#mathers day love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twohearts-hs · 2 months

Text

Always & Forever Two - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 4.4k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol & smoking. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

May 2012

Y/N leaned against the wall in the kitchen as she ran a hand over her forehead. It’s noon and she had only been here for four hours…another eight to go.

She worked three times a week at the diner. Which each were twelve-hour shifts, therefore the rest of the week she was filled with summer classes.

However, the Sunday rush was not what they anticipated. It was crazy busy. At least she got to control the music for the day which was old rock and roll.

“Tired?” she heard Gavin say from behind the steel table in the kitchen.

“You could say that,” she whispered with a chuckle as she grabbed the plates and read the tag of where they were going. “I stayed up writing a paper till three a.m. as I forgot it was due.”

“Girl, you need a break.”

“I need a holiday, but you do not get one at this ripe age of twenty-one and in this economy,” she joked as she made her way to the tables.

Placing down the plates, she said the orders before looking up. A woman in her late teens sat with brunette hair and flawless beauty and across from her was…

“Y/N,” he said her name so perfectly as if he had practised it for hours.

“Marshall,” she said as she glanced at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N sent a quick nod and looked over at the woman across from him before looking at him. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else,” was all she said before turning away.

Marshall watched as she walked back to the kitchen. He glanced to Hailie before furrowing his brow.

“You know her?” Hailie said.

“Um, not really. We met at na event but it does not matter,” he stated before glancing down at his food.

“Ok…”

Y/N walked back to the kitchen before glancing at how empty the kitchen was all of a sudden. All the cooks lined up looking out the window to main area where they placed the plates. Why were they all there?

“What are you looking at?” she asked as she stood behind them.

“Eminem is here,” Gavin said, “you just served Eminem.”

“I just served…” Y/N whispered before glancing out the window too. “I just served Eminem,” she said more to herself. Eminem got her fired. Holy shit. “Like the rapper?”

Gavin turned around and had a stunned expression. “Yeah, like the rapper.”

The more she looked at him, the more she pieced together the information. How did she not know? She grew up with Eminem. Not in terms of being a hardcore fan but his music was played in her house and her mom did go to a concert when she was younger, but she sat and talked to The Eminem the other week.

It’s been a week since she saw him. He had to been at the sports event for publicity as he was Eminem. The event of course had Eminem there as this was Detroit.

Y/N went around back to his table. Marshall glanced up from his food to see her.

“Emily went on break, so I am just filling in for her right now until she is back. How are the first few bites?” she asked.

“Good,” they both said, and Y/N was content with that and went to turn away.

However, Marshall glanced up at her and sasked, “How are you?”

Y/N heard his voice and turned back around. Then his question hit her…he asked how she was. He cared about how she was… Therefore she smiled and said, “Good. Busy but good. You?”

“Good.”

Y/N thought the conversation was done and after a moment, she nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Gavin quickly pulled her by her arm into the back.

“Gavin!” she exclaimed as he pulled her into the closet.

“How was talking to Eminem? Could you maybe hype me up and get me a auto-“

“No,” she said blankly as if it was obvious.

“What?”

“He is obviously enjoying his meal with his friend-“

“Daughter.”

“Daughter. He is enjoying a meal with his daughter, and we cannot disturb that,” Y/N said. “Now if you excuse me, I have customers to serve.”

Emily came back from her break and continued to serve Marshall and his daughter. Y/N was told to go on her break and instead, went outside to have a drink of water and to have a smoke. It was the alley by the diner, and she was just about to light one before a voice interrupted her. She was not a chain smoker or an addict…simply, she liked the tobacco filling her lungs when she was stressed. She knew the habit was bad and she needed to kick it. However, she continued smoking.

“You know those will kill you,” Marshall said as he stepped into the alley.

“A little birdy told me so,” she hummed, “but that’s-“

“The purpose. To kill yourself a little?” he commented as he leaned against the wall. “I did not know you worked at Ted’s.”

She shrugged. “Just another job.” He nodded. “It helps with the stress,” she commented, “the smoking.”

He nodded again. “It does kill you.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I hope you enjoyed your meal-“

“Wasn’t too bad. You know,” he began as he kicked the ground lightly, “we keep running into each other.”

“Detroit is small.”

“Not really,” he argued.

“What do you want me to say, Marshall?” she hummed. “This is fate?”

“If we meet for a third time I will say its fate,” he argued back.

“Ok and if we do what does that mean?”

Marshall smiled and crossed his arms. “We will find out.”

“Ok,” Y/N whispered and nodded.

“Ok. Now stop smoking for me, will you? A pretty girl with attitude is needed in this world.”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Ok, duly noted. Bye, Marshall.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

Marshall walked away and Y/N watched as he descended. He was interested in her. He was intrigued by her and yet, she could not help but wonder why the Marshall Mathers talked to her. What did Eminem want with her? Who knew?

June 2012

Sam was something Y/N did not know how to describe. They met at a bar a few months ago and despite knowing each other’s bodies, that was all they were doing.

He was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was taller and stronger. She did not know much about him besides his desire to become something more, but Y/N did not have time for that. She needed a release. It was simply just sex.

She did not know much about him. She knew he worked in the music industry. However, they did not have those serious conversations besides what pleased each other. Once a week they would see each other, and it would be a world of ecstasy before they parted ways.

Y/N took the bus to the recording studio. Sam was running late at the studio and suggested they meet at the studio before driving back to his place. Y/N got out of the bus and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She was in leggings and a hoodie.

Sam was fidgeting with the sound panel as Y/N entered the room. Instantly, he turned around and spotted the woman in the doorframe.

“Come in, Em and I are just mixing some tapes,” Sam said as he got up to greet her, but Y/N dodged the hug to look at the figure that sat next to him.

nstantly, Marshall smiled sending her a curt nod her way. Y/N shook her head in disbelief.

He was right. If they had a third time is the charm for meeting. This was fate. She was meant to meet Eminem for some reason. It’s been a month and a half since the curb side cigarette meeting and now she sat in his studio.

Sam introduced the team in the booth but when he got to Marshall he sent a grin.

“Y/N.”

“Marshall,” she quipped.

He chuckled and turned back to mix he was working on.

Fate. What a silly little thing…

“You know each other?” Sam asked as he glanced between the two.

“Something like that,” she hummed but then looked back at Sam. “Ready to go?”

Sam glanced around at the group before landing on Marshall. “Um, can I go, mate?” Sam asked.

Marshall did not even turn his chair before muttering, “No. We need to work on this.”

Sam nodded then looked at Y/N. “Uh, going to be a while.”

Y/N rose a brow then nodded. “Ok, I will go home.”

“You can stay,” Marshall said turning around, “would like to hear your opinion.” He patted the spot next to him that usually Sam sits but obviously he was being kicked out. Y/N settled, and Marshall handed her a pair of headphones.

“I get to listen to unreleased Eminem music?” she whispered to him.

Marshall smiled. “How did you know I was Eminem?”

“Gavin the line cook at the diner. He has a man crush on you.”

He chuckled. “Good to know. Did you know when we met?”

She shook her head before he pressed play. Y/N listened to the whole song and began to nod her head along. Marshall watched her the entire time seeing the change in expression as she enjoyed the mix. Once finished, she took the headphones off.

“I like it. Its good. What is it called?”

“Don’t know yet, but it is still a work in progress.”

Sam watched the entire scene in front of him. How she was close to him and smiled when he talked. Her eyes shined just a little brighter when he cracked a joke. He was so close to touching her and when he talked, he would lean in. Y/N was his. The last two months he had been pining after her.

Now, he got his big break at helping on an Eminem CD and here he was Eminem was stealing his girl.

Who did he think he was?

“Which tape was it?” Sam asked from the corner.

“Track eight.”

“Good one.”

Y/N turned around to see Sam and the solemn look on his face. Arms crossed as he watched the scene. However, Sam’s phone rang making him leave the room. Y/N turned to Marshall who was looking at her.

“I told you that if we meet again, it’s fate,” he quipped.

She chuckled. “Want my number or something?” He nodded, fishing out his blackberry in his pocket. “A blackberry what are you, fifty?” she hummed.

“Thirty-nine, thank you and I am very content with it.”

Another chuckle came from her lips which lit up Marshall’s cold heart for a moment. He handed her the device where she put her phone number in.

“I will warn you; I am not looking for anything serious. Just friends.”

His heart broke slightly from hearing that, but he ignored it. “That is all I am looking for. We keep running into each other-“

“Pun intended?”

“Pun intended. You are meant to be in my life somehow, Y/N.”

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked. “I am supposed to hang out with Sam, but I want to hang out with my new friend.”

Marshall smiled at that and nodded. “Want to come to my place then? We can’t really go out due to the whole Eminem…”

“Sure. Or we can go for a drive or something.”

He grinned at that. “Sure, let me get rid of Sam.”

Marshall left the room leaving Y/N in the recording room by herself. She did not know what any of this equipment was, but she was intrigued by it. Lots of buttons, levers and more. She was tempted to touch but if she fucked with an Eminem song…Eminem would fuck her up.

Eventually, Sam came back. “Are we going?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood anymore. Raincheck?”

The look on his face made her break slightly but he nodded. “Want me to drive you home?”

She rose a brow knowing exactly what he was implying. “We are not seeing each other tonight, Sam.”

He nodded and eventually gathered his things and left. Marshall came back and saw her sitting there with her bag ready to go. He grinned.

“You know, I am not one to just jump into a stranger’s car,” she stated.

“Well, I would say we can go somewhere public but-“

“I know.”

“I trust you though,” she said, “for only meeting you three times and sharing probably less than a hundred words, I do trust you.”

His heart shined lightly from that comment and nodded. He gathered his things before letting her walk out of the recording studio. He kept his hands to himself, hands in pocket as Y/N walked by his side.

“How did you get here?”

“Bus.”

He nodded as he stopped in front of an Aston Martin V8 Vantage. They got in and Y/N placed her bag between her legs as he settled in the driver’s spot.

“How do you know Sam?”

She pursed her lips and then sent him a grimace. “We met at a bar and have been sleeping together for the last few months,” Y/N stated but said in a tone that she was not impressed with herself.

Marshall nodded. “He is just helping with one song but honestly, I am not a big fan of his work,” he admitted.

“Really? Well, if you’re not really a fan of his work, I am not really a fan of him in bed.”

He chuckled. “Bad?”

She shrugged. “Just fills the needs.”

“How is work going?” he asked as they drove.

“Fine. Working loads. I need to save for my master’s because I do not know if I am going to get a scholarship.”

Marshall nodded. “Art history, right?”

She nodded. “The most useless degree but I was eighteen and did not know what else to study. I am the first in my family to have gotten a degree so…”

“Parents did not go to school?”

“My mom never went to post-secondary. I am from Canada, and she owns a surf shop in a small town. Its super cute. My dad on the other hand…I never knew,” she said. There was more to her dad, but it was simple to just keep it like that.

“I never knew my dad too,” he said, “so I get it.”

“Yeah. I am from the same town as Pamela Anderson is from. Ladysmith, British Columbia.”

He nodded knowing exactly that name and what he has said about her. “Surf town?”

“Not really. But my mom’s best friend lives in Tofino so we used to go there like a few times a month.”

“You surf?”

“Sure do. Miss it terribly as I am stuck in the Midwest.”

“How did you get to Detroit then?”

Y/N explained the story. The scholarships, the opportunities and the need to just start new.

“My mom and I had a falling out with me moving here. She was not ready to let me go. She needed me more than I needed her.”

“Meaning?”

“I love my mom, but she loves me more than anything.”

“Well, I am a parent and I can relate-“

“But she was obsessive with me. She wanted me to be the best in everything and to make her world better. She grew up with nothing and she made a name for herself with the shop. However, she had the shop and me. That was her life.”

He nodded. “I think she was lonely.”

Y/N agreed. “She just wants the best for me but she wanted me to stay in that town, but I needed to get out of that town. Off that island.”

He nodded again.

Marshall parked the car at some park and turned to look at her.

“Why is this Canadian girl in my life?” he asked.

Y/N looked at him. “Why am I in Eminem’s car?”

He chuckled.

“I don’t care that you’re Eminem by the way. I mean I did grow up with your music and I would say my mom is a fan…” she began to ramble, “like she did get to your concert in ’02 or ’03 or something. However, I am not-“

“Stop,” he whispered, “I believe you. You’re a grounded person.”

Y/N nodded.

“And I am sorry for getting you fired,” he said, “and being a jackass about it.”

Y/N chuckled. “It was a terrible job.”

“How is the diner?”

Y/N began to explain the logistics of the diner. The secrets, the people, the life of it and Marshall listened. He truly listened to every word she said.

There was something about this Canadian girl. She was beautiful, he would admit. The way the sun shined on her face; it brightened her freckles. Her lips were plump and kissable. Her eyes were bright with life. She has seen better days, but she was a survivor and a trooper. She was something and something magnificent.

However, as she talked, he listened to everything she said but he was so focused on how she used her hands to explain the story how her eyes fluttered and her expressions changed when the tone altered.

It had been a while since he felt this way. He was always so cold towards love. Since Kim, he kept to himself, focused on his career and his girls. However, she was a light in the very dark hallway, and he could not help but be the moth drawn to it.

