over heels
I've fallen in love with you
I've fallen, and I can't get up
Don't wanna get up because of love (because of love)

Unfortunately, you didn't have the best equipment, so you knew that your production quality wasn't the best, however you were relatively content with what you had created. You had spent over a month just working on the production of the song, and you had put so many tears into the song-- you could only hope that it would be worth it.

As your voice fades out of the speakers, you finally look up at the rapper and producer. "Damn," Marshall says, his eyes fixed on you. You didn't know if it was a good damn, or a bad damn-- you hoped it was the former, though.

"You made that? By yo self?" Dre inquired, his tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Yeah," you replied, a hint of uncertainty in your voice. "I mean the quality could be better, but--"

"Your voice is good as shit," Marshall interjects, seemingly excited. His words were the highest praise you could have ever gotten, especially from someone like him. Not to underestimate you or anything, however the rapper had expected much less from you. The other times Paul had brought in artists, they hadn't been great or only had a pretty face. You had both-- the look and the voice. Which was becoming more and more rare, as autotune was on the rise, much to Marshall's dismay.

"Right, don't worry about no quality-- that's an easy fix," Dre says. You perk up at this, because did it mean that he was already thinking about signing you?

Marshall leans back in his cushioned chair, before speaking up again. "You got anymore tracks you wanna share wit us?" Marshall was beginning to grow a bit skeptical, because there was no way that you were this good right of the bat. Maybe you were a one-hit wonder?

You proved him wrong, because him and Dre was just as stunned by the second song as he was with the first. Dre's head bobbed in rhythm, his eyes closed. When the last note faded once more, he opened them and met your gaze. You thought he was going to retract his previous positive statements, because you knew you knew that the second song wasn't as good as the first, though he did the complete opposite. "That's some real shit right there," he said, his voice low. "Authenticity is rare."

Marshall grins. "You got mad skill, girl" He glances up at Dre, who nods in agreement. "We'll work on the production, polish it up. For now, jus' worry 'bout that pretty voice of yours." Heat swirls up in your cheeks as Marshall compliments you. He had a certain way of speaking that made you instantly gravitate to him. You felt almost a magnetic feeling in your chest drawing you towards him, and you wondered if he felt it as well as he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of you.

Your heart raced. Was this it? Were you about to step into a new chapter of your life? You swallowed hard, your voice steady. "Thank you, I've spent so long on these songs."

"Dre, can you get Paul back in here?" Marshall asks him, with ulterior motives. He wanted to talk to you alone, for a bit. At least until Dre and Paul had the legal documents, that is.

As Dre stepped out to fetch Paul, Marshall leaned closer-- you hadn't been too far away from each other to begin with. His breath brushed against your ear, and you caught a whiff of his cologne—a mix of something expensive(which surprised you,) and ambition. "You know, talent ain't the only thing that turns my head," he murmured, his voice noticeably lower than it was before. "There's somethin' about you."

Your pulse quickened. Was he flirting? With you? Or was this just his way of keeping things interesting? You had heard of his somewhat twisted way-- at least, you had heard stories from people. But, you were almost certain that many of people's opinions stemmed from his song lyrics, which you knew(or at least hoped,)didn't reflect his reality. You met his gaze, the intensity there unmistakable. "And what's that?" you challenged, your voice once again catching in you throat.

Marshall's lips curved into a half-smile, finding the situation to be slightly amusing. How was he already falling for you-- he had just met you! Your music had really captivated him, it seemed. "Guess you'll just have to find out," he replied, his fingers tracing a pattern on the armrest. "But for now, let's focus on makin' magic—both in and out of the studio." His eyes held a promise which you really hoped he wouldn't let fall through. As Dre returned with Paul, you wondered how entangled you and Marshall's lives would become-- would you two become friends? Or was this situation just another product of Marshall's twisted flirting?

