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amayaonly1 · 5 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 27

About: With the house unusually quiet, Genji and Eminem settle into a rare evening alone sharing snacks, teasing banter, and enjoying each other's company. But beneath the comfortable routine, something feels off. He seems preoccupied, his thoughts elsewhere, and Genji can't shake the nagging feeling that there's more to his silence than just tour stress. As doubts creep in, she wrestles between trusting him or letting old fears take root.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, melting the moment they kissed the glass. The house was unusually quiet. Without the usual background noise of teenagers moving around, arguing over playlists, or raiding the pantry, the silence settled like a heavy winter blanket.

Genji leaned against the kitchen counter, stirring a mug of hot cocoa as the rich scent curled into the air. Behind her, Eminem rummaged through the cabinets, his movements unhurried, as if he was stalling.

"We got way too many mugs," he grumbled, pulling out one with a cartoon cat. He glanced at her, then swapped it for a plain black one.

"They're not mine," she reminded him, amused.

"I know, but still." He shot a glance toward the living room, where the TV hummed softly in the background. "Feels weird being here without the girls."

Genji hummed in agreement, passing him his cocoa before cupping her own in both hands. The warmth seeped into her fingers, cutting through the cold. It was one of the rare evenings they had the house to themselves. Hailie and the other two were out with Kim for the night, which left the space unusually still.

Eminem leaned against the counter, blowing on his drink. She watched as his lips pressed into a thin line, the flicker of hesitation before he took a cautious sip.

"You're not gonna burn your tongue again, are you?" she teased.

He scoffed. "That was one time."

She arched an eyebrow.

"…Okay, maybe twice."

She smiled, setting her mug down before making her way to the couch. The fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. The coffee table was already cluttered with snacks: popcorn, half a bag of chips, and a box of chocolate Pocky she had smuggled into his pantry weeks ago.

Eminem flopped down beside her, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "You wanna watch something?"

Genji glanced at the TV setup: a mix of cable's on-demand movies and a few DVDs stacked near the TV. There were mostly action films, a few comedies... and one suspiciously misplaced romance.

She shot him a look. "You actually picked something romantic?"

He barely spared it a glance. “Nah, it's the girls'."

She smirked but didn’t press, watching as he scrolled through the options. He bypassed a couple of new releases and landed on an older comedy.

"You sure?" she asked, curling her legs beneath her.

"It's either this or some depressing Oscar-bait shit," he remarked, tossing the remote onto the table before reaching for the popcorn.

She huffed a quiet laugh, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands as she curled up against his side. The warmth of his hoodie and the faint scent of his clean, sharp cologne felt grounding. Eminem stretched an arm over the back of the couch, fingers drumming idly against the cushion. He wasn't one for casual affection, but over time, she had come to recognise these moments when his guard was down. He wasn't the type to say things outright; he showed them instead.

Halfway through the film, he shifted, clearing his throat. "You ever think about the future?"

Genji blinked, tilting her head up to look at him. "That's random."

He shrugged. "Just askin'."

She considered the question for a moment. "Not really. I mean, I plan things, but I don't think too far ahead."

Eminem nodded, gaze fixed on the screen, but she could tell he wasn't really watching. His fingers tapped lightly against her shoulder in a steady rhythm, almost like a nervous habit.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You sure?"

He scoffed, reaching for the popcorn. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Genji studied him, sensing that he'd been wanting to say something that's been lingering in his mind. But whatever it was, he wasn't ready yet. So she let it go, stealing a handful of popcorn from his bowl. He sighed like she was unbearable, but his subtle smirk said otherwise.

For the rest of the movie, they stayed wrapped in the quiet warmth of an evening just for them. Laughter slipped between bites of snacks, easy conversation filling the spaces where words weren't needed.

Later, in the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, absentmindedly stirring her cup of tea while he picked at his leftover spaghetti, his posture unusually rigid.

"You ever think about movin' in?"

Genji's fork paused mid-air. She frowned. "We've had this conversation, Marsh."

Despite how often she visited, she never stayed over, adamant about not cohabiting no matter how many times Eminem pointed out the convenience of living together. Instead, she had rented an apartment near his place, a compromise that kept them close but still gave her the independence she refused to give up.

"I know," he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "Just thought I'd try my shot. Should've known you're more stubborn than me."

She turned to face him, raising a brow. "What's this about?"

Eminem exhaled, staring down at his plate. "Forget it."

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, too casually, he said, "Your dad. He a strict guy?"

Genji blinked. "What?"

"I mean, is he the kind of guy who—" He hesitated, shaking his head. "Never mind. Just wondering."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're being weird."

He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm always weird."

She didn't argue with that, but there was something off. She saw how he kept shifting topics, the restless tapping of his fingers; his mind was moving too fast for his words to keep up.

"Is this about your tour?" she asked finally.

Eminem's fingers stilled. "Huh?"

"The one that's coming up. You've been distracted all day. Have you been worried about it?"

For a split second, she saw surprise (or maybe amusement) flicker across his face. Then he exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah. Just a lot on my mind."

Genji nodded, accepting the answer at face value. At least, that was what she told herself.

In truth, something about his demeanour unsettled her. The shifting topics, the distracted air, the uneven rhythm of his fingers drumming against the counter. It wasn't just about the tour. She could feel it. She knew him too well not to.

But she also knew what it felt like to realise too late that someone had already pulled away. The thought was intrusive, but it lingered. It wasn't fair, not to him or them, but experience had taught her not to ignore warning signs. And deep down, a small, insidious part of her wondered if this was one. Maybe she had missed something and had been too comfortable.

Her grip tightened around her mug, fingers pressing into the ceramic's warmth as she forced herself to push the thought aside. No, this is different. This was Marshall, a man who, despite his bluntness, had never made her feel uncertain before. He wasn't the kind to play mind games or tiptoe around his feelings; at least, not with her. If something had changed, he would tell her. Wouldn't he?

She swallowed, pushing the doubt down before it could sink its claws in any deeper. He was just stressed about the tour. That had to be it. It made sense if she were to go with that narrative — the pressure, the long flights, the back-to-back shows. He was distracted, not distant. And if she let her own past mistakes dictate how she saw him, she would only be sabotaging something she had fought too hard to build.

She just had to trust him.

So she exhaled, let her shoulders ease, and nudged her half-eaten dinner toward him instead.

"You're not eating?" he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She shrugged, offering a small smile. "Not that hungry. You want it?"

He gave her a look but took it anyway.