“Why do you sleep with Sam?”

“You asked me this question before…”

“You’re disrespecting yourself by just-“

She chuckled. “Enough about me Marshall, tell me about yourself.”

He paused for the moment to think. What did she want to know? Everything about him was accessible via the internet but the pretty girl in front of him was wanting to get to know him…

“I am Marshall Mathers,” he said, “I have three daughters and I can rap-“

“No,” she said, “I know that. Tell me something deeper.”

He shrugged and took a moment to find his words. “I like the colour blue.”

“Ok.”

“I like hip-hop.”

“Ok.”

“And I think you’re pretty,” he said with a smirk.

Y/N smiled lightly but not a wide bodacious rather a simple and delicate smile. Like it was the first time she had ever heard those words come from the boy.

“I think you’re unique, independent and admirable,” he whispered. They faced one another with the middle console keeping them apart. However, with every word that came from his thin lips, he inched closer. Marshall reached out and grasped the piece of hair that was by her ear and slowly, he tucked it.

“You’re smart, snarky with humour. You’re not scared to ask what you want. However,” he pulled away, “you have a lot of darkness that takes the lightness from your eyes, and I want to know.

Y/N paused. Her smile faded slowly, and she looked at him with a serious demeanour.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“Nor do you with me but I would like to.”

“I want to know your demons, Marshall.”

He shook his head and snickered lightly. He did not know how to answer that comment. A woman who was half his age sat here, young and ambitious saying she wanted to get to know him. Marshall knew better. She was momentarily. She was a blip in his world. However, he was attracted to this blip and wanted her to last just enough to potentially make him happy then she would walk as she was a twenty-one-year-old with her whole life ahead of her.

Therefore, he nodded.

“I would like to know yours too,” he said as he tucked the other side of her hair away. “Three times we ran into each other, quite potentially the universe has something to say.”

Whoever made this world had something to meddle with this relationship.

“Why art history?” he asked eventually as they stared at one another.

“Because there is beauty in art and the artists are so thoughtful. There is so much in a painting, a story to be told. Symbolism and analogies. You can read a whole story in just one painting. Why music? It is similar. You share an experience, a thought, an emotion, an opinion and a message all in rhythm, lyrics and beat. It is an art.”

Marshall admired her. The way she said it was with such utter love and devotion. However, as he was about to open his mouth her phone rang.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “it’s Sam.” As she said that he could not help but let his heart fall slightly. Y/N brought the phone to her ear and answered, “Hello.”

“Hey. I swung by your house to see if you were home and you were not. So was just checking-“

“I am fine. I am with Marshall,” she said so innocently.

“Oh, Marshall like Eminem Marshall?”

“Yeah.”

“No offence, Y/N, but he is Eminem. He is just trying to fuck you. He is going to hurt you.”

Y/N sighed, and it was clear Marshall could overhear the conversation. His face fell and instead, his brows furrowed with being offended. She opened the door to step out of the car to have this personal conversation, but Marshall followed by opening the door to see her rolling her eyes and kicking the ground.

“Sam, why does that matter to you? We are literally just fooling around.”

“Well, I have been trying to get more out of you-“

“I made it so clear I was not looking for something serious.”

“Look, if you want to be a whore, be a fucking whore for Em but don’t fucking complain if he is a fucking ass to you,” he snapped. “Enjoy getting dicked down by Eminem.” Then he hung up.

Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Y/N’s unimpressed face as she pocketed her phone.

“According to Sam I am a whore for hanging out with you,” she stated with a chuckle. “Fucking men I tell you,” she whispered the last part. “Can’t deal with fucking competition.”

Marshall raised a brow and nodded. “He called you a whore?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Like that would hurt. I have been called worse.”

Marshall had a grimace before his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He called her a whore. He called her a whore and a piece of him was angered, upset and more importantly infuriated.

This was Y/N. Sweet, sweet, genuine Y/N.

“Cut it off,” he stated with his arms crossed. “Cut the whole relationship off.”

Y/N gave him a look of disbelief and utter ignorance before sighing. “I can’t. I’ll be the ass.”

“Then be the ass,” he was serious. Completely and terrifying serious. ‘Be an ass.’ He would be. He would 100% be ass.

How dare he say such an ugly word to the most beautiful girl.

Y/N sighed and shook her head. There was some sympathy in her and to be a complete bitch was not in her cards of the night, but she had a boy in front of her. A handsome, mature and utterly devoted man who was telling her, whispering her the truth.

“He just wants my cunt, doesn’t he?” she asked.

What a dirty word for such a girl. He was taken aback by the comment, but he could not display that. She was beauty and she was grace.

They stood in the parking lot at the local park. She had tears welling up in her eyes and him looking as if the most beautiful girl just walked into the room.

It’s been years since he loved, but this devil walked in with cashmere and cream with devotion and adoration laced in her simple but beautiful eyes. A wonder with prospects of horror but he wanted her in ways he could not communicate.

“He is a boy,” he whispered as he took a step.

“And I am a girl,” she replied, “so…”

“A girl does not need a boy. She does not need a man,” he stated, “she needs wonder, acceptance,” he took another step, “and someone with an open mind.”

Y/N scoffed. “You’re saying I need someone.”

“You do.”

Y/N kicked the ground before glancing up at him. “You’re the man who has not dated since his ex-wife. You’re the epitome of being alone and yet, you’re standing in front of me with-“

“You’re young.”

Another loud scoff came from her. “Not like I have heard that before.”

Marshall sighed. “This is coming across as wrong.”

“I do not need someone to achieve the goals I want. I don’t need Sam.”

This was coming out wrong and the girl in front of him did not understand.

“Y/N,” he said then took a break, “don’t…” he took a breath, “don’t think you need someone when you’re capable of achieving something on your own.” He waited. “You’re responsible for your own success.”

Her frown turned slightly from solemn to emotionless to smile. “You’re a lonely man, Mr. Mathers.”

He shrugged. “I don’t sleep around-“

“You used to.”

“I did.”

“But that is the past.”

“Indeed. I am grown now.”

“And I am not?”

“Never said that. Sleep with who you like but don’t be used.”

“Sam is nice.”

“Sam is obsessed with you.” A pause. “You don’t need that.”

“I like the attention.”

“Then that’s your own issues shining through,” he commented then took a step. “I want to be your friend, Y/N, if you have me.”

“Usually, people do not propose friendship to me. We usually just become friends.”

“Call me old fashioned then,” he said with a shrug.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said with disbelief and slowly. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“The overworked came from a single mom, a student who is half your age?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

Then she smiled and not just a small, happy smile but rather and impressed smile.

“I would like that, Marshall Mathers.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Then Miss. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you do the honours of being my friend.”

“I consent.”

There you go chapter two!

Much love,

Ava

#marshall mathers series #marshall mathers fluff #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #eminem #eminem x reader #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem angst #eminem fluff #marshall mathers angst #eminem series

68 notes · View notes

ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 months

Text

Like the slumber that creeps to me

My first fic for @painlandweek has been posted! You can either read the first few scenes below or find the whole thing here on AO3.

Prompt: Sickfic

Length: 13.5K words

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Summary: While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

Excerpt:

“I fear that I will never understand the living,” Edwin says as they climb the seven flights of stairs to their office on the top floor. He hasn’t groused about not being able to mirror travel with Crystal tagging along once, which tells Charles how off-kilter tonight’s case left him. “They hear about Hell, renowned for being the worst place in existence, and they think, ‘perhaps I should create something just like that and keep it in my pantry.’ Honestly.”

“I don’t think you can blame that on the sorcerer being living,” Crystal says acidly. She doesn’t sound even a little out of breath; she’s acclimating to this climb. “You can blame it on him being a toxic douchebag who wanted to punish his enemies so badly he couldn’t wait for Hell to do it.”

“And now he’s a toxic douchebag stuck in a pocket dimension of his own making, isn’t he?” Charles probably should feel a little bad about trapping the sorcerer in the fire and brimstone hellscape in his pantry, but the way he sees it, he was an evil cunt who had it coming. Russell Mathers had been a surprisingly powerful, if self-taught, sorcerer and he’d used all that power to enact revenge on his enemies. Except, he’d had a very loose definition of what made an enemy: his victims ranged from an academic rival to a colleague that had spurned his advances to the twelve-year-old neighbor boy that trod on his lawn one too many times.

It had been the twelve year old’s spirit who had brought them the case, sobbing in their office about having escaped from the fires of Hell. Edwin’s hands shook for the rest of the day and for that alone, Charles couldn’t feel too bad for closing the door to the pocket dimension in Mathers’s smug fucking face.

“Anyway, it’s done with.” Charles pushes the memories of the raging inferno of hellfire inside the dimension away. He’s been trying real hard not to “keep things bottled up,” like Crystal accused him of doing, since Port Townsend, but this is one thing he thinks he can bottle up for now. “Sorcerer can’t hurt anyone anymore, his victims are avenged, and your wards should stop anyone else from wandering in, Edwin. Case closed.”

“Job officially jobbed,” Crystal and Edwin say at the same time, then look at each other suspiciously. Charles grins down at them. It’s adorable how surprised they both are by the fact that they’re friends now.

“And now I think we’ve earned a break, yeah?” Charles pushes open the door of the office and finds the Night Nurse standing there, standing with her arms folded over her chest and a narrow-eyed look like she’s just caught them out past curfew.

“Evening, Charlie,” Charles says brightly, just to see her eye twitch. Look, he’s mostly forgiven her for cornering him and Edwin in Port Townsend and accidentally getting Edwin sent to Hell, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think he’s earned the right to needle her a bit.

“You’re finally back. I was starting to think you were out… gallivanting.” She says “gallivanting” in the same tone she might accuse them of attending a drug-fueled orgy.

“Oh yeah, loads of gallivanting.” Charles props his elbow on Edwin’s shoulder. “Right, Edwin? We gallivanted right into a sorcerer’s house, where we saved the latest girl he’d tossed into a pocket dimension full of hellfire.”

“And kicked him in for good measure,” Crystal adds.

Charles nods. “It was a real good time. You should have been there, Charlie.”

“You would have loved the pocket dimension.” Crystal smiles in a way that suggests she would have dropkicked the Night Nurse in herself, given half the chance. Charles and Edwin may have mostly forgiven the Night Nurse for Port Townsend, but Crystal never will. She doesn’t take people fucking with Charles or Edwin kindly. Charles finds himself smiling at her dopily and has to turn away. He catches Edwin shooting Crystal a fond look and finds himself smiling dopily at his best mate instead, which isn’t any better.

“Well, now that you’re back, there’s another case,” the Night Nurse says huffily. “And she’s been waiting for hours.”

“Already?” Charles was about to suggest a night of playing Cluedo and not thinking about any fire and brimstone pocket dimensions. “We just got back.”

She glares at him. “Death waits for no one, young man. If you wanted leisure, you should have moved on to your tranquil afterlife.”

Charles grins at her. “And miss your smiling face? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Edwin steps forward with an exasperated sigh, though Charles isn’t sure which of them his exasperation is aimed at. “Who is the client?”

***

Miss Paula Morris appears to be somewhere between forty and fifty, with a cloud of long, silvery blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and dangling earrings shaped like goldfish. She doesn’t appear to be a madwoman, but that seems to be the only explanation for the story she’s telling them.

“So, your beau knew the necklace was cursed when he gave it to you?” Edwin stares at her across the desk, pen poised over his notebook. The living—or in her case, the very recently living—continue to confound him. “And you accepted the gift? Willingly?”

“Oh, yes.” Miss Morris smiles a little sadly. “Raymond knew how much I like spooky stuff. He was always doing thoughtful things like that.”

“Spooky stuff,” Edwin echoes.

“Oh, the usual things. Tarot decks, Ouija boards, cursed dolls.”

He suppresses a shudder. “And so he gave you a necklace that purportedly causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die within three days.”

“He said he found it on Ebay.”

Edwin turns to Crystal helplessly.

“It’s like an online auction house.” She pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll show you later.”

“Raymond didn’t think it would actually make me sick,” Miss Morris says. “Just like my cursed dolls didn’t actually put me in an eternal sleep.”

Edwin shudders again.

“So Raymond gave you the cursed necklace.” Charles leans forward, wearing that winning smile of his. “What happened next?”

Miss Morris’s smile dims. “The next day, he called me and said he felt like he was coming down with something. I felt fine until I was coming home from my book club that night and I started feeling faint. It just felt like the flu. I was tired, a little dizzy, and I had a fever. I couldn’t stop sleeping. Every time I talked to Raymond, he sounded terrible, and then he stopped taking my calls. Yesterday morning, I fell asleep and when I woke up last night, I was dead.”

Edwin gives her a moment to collect himself, cognizant of Charles and Crystal’s lectures on bedside manner. “And Raymond?” he asks after what he feels is a sensitive amount of time, at least ten seconds.

She sniffles. “Oh, he died right around the time I fell asleep. His daughter is the one who found my body when she came to tell me this morning. Otherwise, I don’t know how long I would have laid there.”

“And you’re sure it was the necklace?” Crystal asks.

“I don’t know what else it could have been. Raymond and I were both perfectly healthy up until the day after our date. Three days later, we were both dead.”