As Paul and Dre returned, papers in hand, the room seemed to hum with anticipation as you prepared yourself to sign the document that would dictate your future. As the record deal papers were laid out before you, the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders—the culmination of years of hard work, late nights writing versus and choruses, and countless gigs in smoky bars. This was it--the one chance you had to take your music to the world.

Paul leaned forward, his eyes sharp and businesslike. "You've got something special, kid," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. "We believe in you. What this document means is that you will make music, and we, Interscope, will promote it. We will have the legal rights to your music, and we'll take a percentage of the money you may get from sales, licenses, etc. Take as much time as you want to read the fine print."

Dre nodded in agreement, his signature shades perched on his nose, looking like an album cover. "But this isn't just about talent," he added. "It's about commitment. Are you ready for the ride? 'Cause it ain't gonna be easy. Marshall here can tell you all about it."

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the contract. The pen that Paul had placed next to laid awaiting next to you, calling out for you to sign the papers. The words blurred together—percentages, royalties, tour schedules. But beyond the legal language that confused you, all that the paper said on it was possibility.

And then, unexpectedly, Marshall's voice cut through the room. "Hold up," he said, leaning forward in his chair, his grey crewneck shifting under his frame. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt as though it was just the two of you in the room. Marshall snapped out of the temporary dissociation, saying, "Before she signs anything, let's talk about creative control."

Paul raised an eyebrow, confused as to why he cared so much, but Marshall didn't flinch. "She's an artist," he continues. "We can't try an' control what she does-- I mean not like what you guys tried doin' to me." You blink, surprised by Marshall's sudden outburst of support. Was this genuine concern? You couldn't quite imagine what else it could be, so you just told yourself that he actually cared.

Paul nods, understanding what Marshall was thinking, however a part of him still had to be loyal to his company. "Yes, but sometimes direction is necessary--"

"Nah, like Dre says, authenticity is rare. She obviously got somethin', and we can't take that away from her." His decision was final, and anyone who knew him knew that it wasn't smart to disagree with him or try to change his mind. Besides, Paul knew he was right.

After everyone, including Paul, had agreed with Marshall Dre speaks up. "Sign those papers," he says, "but remember—you're not just joining the label. You're joining a family."

And with Marshall and Dre's inspirational words, you, with trembling hands, pick up the pen and sign your name on the bottom of the paper, your curly signature looking like the missing puzzle piece to the document. As the ink dries, you imagine your fate sealing, as it almost kind of was.

As the ink dried on the contract, you felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your decision to finally solidify, which it now had. Paul's stern nod signaled approval, and Dre's approving smile reassured you. But it was Marshall's unreadable expression that intrigued you and made you feel confused. What was he thinking about? Was he having second thoughts on you?

Dre stood up and so did Paul, both shaking your hands, saying, "Welcome to the family!" You already felt the love and warmth from the community, and you couldn't wait to formally meet everyone.

***

The studio doors swung open, revealing a world of possibilities. As you walked out, Marshall fell into step beside you, his presence both comforting and keeping you on your toes. From the short time you had been with him, you could tell that some of his decisions could be impulsive or erratic at best. It excited you, to be completely honest.

Outside, the city buzzed with life—the neon lights flashed(even though there weren't too many in Detroit, the world still felt colorful and shiny for you now,), the distant sirens, the rhythm of dozens of footsteps on the pavement. You glanced at Marshall, wondering what secrets lay behind those intense eyes. He tilted his head, as if reading your thoughts.

The city lights shimmered as Marshall led you down the bustling streets. His stride was confident, and you tried to match his pace, though you didn't have to as his immediately slowed down. The weight of the contract had shifted into something lighter—a promise of music and hopefully an adventure.

After Paul and Dre had left the room, Marshall offered to walk you out, like the true gentleman he was. Except, you couldn't help but wonder if he just wanted to spend time with you, because if so, you felt the exact same way.

"Hungry?" Marshall asks, glancing at you. His eyes held a hint of mischief, and you wondered what he had in mind. It seemed like you were going to get the real Slim Shady experience.