Neither said anything more about the conversation that had already slipped between the cracks. And for tonight, she's content with that.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 5 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 26

About: Eminem wakes up to an unfamiliar scene of his home filled with warmth and laughter, and the sight of Genji cooking breakfast alongside his daughters. As the morning unfolds, he is drawn to how naturally she fits into his world, forcing him to confront emotions he has long avoided. A conversation with Hailie pushes him to finally address what is between him and Genji.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Eminem wasn't used to waking up this late. The digital clock on his nightstand read 9:47 AM, and he just lay there momentarily, staring at the ceiling. His body felt heavier than usual, sluggish from a night of talking when he should've been sleeping. He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before forcing himself upright.

The house was already alive. He could hear the clatter of dishes, the shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional stifled laughter drifting up from downstairs. His stomach twisted slightly at the thought of who might be down there.

Genji.

Damn.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss whatever it was that had him feeling like a teenager caught up in some dumb crush. Pulling a hoodie over his head, he let it hang loose over his frame and padded out of his room. As he made his way downstairs, the scent of vanilla filled the air, mixing with something more savoury; grilled fish, maybe. The early morning light spilt through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops.

He wasn't expecting much when he walked in, maybe one of the kids grabbing breakfast. But what he saw made him stop in his tracks. Whitney sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. Alaina was flipping through a magazine at the dining table. But it was Genji who caught his attention.

She stood at the stove, her back to him, one hand gripping the pan while the other worked a wooden spatula. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, swaying slightly as she shifted her weight. But that wasn't what threw him. It was the apron — pink and frilly, with ruffles on the edges and a wide sash tied into a neat bow at the back.

Eminem narrowed his eyes, scanning the kitchen like he expected hidden cameras. Was this some kind of joke? Had one of his girls set him up? But there was no crew hiding behind the fridge. Just Hailie beside her, casually placing salmon onto the sizzling pan.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. This was so not Genji. If she was wearing that ridiculous thing, then most likely because his kid had shoved it on her; somehow, she'd gone along with it.

"You look..." he trailed off, lips twitching. "Real comfortable."

Genji turned slightly, giving him a deadpan side-eye, but the pink dusting her cheeks gave her away. "It's Hailie’s," she muttered, adjusting the ribbon at the back. "She insisted."

The said girl, completely unfazed, just grinned. "She looks cute, right?"

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

He wasn't sure if he meant it teasingly or if the thought actually caught him off guard. Either way, he couldn't look at her too long without feeling like he was seeing something so comfortable that it felt almost domestic.

The table was already set when he sat down. Plates of rice, soup, grilled salmon, and omelette were laid out neatly, alongside a more familiar plate of stacked pancakes with butter in a small bowl. As someone who rarely (or never) eats Japanese food, the mix of Eastern and Western dishes shouldn't have worked, but it did.

Genji moved effortlessly around the kitchen, refilling bowls and making sure each of the girls had enough to eat. She wasn't just cooking; she was also taking care of them without even realising it. Hailie, Alaina, and Whitney bantered between bites, passing plates back and forth like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Eminem was used to eating in silence, his mornings were either rushed or spent alone. But here he was, at a table full of chatter, the sound of cutlery clinking against bowls and plates, laughter filling the spaces between bites. And Genji fit into the scene like she'd always been there.

He watched as she reached over to fix Whitney's grip on the chopsticks, her voice patient. Then she nudged Hailie's orange juice closer. She barely touched her own food as she was too caught up in making sure everyone else was taken care of. He wasn't sure what to do with the way that made him feel, so he focused on his plate, chewing slowly, pretending this wasn't the kind of thing that got to him.

Breakfast was over, and the girls got up, announcing plans to go outside, something about showing Genji the backyard. She waved them off with a small smile, gathering plates and stacking them near the sink.

But Eminem rolled up his sleeves. "I got it," he said, taking the dishes from her hands before she could argue. He focused on the task, scrubbing the plates clean, letting the warm water drown out the noise in his head. But he wasn't alone for long.

Hailie leaned against the counter with arms crossed, one brow slightly raised. "So," she started, dragging out the word.

He glanced at her from the sink, instantly wary. "So...?”

She tilted her head, watching him too closely. "What's going on with you and Genji?"

His stomach clenched. He frowned, rinsing off a plate with a little too much force. "What?"

Hailie gestured vaguely. "You guys."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Ain't nothin' goin' on."

"Uh-huh." She didn’t look convinced. "You sure? Because you've been acting weird. And by 'weird', I mean less grumpy, which is suspicious."

He huffed, setting a plate onto the drying rack. "That's stupid."

"No, what's stupid is you pretending you don't know what I'm talking about." She narrowed her eyes. "Dad, come on. I've seen the way you look at her."

He stiffened, gripping the counter. "I don't—"

"You do."

Eminem let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated this kind of conversation. But if there was one thing about Hailie, it was that she didn't let things go easily.

"You like her," she stated bluntly.

He gave her a flat look. "What are you, twelve?"

"Actually, I'm fifteen."

"Same difference."

She smirked. "You didn't deny it."

He scowled, grabbing another dish to scrub. "It ain't that simple."

"Why not?" She wasn't letting up. "You like having her around. She makes you laugh. And..." she tilted her head, pressing, You actually seem... I dunno, more relaxed?"

His jaw tensed. He knew that.

Hailie's voice softened. "Dad…" She hesitated, then finally pushed. "You deserve to be happy."

He swallowed, setting down the last dish, gripping the edge of the counter for a second longer than necessary.

For once, she didn't continue, just let the words sit. Then, after a moment, she exhaled, giving him a small, knowing smile before pushing off the counter. "Just think about it," she murmured before heading outside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

By the time he turned around, Hailie was already heading outside, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and Genji. She was at the table, sipping tea, her gaze drifting toward the window where the girls were laughing outside.

He hesitated. Then, finally, he took a breath and sat across from her.

She glanced at him. “Something on your mind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. About last night." He ran a hand over his face, dragging it down his jaw. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he met her gaze. "What are we?" he echoed.

Silence stretched between them. For a moment, Genji just looked at him, fingers curled loosely around her teacup. Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell she was processing, turning over every possible meaning behind his words before deciding how to respond.

Eminem exhaled, leaning back slightly, fingers tapping against the table. He wasn't good at conversations like these. But Hailie's words were still rattling in his head, refusing to be ignored.

She took a quiet sip of her tea. "I don't know," she admitted finally, setting the cup down. "You tell me."

That made him scoff lightly. "That ain't fair. You're the one who asked me first."