“Did he say anything about the seller?” Edwin asks quickly, because he can see Miss Morris is getting emotional.

She shakes her head. “Just that the necklace came from America.”

“Thank you.” Edwin jots that down in his notebook. “We typically do not carry out revenge missions and even if we did, the person who sold Raymond the necklace is most likely beyond revenge. If this necklace’s magic is as potent as you say, it’s safe to assume that they’re already dead.”

“What Edwin means to say.” Charles props himself on the desk, all easy charm. “Is what can we do to help you move on?”

Miss Morris smiles at him, because people are always smiling at Charles. “The necklace is still in my house and my sister and niece will be coming up tomorrow to go through my things. I don’t want them to find it and touch it. It’s a beautiful emerald necklace and green is their favorite color.. I’m afraid that if one of them finds it and takes it home…”

“That they’ll become victims of the curse too,” Crystal says when she trails off. “So you want us to break into your house and get the necklace?”

“Yes, please.” Miss Morris reaches up to toy with one of her earrings. “Allison and Maeve are my only family. I’ve already lost Raymond. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Edwin closes his notebook and exchanges looks with Charles and Crystal. It seems like a straightforward case, just the thing after the ugly business with Russell Mathers and his pocket dimension. The sorcerer was just the latest in a line of harrowing cases and Edwin knows his partners are starting to feel the strain. If all they have to do for Miss Morris is break into her home and steal a necklace before tomorrow, this should be a simple affair.

Charles nods and Edwin turns back to Miss Morris. “We’ll be happy to take your case, Miss Morris. But now, the matter of your payment.”

***

“Dear lord.” Edwin stares around Paula Morris’s house with the expression of someone who’s found himself back in the depths of Hell.

“Come on, mate.” Charles nudges him in the shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. How on earth are we supposed to find anything here? No wonder she can’t remember exactly where she left it. Amelia Earhardt’s lost plane is probably hidden somewhere among this rubbish.”

Paula Morris’s house seems like exactly the type of place that would belong to someone who’d fancy a cursed necklace as a gift from her boyfriend. It’s covered from wall to wall in stuff: old-timey portraits hanging on the walls, knick-knacks cluttering every surface, too much mismatched furniture for the small space. Charles kind of loves it, but he can see how it would overwhelm Edwin.

There’s a knock on the door behind them. “Are you going to let me in, or should I stand on a dead lady’s porch all night until the neighbors come over to see what I’m doing?”

“Sorry, Crystal.” Charles turns to let her in with an apologetic smile.

She looks around with a raised eyebrow. “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Edwin sighs. “It’s dreadful.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. Definitely fits Paula’s witchy vibe.”

“Should we expect to find a giant snake in the basement?” Edwin asks acidly, pressing on before anyone can answer. “We only have a few hours until Miss Morris’s relatives arrive, so we should start our hunt. Crystal, you take the kitchen and the powder room. Charles, you the living room and office. I’ll take the master bed and bath.”

Charles frowns. “You think it’s a good idea to split up? Splitting up on the last case almost got Crystal dragged into a pocket dimension.”

“I do not believe we have to worry about any pocket dimensions this time, Charles. The woman handled a cursed necklace on purpose. A magical mastermind she is not.”

“You know most people don’t really believe in curses, right?” Crystal says. “It’s the same reason little girls play Bloody Mary at sleepovers. They don’t actually expect a knife-wielding ghost to pop out of the mirror.”

“They should,” Edwin says. “Charles and I encountered Bloody Mary herself on a case in 1993. A very unpleasant woman.”

Charles shrugs. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“You only say that because she told you that you had a lovely smile before she tried to stab you.”

“I do have a pretty nice smile, don’t I?” Charles grins at him.

Edwin turns a bit pink around the ears. “She certainly thought so,” he says and turns on his heel, striding down the hall towards the bedroom.

Charles instantly feels awful. In the months since Port Townsend, he keeps finding himself saying shit like that without thinking. He doesn’t mean to tease Edwin or play with his feelings. But he can’t stop himself from testing the waters, seeing if Edwin still feels the way he did back then. They haven’t said a word about Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell since they returned to London. It would almost seem like a hallucination his terrified mind conjured, if not for the fact that every detail still plays in vivid color in his head every time he has five minutes to himself to think.

He doesn’t want to hurt Edwin. He’d rather cut off his own hand than ever make Edwin doubt he’s the center of Charles’s universe. So Charles doesn’t know why he can’t stop trying to see if he can make Edwin blush.

“Guess we’re splitting up.” Crystal gives Charles a look that’s a bit too knowing, then picks something off the kitchen table.

“Don’t pick up any necklaces,” Charles tells her as he heads towards the master bedroom.

“Thanks, Charles, I was definitely going to pick up every cursed necklace I find. How else would I want to spend my weekend, except dying slowly of a magical illness?”

Charles doesn’t know why he surrounds himself with so many adorable, brilliant smartasses. He goes into the living room to poke around a bit. He doesn’t see any necklaces, though he does find a half dozen half-drunk mugs of tea, several lost earrings in between the couch cushions, and a crystal ball that he slips into his backpack to give to Crystal for her birthday because she’ll hate it. He’s checking under the couch when he hears a sound he’s been constantly listening for since Port Townsend: Edwin’s terrified scream.

Charles phases through the wall in an instant, cricket bat already drawn and ready to go. But he doesn’t find a giant snake, a demon ready to drag Edwin to Hell, or even a mad sorcerer with a penchant for pocket dimensions. Instead, he finds Edwin standing in front of an open closet, grip on the door white-knuckled and eyes enormous. On the top shelf of the closet, there’s a row of glassy-eyed, chubby-cheeked baby dolls.

“Bloody hell, mate.” Charles puts his hand over his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies.” Edwin swallows hard as he steps back from the closet. “They just startled me. I’m being silly.”

“Nothing silly about it.” Charles looks at Edwin’s frozen expression, far too close to the one he wore while watching a demon made of baby dolls tear his body apart, then turns to the row of dolls. With a single swing of his cricket bat, he knocks the baby dolls over, sending them shattering to the hardwood floor. Bits of porcelain scatter everywhere and a single blue eye stares accusingly up at Charles. He crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“That was unnecessary,” Edwin says peevishly as Crystal comes skidding into the room.

“Are you both okay?” Crystal asks.

Edwin heaves a sigh. “We’re fine. Charles was feeling… dramatic.” But there’s a soft curve to his lips as he ducks his head and Charles feels his own lips curling into a smile in response. “You do realize one of those dolls was allegedly cursed, don’t you, Charles?”

Charles shrugs. “What are the chances Paula got her hands on two genuinely cursed objects?”

“I hope you’re right, because if we find ourselves haunted by a cursed baby doll, you and I will have words.” With one last glance at the heap of broken dolls, Edwin turns away.

Charles hesitates, not wanting to leave Edwin again, not so soon after hearing him scream. There may not have been any real danger, but there could have been. Looking around, he catches a glint of something green in the bathroom.

“Hold on.” Charles ducks into the loo and sure enough, there’s the necklace that Paula described, a gold chain with a pear-shaped emerald pendant, haloed by tiny diamonds. It sits on the counter next to the toothbrush holder, probably removed right before Paula went to bed the night she went out for a nice dinner with her boyfriend for the last time. “Found it!”

“Excellent work, Charles.” Edwin follows him into the bathroom, looking pleased, and Charles can’t help but feel the usual warm glow he gets whenever his friend tells him he’s done well.

“It was right out on the counter,” Charles says. “Not much detective work required, was it?”

“Still very well-spotted.” Edwin holds out a hand and Charles reaches into his bag to produce a magnifying glass. Edwin bends to examine the necklace closer. After a moment, he says, “I see no runes or other obvious signs of a curse, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We can perform a closer examination back at the office.”

“Aces.” Charles reaches for the necklace.

Edwin grabs Charles’s wrist, his grip tight enough that Charles can almost feel warmth, like he’s a living boy with a living hand touching him. “Careful.”

Charles blinks down at Edwin’s elegant fingers, unsure why the sight of them gripping his wrist makes him feel strangely off-kilter. “What? This is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“That necklace has killed at least two people that we know of. Until we know more about this curse, caution is in order.”

“Right.” Charles looks up at him, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Mate, I’ve got some bad news for you. You might want to sit down.”

Edwin rolls his eyes at the ceiling, like he knows what’s coming. “Charles—”

“See, I’ve been dead since 1989. You were there, remember?”

“It rings a bell,” Edwin says, clearly trying his hardest to look annoyed.

“And I know it might be a shock to learn your best mate of thirty-five years is a ghost—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Behind Edwin, Crystal snorts.

Edwin turns to glare at her. “Do not encourage him, Crystal, I beg you.”

“I hope we can still be friends.” Charles can’t quite suppress a giggle. Then Crystal starts to laugh and Charles can’t help it; he starts too.

“You are both insufferable,” Edwin tells them gravely. “Can we please get on with the case?”

“Got it, mate.” Charles snatches up the necklace. At Edwin’s incredulous look, he shrugs. “Should I have asked it nicely to get into my bag?”

“I was going to suggest using a towel.”

Oh, right. Charles hadn’t thought of that. He drops the necklace into his bag and flexes his hand. “I’m wearing gloves, aren’t I? Everything’s aces, mate.”

Edwin sighs. “Crystal, please remind me to discuss Charles’s impetuous behavior once we’ve seen Miss Morris off to her afterlife.”

“You say we need to discuss that at least once a week,” Crystal says. “Twice so far this week.”

“And this time, I mean it.” Edwin looks around the bathroom with an imperious air, probably judging the smears of toothpaste in the sink and the mismatched towels. “Now, let us please exit this den of chaos. I shudder to think what else is in here.”

***

“You really do need to be more careful, Charles.”

“Can’t lecture me during boxing lessons, mate. If you’re distracted, that means you get two lessons this week.”

“That was not part of the agreement.”

“I’m the teacher, aren’t I? Think it’s the agreement if I say it is.”

Edwin huffs. It’s just before dawn, Crystal is back at her flat with Niko, the Night Nurse is off doing whatever she does when she’s not assigning them new cases, and he and Charles have a rare moment of peace. A rare moment of peace that Charles has insisted on sullying with boxing lessons, of all things. After Port Townsend, Edwin reluctantly agreed to one boxing lesson per week. He doesn’t think knowing how to throw a punch would have helped him against Esther Finch, the Cat King, or a demon from Hell, but it seems to make Charles feel better.

“You should know by now that, ghost or not, curses are not something that we trifle with.” Edwin throws a punch, which Charles easily blocks. “Do we really need a repeat of the Case of the Cursed Mirror?”

“That curse targeted ghosts specifically, didn’t it? I’m not going to get the flu from a necklace.”

“And you know that for sure, do you? Researched the origins of this curse thoroughly?”

He throws another punch and the next thing he knows, Charles has grabbed his arm, spun him around, and has Edwin’s back pressed against his chest, grip firm but gentle on Edwin’s wrist, which is pinned between them.

“That’s the third right hook you’ve thrown in a row.” Charles’s voice is low in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “What have I said about being predictable?”

Edwin is having trouble remembering any conversation they’ve ever had. Charles’s hip is pressed against his backside and it’s absurdly distracting.

“Being predictable gives your opponent a chance to plan their next move. You don’t want that. That’s how you end up in trouble.”

Edwin swallows. “And then you come along with your bat and get me out of trouble.”

“And what if I’m not there?”

“You will be.”

With a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sigh, Charles releases him, letting Edwin turn to face him. “Wish you had enough faith in me when it comes to cursed necklaces as when it comes to fighting.”

Edwin rubs his wrist, even though it doesn’t hurt a bit. Even if he were a human whose wrists could be bruised or broken, Charles would never be so careless with him. “And I wish you cared about your own safety half as much as you care about mine.”

“Not possible.” Charles’s eyes go soft. “I’d never get anything done, would I? I’d be too busy worrying.”

Edwin’s nonexistent breath seems to stutter in his chest. He doesn’t know what on earth he’s supposed to say to that. But before he can think of a reply, Charles steps back, stumbling over nothing and grimacing as he rights himself.

“Charles?” Edwin reaches out, ready to steady him if necessary. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles flashes him one of those brilliant grins of his. “Just lost my balance.”

“If you’re not feeling well—”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this so easy.” Charles raises his fists. “Try and hit me again. And if you throw another right hook, I’m tying that hand behind your back.”

***

“Charles, I think this is around where our client died, don’t you? It matches his description. The bend in the path, the pond, the bench.” A pause. “Charles?”

Charles blinks. “Yeah, mate?”

“Doesn’t this seem to be the place where our client died?” Edwin gestures to the park around them.

Charles looks down at the ground, half-expecting to see a chalk outline on the ground. But there wouldn’t be; their latest client is a middle-aged man who died of a heart attack during his morning jog, not a murder victim. There wouldn’t be a case at all, except that some prat stole the dead man’s watch, an heirloom inherited from his grandfather that he wants to pass onto his son, off his corpse.

“Seems like it,” Charles says when he realizes that Edwin’s waiting for an answer. “He mentioned the pond, yeah? And the ducks.”

Edwin pivots to face him, hands on his hips. “What on earth is going on with you today, Charles?”

“Me? Nothing at all. Just tired, is all.”