"Starving," you reply. You hadn't eaten that morning because your nerves threatened to expel any food that entered your system, so you definitely could eat now.

He grinned, and before you knew it, he had whisked you into a random dimly lit restaurant. The air smelled of garlic and spices, and the soft ambience of conversations surrounded you. It seemed to be an Italian restaurant, with portraits of tomatoes and landscapes adorning the walls. The two of you slid into a faded red booth, sitting across from each other. (So that you could get a better view of his face <3)

A male server placed two menus on your table, but you hardly glanced at it-- you were too busy studying Marshall's gorgeous face. He looked so much better in person. You were entranced with the way his tattoos peeked out from under his sleeves, the curve of his lips when he smiled. "So," you say, leaning forward, "is this part of the record deal?"

He chuckles. "Not exactly. But jus' call it a celebration." His fingers traced the rim of his water glass.

"Is this normal for Eminem?" You question with a sarcastic undertone, but really you just wanted to know if he acted like this to every girl. If you were special, or not. Marshall immediately picked up the connotations of your words.

"Only to the ones I find interesting," He takes a sip. "And there's only been one before." He finishes, referencing his infamous ex, Kim. Marshall's words only fueled what you thought were delusions forward, and you longed to get to know him better.

The waiter appeared, and Marshall ordered for both of you—a mix of dishes you couldn't quite pronounce. As the wine came and the food arrived, conversations between the two of you flowed quite easily. It was easy to talk to him, you realized. You learned about his childhood, his love for rap and hip hop, and the trauma that inspired 90% of his music. He listened intently as you shared your dreams and desire for your future, because he saw part of himself in you. Marshall remembered exactly what he felt when he got his first record deal, and knew that it was a monumental moment for you.

Outside, rain began to tap against the window as the sun sunk lower and lower into the horizon. "You know," he said, his voice low, "I've met hella of artists-- all young girl like you. But you really stand out, through yo lyrics and sound. It's different from any other music I've heard recently."

Your cheeks warm once more, and you struggle to come up with an adequate response. "Is that a compliment?"

"It's an invitation," he starts. "To collaborate. We could make some fire shit, and I think you know that."

"You don't understand-- that's all I've ever wanted..." You say, in awe that so much good fortune had come your way that day. Working with Marshall had been something that you always wanted to do, as you knew that the combination between your r&b style and his rap would go so well together.

"More than a record deal? Damn," Marshall jokes, and you laugh with him. You could tell that your future had big things in store.

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Chapter Text

You were really here for one purpose, and one purpose only. Being groupie was the hardest yet easiest 'job' you had ever done, as it only consisted of one thing-- chasing around celebrities all day. To tell the truth, you felt as though you were simply a paparazzi except with sex appeal.

You had gone down the typical fan girl-turned groupie pipeline, but now that you were finally mere inches away from your idol-- Eminem-- you suddenly had no idea what to do. When you had first met him(through a friend of a friend, of course,) he had been surrounded by hoards of women(you may have been exaggerating, as it was only ten). For some reason the moment had taken you back to when you were 12 years old, a sixth grader, and you had just been indirectly rejected by your crush. Seeing Eminem with the many woman you compared yourself to did nothing but dampen your spirits. However, despite your initial discouragement and hesitation, you had continued to get to know Eminem-- or Marshall. Though you had imagined your first time meeting him to have gone bit different than it really had.

You had always pictured yourself confidently walking up to him, striking up a conversation, and maybe even making him laugh(which would be the most ideal). Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot, your mind racing with insecurities. What if he didn't notice you? What if he did, but found you boring? Or--worst of all-- what if he dissed you in a track? To be yet another nameless girl he slut shamed was one of your biggest fears. But so was the thought of being just another just another face in the crowd.