"Yeah, and you avoided answering." Her voice was calm, but there was a knowing sharpness to it. "You're the one bringing it up now."

He dragged a hand over his face. She wasn't making this easy. Then again, why would she? She wasn't the type to take half-baked answers.

Eminem let out a short breath, resting his arms on the table. "Look, I ain't tryna overthink shit, but..." He hesitated, his fingers curling slightly. "I like havin' you around. I mean, obviously. And I—" He exhaled sharply, frustrated at himself. "I dunno, man. I feel like I don't gotta be... on guard all the time when I'm with you. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Her gaze softened slightly, but she said nothing, letting him get his words out.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "And it ain't just me. The girls like you, too." His jaw tensed a little. "Hailie likes you."

That seemed to catch her off guard, her lips parting slightly before she looked down at her hands, thoughtful.

"I like them too," she said quietly. "And you."

Something in his chest tightened at how she said it, simple and honest, like it wasn't even a question.

He cleared his throat. "So... What does that make us?"

Her brows lifted slightly. "That depends. What do you want us to be?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She wasn't gonna let him off easy, huh?

He leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I want…" He licked his lips, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I want this. I dunno what to call it, but I know I don't want you thinkin' I don't care. 'Cause I do." He paused, glancing down. "I just suck at showin' it sometimes."

Her lips pressed together for a moment, like she was considering something. Then, finally, she let out a small breath. "You don't have to have the perfect words, you know."

He smirked dryly. "Good. 'Cause I ain't got 'em."

That earned a quiet laugh from her, and it eased something in his chest.

She tilted her head slightly. "So... are you saying you want to be together? Officially?"

A small huff left his nose as he glanced off to the side. "'Officially' sounds so…" He made a vague motion with his hand. "Teenage."

She arched a brow. "So what word do you prefer?"

His tongue clicked against his teeth. "'Exclusive?'" He grimaced slightly. "That sounds old as hell."

She gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "We're not teenagers, Marshall. No one's expecting us to put a label on it like we're in high school." Her expression softened. "But I'd like to know what I mean to you."

His throat bobbed. Slowly, he reached across the table, wrapping his fingers lightly around hers.

"You mean a lot," he said, voice low. "Enough that I don't want this to be temporary."

Her fingers curled against his palm, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Then that's enough for me."

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 5 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 25

About: Genji never expected to fit into Eminem's world so easily, but somehow, she had; his daughters had made sure of it. Yet, as the lines between familiarity and something deeper blur, she cannot help but let this question linger at the back of her mind: What are we?

A/N: I got this idea when I saw this headcanon by @therealcocoshady, thinking how Eminem would deal with Genji rejecting the idea of cohabitation (which I found out that it's not commonly practised by Japanese couples). Anyway, do check out the headcanon and this person's other works. :)

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The clock on the wall blinked past 1:17 AM. The house had settled into the kind of quiet that only came in the earliest hours of the morning. The remnants of the day still lingered — faint laughter echoing in the walls, flour dusting the kitchen counter, and the lingering scent of vanilla and burnt sugar from the girls' enthusiastic but disastrous attempts at baking.

Genji sat at the kitchen counter with one knee tucked to her chest, fingers curled around the ceramic warmth of her tea. She wasn't really tired. So instead, she sat here, listening to the low murmur of the heater and the occasional creak of the house shifting under the weight of the night.

Across from her, Eminem sat at the dining table half-slouched in his chair. His hoodie sleeves were shoved to his elbows, revealing the intricate ink that twisted over his forearms. In one hand, he held an open can of Coke, the condensation forming a small ring of moisture on the wooden surface. The dim kitchen light softened the sharp edges of his face, casting faint shadows along his jawline and cheekbones.

The day had stretched longer than expected. What was meant to be a simple lunch had spiralled into something bigger. His daughters had a way of turning an ordinary afternoon into a whirlwind of board games, loud debates over music, and an impromptu baking session that had left the kitchen in a state of disaster. They had roped her into it as if she had always been a part of their small world.

Maybe, in some ways, she had. Because she was still here. Not because she had nowhere else to be or felt obligated to stay. But because when the time came to leave, she hadn't wanted to.

Even before she agreed, the girls had been prepared. Whitney had neatly folded a stack of towels at the foot of the guest bed. Alaina had checked and double-checked the blankets, making sure there was an extra quilt "just in case". Even Hailie had mentioned that it'd be nice if Genji wasn't too tired to stay like they had expected her to stay, as if she belonged here. She could have said no; she should have. But she didn't.

And, to her, that was the problem. No matter how much time she spent here, how easily she slipped into his world, how comfortable she had become in his space, she didn't know where she stood with him. They had never defined this — whatever this was. They had never used words like "together", "mine", or even "us".

Now, as she sat across from him watching his fingers absently tap against the Coke can, watching him meet her gaze like there was nowhere else he'd rather be, Genji couldn't help but wonder— What are we?

She took a breath, ready to say something or anything to break the silence.

But then he beat her to it.

"You been comin’ around more," he pointed out casually. If she weren't paying attention, she might've missed the subtle warmth behind his words.

Genji's fingers tightened slightly around her mug. She glanced at him with an unreadable expression. "Is that a problem?"

He smirked. "Nah. Just think it's funny."

She raised a brow. "Funny how?"

He swirled the Coke in his can, the faint fizz breaking the quiet. "Couple months ago, you were all weird about overstayin'. Always looked like you thought I was gonna kick you out or some shit."

She lowered her gaze, watching the faint steam rising from her tea. He wasn't wrong. There had been a time when she was careful not to linger too long, not daring to blur the lines between friendship and something more complicated. But somehow, she had started to. She started showing up without an invitation, letting his daughters style her hair, dragging her into their inside jokes, and even letting him look at her like he was used to her being here. It had happened so gradually that she hadn't even questioned it, until now.

She hesitated. "Maybe I just like visiting."

For a moment, he didn't respond. Just leaned back in his chair, elbows resting against the wooden arms, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the can. His steady gaze stayed on her, thoughtful.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he asked, "You ever think about stayin' for real?"

The words sent a ripple through the air, so quiet yet so heavy that they seemed to press against her chest.

Genji froze. Her grip tightened around the mug. It wasn't the kind of question that had an easy answer. Her heart slammed once against her ribs before settling into something heavier, one that she wasn't sure she wanted to name. She could tell herself that he didn't mean it like that, but something about how he said it made her think otherwise.

Stay.

For real.

She exhaled slowly, setting her tea down with a quiet clink. She could still laugh it off, pretend it didn't mean what it did. She could say something vague that would let this moment slip past without consequence.