“Ghosts do not get tired.”

“We’ve worked ten cases in five days, Edwin. I was just hoping for a break after we found Paula’s necklace last night, wasn’t I?” Charles scrubs a hand over his face. His mind is filled with a kind of fog. It reminds him of the nights he would sneak out to go to concerts with his friends and still have to go to school the next morning, doing his best not to fall asleep during history class.

Edwin sniffs. “This is certainly a case that I can work on my own, if you’re not up to it.”

“Not going to leave you alone, mate. What if we’re dealing with a watch-stealing monster? Like that Fae we caught robbing houses in South Kensington?”

“I hardly think we’re going to run into another Fae with a penchant for stealing electronics.”

“I’m fine, mate.” Charles rolls his eyes up at the sky. “Let’s have a look around, yeah? Got to be at least one or two ghosts lurking around. Maybe one of them will have seen something.”

They do find a ghost, an old lady still sitting on the park bench where she died, probably around the same time as Edwin from the looks of her. She seems more interested in complaining about all the riff-raff in the park than answering any of their questions. Given the suspicious looks she gives Charles’s earring, he thinks she might consider him part of the riff-raff, so he lets Edwin take the lead.

It’s a beautiful day, late enough in the autumn that it’s bound to be one of the last beautiful days London gets for a while. Everyone seems to be out enjoying it; couples sit together on park benches, kids dart around the playground, a group of uni students are involved in a spirited, if amateur, game of rugby, joggers and dog walkers make their way along the path that encircles the pond.

As Charles watches, a little boy dashes away from the playground, shrieking and laughing. His father lumbers after him, growling with his arms stretched out like a monster’s. A year ago, Charles would have squelched the sadness he feels at the sight. Now, he lets himself feel all the grief, anger, and disappointment that he never got to play like that with his own dad, because he had never once felt secure in the knowledge that his dad wouldn’t hurt him when he caught him.

The little boy’s father catches him, scooping him up into his arms, and the boy’s delighted scream seems to pierce right through Charles’s brain. Charles winces. All of a sudden, all the noise of the park, which had been a pleasant background hum, seems too loud. Kids laughing, parents calling out to their children, ducks quacking, the good-natured shouting of the uni students, music blaring from the speakers of a passing car. It’s all too much, like a physical pressure squeezing Charles’s head.

“Charles?”

Charles turns to find Edwin standing there, brow pinched in concern. The old woman has gone back to scolding passing children who can’t hear or see her.

“Charles, are you alright?” Edwin asks.

“Yeah, mate.” Charles grins at him. Should the sun be that bright? It like he can almost feel the heat beating down on his shoulders. He hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in decades.

Edwin’s eyes look startlingly green in the sunlight. They’re really nice eyes. Charles thinks he might tell him that, but everything is so loud around them and he’s not sure if the words come out. Edwin’s mouth is moving, that furrow in his brow deepening. Dark spots are starting to dance across Charles’s vision, but that’s alright, because he can still see Edwin’s eyes.

“I’m aces,” Charles tells Edwin, because he looks worried, right before the ground seems to shift under him and he’s falling, falling, falling…

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

#dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #painland week #edwin payne #charles rowland #ghost's fic #ghost's writing

57 notes · View notes

wallartdesignergift · 2 years

Photo

(via T-shirt classique « T-shirt bonne fête maman - bonne fête des mères, cadeau pour maman » par Digital-for-you)

#findyourthing #redbubble #mather #mather's Day t-shirt #i love you mom #lovely moots 💕#mama #happy mom wales #happy mothers day happy mothers day1 #wales best mothers day #american best mothers day #canada best mothers day

1 note · View note

ohsohoney · 2 months

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Four

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Four is finally here, took ages because I got carried away and so it's almost 9k long but I hope you enjoy it!! Thanks for all the love on this series, means a whole lot x

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

“Z, you comin’ or not?” Em shouted up the staircase, practically swinging against it whilst his hand gripped the large ball perched on the very end of the bannister. Somehow it managed to hold most of his weight even as he leaned further back, once more breaking his whole ‘no yelling’ rule. “We gotta move, baby!”

I was pretty content to just let this scene play out, especially after having witnessed the pair's antics firsthand whilst we’d been helping Rosie out with her homework– or rather, whilst I’d been helping, Marshall had been quite happy to just nod along with whatever I’d been saying. As though he understood what the fuck had been going on.

Even so, they’d made it fun, the way they playfully bickered back and forth and how Em seemed hellbent on correcting the girl’s spelling and punctuation even though the majority of it had just been numbers.

It wasn’t long after we’d wrapped up the worksheet that Marshall brought up the topic of food again and in truth, I’d been all for it, suddenly starved at the very mention. So Rosie had run off to stash her school stuff away and use the loo, whilst I’d wandered back out into the hallway where I’d left my shoes, settling down on the wooden bench there to lace them back up.

Em had followed soon after, seemingly ready and geering to go. He actually let out a hearty sigh when his daughter called back to him that she would just be another minute and I watched on as he glanced up towards the high ceilings in impatience.

I snorted softly to myself at the reaction and let my shoulders relax a little into the wall behind me, my eyes sliding over his slumped form as we waited. “You that anxious to get going?”

Marshall worked his jaw at the question, then pushed away from the stairs to move a little closer. He shook his head at me with a curled lip and then shoved his hands into his pockets, “Just always the same with her, you know? A minute means ten.”

A fond smile crept over my expression, “Ah, the consequences of being a girl dad, Mathers. You now run on female time.”

The brim of his hat barely covered the roll of his eyes when he scoffed, “Don’t I know it.”

“You love it though.” I shot back, so certain of that particular fact.

I had only been in the presence of Em and his daughter for barely even half a day and already I could see that. He hummed in retort too, neither confirming nor denying the assumption.

“Don’t be like that,” I smirked, amused by the tough guy act he liked to front, “She’s probably just grabbing a jumper or something. Looks cold out.”

As I said the words, I let my gaze slip out of one of the long windows by the front door, so I only noticed how his stare had lingered on me for a moment too long once I’d glanced back. I tilted my head in a silent question but before I could say much of anything, Marshall raised a single finger and was already stalking off.

My forehead furrowed into tight lines at the sudden retreat and I was left looking after him, but in the end, I just shook my head and let it go.

“Now look who’s not ready to leave.” I murmured quietly to myself, mostly in jest, whilst my eyes returned to the front drive.

It did actually look quite chilly out, the skies had a grey overcast to them and the branches of the nearby trees shook in the wind often enough that every third gust another leaf would fall. I watched one cascade slowly, winding its way lower and lower until it hit the grass, orange in colour but its stem still a vibrant green.

It was then, as I was lost in the world outside, focused on distant noise and the flock of birds which flew high, that Marshall returned. I heard the fall of his heavy steps grow nearer before they ultimately stopped by me. I ended up turning to look at him, but was instead met by a bundled ball of black.

Frowning, I peered at the arm holding the material and followed it up until I found his typically stoic face looking back at me. I lifted a brow, “What’s this for?”

His expression somehow managed to flatten further at the ask and so I reached out to take the thing, brow wrinkling even more at the hoodie that suddenly unfolded in my hand. I watched on as it unbundled itself in my hold, sleeves falling into my lap whilst my grip remained stuck on the hood. And yet, I still stared down at it in confusion.

“Uh,” It was a stupid reaction for sure, but I really was utterly baffled by the sudden item I’d been given and with no obvious explanation either. I glanced back up at Marshall, who was already wearing a hoodie of his own beneath his light jacket, so I guessed quite easily that the article of clothing hadn’t been meant for him. “This for me?”

I watched as his eyes slid closed for a second, as though he was taking a mere moment to breathe or some shit– like I was the confusing one here? Before he eventually dropped his head in a short nod, “You slow?”

My eyes were quick to narrow in retort to that response and I felt my tongue press against the sides of my teeth too, before finally, I allowed myself a smile that was nothing short of snarky. “Incredibly so, apparently. Especially without context and when someone’s being a proper prat about the entire thing.”

“Prat?”

I couldn't help it. It just– he sounded so stupid saying it in that Detroit accent of his, even more so when out of everything I’d just gone and said it was that particular word he’d chosen to get stuck on.

“Yes!” I laughed further, forever amused by the soft scrunch his face had taken on, it was almost enough to have me forgiving him entirely for his stupidity. “I mean, how was I supposed to know, Marshall? You walked off, then came back and said nothing.”

My snickering only continued, even as his cheeks hollowed out, but I’d quickly come to realise that the action was just one of the many he often resorted to when looking to dim down his own reactions. Typically, it was a smile.

“I gotta spell shit out for you?” He quizzed around a huffy exhale, quirking a brow at me when I widened my eyes in retaliation, “You said it was cold out. You’re sat in a t-shirt. We’re going outside, you’ll freeze. Ergo hoodie.”

“Ergo?” I blanched at him, entirely baffled by the odd phrasing, before I actually started cackling again. “Who the fuck even says that?”

“El.” Marshall warned lowly, but it was already too late. I'd seen the slight twitch the corner of his mouth had made when he’d gone to say my name and there was no use in denying it.

I chose to dampen my grin though, not wanting to push my luck here, and instead stood up to pull the hoodie on, grateful for the sweet sentiment even after the whole ordeal.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” I smiled over at him whilst I tugged my hair from out of the hood. His eyes slid away once they met mine though and so I put it down to the whole thing not being as big a deal as I’d made it out to be.

I briefly glanced down at my front, never really having felt anything as soft as the oversized jumper he’d allowed me to wear, but it was easy to see that it was very much him. Screamed Em in a sense, so black that even the slight text running down the side of it was emboldened in the colour.

I lifted my gaze, “Look okay?”

Marshall’s eyes flickered far left before they found me once more, my hands engulfed in too long sleeves, figure hidden by the thick fabric. He was quiet for a long moment but finally, his head dipped minutely in answer. Barely even a nod and yet I grinned.

“It’s warm as fuck.”

That got a chuckle out of him, or rather a snort. “Better be.”

His gaze met mine once more but this time it held, “Gonna take you to this diner a little bit away. Used to take Z there when she was a baby, it’s run down as shit now but it sort of became a habitual thing.”

My chest constricted at the notion, at him for wanting me to join them in a tradition that was wholeheartedly their own. I swallowed thickly around the emotion that gathered in my throat and coughed to clear it before my eyes could well. Last thing I wanted to do was cry like some weirdo.

“That sounds amazing.” I said after a breath, flashing him another smile, this one full of appreciation.

Marshall didn’t know what to do with that though it seemed, because he made this weird face that lasted less than a millisecond before he was shrugging, “I mean, just figured. We can head some place nearer, or get takeout if you’d prefer.”

My eyes must have widened on their own accord because his narrowed in observation. I was quick to shake my head, “No, honest. The diner sounds perfect. I actually could go for some real greasy food right about now.”

I pushed my hands into the pockets of the hoodie and hoped that he hadn’t retracted the offer just because he felt weird about it or that I’d think less of– I don't even know, him? That in itself made no sense, but I felt more than a little honoured to have been invited and I didn’t want him thinking I was anything but.

Eventually Marshall just nodded and a moment was barely able to pass between us before Rosie came storming down the stairs, a pink rain jacket haphazardly thrown over her shoulders and an exact copy of her dad’s Nike Airs on her feet. “Let’s go!”

She was met with an astonished look from her father when she skipped off the last step and flashed him a giant grin, oblivious to his stress induced wait. At the exchange, my laugh appeared to manifest into a gross sort of snort when I’d attempted to hold it in, earning a look off of Em too.

I raised my hands up at him in a mock surrender, only the tips of my fingers being seen over the cuff of my sleeves, and pressed my lips together when Rosie swanned on past the man to open the front door, already talking a mile a minute about how she’d spilt her pencils and had to clean them up only to have noticed this hair clip that she thought she had lost hiding down the side of her wardrobe.

Most would have started to lose their patience by now, what with both Rosie and I having been an apparent handful, but Marshall seemed to take it all in stride, tugging the door open easily enough above my head so that we could all slip on through. Rosie grabbed my hand just as we dropped off the first step and led me out after I smiled my thanks to the man, Marshall following the pair of us, and it was just as we made it back out to the man’s monster-truck that Z asked about my most recent trip to France.

“Dad said you were there a while ago, I can’t remember the last time we visited but he swears we’ve been.” The girl told me just as Em unlocked the car, the vehicle lights flashing a hazy orange. He headed straight on over to the driver's side door but Rosie appeared to falter in her step by the backseat, lips wrinkling as she turned to face me, “Wanna sit in the back together?”

She’d asked the question almost shyly, which surprised me seeing as it was a total contrast to the person I’d gotten to know, so I was quick to nod along, being more than used to the dynamic whenever I was out with Lottie, and let her tug open the back door for us. Rosie climbed in first just as the engine started up and then I slipped in right after, shaking off the slight chill I’d captured once the door shut behind me.

“Uh,” Came Marshall’s perplexed splutter from upfront, my head snapped up at the sound to meet his piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. “What am I– your Uber?”

Rosie and I shared a quick look and then giggled, not even having thought about her dad when we’d made the decision. The little girl took the question in stride though as she clicked her seatbelt in place, “Duh.”

Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, so it’s like that? Aight, but know imma be expecting a tip.”

His daughter’s narrow-eyed stare really rivalled his own and had me stifling yet another smile. I waved him off though with a roll of my eyes, “It’s just easier to show her pictures from my trip back here. Don’t complain so much, or those old man allegations will stick.”

Em met my gaze briefly as he glanced over his shoulder to reverse back out of the driveway, the property’s steel gates opening at the motion and allowing us to pass through.

“Besides,” I smiled coyly after having witnessed his slightly curled lip, already pulling my phone out to do exactly that in hopes that Rosie might enjoy them, “It’s custom for a princess to be chauffeured around.”

The younger girl snickered at that, as well as the expression her dad then pulled, but nodded her agreement. “Yeah, Dad. Listen to the Brit, she knows all about royalty and stuff.”

Amused, my brow wrinkled in an attempt to bite back my grin and I swiped into my camera roll to pull up the pictures I’d snapped at Paris Fashion Week. Lottie had been fascinated at first, very into the idea of the mania that surrounded the high press event, but her excitement for it had died out as soon as she’d spotted the A-list celebs sitting amongst the first row, having pointed out and asked me which one I’d managed to meet. She was cute at times, but an unimaginable nightmare.

“Kid, don’t let her brainwash you with all that London crap, she ain’t never even met the Queen.” Marshall was quick to pipe up, drawing me from my scrolling.

I peered over at Rosie, who was looking at the back of her dad’s head with an unimpressed expression. “You said you liked her accent when I said it was funny.” Z argued around pursed lips, her rapid retort made me blink and shoot another look at the driver.

“So you do like my accent!” I all but gasped, smiling gleefully now, because see, it had become somewhat of a passtime for Marshall to rip the piss out of whatever I would end up saying whenever we’d call. He’d done it enough times now that I truly thought that it was just something he’d grown to put up with.

The roll of his eyes was caught in the rearview mirror before they shot over and captured mine for a split second. “I think it’s safe to let you know now that Z is a pathological liar.”

I snorted at the cheek of him, whilst the girl mentioned called out a miffed, “Hey!”

Marshall merely shrugged in reply, though it seemed that we both could make out his ever growing smirk even as he continued to watch the road.

“Don’t worry, lovely.” I assured the girl around another soft chuckle as I moved to squeeze her hand in a show of support, “I’ve grown used to your Dad’s–” I went to say bullshit, but paused before I actually could, “antics.” I supplied instead, grateful to the way Rosie seemed to be none the wiser to the slight stumble, although Em’s appreciative glance was a tad bit mirthful. I shot him a dark look.

The rest of the ride was spent with me explaining each picture that Rosie asked about; the gardens of my hotel that I’d been utterly taken with, having spent most, if not all, of my free time hiding within them; the Westwood catwalk show I’d had front row seats to, sitting beside Ms Vivienne herself whilst almost dying of heatstroke in the dress I’d worn (the lights had just been a lot, okay?); and even the Parisian markets I’d wandered into, having collected an array of still photos capturing stalls full of prints, fresh food, flowers and clothing.

It had been a hectic week, but really enjoyable. It was also nice to note that Rosie found some enjoyment in the experience too, gasping and awwing about all of the little details she managed to spot within the frames. Although, there had been one photo in particular that she’d seemed to get stuck on, sliding back and forth between the rest to look at it again and again. I took note and filed the information away for later.

By the time we pulled to a slow stop, I was blinking and peering around in surprise to find that we’d already arrived, having seemingly been caught up in listening to Rosie’s opinions over some of the outfits I’d loved enough to go backstage and capture.

The diner was just as Marshall had explained, rundown. But only by a tad. It was almost as though it had been frozen in time, whilst the rest of the world had continued on around it. Its red paint was rusted and chipped, cracking at the beams that were nothing if not supportive. The glass making up the windows were tinted a sheer yellow, stained from years of direct sunlight beaming through, and a sign hung high above the front entrance, squeaking in the wind.

Stepping out, I was surprised to see the look of anticipation that crossed Marshall’s face once he’d rounded the car to meet us, Rosie slipping into the space beside me after the door slammed shut. I grinned, marvelled by the sight of an authentic American diner, one that seemed to have lasted past the ages, and let my eyes roam over the shop’s exterior before finally looking back at Em who stood beside us.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets alongside the keys he’d just used to lock up the car, eyes taking note of the way his daughter’s hand slipped inside of mine without question to start leading the three of us over.

“They make the best ice cream sundaes.” Rosie mentioned with a bright smile, almost skipping in her giddy excitement whilst her dad trailed a step behind us. “Dad reckons it was all I would eat some days when I was little. I’d scream and throw a fit if he tried to feed me anything else.”

Em’s breathy snort echoed out over my shoulder as the diner’s door rattled to welcome us inside. “Yeah, and why’s that?” He questioned her, holding the handle to keep it from bumping either one of us.

“Because I only ever wanted the cherry and whipped cream a sundae could offer.” Rosie giggled, tiptoeing briefly to look out across the shop. She seemed to know exactly where she was headed after that, hurrying over to a booth sat in the far corner where the window and wall connected.

I glanced back at Marshall with a quizzical look and was gifted a small smile as he shucked his chin out to gesture me on. “It’s where we’ve always sat.”

Oh.

My feet guided me towards the cushioned booth, its padded seats worn enough to look like a boxing bag after a proper fall out with its fighter, but they were somehow comfier than the car we’d ridden over in– not that I’d ever let that slip. I settled into one side at the beckon of Z, whilst Em slid onto the opposing bench with a practised ease. I looked right up into his eyes after and couldn’t help the excited smile I wore, hoping for him to somehow see how much I was already enjoying myself.

“Why, hello! Been a while, ain’t it?”

I startled at the sound of the unexpected voice, something which in itself caught me off guard because I was usually always so hyper aware of everything going on around me. Blinking off the shock though, I peered over to my left to find an older lady with hair so red it could have only been box dyed, stood there with a couple menus. The colour matched her lipstick too and suited her so well that it was hard not to gift her a small grin.

Her bright eyes appeared to meet mine at that exact moment and a flash of surprise washed through the watery blue before it was gone. She checked her hip against the side of the booth to settle in, “Well, ain’t this a surprise. An’ here I were thinkin’ we’d jus’ have to put up with the pair of you fer the rest of our days.” A hand came to rest on my shoulder, nails also painted a glossy red, “You’re pretty too. How you doin’, honey?”

A tad bit overwhelmed by her welcoming nature and the thick accent that didn’t seem to be from around here, I leaned into the gesture and smiled up at her warmly. “I’m good, thank you. Hope your day hasn’t been too rough either.”

The woman tittered brightly at the reply, her mirthful surprise written plain as day across her features as she squeezed my shoulder gently, “Well, I’ll be damned.” She blew out before she could shoot a glance Marshall’s way, “A looker and a sweet talker. Got yerself a real good one here, sunny.”

Marshall appeared to hide his reaction behind the pair of fisted hands he’d been propping his chin against, but still made the effort to reply to the waitress once it had been stamped out, “Quit being nice. These Brits don’t know nothing about that tip you’re looking for.”

My eyes widened whilst Rosie just squeaked out a laugh, peeking her head out from beside me to grin over at the woman with a happy wave, “Heya, Marcie. How’s Pluto?”

The waitress, or rather, Marcie’s knees gave out a bit at the hello to better see the youngen, the hand which held the menus pressing against the table’s edge in an effort to lean closer. “Hey, baby girl. Pluto’s doin’ jus’ fine, loved those dawg treats you gave him the last time ya came around.”

Rosie’s face lit up at the admission whilst her dad’s appeared to age slightly at her reply, “I’ll make sure to bring a whole boxful next time!”

Marcie lapped it up though, laughing sweetly before she settled the menus in front of each of us. “I’ll mention it ta him.” She replied, then glanced about the rest of the table, “You two known one ‘nother long?”

That question seemed to be directed towards both Marshall and I, so I chanced a look over at the man to gauge his reaction and was pleasantly surprised to find him already wearing a small but fond smile. It wasn’t until Marcie raised a brow at him though that he moved to hide it again, almost as if he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it at all.

“A while.” Marshall supplied with a roll of his eyes, not even taking a peep at the menu before he slid it back over to the woman, “That’s all you get too. So go stick your nose in Old Harry’s business for once.”

It was fucking rude, but the way he said it– Well, it once again had Marcie laughing up a storm. The entire exchange reminded me of the people back home, of the witty and sarcastic retorts most Yanks seemed to lack. It was rude, yeah, but honest and brash enough to show just how close these two supposed strangers actually were. Marshall knew Marcie, had known her for a long while even, that much was easy to see. And the woman had been surprised, really surprised, to see me sat here with him, even through all of her teasing, so that in itself gave me much to think about.

Marcie picked the menu up without looking or saying a thing about it. Then she hummed around another smile, “Most Harry’s got gowin’ on is that gout growin’ outta his foot.”

I had to thin my lips to withhold my snicker at her quick retort but even so the smile still shone through.

“Lovely, Marc.” Em drawled snarkily, before he slapped on a charming grin to bat his lashes up at the busty woman, “You talk to all your customers like that, or am I just special?”

“Ya know you’re ma only.” Marcie played along, nudging the man’s shoulder as she passed us by. Before she could actually disappear though she called out to us from over her shoulder, “Be back in a flash, jus’ need ma notepad!”

Watching her walk away, I found myself smiling, nose even wrinkling with the motion. She was a right character, one that oddly reminded me of this dinner lady I’d had back in primary school.

I was soon broken from my reminiscence when Marshall cleared his throat though, “She grows on you.” He murmured, catching my gaze, “Like cancer.”

“Dad!” Came Rosie’s hasty rebuke, one that had me giggling behind my palm as the girl playfully swatted her menu against her father’s arm.

“Or gout.” Marshall added in afterthought, smirking as he easily batted the girl’s attempts away.

“You know Marcie’s the best!” Rosie argued with him, but the corners of her grin had already begun to reach her eyes.

Marshall hummed lowly and pushed the menu back over towards his daughter, then he looked at me, “Should have gave you a warning though. Looked like you were at a circus when she arrived.”

My eyes narrowed, “She just caught me off guard, is all! Didn’t see her come up behind me.”

Rosie chuckled sweetly as she leant into my side and Em resettled his head against his fisted palms, looking between the two of us.

“It’s ‘cause she used to be a dancer. Says it’s why she’s so light on her feet.” Z let slip, but Marshall’s slight grimace told me a different story. One I let be for now.

“Seems the sort.” I said to the girl, smiling as I picked up my plastic menu card to toy with an edge, “Know what you’re getting?”

“A milkshake.” Was the confident answer before Rosie’s eyes shyly slipped over towards her dad, who raised an eyebrow, “Please?”

“Actual food, baby.” Marshall coaxed as he moved to rest against the tabletop on his forearms, but Z chewed on her lower lip, expression morphing into something which resembled a puppy quietly begging for treats. He sighed, folding all too quickly, “We can share one, but actual food first.”

The grin he received in turn was nothing short of adoring and Rosie was quick to dip her head in agreement, eyes surveying the menu once more. “The tenders look good.”

Em’s smile was soft and I watched on as he dropped his chin in a silent okay, eventually though his gaze shifted over to me, he waited.

I rolled my eyes, having caught on quickly, “Figured just a hamburger and chips.”

“Fries.” He automatically corrected which had me huffing out an airy laugh as I shook my head at the already argued debate.

Rosie, though, appeared to blink at our short exchange. “I forgot about that.” She giggled to herself before she then turned to her dad, “Why do they call them chips anyway?”

Marshall raised a shoulder in answer, “They’re backwards.”

Scowling, it was my turn to swat the man with the plastic menu and both Z and I laughed when he actually cowered further into the booth to avoid the next swing. “You’re backwards, driving on the wrong side of the road and paying for sodding healthcare.” I scoffed.

The most I was given in return was a long look from the man.

My eyes narrowed, “Bite me.”

Rosie was still giggling away at the pair of us, eyes alight, before she peered over at me, “I think it’s cool that you say things differently.”

My nose scrunched around the pleased little smile that overwhelmed my face and I draped an arm around her to rope her into a side hug. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

Em scoffed and so I widened my smile for him, peering over at the man from across the table.

Soon enough Marcie returned, letting us place an order whilst she told a story about how the cook had almost lost his hand a couple of weeks back when he’d helped this old woman with her car which had stalled outfront. Marshall seemed content to just listen, throwing in a reply or two, whilst Rosie and I glanced between the older woman and the car park with a slight grimace.

The father and daughter duo did actually end up ordering that milkshake to share, chocolate they’d decided, which arrived just before our food, something that Em bit his tongue about after he’d witnessed Rosie’s excited expression. Whilst I just opted for water, wanting to save some room for my food that looked as enticing as a five course meal at the Hilton when it finally came out, what with how hungry I was.

“Thank you, Marcie.” I murmured softly, gifting the older woman an appreciative smile as she settled my plate down before me. Rosie decided to follow that up with an eager thanks of her own, milkshake already nearing the halfway point.

“Yer most welcome, hunnies.” The waitress acknowledged as she placed Em’s plate between his knife and fork, and it was then that I paused, not having recalled the man even ordering anything after he’d handed her back that menu. It seemed though like he had a usual here. “Can I get ya anythin’ else now?”