Your mind had a playlist of its own, and Marshall's name was on repeat. Not just because his songs were amazing, but because you absolutely adored him. It wasn't just admiration; it was an ache that settled deep within your chest. But you were realistic. You'd seen the way he interacted with others-- the laughter, the teasing. It was all part of his charm, his persona. His character, Slim Shady. Yet, when he looked at you, really looked, you wondered if there was more. If there was ever even a chance for more.

He'd never said it outright. No whispered confessions, no stolen glances. Just late-night conversations and shared secrets-- your relationship spoke for itself. You'd become his confidante, the one he turned to when he had trouble with girls, or whenever he needed to rant about his life, his music, Paul...But he was also a good listener. He truly listened to, at least way more than anybody else in your life ever had. But was it anything more than friendship? Or was it just wishful thinking and your heart playing delusional tricks on you?

You had always watched him from the sidelines, watching the crowd of groupies swirling around him. He always rapped about love, loss, and desire, but did he feel any of it for you? You doubted it. Putting into perspective, he would probably discard you when the next girl with a working pair of ears and short skirt took his attention. Though, a part of you pretended that that wasn't the case.

So, you kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of friendship, like an onion. You laughed at his jokes, listened to his stories, and wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips that dropped fire on the stage every couple of nights. But you didn't dare ask. To risk rejection, to hear him say, "You're just a friend", was something that often appeared in your worst of nightmares.

And so, you opted to remain in the shadows, hiding in the limelight that constantly followed Marshall.

(pls tell me someone caught that lyric 😭)

timeskip :)

It was about 7pm on a Friday, and 95°(😏)and you were alone. Well, at least temporarily since you were about to enter rather large Marshall's home, where he was throwing yet another party. It seemed as though he was on a streak, as just last week he had thrown quite the rager. You weren't really expecting anything to happen, but maybe you'd meet some guy and lose yourself. Maybe even wake up the next morning without remembering what happened, if you were lucky.

A grand foyer greeted you, where people were already starting to mingle. All across Marshall's lawn were various high end, expensive cars, signaling to you that this must have been one of Marshall's more exclusive parties.

The lights were already beginning to blink and cast red and purple shadows across the house's expensive walls and hard-wood floors. It was a bit chaotic, though an organized chaos. The bass pounded into your chest as you made your way to where the bar was being tended by two men, standing out as they were the only ones dressed for a black tie event.

The couple of drink you had swallowed hastily seemed to be getting to you, so, wanting to catch a break from the heavy air in the living room, you stepped out into a mostly empty hallway.

"Not havin' fun?" A voice asked from behind you, stumbling slightly. You knew it was Marshall, since he had a pretty distinct voice.

"No I am," You quickly said, worried about conveying the wrong message. "I just needed some air, y'know?"

"Yea I get it girl." Marshall chuckled, growing ever-closer to you. He grew closer until he was so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath, and the heat radiating off his skin. "You're fine." Marshall smirked, his eyes jumping around your face, waiting for an answer.

"I thought that was why you kept me around," You replied, uncertain what his answer would be. It was impossible to predict what Marshall would ever say.

"I keep ugly girl 'round too, looks don' mean too much fa me." The chain of Marshall's dog-tag necklace pressed lightly against your skin, cool and smooth to the touch.

"Alright then why am I still here?" If not for your looks, then what possibly could it be?

"You're cool, and you don do all the unnecessary shit the other females do." (LMAO FEMALES)

"Yeah?" You felt a smile creeping up your face, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. All of a sudden, you felt Marshall's lips crash onto yours.

It was all going great until you felt his hand wandering up and down your body-- too intimate to do in a random party.

"Marshall-- I can't do it. At least, not like this," You took a step back, still trying to catch your breath and figure out what exactly you wanted.

"Why you playin' hard to get? Ain't you the one followin' me around?" Marshall asked incredulously, looking genuinely confused.

"Look, I... this whole groupie shit you pull with the others-- I don't know if I want that. I don't want to just be casual, because I can't."

"Who said it had to be casual?" Marshall stared into your eyes, are rare note of vulnerability flashing through his features.