But instead, she heard herself ask, barely above a whisper, "You ever think about me staying for real?"

Genji observed the muscle in his jaw tense, but his gaze never wavered. Then, without hesitation, he answered, "Yeah."

The single word cracked something open inside her. It should have reassured her or made things clearer to her. But instead, doubt crept in. "Yeah" didn't explain what they were, nor did it tell her if she was his girlfriend, or if she was his. So how could she know if this meant what she wanted it to mean?

Her fingers tightened around her mug again, the warmth pressing into her skin. The question lingered between them as the silence stretched. She searched his face, half-expecting a smirk, a joke, some throwaway comment to lighten what he had just said. But he was serious. The way he held her gaze, unwavering, told her that much.

She exhaled softly, setting her mug down. "I don't think it makes sense."

His brow furrowed. "What doesn't?"

"Living together." She hesitated, picking her words carefully. "Not unless you're building a family... or married."

A flicker of something crossed his face. "Are you serious?"

She didn't flinch. "Yeah."

He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Hold up. So you're sayin'—" He gestured vaguely between them. "You wouldn't live with me unless we were, what, husband and wife?"

Genji gave a small, nonchalant shrug. "It's how I was raised."

He blinked. "That's a thing? Like, a real thing?"

She tilted her head. "You think I'm making it up?"

"No, I just—" He exhaled, running a hand down his face. "Man. That's crazy."

She arched a brow. "That I wouldn’t want to give up my independence unless we're committed?"

"No, that you'd say no to me."

There it was — the ego. She almost smiled.

He leaned back, shaking his head. "That's a first."

But Genji took another sip of her tea, unbothered.

Eminem studied her, then tilted his head slightly. "So what, that's like a deal-breaker for you?"

She hesitated. "I don't know if I'd call it a deal-breaker, but... it matters to me."

His jaw tightened, thoughtful. "So if that's what it takes..."

She felt her stomach flip. His words trailed off, but she heard them all the same. And she knew he wasn't joking. Her pulse drummed against her skin. She should have felt relieved. But instead, all she felt was restless.

She swallowed. "I should go to bed."

Eminem's gaze flickered, but he didn't stop her. He just nodded, like he knew she was running from this.

She stood, quietly rinsed her mug, and set it in the sink. Then, without another word, she left the kitchen, her footsteps light against the wooden floor.

The guest room was warm, the folded quilt was at the foot of the bed, just as Alaina had left it. Genji slipped under the covers, lying still in the darkness. But she didn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying his words, over and over. And how he had looked at her like he had already made up his mind.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 24

About: Eminem returns home to find his daughters and Genji back from a shopping haul. Watching them so comfortable with each other, he realises how deeply she has become part of their world, stirring something he can no longer ignore. When she moves to leave, he finally breaks his own unspoken rule, setting the stage for a moment neither of them is fully prepared for.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The house was quiet when Eminem walked in; or rather, too quiet. He had grown used to the noises that told him his girls were home and just being their usual selves: the low buzz of the TV, the occasional thud of footsteps on the stairs, or even the background hum of a home that wasn't just a house. Instead, silence greeted him.

Frowning, he kicked off his sneakers by the door and made his way inside. The air was thick with the lingering scent of coffee, the only evidence that someone had been around earlier. His hoodie clung to his skin from the summer heat outside, but he wasn't bothered enough to take it off.

His thoughts suddenly drifted to that night, when she admitted to calling Paul to officially put an end to any future collabs, any features, anything that tied them together professionally. It had been months since that conversation, but he remembered when they finally sat on the sofa in her hotel room. He still remembered her hesitant glance and her careful words.

"It's not because I regret working with you," she had uttered. "But if we keep this up, I don't know how to separate it from... us, if you know what I mean."

She looked at him then, expecting. And he knew, deep down, that it wasn't just about music. This was her way of holding out her hand, giving them a chance beyond the world they had built inside studios and stages. He had agreed. Maybe too easily because he had wanted it, too.

And in the months that followed, something between them definitely shifted. There was no tour schedule to keep them in each other's orbit. Gone were the late-night mixing sessions or industry events forcing them into the same room. What remained was something neither of them had quite prepared for: figuring out what it meant to be in each other's lives without the excuse of work.

It was slow at first; a text here and a phone call there. The occasional run-in when she stopped by to see the girls. Somewhere along the way, the silences between them stopped feeling like walls and more like spaces they didn't need to fill. She had never been the kind of person who demanded things from him, and he had never been the kind to give easily.

Yet, without realising it, she had settled into the parts of his life he didn't usually share. She had been in the passenger seat on late-night drives when neither had anywhere to be. She had stolen fries off his plate without asking, giggling when he grumbled about it. She had shared her couch with him in an oversized hoodie, throwing subtly sarcastic remarks at whatever terrible reality show his daughters insisted they watch.

Maybe that was why, standing in the doorway now, he felt the weight of something he couldn't quite name.

A sudden burst of laughter from upstairs pulled him out of his thoughts.

Eminem blinked, drawn back to the present. His brow furrowed. His girls were definitely home. And judging by the overlapping voices, they weren't alone.

He made his way toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. As he approached Hailie's room, the laughter became clearer. Then he heard it.

Her voice. That low, familiar cadence, softened with amusement.

He stopped just short of the doorway. The door was half-open, and from where he stood, he could see them. Hailie, Alaina, and Whitney sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by shopping bags and random trinkets. In the middle of it all, Genji sat cross-legged, holding up a bracelet like she wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

"This looks expensive," she mused, turning it over in her fingers.

Hailie smirked. "It's not. It just looks like it is."

Whitney leaned in, grinning. "You should keep it. Consider it a token of our appreciation."

Genji snorted. "For what?"

Alaina shrugged. "For surviving a day out with us."

Eminem's grip tightened around the doorframe. The way they had taken to her like she was already part of their world made something twist in his chest. It wasn't just that they liked her. It was how easily she fit in, like she belonged there.

Hailie had always been selective about the people she let close into their family, especially when it came to him. Alaina and Whitney were no different. But with Genji, there was no hesitation or caution. He watched Whitney nudged Genji with her elbow, laughing about something, and the latter just shook her head, smiling at the little girl fondly. There was no pretence, nor guard, and his girls adored her for it.

That realisation hit deeper than he was ready for. It wasn't just about them. It was about him, too. Standing here watching this, he felt it like a punch to the gut. She wasn't just some guest passing through. She was already part of their lives. And whether he admitted it out loud or not, he wanted her there.