I shook my head just as Marshall waved the woman off, giving her his own nod of acknowledgement.

Marcie left with one final grin and the three of us settled in, Rosie covering half of her plate in ketchup whilst Em and I watched on in faint amusement.

The girl made a gesture with the bottle shortly after, offering it up to me, and so I opened the bun of my burger to allow her a chance to squeeze a dollop on the patty. We both snickered at the novelty sound the bottle made before she then leaned over the table to do the same to her dad’s.

When I glanced back up from replacing my burger’s top, I was a little surprised to see Marshall observing us once more, before Rosie captured the entirety of his attention, switching out the red sauce bottle to a yellow mustard. He moved to thank the girl in a low register. After which, the rest of the meal was spent sharing odd tidbits; Rosie’s day at school, my flight over from London, before Em then started poking fun at my food.

“What?” He snickered around the mouthful of fries he just tossed back, “No burger is complete without cheese. I said what I said.”

“Why’s it called one then?” I quipped, having picked up my cheeseless burger and taken a bite. I wiped at the corners of my mouth with my tongue and raised a terse brow at the man. “It’s not my fault I can’t stand the stuff.”

Rosie sat there beside me a tad bit baffled, “I can’t believe people like you actually exist.”

I couldn’t quite help the laugh that bubbled from me, “Z! Come on, don’t team up against me now!”

Bless her heart, the girl did look a tad bit sheepish at that. So I bumped her shoulder with my own and winked, it seemed to spur her on.

“I’m not! Just, I don’t know anyone who hates cheese! Does that mean you don’t like lasagne?” Asking that though only made her gasp whilst her entire face seemed to drain of colour, “Or pizza?”

Snorting, I simply shook my head. “Hate it.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped open.

Surprisingly, it was Marshall that came to my rescue with that one as he shrugged a single shoulder at the topic. “Pizza’s always touch and go. Can count on one hand how many times I’ve actually enjoyed a slice.”

His daughter's frown was prominent and from this angle I could only assume that it looked even more devastating from Marshall’s point of view, “But you always end up finishing my half.”

Em gifted her a smile, but shrugged lightly, “It’s a waste otherwise.” It was then that he leant in a little closer though, speaking before he pulled a face, “Besides, who says no to free pizza?”

Rosie chuckled, content with his answer. Though I could understand the sentiment of its first part. Some kids grew up worrying over food and money, whether mum or dad would have enough to put dinner on the table or keep the lights on, because that was just what they were taught, what they had picked up on. Others, lucky ones like Rosie, were able to just be kids.

By the time the three of us were finished, I was a tad bit fatigued from how quickly I’d managed to scarf down my food and Em had since leaned back in the booth to place a hand over his stomach. Rosie giggled at the sight we must have made whilst she shook her head, “Is this what being old means?”

Both Marshall and I shot her a sharp look at the unexpected muse, my mouth gaping at the sheer cheek, but before either of us could even get a word in to argue, the girl was already scampering underneath the table to slip on out the other side. “Going to the restroom!” She told us brightly, her beaming grin giving way to the humour she’d found in tormenting the pair of us.

Marshall merely clucked his tongue at his daughter’s retreating figure before he eventually rolled his head back over towards me. He huffed, “Don’t have kids. They’re assholes.”

Grinning, I propped my chin up on my hands and let my eyes slip close. “Yeah, but they’re cute arseholes.”

Em grunted.

I blinked blearily to peer over at him. “Thanks for bringing me.”

A faint line etched itself into the skin between his brows, “Don’t thank me, it’s nothing.”

With a roll of my eyes, I blew out a breath, “It’s not nothing.” I tried, dropping my chin slightly to catch his eye, “It means a lot that you invited me here, I can see how much it means to you guys.”

“It’s a dump.”

I exhaled around a disbelieving smile. “But it’s yours. And it’s Rosie’s. And it doesn’t matter what the fuck it looks like because the people here are warm and the food is fucking amazing.” I laughed then and scooched a little closer to press against the table's edge, “Stop worrying about whether I care or not.”

He scowled minutely at that before the look softened into something other, a half a minute passed between us and his eyes settled on the lot beyond the window. “Just ain’t showy, is it? Don’t want you like thinkin’– I don’t care or some shit. Just ‘cause I didn’–“

I cut him off there to poke fun, “Wine me and dine me?”

But his face said it all. This man truly didn’t realise how wrong he was.

Shaking my head lightly, I sighed and wondered how to word my answer exactly. “Em, I didn’t come here expecting you to put on a show for me. For you to hide behind some facade or flaunt your wealth. ‘Cause if you were looking for something like that then I’d be best pointing you in the direction of the nearest groupie.”

I let go a chuckle and we both shared a smile, even if his was a little less than anticipated.

“And I know that you care. In your own odd way. And that’s enough for me because I’ve seen how much you care, in all of our calls and sporadic texts, in the videos you pass on just because you reckon they’ll make me laugh like they did you.”

I looked at him then, I mean really looked, and hoped that he could make out the sincerity which lined my voice. Because I’d felt that, I’d been the person sat there waiting for the other shoe to drop, for somebody to finally ask for something or make demands. But I’d sooner die before I treated someone else like that. Still, I just figured that with all the years he had on me he might have figured that much out about me before I had to go and tell him.

“I didn’t come here looking for Eminem. Or for the life your money gives you. I like the fact that you’re off the grid. That you keep a jar by the fridge so you don’t swear in front of your daughter. That you plant flowers in your garden and pick up your friends from the airport, just because you can. And that you take said friend to a place that obviously holds such a sentimental spot in that old heart of yours. Because I know that you showing me this is your way of letting me in without having to say a bunch of shit about it, to make me feel welcomed whilst I’m staying with you. ‘Cause that’s just who you are.”

It should have been unnerving, the way his eyes had settled on me since I’d started this whole tangent, but I found myself looking back almost as intensely.

My words had been honest, I just needed him to see that.

Marshall went to say something but paused before he actually could, gaze skittering down to the tabletop before his eyes flashed back up to meet mine. For all that he could rap and spit a couple rhymes, he truly was a man of few words. Although, they were always paired with a genuine lilt and studying stare, “I appreciate that. And you, for saying it.”

Somehow I managed to muster a sheepish smile. I ended up nodding at him once, fiddling with the sleeve of the hoodie I wore before Marcie came swanning back over with Rosie attached to her hip, a container in the girl’s hands.

Marshall cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to welcome the duo back into the fold, eyes immediately honing in on the box. He shucked his chin out towards it, “What you got?”

Marcie squeezed the girl in a close hug and then let her go. “A couple treats.” She informed him, and when Em dared to open his mouth in retort, probably to deny the offer, the woman promptly cut him off, “On the house. An’ fer later.” She tittered before she flashed a look at both Marshall and I, “There’s plenty there fer you two as well. Don’tchu worry.”

Laughing softly at the exchange, I beamed at the redhead, “Thanks, I don’t think I’ve eaten this good in ages.”

It was an offhanded comment, one that appeared to make Marcie grin as she leaned in to rub my shoulder in a show of gratitude, whilst Marshall’s eyes lingered.

“The little lady mentioned ya had a penchant fer chocolate,” Marcie mentioned with a conspiratorial smirk, “So I saved ya some of our best cake– jus’ make sure this one here don’t get ta it first.”

Marshall pursed his lips when the waitress nudged her head over in his direction and only blew out a breathy chuckle when the woman added, “Though he could stand to put on a few, a good gust a wind might jus’ come an’ blow ya over, sunshine.”

The man in question rolled his eyes, not unkindly, as he waved Marcie off, probably all too used to it. But my mind had been caught on one word. Sunshine.

It suited him, I deemed. Almost ironically.

“I’m fine.” Marshall huffed at her, but he’d paired it with the quirk of his mouth to soften the blow. “Gonna have to waddle over to the car with how good I just ate.”

“Too right!” Marcie applauded him, then swerved around the table’s corner to pick up some of our dishes with a smile. Em grabbed the milkshake just as she reached for it though and slurped up the dregs of the runny chocolate that Rosie had yet to finish. “Animal.” The woman muttered, shaking her head at the man who then helped her to pick up the rest.

Marshall rose from the booth, cups and plates in hand, and motioned Marcie ahead of him without a word. I watched in practical awe as the man meandered his way throughout the diner alongside the older woman to drop off the round of dirtied dishes into the kitchen, neither one of them even second guessing the motion.

I shook my head to clear the many thoughts which had managed to wrangle my mind into a chokehold. Forever surprised by him.

Rosie slipped into the booth opposite, container perched happily in her hands, and so I leaned in to smile over at her, “What did you get?”

“Cookies and a little red velvet.” She chirped happily, holding the box out for me to peer into. “The chocolate’s yours and the muffins are Dad’s.”

“If they taste as good as they look you guys will never get rid of me.” I laughed softly before I shared a secret grin with the girl.

“You wouldn’t hear me complaining.”

That in itself warmed my heart. “Yeah, just wait until you see me tomorrow morning,” I teased, then gestured towards my face, “It’s scary.”

Rosie snickered and shook her head, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I grinned and pushed away from the table to raise my hands in jest. “You’ve been warned!”

It was then that Marshall walked back over and my eyes caught the slip he held. “You two ready to go? Figured we could–”

“You paid already?” I asked with a slight frown, eyes jumping from the check up to his confused expression.

“Yeah.” He retorted, raising a brow.

I stuck my hand out and made a grabby motion for it, “Lemme see how much I owe you then, I wanna give Marcie a tip, too.”

Instead of doing exactly that, Em shoved the slip into his pocket and rocked back on his feet, “Already done.”

“Marsh,” I pressed, head tilting with it as I swerved in my seat to let my legs out. “Come on, I’ve got this one. You’re already doing so much for me.”

The fucker just stood there though with an unimpressed stare and gave me a slow blink. Then he gestured his head over to Rosie, motioning for the girl to start moving, and Rosie did so with a small grin that she was quietly attempting to dim.

I stood too, “Marshall.” It was almost said in warning but the man was already moving, leaving me to catch up.

I smiled politely at a waitress, who hadn’t served us, holding a tray of coffee cups and then again when we bypassed a group of patrons that were settled further up front. Em just continued on, mind already made up, but I made a point to at least catch Marcie on our way out.

Thankfully the woman was stationed up by the till still and so I paused by a breakfast stool at the bar she was working behind. The redhead glanced up at me and it was then that I saw the strange glint in her eye, she smiled wryly as though she already knew what I was going to say. She even beat me to the punch, “He said ya’d put up a fight.”

We shared a mirthful glance in the direction of the diner’s door where said man stood waiting just beyond, hands in his pockets and staring back at us.

I huffed out a somewhat humoured chuckle but pressed further against the bartop, the fight was already lost. “He didn't even offer.” I said,feeling the need to throw it in, “And I know it’s stupid and traditional bullshit, but he’s already made me feel so welcomed here. I just don’t want him thinkin’ I’m taking advantage. You know?”

Marcie cackled, bright red nails coming up to clutch at the bar’s edge, “No, I don’t know, missy. If I were ya I’d be takin’ full advantage of the fact that he don’t offer, unlike most men I’ve met throughout ma life, he’s an honest one. A true gentleman.”

I snorted slightly at the picture my mind conjured, Marshall dressed in old-timey clothes and maybe a monocle, but knew that she saw me slump a little, realising how right she was.

She pressed against the counter though to shoot me a wicked grin, arms falling effortlessly one over the other, “‘Tween you an’ me, ‘ve been workin’ on an edge where he’ll come in one day wiv’a set a house keys jus’ fer me.”

The laugh that escaped me caught me by surprise and I ended up shaking my head at her blatant teasing, thankful for the way she’d allowed me to see that him paying wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. “I’ll see how I can help then.” I reasoned with her, which earned me a proud look in turn.

“Knew there were a reason I liked you.” Marcie tittered and her eyes returned to the door just before she tilted her head to look at me once more, “It’s his waya sayin’ thank you, I ‘spose. Fer comin’ here with ‘em, or maybe just fer actin’ the way ya do around his little girl.”

My brow wrinkled and so the woman clucked a faint chuckle, the sound sweet and inviting.

“God girl, you don’t see it, do ya?” Her smile stayed strong even as I frowned further in confusion. “He don’t bring many folks ‘round here. An’ I ain’t stupid, I know who he is but I also know who he was. An’ those two men ain’t all that different. You’ll realise what I mean soon enough.”

I wanted to pester her further, because all she’d really given me was a puzzle to solve. But I couldn’t quite force myself to, not with the way she was smiling as though she knew something I didn’t, her twinkling blue eyes flickering over towards the door just before it rang out again.

“El, daddy says he’s gonna leave your ass behind!”

“Dollar!” I called out without thinking, pointing at the little lady who’d just stuck her head through the opening.

Rosie gaped at me for a second, probably shocked I said it, before she laughed, “I’m just repeating what he said!”

“Uhuh,” I dragged out, unable to contain the smile which bloomed even as I cocked a hip against the counter and raised my brow. “Should I let him know that then?”

Her eyes grew so wide I was honestly a little concerned. But it was then that Marcie stepped in to save her, “Secrets safe with me, honey.”