"...What?" Looking back at the man you had been obsessing over for years, you couldn't understand what he was trying to say. There was no way he would give up his life of girls and groupies to... settle down? Especially not after what happened with Kim-- right?

"I wanna be with you," he said, his voice oddly sincere. "Not just for tonight, but for real."

You stared at Marshall, his words echoing around your cluttered mind. "I wanna be with you," he had said. It was hard to believe, but the honesty in his eyes made your heart skip a beat and your stomach do a summersault.

"Me?" you hesitantly say, your voice barely audible(and no, not just from the music lol)

He nodded, his fingers brushing against yours. You watched as his face jumped from blue, to pink, to green, and red from the lights. He looked magical in that moment. "Yeah. You. Look, I've messed shit up a lot, but this.." He gestured between the two of you. "Feels different, you know what I mean?" A hint of vulnerability creased his features, making you melt. You had only recognized this expression a couple times, and that was when he had told you about his life growing up. And it wasn't just what he had said in his songs-- it was more than that.

"Marshall, I..." you began, but he shook his head, stepping back to give the two of you space. You couldn't tell if the air was hot or if it were just because Marshall had just confessed his feelings to you.

"Look," he spoke, quite lucidly for a tipsy man, "You don't gotta say nothin' right now. Just... think about it, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. This was exactly what you had been wishing for, right? Marshall took your hand, his touch calming the nerves that were taking you over. "Come on, let's go back inside. The party's dead as fuck without you." He just always knew exactly what to say.

As you walked back into the house, the noise and energy of the party took you over once more. Lights flashed and bass pumped, but this time it felt different. Marshall stayed close by your side, his presence instilling more confidence in you. Jealous girls stared you down, and so did guys-- though, probably for other reasons.

Throughout the rest of the night, you constantly found yourself stealing glances at him, and each time you caught him looking back at you with a smirk. It felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving the just the two of you alone.

At one point, Marshall took you and led you to a quieter corner of his house(which was relatively hard to find,) away from the loud music and conversations. "Yo, I meant what I said earlier," he said, his voice sounding as earnest as ever. "I wanna be with you. Not just some cheap ass fling, but somethin' real." It felt like a dream come true, which is what it pretty much was. Marshall was a dream come true.

You felt a lump in your throat, overwhelmed by his words. "Marshall, I... I want that too," you admitted, though you knew he already knew. "I just don't want you to put me in a diss track" you joked, and Marshall laughed in response. Just as you were about to say something else, the door to the room burst open.

Standing there, with a look of fury and disbelief, was Kim, Marshall's ex-wife.

"Marshall, what the hell is this?" she demanded, her eyes darting between you and him as she advanced further into the room. "You think you can just replace me like that?" How did she even get in? You thought, because you assumed he must have had security.

Marshall's face dropped, and he stepped forward protectively in front of you, especially since he knew how much of a psycho his ex could be.(sorry kim D:) "Kim, this ain't your business anymore. We been done, remember?"

Kim's gaze shifted to you, her expression clearly angry. "I can't fucking believe you, Marshall! After all the shit we've been through, you just move on with some new groupie slut? What the hell?" It was suddenly clear-- she had to be drunk. Also, you wondered what about you made her particularly angry, because it was no secret that Marshall had been with other groupies in the past. Did she flip out on them, or were you the only one she had targeted?

Kim's eyes narrowed, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Oh, move on? Is that what you call it now? Moving on by fucking the first girl who looks your way? Pathetic." It almost angered you when she spoke like that, because she didn't know you and Marshall's history together-- sure, it wasn't any where near theirs, but even so. You two had never been anything but each others friend before, so it wasn't like you had seduced him, or anything.

Marshall's jaw clenched, but he kept his voice steady. God, he looked hot when he did that. "I'm always gonna be there for Hailie. But you and me, we can't keep doing this. It's not healthy for anyone."

Kim let out a bitter laugh. "Healthy? You think this is healthy? Dragging our daughter into your midlife crisis shit? You're a joke, Marshall."