Hailie suddenly glanced up and beamed. "Oh. Look who finally made it home."

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him. And then Genji's.

For a second, she didn't move. Just blinked at him, expression unreadable. Then, like a switch flipping, she shifted, the smallest hint of hesitation creeping into her shoulders.

Eminem exhaled slowly. "Didn't know we were hosting guests."

Hailie rolled her eyes. "It's hot outside, and she was about to pass out. We saved a life today."

Whitney nodded sagely. "Truly heroic of us."

Genji shot them both a look but said nothing.

Eminem's gaze flickered back to her. He should say something. A joke, a comment, anything to make this moment feel less awkward.

But before he could, she stood. "I think I should get going.

Whitney pouted. "Already?"

Genji stood, brushing imaginary dust off her hoodie. "Yeah. Thanks for today, though. It was… nice."

Eminem almost laughed at that. Of course, she'd pick the safest word possible.

Hailie eyed her, then her dad, then back to her. "You sure? You don't have to."

"I do." Genji offered a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "But I'll see you guys around."

There it is. That same damn pull that had been there for months, clawing at the edges of whatever this was. For months, he'd been maintaining his distance to respect her decision to keep what they had personal instead of professional. Or at least, he tried to. He, too, told himself it was for the best.

But if doing so would make her leave again, then to hell with that.

"Stay for dinner."

Before he could stop himself, the words were already out.

Genji blinked. "Eh?"

The girls perked up, exchanging quick glances before watching him scratch at the back of his neck like he already regretted opening his mouth.

"I mean, you should stay for dinner." He cleared his throat. "Unless you got somewhere to be."

She hesitated, something flickering in her expression. There it is again: an internal war between instinct and want.

But then Alaina clapped her hands together. "Oh, yeah! We'll cook."

Whitney gasped. "We will?"

Hailie smirked. "Yes, we will."

Genji looked from the girls to Eminem, then sighed. "I don't know if I should be concerned or impressed."

"You should be both," Hailie said. "But mostly impressed."

As the girls disappeared into the kitchen, Eminem tipped his head toward the back patio, a silent invitation. Genji hesitated for half a second, just long enough for him to notice, before following him outside. The evening air was cooler now, a welcome relief from the thick summer heat.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the noise inside. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face before leaning against the railing. His fingers tapped restlessly against the wood, a habit he didn't even notice until Genji's eyes flickered down to them.

"You always do that," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Act like you're just passin' through. Like you ain't got a place here when clearly the girls like you."

Her expression didn't change, but he knew her well enough to catch the shift: her weight subtly shifted from one foot to the other, her arms crossed a little tighter like she was bracing for something.

"I just don't wanna overstay my welcome."

Eminem huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.

"You think they'd let you overstay?" He jerked his chin toward the house, where muffled voices and occasional bursts of laughter filtered through the closed door. "They'd keep you here if they could."

Genji glanced back toward the house, her fingers twitching at the hem of her hoodie. "Yeah, well. Doesn't mean I should."

Something about the way she said it made his chest feel too tight, like a fist had closed around something vital inside him. It wasn't just the words themselves, but her quiet delivery like she had already made peace with the idea that she didn't belong. Like she was convinced she was always temporary.

Realisation dawned on him: no wonder she'd been so careful, always hovering at the edges like she was afraid of taking up too much space. Even back then, when they first met, she never asked for too much, let alone expected anything.

The more he thought about it, the more he hated it, how she acted like she didn't matter.

His fingers curled against the railing. "That what you really think?" His voice was lower than before, rougher.

Genji didn't answer right away. Instead, she let out a quiet breath, gaze flickering past him, toward the darkening sky. "I think it's just easier that way."

Eminem let out a slow breath through his nose, his fingers still curled tight against the railing. For who? For her? For him? That answer shouldn't have pissed him off the way it did, but it did. Because it meant she was waiting for the moment someone told her she had to leave; she didn't expect anyone to fight for her to stay. And that sat wrong with him.

His jaw clenched. "It ain't easier for me."

Genji froze. But he still noticed the smallest shift in her shoulders, her fingers twitching against her sleeve. She hadn't said anything or looked at him. Nor did she move or pull away either.

His grip on the railing loosened as he exhaled slowly. The air between them felt heavier now. It wasn't like before—the awkward distance, the guarded silences. The space between them had shrunk into something small, something fragile. Close enough that he could see the way the porch light caught the strands of her dark hair, the faintest hint of her light and clean shampoo, a scent that became almost familiar to him now. They were close enough that he could see her lashes lowered, her throat moving as she swallowed. Close enough that if he leaned in just a little—

No.

He forced himself to stay put, to keep his hands where they were, even as something inside him pulled. He'd gone this far to get her close to him.

"You'll never overstay your welcome here," he muttered, voice rough. "Not to me."

She sucked in a quiet breath. Her head tilted like she wanted to make sure he meant it. If only she knew he did.

A sudden crash from the kitchen shattered the moment.

Eminem barely had time to process it before Whitney's voice rang out, muffled but unmistakably guilty, "Uh… we might need some help."

There was a beat of silence. Then Genji laughed. It was more of a quiet chuckle, but it softened the sharp edges of her usual restraint. That hit him like a sucker punch. Not just because he wasn't used to hearing it, but because it was his house she was laughing in. His daughters had pulled that sound from her, and that felt oddly right.

Without thinking, he found himself staring, taking in the way she tilted her head down slightly, her shoulders shook just a little. He wanted to keep that image burnt in his memory before she put her walls back up; or worse, before she left.

But then she turned to him, amusement still flickering in her eyes, and his mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

"C'mon." He nudged her toward the door, voice gruff but lighter than before. "Before they burn my damn house down." She rolled her eyes but didn't argue, following him back inside.

As they stepped through the doorway, something in him settled. She wasn't leaving; not yet, at least. The relief hit so fast it almost knocked the breath out of him. He wasn't good at emotions, or even letting people in. But for her, he'd try. Because losing her wasn't an option.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 23

About: Genji never expects to spend her afternoon being dragged around on a shopping spree by Eminem's daughters, but somehow, she finds herself caught up in their camaraderie. Unlike the world she knew, where admiration came with distance and expectations, they treated her like one of their own, teasing and bickering as if she had always been part of their lives. But when an invitation to their home arises, Genji hesitates, uncertain whether crossing that threshold again is something she is ready for or secretly wants.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Genji hadn't meant to come back here again. But somehow, it eventually became a habit like an unspoken ritual after studio sessions in L.A. Unlike the sprawling boulevards of California, Detroit was much quieter. The words and melodies jammed in her mind like a traffic-clogged highway, honking but going nowhere. Its grit and charm wove into every cracked sidewalk and sun-warmed storefront.