My head swivelled over to find the woman already grinning, her eyes alive with the strength of it. I rolled my own in fond amusement and shook my head at the pair, “Two against one.”

Rosie had since stepped in through the door and was now peering over at me with those doe eyes of hers. I crumbled far too easily, “Fine, me too. But I want a pinky promise to seal the deal.”

The girl nodded hastily enough and so I moved over towards her, offering up a pinky for her to wrap her own around. We grinned and let our hands drop, linked fingers still in place. Z glanced over in Marcie’s direction then and I followed her to find the waitress watching us with a warm smile.

“Take care now. An’ I’ll be hopin’ to see yer face again soon, missy.” Marcie warned me with a finger pointed in my direction. I couldn't find it in me to deny her but still, I shot her an impish grin as I pushed open the door once more, letting Rosie slip through.

“I make no promises but I’ll think about it!” I called out to her over my shoulder, “That chocolate cake had better be the best I’ll ever have!”

Marcie’s brilliant laughter followed us out as she waved goodbye, Rosie leading me across the lot and over to the car Marshall was propped up against. The man pocketed his phone when he saw us approaching and gave me a questioning look, probably to see if we were still good.

With a roll of my eyes and after the conversation I’d just had with Marcie, I couldn’t quite berate him for what he’d done, but still stopped short by the car to shoot him a warning glance, “Next time it’s on me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, even got as far as to open his giant gob before Rosie had to cut in, “Just let her have this one, Dad.” She giggled, opening up the backseat to climb inside.

“Yeah, let me have this one.” I quipped giddily, the two of us in an odd sort of standoff now.

Surprisingly Marshall relented with just a sigh and the shake of his head, motioning me into the car before muttering, “What have I signed up for?”

I swatted his shoulder in passing and he laughed, opening the door up wider for me to join Z in the backseat. I stopped him just before he could let it fall shut. “Thank you.” I told him, not wanting him to know that I was anything other than grateful.

Em looked at me for a long moment, shadowed eyes flickering back and forth between my own before he dipped his chin slowly, a coy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was only when he knew that I’d caught it that he let the door close.

57 notes · View notes

desired-deity · 2 months

Note

Hii, I saw you were writing for sbg now, could you do a Tyler x reader where they’re studying and the reader falls asleep on his shoulder (fox, one shot, whatever you want) thanks

Of course I can! Ty and Aiden are literally my world lol

genre : fluff

type : one shot

TYLER HERNÁNDEZ x FEM! READER

A/n : Hello hello anon! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it! I’m so sorry if he’s a bit ooc because I’m still trying to navigate all of the characters traits and behaviors! Enjoy ^^

You and Tyler have been together ever since you were moved to Mr. Thompson’s class and grouped with Ashlyn and the rest of the gang for the group project. Then rolled around the Savanna trip. Ever since then, Tyler has been super protective over you and that's basically how you guys got into this relationship. You guys never got sleep anymore but would still help you study before going into the phantom realm, today was one of those days. You went over to his house right after you got off the bus to drop off all your random stuff and grab a snack. When you got Hernández’s house hold, you with a to the Tylor's mather welcomed warm smile with Myler running to the door like you've just come home after 12 years.

“Mi amor... you're here early." Tyler wraps his arms around you carries you to his and room while you were basically thrown over his shoulder. His mom laughed at the sight but texted Tyler about how exhausted you looked.

"Omg! Y/n you've already here!” Taylor started but a death glare was given by her twin, "Yes but we are studying because she's on the brink of failing.” Tyler sternly stated while you spaced out while admiring your boyfriend. Taylor smiled at your actions.

“Fineeee, I’ll leave her alone with you for today.” She said as she walked away while closing the door.

Tyler turned back to you “Anyways…Y/n?” Tyler snapped his fingers in front of your face until you snapped out of your daze. “You okay, love?” He seemed concerned and worried about your droopy eyes.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m- I’m fine.” You smiled sweetly but tripped over your words here and there. You were about to say something until a hand gently pushed your head down into his lap.

“Maybe it’ll be better if you rest, princesa. You’re tired, it’s been rough on all of us.” Tyler cracks a small smile while looking down at you, he was always so soft and gentle with you even if you were in the phantom realm. Before you knew it, you were on Tyler’s bed with your legs tangled together. Your head on his heart and his chin in your head. What a great nap with your boyfriend.

#x y/n #x reader #sbg (webtoon)#sbg tyler x reader #tyler hernandez #tyler hernandez x reader #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard x reader #taylor hernandez #desire writes!

109 notes · View notes

sagesolsticewrites · 7 months

Note

Hiya could you do Harry Crosby + “ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i'd say yes. “ “ what about today?” from one of your drabble prompt lists please and thanks 💛

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie! I’ve adored these Masters of the Air requests, especially getting to write for Harry my love!! Our favorite navigator 🥰

Quick warning that there is a nonzero chance of historical inaccuracies here, and the timeline may be a little off, but I did actual research for this one y’all! New additions to the ever-growing Useless Knowledge section of my brain: knowing where Lt. Harry Crosby studied for college (he was working on his graduate degree at the University of Iowa when the Pearl Harbor attack occurred; he went back to finish his degree there in 1947 and earned his PhD from Stanford University in 1953!), when and why he joined the Army Air Forces (paused his studies at U of I to enlist after Pearl Harbor), and where he was sent for his training (Mathers Field, California) before being stationed in Idaho, and eventually at East Anglia. Look at me go lol 🤪 Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

a/n: well, that’ll teach me not to try to format my fics on mobile 😂 I guess the Harry fic’s coming out today! Hope you like it Nonnie <3

Masterlist

Just Say Yes

You waited anxiously under the maple tree at the edge of the campus courtyard, fiddling with the worn, creased paper in your hands — Harry’s last letter, telling you that this next visit home would likely be his last before he was transferred to Idaho, and then to who knows where.

I’ll meet you under our tree, pretty girl, the letter had read, Saturday, our usual time?

The tree— the very maple tree you stood in the shade of now— was where you had met often when you were both students at the University of Iowa, studying English. The tradition had started when you were paired up for a project, and Harry asked if you would mind working outside.

“I think better in the fresh air,” he had said, almost apologetically, and you had agreed almost instantly, captivated by the quiet but clearly very smart boy who sat next to you in class.

Even after the project was over and graded, you continued to meet under that tree nearly every day at 2 o’clock after class to compare class notes or exchange feedback on essays.

And after nearly four months of meeting and working together, it was under that tree where Harry Crosby finally asked you out on a date.

Leaning back against the tree, you were jolted out of your trip down memory lane by a familiar voice calling your name.

Grinning, you turned to see Harry strolling towards you, dapper in his dress uniform, one arm raised in greeting, the other cradling a bouquet of tulips— your favorite.

You pushed off from the tree, unable to wait a single second longer, and sprinted to meet him, uncaring of the students staring at the crazy lady running across their campus.

He opened his arms as the distance between you lessened until you crashed into him, burying your head in his chest. He stumbled back a bit, absorbing your momentum, but he was quick to embrace you, quicker still to turn your momentum into a dizzying, joyous twirl, lifting your feet off the ground.

You let out a gleeful laugh as the world spun around you, and pulled him in for a long-overdue kiss once your feet were firmly back on the ground.

After the two of you reluctantly pulled apart, you cupped his face in your hands, drinking him in: lips stained red from your lipstick, hat knocked askew, uniform now more than a little wrinkled, and best of all, those warm brown eyes you had missed so much overflowing with love.

He looked as dapper as ever.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured with a smile, a greeting for your ears only.

It had been so long since you’d heard those words from his lips, and all you could do was blink back the tears that sprang to your eyes as you replied with a simple, tender “Hi.”

Understanding filled his eyes, and he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead and allowing you a moment to compose yourself before the two of you headed back towards your tree.

“Oh!” He said, holding the bouquet out to you as if he just now remembered he had it, “For you, m’lady.”

You took the bouquet, fingering the delicate pink and yellow petals. “They’re beautiful, Harry,” you smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said, gesturing for you to sit and make yourself comfortable first before he settled next to you in the shade.

“So,” he said, wrapping an arm around you, “Tell me everything. What have I missed? How’d that paper go that you were telling me about?”

You couldn’t help but light up at the mention of your latest paper— your pride and joy, your best work yet if you didn’t say so yourself— and at Harry’s encouraging smile, you rambled on about themes and motifs and parallels, Harry occasionally chiming in with a suggestion that made the connections you had made even clearer.

Despite the plethora of letters you had sent each other, each doing your best to keep the other updated, you and Harry never seemed to run out of things to talk about: the conversation flowed from your latest paper to how Harry had been giving the guys some book recommendations based on your suggestions, to the small bookshop you had taken to visiting, compiling a list of titles for him that you thought he’d enjoy. Harry mentioned that some of his comrades had set up a small library of sorts in the barracks, running on the honor system, but they’d likely need to shut it down soon, with people moving to their more permanent placements.

“Oh that reminds me,” Harry said, digging in his pocket for a moment before triumphantly revealing a scrap of paper with his distinctive scrawl.

“Plenty of the guys are getting letters from their wives and sweethearts,” he said, slipping you the small piece of paper with the address of his next assignment in Boise, “I wanna make sure I’m one of ‘em.”

“Getting letters from your wife, or your sweetheart?” You asked playfully, tucking the slip of paper safely in your pocket.

“Uh.. Well, I mean…” Harry stammered, trying very hard not to think about the small box in his pocket.

“Hey,” you pause to assure him, “I was just kidding.” Under the shade of your tree, you rested your head on his shoulder, looking out at the courtyard. “I know we’re a little young, but…” You took a deep breath, entwining your fingers with his, “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

You caught the barest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you glanced over to see a small box held out to you.

A box in Harry’s hand that was open to reveal a delicate gold ring.

“What about today?” Harry asked softly, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek.

“I— Harry—” You were speechless, your world zeroing in on that small gold band before realizing that you had been silent for far too long.

You nodded furiously, turning to kiss him before you could even get the words out.

“Is that a—”

Harry’s tentative question was cut short by your lips crashing onto his. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, kissing you back with equal fervor, the ring box left in your lap.

You both eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Harry’s forehead remained pressed to yours, chocolate brown eyes locked on you.

“Was that a yes?” He asked, lips still just barely brushing yours, and you could feel him trying not to smile.

You were an English major. There were a thousand words you could have said, a thousand speeches of acceptance and love and devotion you could have made.

Only one word mattered to you just then.

“Yes.”

#sage answers #my writing #harry crosby #lt harry crosby #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #harry crosby x reader #anthony boyle #anthony boyle harry crosby #anthony boyle lt harry crosby #anthony boyle x reader

139 notes · View notes

calummss · 10 months

Text

Blessed Mornings | Marshall Mathers

masterlist

summary: three years after marshall’s rehab you both wake up to a peaceful morning reminding you how lucky you are

pairing: fem! reader x marshall mathers/eminem

words: 600

It was quiet when you had awoken from your sleep, the sound of Marshall’s breathing in your left ear as you slowly batted your eyelids. The moment you opened your eyes you were happy. Extremely happy and proud like watching a baby take its first steps without their mother. They were in total control and when babies realise they're in control of their own movements, well that is something many wish to witness. It was April 20th, 2011. Three years. Three years in which you could’ve started waking up alone to an empty bed, only the memories of your love keeping you company instead of your love.

You tried removing Marshall’s arm from your waist, wanting to make breakfast and bring it to bed. It was a special day and a special day called for special treatment. But you should’ve known that escaping a sleepy Marshall was impossible. As soon as you lifted his arm, he snaked it back around your waist with a deep groan, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as his warm breath ricocheted off your skin.

‘Em baby, I was trying to make you breakfast,’ you whispered, stroking his head as you realised that you weren’t going to be able to leave.

‘Please stay here.’ His quavering voice softly erupted.

‘Fine,’ you said, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to say no anyway. ‘At least loosen your grip so I can turn and you can lay on my chest.’

Without protest Marshall withdrew his arm from your waist and supported himself with his other arm and waited for you to turn your body, his head falling onto your chest, nuzzling his head back into a comfy position, his arm over your waist again. You continue to gently stroke his hair as you cradled him, slowly falling back asleep for a little while longer.

When you woke up again, Marshall was reluctant to let go of you but was promised his favourite pancakes so he eventually let go of you, reminding you how bad he just wanted to stay in bed and cuddle.

In the kitchen you got all the ingredients you needed and started mixing the pancake batter, making sure to have a few pancakes with chocolate chips. As you plated the stack, Marshall came through the door, his torso no longer bare but draped in a long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

‘These look incredible as always,’ He came up towards the counter, sliding the plate towards him.

‘Wait!’ You half yelled, grabbing the can of whipped cream and bent over the table to start adding the cream on top of the pancakes, spelling out the number three. ‘Happy three years, Em. I’m so so proud of you and I’m so happy you’re still alive and that I get to wake up every day knowing you’re still with me. Three down and many more to go.’

‘I don’t deserve you.’ Marshall pulled you into a tight hug, so tight you could feel your heartbeat transfer to his chest. ‘I love you so damn much.’

‘You deserve me. Just as I deserve you.’