Marshall's expression was still enraged, but he seemed to have softened-- at least, a little bit. "I'm tryna to live my fuckin' life-- y'know Ima person too, Kim,"

Kim's eyes filled with tears, but her anger didn't waver. "Fine, Marshall. Do whatever the fuck you want, but don't expect me to just disappear. And don't think for a second that I'll let you ruin Hailie's life with your selfishness."

Marshall's expression hardened even further, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "You think I owe you something? After everything?" His voice dropped to a low growl. You had been retreating, not wanting to get in the middle of their fight, because you knew you had caused it. "I've been through hell and back wit you, Kim. You don't get to play the victim card."

Kim's eyes widened, and she took a step back, momentarily caught off guard. Maybe she was realizing how fucked up this whole fit was. "this isn't just about you, Marshall-- it's about us! I deserve better than your shit!"

He scoffed, a bitter edge to his tone. "I don' know if you forget Kim, but I'm single now-- ion got no ring on this finger now,"

Kim's anger flared anew. "Marshall, don't even--"

"Enough!" Marshall said, obviously tired. "We're toxic, together Kim and you know this shit. So get your drunk ass outta my house and we can talk when you're sober-- whenever that is. "

"Fuck you Marshall!" She yelled, before storming out of the room you and Marshall were in.

"I'm sorry-- I'm not tryna involve you in this mess, Y/N."

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room dissipate slightly as Kim's footsteps grew quieter and quieter, the music eventually drowning them out. Marshall looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and exhaustion.

"Don't worry about it," you said softly, trying to offer some comfort. "Sometimes things just need to be said. Also, you can't control what someone says or does, so I'll never think less of you because of Kim,"

"God-- you're what I've been lookin' for my whole life," He said, exhaling a breath.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, but you kept your tone steady. It wasn't fair of you to further complicate his life when there were obviously ends that were untie. "Marshall, you need to focus on yourself right now. Figure out what you really want and need."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, you're right, but... I'm gonna fix all my shit, and then watch out, cause I'm comin' for you," He said, shoving you slight. Something about his words made you feel like you had made the right decision, even if your heart was still upset.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of calm settle over the room. "I'm here for you, always. And don't worry, I'll be waiting."

"I love you."

2,727 words

Chapter Text

***

December 16, 1989

It was the day, or rather night, of your seventeenth birthday, and of course you had snuck your best friend into your house for a sleepover. Marshall had been your best friend since the day you had met him in Fourth Grade. At the age of nine years old, you had unknowingly made friend that would stick with you for the next eight years of school. Marshall was like your guard dog, in way, as anyone that would even look at you the wrong way, he'd yell at or even beat up, on occasion.

"Marsh...if you ever somehow get famous, which would be very unexpected," you smile, looking up into your friend's eyes. He chuckled in response, muttering fuck off under his breath. "promise that you won't change? And that you'll always be friends with me, cause you have put me through way too much to just drop me!" you finish, your hands gliding up to play with the ends of your hair. "You think I'm gonna forget 'bout you?" Marshall asks incredulously, his short brown hair looking almost blond in the light. "No, but...I don't know," Of course you hoped with all your being that your best friend would not forget everything that the two of you had been through, but a part of you knew that if he truly became famous(which you suspected would happen,) it was truly a mystery as to what he'd do. "Nah, you always my number one, Y/N. My ride or die." "Shut up," you responded as you stifled a laugh. Marshall's expression softened as he reached out, gently tugging on a strand of your hair. "For real, Y/N, you mean the fuckin' world to me. Fame or not, nothin's boutta change that."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words(as you so often felt,) but couldn't help but tease him just a bit more. "You better remember that when you're rapping and doing a million interviews."

He rolled his blue eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "Bitch please, Like I'd ever get tired of you. Besides, who else is gonna remind me where I came from?" That wasn't something you even worried about, as you were sure Marshall's Detroit pride would never fade. He was quite passionate about the city, though you knew deep down that it was the community and the people that truly made it feel like home for him.