It reminded her of home in some way. The old brick buildings pressed against newer developments, high-end boutiques and mom-and-pop shops that refused to be edged out. The streets hummed with a quiet resilience, a blend of past and present where faded murals whispered stories of the city's soul. Neon signs flickered beside rusted fire escapes, while the scent of grilled street food tangled with the crisp aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Today, though, the air was thick with summer heat pressing against her skin; the concrete radiated warmth beneath her sneakers, sending up faint waves of distortion in the distance. She pulled her hoodie lower over her face out of habit, though it didn't do much to block the sun's relentless glare. The humidity clung to her, stubborn and unyielding, wrapping around her like a second skin. Even the occasional breeze felt heavy, offering little relief before vanishing into the heat.

She had just stepped out of a record store, tucking a small bag under her arm, when a chorus of familiar voices cut through the din of the streets.

"No way. That's her, right?"

"Told you she'd be here!"

"You guys are so obvious. Just say hi already."

Genji turned toward the voices and found herself face-to-face with three young girls, who could barely contain their glee. She recognised Hailie instantly. The two beside her were new, but it wasn’t hard to guess — Whitney and Alaina. They stood clustered together, dressed in casual summer clothes, their expressions shifting between excitement, amusement, and mild exasperation.

"Hey," Hailie greeted first with hands in her hoodie pocket, smirking. "Fancy running into you here."

Genji arched a brow. "You say that like you didn't just track me down."

Whitney let out a small giggle. "Okay, fine, we might've had a hunch."

Alaina rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "More like these two dragged me along for this."

Hailie shot her a look. "You didn't have to come."

The oldest scoffed. "Right, because you two totally wouldn't have kept texting me updates the entire time."

Whitney grinned, rocking on her heels. "You act like you're not a little bit curious."

Genji watched the exchange, lips twitching. Something was refreshing about their dynamic: casual and easy like they'd done this a thousand times before. It made her feel a little less like an outsider.

She shifted the bag under her arm. "Alright, so what's the plan? You corner me in the middle of the street, then what?"

Hailie smirked. "Now, we make you hang out with us."

Genji let out a soft laugh. "That so?"

Whitney nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. We were just gonna check out some stores, maybe grab food later. Unless you're too cool for that?"

Alaina crossed her arms, smirking. "Pretty bold of you to assume she has better things to do."

Genji huffed, amused. "Alright, you got me. Guess I have no choice."

Hailie gave a satisfied nod. "Exactly. You're one of us now."

It was said so offhandedly, so naturally, that the rapper had no room to argue. Not that she wanted to.

She glanced at them — three girls, vastly different yet somehow in sync — and felt a rare sense of ease settle in her chest.

"Alright, lead the way."

What was supposed to be a quick run-in turned into an entire afternoon. The girls led her from store to store, dragging her into places she never would've stepped into alone: trendy boutiques packed with clothes she’d never wear, a quiet little café wedged between towering buildings, even a beauty supply shop where Whitney practically forced her to try on different shades of lip gloss.

Genji had never spent this much time around teenage girls before, and she wasn't sure what she expected. Growing up, she had always been the little sister in a world of big brothers — the youngest in the Japanese underground rap scene, surrounded by men who had shaped her, challenged her, and, in their own rough way, cared for her. Back then, she had to be tough and sharp, always ready to prove she belonged. There was no room for frivolous outings, no one dragging her into shops just to mess around with lip gloss and accessories.

And outside of the rap scene, things weren't much different. In Japan, people kept a polite distance, admiration laced with formality. Even as she gained recognition, she was always separate; she was respected, but never quite with anyone. But they kept a line between them and her like she was something to observe, not someone to just be with. Even when she wasn't working, she was an artist first, a person second.

So she wasn't sure what she expected. Maybe for them to be reserved around her, treating her like some untouchable rapper or an outsider in their world. But they didn't. They talked to her like they had always known her, grabbing her hand and dragging her into a store just for fun.

Whitney grabbed a bottle of shimmery lip gloss and held it up to Genji's face, tilting her head in consideration. "Okay, this one. It'll look really good on you."

Genji blinked at her. "Why?"

The girl grinned. "Because I said so." She popped open the tube before Genji could protest.

"I don't really wear..."

"Just try it," Whitney insisted, already swiping the gloss across her lips.

Genji gave in with a quiet sigh, glancing at her reflection in a nearby mirror. She barely recognised herself; the sheen softened her usual sharp look. It wasn't bad, though.

Hailie nudged her with a knowing smirk. "You like it."

Genji hesitated before muttering, "It's not terrible."

Whitney beamed like she had won a jackpot.

Alaina then held up a pair of oversized sunglasses. "These are ridiculous."

"Lemme see," Hailie said, taking them and shoving them onto Genji's face before bursting into laughter. "Oh my god, you look like a rich grandma."

Whitney gasped. "A fabulous rich grandma."

Genji sighed dramatically, adjusting the glasses. "Guess I need a little dog in a purse to complete the look."

Alaina snorted. "You joke, but I bet you'd pull it off."

Genji shook her head, lips twitching despite herself.

Moments like this felt foreign to her: watching them bicker over which colour suited her best, shove random accessories at her to try on for fun, and tease each other with the same ease as any group of close siblings. And somehow, without even thinking about it, they pulled her into it too. She found herself caught up in the normalcy of it all, something rare in her world; no cameras, studio deadlines, expectations. Just them on a shopping spree the thick summer air, and the occasional breeze that did little to fight the heat.

She hadn't realised how much she missed this kind of normalcy.

By the time they stepped out of yet another shop (this one stocked with handmade jewellery), Genji felt herself wilting. She dragged a hand down her face, sighing. "Alright, I give. I think I'm officially overheated."

Hailie, who had been fanning herself with a small shopping bag, huffed. "Yeah, it's brutal today. We should go somewhere cool before one of us actually melts."

Whitney perked up. "We can go home! It's not far."

Genji hesitated. Home. She knew exactly whose home that was.

It wasn't that she hadn’t been there before. She had, once — by accident. Back then, she hadn't realised whose house she had stepped into until she was already inside, surrounded by framed photos and the kind of warmth she didn't expect from a place belonging to him. But this time, she knew. And it wasn't just about Eminem. It was about the girls treating her like she belonged there, like this wasn't a big deal.