‘Shit man, you’re gonna make me cry.’

‘Thank you for being here.’ You kissed him, feeling his uncertainty through his body. He hated being vulnerable and hated crying especially in front of other people.

‘I fucking love you.’

‘I fucking love you too.’

#marshall mathers x y/n #marshall mathers x you #marshall mathers headcanon #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagines #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers #eminem imagine #eminem imagines #eminem fanfic #eminem fanfiction #eminem x you #eminem x y/n #eminem headcanon #eminem x reader #eminem

569 notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 1 month

Text

Football season - Commission

Author’s Note : Hi guys ! It’s been a while since I last posted something 😉. It is my great pleasure to share this little one shot that was commissioned to me on my Ko-Fi page 💕. I still take requests via Asks but Ko-Fi commissions are prioritized 😉.

Also, thank you to anyone who tips & commissions. It means a lot to a struggling PhD student 💕.

Enjoy !

Football season had officially started and to say you were disappointed was an understatement. You thought you’d enjoy watching games with Marshall in the comfort of your living room, resting on his lap and cuddle with him, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. There was nothing cute or romantic. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It involved grown men yelling in your living room, screaming at the players on TV, spilling food everywhere. You could have turned a blind eye if Marshall had made any effort to make it up to you but… no. Your weekly date night had been replaced by football night and, though at first you had decided to make peace with it, you were fed up. He could have included you in this whole thing but the only time you had tried to watch the game with him and his friends, you had made the cardinal mistake of asking some clarification about the rules, only to be shushed by your man. So, whenever the guys came over (which means whenever they were not actually at the stadium), you retreated to another room after greeting them. You still tried to make an effort and ask Marshall how it went whenever he went to find you after the game, but you weren’t really interested. You had gone a whole six weeks without going on a single date and you felt neglected. Maybe you should have expected this. Maybe being taken for granted happens after moving in together with the man you love. Maybe every woman in America has to put up with something similar. Except you weren’t every woman in America. You were the one and only woman who managed to capture the heart of Marshall Mathers, who already had to put up with a lot, and who deserved a whole lot better than this. You knew your worth and, if Marshall needed to be reminded of who he was living with, you would happily do it.

- Hey pretty girl, he said lovingly as you walked down the stairs in one of your prettiest dresses that you knew he loved. Where are you going dressed like this ?

- On a date, you said casually as you pecked his cheek. Have fun with the guys today.

- Date ? What date ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- The one my boyfriend will not take me on, you shrugged.

With these words, you left the room before he could even reply. If he didn’t want to take you out, fine. You were a grown woman and you were determined to give yourself what you deserved. In this case, a nice meal in your favorite fancy restaurant, some retail therapy and even a spa session. You were worth it. Sure, not everyone in your household seemed to know it, but you absolutely refused to let it undermine you. So you had the loveliest day by yourself, enjoying the absence of grown men yelling at some football players, as if they could do better on the field. The people you saw at the restaurant were dressed normally and you didn’t have to do put up with corny football apparel. And as you tried on dresses in your favorite store, you purposefully avoided the one in a shade of blue that reminded you of the Detroit Lions logo. You ended up treating yourself to a new dress, a cute lingerie set and a new handbag you’d been eyeing for a while. You ended the day with a trip to your favorite spa where you got a massage. Your whole « date with yourself » was insanely relaxing, and all frustration was gone when you walked back in the house, carrying your bags. As soon as you opened the door, Marshall came to greet you and took the bags from your hands so that you wouldn’t have to carry them. The whole house was clean and calm. A far cry from the usual mess on game night, when his friends would often stay late.

- Where’s everyone ? You asked.

- Sent them home after the game, he said with a smile.

- Did the team lose ?

- Nope, he replied. We won. But I figured we could use a night just the two of us. So that I can make it up to you for being a bad boyfriend.

You cupped his cheek and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

- It’s fine, you shrugged.

- It’s not, he said. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted. I got a little carried away with football and I know it’s on me for missing date night but… I miss you, babe.

- I miss you too, you cooed as he pulled you in a hug.

- How was your date with yourself ? He asked. Did you have a good time ?

- I did, you said with a smile. Did some shopping, went to a nice restaurant and even got a massage. I’m good company.

- This, I know, he chuckled.

- The date was so good I’d deserve to seal the deal, you grinned.

- Oh really ? He asked with a smirk.

- Yes, you hummed. Definitely taking myself to bed and getting some.

- Any way I can get an invite ? He asked lovingly as he cupped your ass.

- Do you think you deserve one ? You giggled.

He smiled and kissed you before leading you to the living room. A huge bouquet of your favorite flowers was standing on the coffee table, and he had prepared a small set up with your favorite snacks and drinks in front of the TV, complete with some cute candles.

- I though we could have a little date night, he suggested. Unless you-

- It’s just perfect, you cooed.

- How about your show me what you bought, doll ? He suggested.

You grabbed the bags and showed him your purchases. You ended up trying on the dress for him and showing him the bag.

- What’s in that box ? He asked as he pointed to the only thing you hadn’t shown him yet.

- Lingerie, you hummed.

- Don’t you want to show me ? He asked innocently.

- Not sure you deserve it just yet, you grinned.

He chuckled and you could see in his eyes that he relished the challenge. He was the most competitive person you knew. You should have known he’d take it this way. Still, you made sure to playfully roll your eyes. The two of you ended up lounging on the couch, watching a movie. Marshall even let you choose, and you happily put on a crappy chick flick, your guilty pleasure. You were cuddling, curled up on his side while he played with the hem of your new dress, not really paying attention to the movie.

- You’re so pretty, he whispered. I’m the luckiest man on earth.

- Glad you finally recognize it, you grinned.

- I love the guys but, frankly, game night doesn’t compare to this, he continued as he buried his face in your neck before placing a kiss there.

You let out a soft giggle and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace while you focused on the movie. With each passing minute, he held you a little closer and, eventually, you ended up on his lap, munching on popcorn while he stroked your thigh, his fingers going higher and higher as time went on.

- Marshall, you lightly scolded.

- But you’re so pretty, he whispered. And your skin is so soft.

- I blame the body oil they used for the message, you hummed.

- I could have given you a massage if you’d asked, he grinned.

- Right, you chortled.

- Don’t believe me ? He asked.

- You would have taken advantage, you hummed. Can’t keep your hands to yourself.

- How can I be expected to, when you’re so beautiful ? He asked before mouthing at your neck from behind.

You let out a sight of satisfaction and you could feel smile against your skin. How could you be expected to stay mad at him when he was being so adorable ? He kept on stroking your thigh, while one of his hand gently cupped your boob, thumb grazing over your nipple. You let out a small moan, unable to hide your pleasure.

- How could I neglect you like this, love ? He whispered. Gotta make it up to you, yeah ?

- Yeah, you said breathily.

His hand that was on your thigh traveled higher to go and cup your pussy over the lace of your panties, as he kept on fondling your boob.

- Marsh-… th-the movie, you said unconvincingly.

- Keep watching, babe, I got you, he said seductively.

Before you could say anything, he got up and let you settle in the couch, before kneeling between your legs and removing your panties.

- Let me make it up to you, he pleaded.

You nodded and he bunched your dress up to your waist, getting a better access to your pussy that was already throbbing with anticipation. Without a second of hesitation, he buried his face between your legs and began eating you out, gently exploring your folds with his tongue. You were so comfortable, resting against the couch pillows, your head against the headrest, all you had to do was to enjoy the moment and, boy, did he make it enjoyable. He took his sweet time, as if he was enjoying a gourmet meal, softly teasing your clit. His hands were on your thighs, keeping them apart, fingers gently digging into your skin. You watched him from above, enjoying how focused he was, eyes closed, dedicating himself to it, to you. You ran your hand in his hair, prompting him to keep going, which he happily did. His tongue was soft against your bud, sending shivers in your whole body. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the heavenly sensation of your man pleasuring you.

- I love you, you whimpered.

He hummed, sending vibrations against your pussy, making you moan. You could feel your own wetness, only increased by his saliva. He gently inserted a finger in you and you almost felt relieved. You abandoned yourself to the sweet sensation and, soon enough, upon seeing how wet you were, he added another one, gently curling them so that they’d hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t hold your mewls, the combination of him sucking on your clit and fingering you at the same time making you feel ecstatic. You tightened the grip on his head, unconsciously praying he wouldn’t stop, and this prompted him to quicken the pace of his fingers. You could feel your toes curl and pleasure tickle your body as your breathing accelerated, your climax being near. Your heard yourself beg for relief and Marshall happily obliged, making you cry tears of euphoria. You could feel him smile against your pussy and he placed a kiss on your inner thigh before getting up and kissing you. You were all zoned out, the couch having turned into a cloud. He chuckled as soon as he saw your face and he gently cupped your cheek, admiring the glow the orgasm gave you.

- I’m so in love with you, he said.

- I love you, you cooed. Do you want me to-

- I’m good, love, he replied with a smile. It’s all about you.

You hummed before shivering a bit, making him chuckle. He always made fun of how you were always cold after having an orgasm. He grabbed one of his hoodies that was nearby and handed it to you. You kissed him lovingly as a thank you and decided to go change, putting a PJ short, a tank top and his hoodie. When you got back to the living room, he gestured for you to sit in his lap and you cuddled while watching what was left of the movie. Evidently, you hadn’t paid a lot of attention to what was on screen. You tried to catch up, enjoying Marshall’s arms around you. There was what you missed about date night : time set aside just for the two of you, his warm presence and his intoxicating cologne. You didn’t need much. When the movie ended, he led you to the bedroom and you laid in bed while he undressed, only keeping his boxers on. You couldn’t help but stare as he removed his tee-shirt, revealing his perfect chest, toned abs and muscular pecs. You’d been together for a while but every single time you saw this man undress, you found yourself to be under his spell.

- Your parents never told you you shouldn’t stare ? He grinned.

- I wouldn’t stare if the view wasn’t worthy, you said innocently.

- You say it as if you weren’t a fucking art piece yourself, he scoffed.

- Right, you chortled.

- I mean it, he replied with a smile as he joined you in bed and pulled you to him. You are stunning. I love you in my hoodies.

- I do love wearing them, you admitted.

He smiled and kissed your temple before turning the lights off and pulling you to him once again, absolutely refusing for there to be any distance between your bodies.

- Thanks for tonight, you whispered as you buried your face in his neck. I missed having you all to myself.

- I’m sorry I got caught up in work and football, he said. I’ll do better. I didn’t realize you were so pissed.

- Ok, you said softly. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all dramatic when I left. I was just annoyed. But tonight made it better.

- I’m glad, he replied with a smile you could hear. I’m sorry.

- Stop apologizing, you giggled. I’ve already forgiven you.

- Yeah. Sorr-

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you turned and kissed him so that he’d shut up. You could feel his lips twitching into a grin as he kissed you back. What started as a soft peck quickly turned into a hot and steamy make out session and it didn’t take long for Marshall’s hands to wander under his hoodie, stroking the warm skin in your back. You were straddling him and you could feel his bulge against your clad pussy (though the fabric definitely wasn’t too thick). You started to grind slowly, earning a groan and a sigh of pleasure. He gently bit your lower lip and you ground a little harder against his hardness. He was quick to remove both your (his) hoodie and your tank top, his hands finding their way to your front, cupping your breasts, gently teasing your nipples. He sat up, firmly keeping you in place, so that he was able to suck on your tit, making you whimper as you kept dry humping him.

- Need you, you whispered breathily.

A couple of seconds later, your shorts and his boxers were on the floor and you were lowering yourself onto him, feeling your pussy stretching, adjusting to his size. It stung a bit, in spite of your evident arousal. You let out a throaty moan as you took all of him and he gave you a satisfied grunt. You started moving your hips slowly, enjoying each and every sensation, the friction directly stimulating your swollen clit. Marshall’s hips moved in sync with yours, setting a gentle pace that allowed the two of you to enjoy the connection. He placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a deep kiss that was worth a thousand words, while he grabbed a handful of your ass with his free hand. You were chest to chest, lips connected and you moved your hips, attempting to quicken the pace, but he refused to collaborate, opting for slower motions. His thrusts were deliberately unhurried, but you could feel him deep inside you, almost gasping each time he hit your cervix. You could swear you felt him in your whole abdomen. You moaned into the kisses, enjoying the pleasurable pain of feeling him so well, appreciating the fix of your favorite drug : him. You were in ecstasy, wrapped in each other’s embrace, both of your whimpers filling the room. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and made you roll on the mattress so that he’d be on top, shifting you to a missionary position that allowed him to stare at you, even in the obscurity. You couldn’t see much of the room around you, but you managed to gaze into each other’s eyes, almost connecting to each other’s soul. You cupped his cheek and placed kisses on his jaw as he finally quickened his pace, closing his eyes as he did so. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as if to make sure he wouldn’t stop, and you felt your thighs clench around him as the both of you came at the same time. A second later, your man nearly collapsed on top of you.

- I love you, you whispered as you ran your fingers through his hair.

- I love you too, he said emotionally. More than anything.

- More than football ? You giggled.

- More than football, he chuckled.

You closed your eyes and you held each other as the both of you drifted to sleep without bothering to change position.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

117 notes · View notes