You grinned, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Just don't forget to invite me to all the cool parties."

Marshall laughed, the sound real and genuine, like the first deep breath after a race. "Deal. But only if ya promise to keep me in check if I start getting a big head."

"Always," you replied, your smile widening. "That's what best friends are for, right?"

"Hell yeah," he said, pulling you into a quick hug. "Ride or die."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made you sit up straight in you bed, pushing the covers over Marshall to hide him. "Oh shit, my dad's home!" You whisper yelled to Marshall, who only laughed at you stress in return. Whatever he'd face for being in your room was better than what he was getting at his own home.

***

April 23, 2000

(pretend this date is accurate and lines up perfectly to when he dyed his hair <3)

It was a cool night in Detroit, as you'd never left the city. You had ignored Marshall, who was still your best friend, for maybe three months, at this point. Unfortunately, your plan had backfired, as those were by far the worst two months of your life-- more so than when you'd been grounded for Marshall being in your room at 1am. But now here you were, your knuckles hitting the dark wood of the door. For how much fame and presumably money he'd been gaining, Marshall sure did continue to live a modest life.

"You've changed," was the first thing Marshall had told you when you entered the room, which smelt and looked as though it had been hotboxed.

"Me? I've changed?!" You asked incredulously, looking at the now bleach blonde man in front you.

"Yea, what's new?"

"Okay-- have you even seen yourself now? Look at your hair!"

"Why, people ain't allowed to dye their hair now? You don't like it?"

You knew the story. You knew how Marshall and his friend Royce had gotten drunk one night, and how he'd woken up with bleached hair. Just because you'd cut off contact didn't mean that you couldn't do your research, right?

"I didn't say I didn't like it, I mean it looks good, great, even but you just look..."

"High?"

"Yeah, well, that too,"

Marshall laughed, the sound a bit rougher than you remembered, his eyes a bit darker, too. At least now that you'd noticed it. "Guess some things never change, huh?"

You shook your head, a mix of amusement and what you thought was palpable concern in your eyes. "Seriously, Marsh, what's going on with you?" Of course, Marshall had always been into some sort of drug, but right now it had gotten to the point where every single interview he was shit-faced, or tweaking. You didn't want that for him, not matter how fun it was for him in the moment. And you also knew that he wasn't completely happy nor satisfied-- not after the falling out. Selfishly, you hoped that he'd felt the same 'gaping hole in your heart' feeling that you had felt after not speaking to him.

He shrugged, leaning back against the black leather couch that grunted as his hands gripped it. "Just tryna to find myself, I guess. Fame ain't nothin like I thought it would be, y'know?" He said nonchalantly, but you knew it was all a ruse.

You shook your head, taking a seat beside him. If only he had just...
"Yeah, but don't lose yourself in the music. Remember what you promised me? And quit the 'Slim Shady' shit, I just want to speak to Marshall."

He sighed, running a hand through his newly dyed hair. It really did look amazing, but he always did. Marshall looked great no matter how much peroxide he put on his hair, no matter how low he sagged his pants. "I know, I know. It's just hard sometimes. But I didn't forget, aight? You still my number one, it's just now I got number twos and threes and fours, okay?"

"Yeah, but if you really cared..."

"Don't bring that shit up again." Marshall dead panned, you obviously having struck a nerve.

"Marsha--"

"Y/N, I don't wanna talk about that--" You snapped, your face growing heated. How did he not realize that the sole purpose you were here for was to reconcile and to talk whatever was going on out?! It truly could not have been this one sided, could it have not...?!

"No, Marshall. You never once asked me how I felt! It's always just been about you and your life, and how I would always be there whenever you need something! And the one fucking time I need something, you can't even show up!"

Marshall's eyes flashed with a mix of guilt and frustration. "You think I don't care? You think I don't know how much you've done for me?"