Alaina caught the flicker of hesitation, waving a dismissive hand. "It's fine. Our dad's probably not even back yet."

That wasn't exactly the part Genji was worried about. She wasn't sure if she should be walking into his home again. But perhaps deep down, a part of her wanted to.

Before she could come up with an excuse, Whitney latched onto her arm, tugging her forward. "Come on, you've been inducted into the sisterhood at this point."

Hailie shot her a knowing grin over her shoulder. "Yeah, no backing out now."

Genji snorted, shaking her head. "You guys are relentless."

Alaina smirked. "You love it."

Genji rolled her eyes but let them pull her along. She wasn't sure if she was making a mistake. Although, she didn't mind finding out.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 22

About: Eminem confronts Genji after learning from Paul that she has decided to end any future collaboration without telling him first. Fueled by frustration and hurt, he demands the truth, forcing her to admit that walking away isn't as easy as she pretends. As tensions rise, unspoken feelings surface, leaving them both at a crossroads between denial and something real.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Eminem's pulse pounded in his ears, his grip tightening around the steering wheel as the city lights blurred past. His stomach was a tight knot, wound so hard it ached. He wasn't sure if it was anger or something worse pressing against his ribs, making his breath come short. All he knew was that he wasn't about to let this sit, not after hearing it from Paul instead of her.

"She came to me. Said she's done. No more collabs, no more features."

The words had been rattling around his skull for hours now, carving trenches into his brain.

Done.

So now they're just business partners? Like she could just walk away from everything: the late-night sessions, the back-and-forth in the booth, the way she always lingered even after the track was done. Did none of it mean shit?

He scoffed, his jaw clenching so hard it felt wired shut. It was bullshit. She didn't even have the decency to tell him first. Just went straight to Paul, like he was some PR disaster waiting to happen, or like he was a goddamn mess she needed to clean up before it got out of hand.

But it already was.

Paul hadn't said much else, just that Genji seemed sure of her decision. That pissed him off more than anything. Sure. It's as if she had thought it through and decided that whatever the hell had been happening between them wasn't worth the risk.

And she hadn't even told him.

By the time he pulled up outside her hotel, his jaw was locked so tight it hurt. He wasn't sure what he was going to say; he just knew he needed to see her. He needed to hear it from her own damn mouth.

With his hoodie up and cap pulled low, he strode into the lobby, barely sparing a glance at the quiet luxury of the place. He didn't give a shit about the sleek chandeliers or the polite hum of conversation. He made a beeline for the front desk, where a young receptionist looked up, her expression polite but cautious.

"I need to see Futaba Hagihara," he said, voice clipped.

The receptionist blinked. "Do you have an appointment with the guest, sir?"

Eminem exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. He wasn't in the mood for this. "Just call her room."

The receptionist hesitated, probably debating whether he was some kind of stalker. But protocol won out, and she picked up the phone. As he waited, his fingers tapped impatiently against the counter. His heart pounded like a drum, frustration twisting in his chest.

"Miss Hagihara? There's someone here asking to see you." A pause. Then a nod. "Understood."

She hung up and glanced back at him. "You may go up. It's Room 4015."

He needn't wait.

She answered the door on the second knock. No surprise in her expression. No hesitation, either.

She had been expecting this.

She stepped aside without a word, and he strode inside, his pulse hammering in his throat. He barely registered the room: the soft glow of the lamp, the neatness of her things, the faint scent of something floral lingering in the air. None of it mattered.

He turned to face her, arms crossed tight. "So, that's it?" His voice was sharper than he intended, but he didn't care. "You just go to Paul, tell him that you're 'done' like I'm some PR issue you need to handle?"

Genji shut the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling softly. "I was going to tell you."

"When?"

Her eyes flickered. A hesitation. A crack in her usually unreadable expression. Guilt? Doubt?

"Marshall—"

"Don't fuckin' Marshall me right now." His voice was low, edged with frustration. "You really think this is just business?"

She parted her lips like she was about to answer. Nothing came out.

And that was it. That fraction of a second. That tiny pause where she didn't have an answer ready. It told him everything.

"You know it's not," he said, quieter now.

Her fingers twitched, gripping the sleeve of her hoodie. "I thought it'd be easier this way," she whispered. "For both of us."

"Easier," he repeated, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "For who? 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't feel easy to me."

Her arms crossed, a small movement, defensive. He could see how she was holding herself together, keeping her voice even, her shoulders straight. He'd always known that she was calm and controlled, like she had built walls so thick nothing could get through. That had been part of what drew him to her in the first place, for it made her so different from everyone else in this industry.

But this wasn't business. This was them. And she was running.

The realisation settled in his stomach like a stone.

"You're scared," he said, softer now, watching her carefully.

Her fingers tensed against her sleeves. "I'm being realistic."

He shook his head. "Bullshit."

She flinched. Barely. But he caught it.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched thick and heavy between them, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing on his chest.

Eminem let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over his face. He wasn't good at finding the right words, saying the things he should say instead of the things that would just make it worse. But he had to try. He needed her to understand.

"Look, I get it," he said. "You don't want the media in your business. You don't want Paul or my label on your ass. You think it's easier to just cut this off before it gets... before it becomes something real." He paused, letting the words sink in. "But if that's the only reason, then you're full of shit."

Her breath hitched, barely, but he caught it.

"And if it's not?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

He took a step closer, closing the space between them. "Then tell me." His gaze locked onto hers. "Right now, look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel anything. That you never have."

She didn't move or breathe. For a split second, he saw it. Her walls were starting to crack. She parted her lips like she was going to say something. Nothing came out. And for once, since he'd known her, she had no answer.

She looked away. "This doesn't change anything."

"The hell it doesn't."

Before he realised it, his hand reached out, finding hers. She didn't pull away, but she didn't hold on either, just let it stay there.

He swallowed hard, searching her face. The moment stretched, fragile and uncertain, like a wire drawn too tight between them. He could feel the warmth of her palm beneath his fingertips, the slight hesitation in the way she let him touch her but refused to give him more.

"I don't know what this is," he admitted, his voice rough. "I just know I don't want it to be nothing."

Something in her expression shifted.

Her fingers curled slightly around his, barely enough to be called holding on, but enough that he felt it. And yet, it was her other hand that caught his attention: the one clenched tight in the sleeve of her hoodie, the faint tremor in her fingers betraying her. Then, before he could say anything, she turned her face away. But it wasn't fast enough.

He saw it.

The rapid blinking, the hitched breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek before she brushed it away, almost violently, as if furious with herself for letting it fall.