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you pushed on. "Then why, Marsh? Why couldn't you be there for me just this once?"

He looked away, his jaw clenched. "Well what was it?! What was so important you can't even tell me? Jesus fucking christ, I... Y/N I don't even know what to do no more..."

***

January 27, 2000

The falling out had started over something far more serious than either of you had anticipated. It was the night of your father's funeral. You had asked Marshall to be there, to support you through one of the hardest moments of your life. But he never showed up. To be fair, you had never told him what the occasion was, as it had happened so suddenly. Nevertheless, you had been counting on him to show up no matter what, but you should have known that something would come up-- it always did.

You found out later that he had been caught up in a last-minute performance, something he couldn't, or maybe even wouldn't, reschedule. It felt like a betrayal, a sign that his new life was taking priority over the friendship you had always cherished. And in a way, it made sense. He was probably meeting a million girls a night like you, that could give him all he'd ever want. So why would he waste his time on someone like you?

***
present

"That night, Marsh, was my dad's funeral," you said, your voice trembling with the weight of the revelation. You had never told him before, and for some reason, revealing it now almost felt worse than if you'd revealed it earlier.

Marshall's eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a freight train on uneven tracks. He took a step back, running a hand through his short hair, his face falling in a mix of shock and regret. "I...I didn't know. I swear, if I'd known, I would've been there. No show, no crowd, no nothing would've kept me away."

He looked down, his voice dropping to a contemplative whisper. "I'm sorry. I messed up, big time. I been so focused on me that I didn't see nothing or no one around me. I let you down. That's on me."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way his shoulders hung with the weight of his guilt, as if someone were pulling him down from all angles. You knew he was genuinely sorry, as you'd grown up with him. "I know I can't change what happened, but I need you to know how fuckin' sorry I am. I should've been there for you, and I wasn't. Please, forgive me."

There was a long pause, the air thick with doubt and hurt, but also hope. Hope that the two of you could return to what you once her. Finally, you nodded, the anger and hurt slowly melting away. "I forgive you, Marshall. You know I can't stay mad at you."

"And I'm boutta make it up to you, I promise. No more excuses, aight? You're my friend, and I ain't gonna forget about that."

With that, the tension between had all but vanished, like water flowing down a water drain.

Marshall took a deep breath, his eyes still locked on yours. "Alright, let's move forward from here. I know I gotta earn back your trust, and I'm ready to put in the work, trust." And trust you did, because you had faith in him.

You both sat on the couch, the room dimly lit by a single lamp. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like things were back to normal. Marshall told you all about the new friends he had made, about the new places he was able to visit, and how he fully intended on bringing you somewhere with him. You were secretly grateful, as you wanted to travel somewhere-- preferably New York. ( east coast = <3 )

As the night went on, you found yourselves sitting closer, the space between you shrinking ever so slowly, before your body found his. Marshall's arm brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He noticed and chuckled, which reminded you of being young teens all those years ago. You felt like that same 17 year old girl. "You cold?" he asked, looking you up and down. You clutched the hem of your black tank top, not willing to admit that you were more nervous than scared. At the ripe age of twenty-three, you didn't know why still felt like a teenager in front of Marshall. (IK it's still young lol)

You shook your head, but he still reached over, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over both of you. With it on, you realized that it really did help. While the gesture was simple, it still spoke volumes, at least, to you. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. For as long as you had known him, Marshall's body was always warm, even if that was because he was always smoking something...

Marshall's hand found yours under the blanket, his fingers intertwining with yours. It was a small, intimate gesture, but it always made your heart race. You were so unimaginably grateful to have had made up with him. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions; regret, hope, and something else you couldn't quite place.

"You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I missed this. Just bein' here wit you."

You nodded, feeling the same way. "Me too, Marsh."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, the moment stretching out like a long hallway, though not in an ominous way. More in a way that was filled with many things that would remain unspoken, but with shared feelings. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble in Marshall's apartment.

And then, without thinking, you closed the distance between you.

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