Eminem felt something in his chest lurch, a pull so deep it left him momentarily unsteady. He wasn't sure what hit him harder: that she was crying, or that she was trying so damn hard not to.

"Fu—" His voice came out softer, almost breathless

"I don't either," she finally admitted.

And just like that, everything changed. It wasn't just her words. It was how she said them, like they had been torn out of her. Perhaps she hadn't meant to say them but couldn't hold them back. He knew her well enough to understand how much it must have cost her to admit that.

His grip tightened slightly around her hand as he whispered, "Then let's stop acting like it is."

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 21

About: Caught between the past and the future, Genji sits alone in her hotel room grappling with the weight of an unspoken connection. As Eminem lingers in her mind, she knows reaching out to him would blur the lines she has spent years trying to define. Eventually, she makes a decision that she thought would become a boundary or a safeguard for herself. Or so she tells herself.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The city was quieter at this hour as the streets wrapped in a hush that felt almost sacred. Genji sat by the window of her hotel room, the skyline stretching beyond the glass with neon signs flickering in and out of view like half-formed thoughts. Her fingers rested idly against the ceramic rim of a lukewarm mug, the tea inside untouched.

She had been here before; not this or city, but this moment. It was the space between knowing and deciding, where feelings tangled with logic until one overpowered the other.

Marshall.

She exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly as if the name alone was a weight she needed to shift. He was a contradiction she still hadn't unravelled even after all these years. The prickly, guarded Marshall she had first known wasn't the same as the one who called her to invite her to his hometown. That unsettled her most, for people didn't chase after her, not get attached to her. They never held on, and neither did she.

She had spent her whole life slipping between cracks, disappearing before anyone could reach too deep. It was survival, a skill she learned young which sharpened over time, perfected in the underground rap battles where she was always the anomaly. She had learned how to make herself untouchable and untethered. It had kept her safe. So why did it feel like something was coming undone now?

Genji curled her legs up onto the chair, pressing her fingers into the fabric of her sweatpants. What was she even expecting? That he would say something? Admit something? That she would?

She almost laughed at herself. Foolish. This wasn't a song where feelings could be stitched neatly into bars and rhymes, where every verse led to a clean resolution. This was real life; real life didn't give you hooks and choruses to fall back on.

Yet, the echoes of that night wouldn't leave her. The sharp pull of his voice; the occasional hesitation in his step; and the way he had looked at her, eyes flickering with something she couldn't (or wouldn't) name.

Maybe she had been wrong to avoid the subject. She should have stayed and asked him outright what that moment had meant to him, if anything at all. Or maybe some things are better left unsaid. She had spent years learning to separate herself: Genji, the rapper, from Futaba, the person. And for the most part, she had done it well. But with him, that line blurred. The last time she had let that line blur, it had cost her everything.

A flicker of memory surfaced, unbidden.

She could still hear the scratch of a pen against paper, her name scrawled on documents she had never seen before. Her then-husband's smooth and patient voice assured her it was just formalities. She had believed him. She had trusted him.

But eight months of love and devotion meant nothing when everything unravelled in days: affairs she had never suspected, deals she had never agreed to, and a financial ruin she never saw coming until it was too late. They claimed she had stamped those papers herself, the ink barely dry before she realised she was the only one left to clean up the wreckage.

As if that wasn't enough, there were the newspaper headlines, the whispered speculation, and the eyes that watched her with a mix of pity and schadenfreude. She realised that it wasn't just about the man she loved. It was also about her image, career, and damage control. It was about salvaging what little dignity was left while the world picked apart the wreckage.

And she had sworn never to let herself be that vulnerable again.

Her gaze drifted downward to her phone resting on the table. Three days had passed, but there was no new message from him. He hadn't reached out. She told herself that was fine and it meant nothing. Or he was just busy, or he wasn't the kind of person to reach out first, or it wasn't about her.

Or maybe, after everything, he had already decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Because deep down, she knew if he had wanted to, he would have. The thought stung more than it should have.

She shook her head, trying to push that feeling away. This wasn't just about him. It was about everything else that came with him: the industry, the media, and the inevitable spectacle of it all. She had spent years avoiding that world, keeping herself at arm's length from the chaos of tabloids and speculation. She had built her career on skill, not on scandal.

Still, his manager would see it as a risk, and so would the label. If it ever got out before either of them even knew what this thing was, it wouldn't matter what they said. The narrative would already be written for them.

Genji reached for her phone. Her thumb hovered over Eminem's name in her contacts list. She hesitated momentarily before scrolling past it, stopping at another name.

Paul Rosenberg.

This was the choice that made sense. The one that kept her from making a mistake she couldn't take back.

Her expression didn't change as she typed out the message, simple and to the point.

You: "Let's talk. Tomorrow, if you're free."

She stared at it for a second, then pressed send.

The tea had gone completely cold by the time she rose from the chair. She didn't need to check her phone to know she'd made the right decision.

So why did it feel like she'd just made a huge gamble?

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 20

About: Eminem and Genji find themselves sharing a rare moment of quiet reflection in the former's hometown, opening up about their past struggles and the places that shaped them. Over a late-night diner meal, their connection deepens, revealing an unspoken understanding between them. As the evening comes to a close, the weight of industry expectations lingers, leaving Eminem to question just how much control he really has over who he lets in.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

"You ever just stop and look at this city?"

Standing near the rail overlooking the Detroit River, Eminem stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets. The night pressed in around them, city lights reflecting off the dark water. The air smelled like the river — or rather, like a city that never fully slept.

Beside him, Genji tilted her head slightly. "Not like this."

Eminem exhaled through his nose. He'd spent his whole life trying to survive this place. Now here he was, standing still and admiring it for once. How strangely hypocritical.

"This is where we used to come when we had nowhere else to go," he said after a moment. "Me, Proof, the guys... Back before I had anything. We'd just post up here, talk shit, try to figure out what the fuck we were gonna do with our lives." His jaw tensed slightly. "Didn't think I'd ever make it out."

Genji didn't say anything right away, which he appreciated. Most people would've filled the silence with some forced reassurance: "But look at you now" or "You proved them all wrong". He didn't need that. He already knew.

Instead, she just leaned on the railing beside him. "What made you keep going?"

Eminem exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "I dunno. Stubborn as hell, I guess. I hated feeling like I wasn't shit." His lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And I was broke as fuck. That helped."

That got a small laugh out of her.

He glanced at her, observing how the city lights softened against her skin and the wind barely stirred her hair. She was always so damn composed, like she could just exist at any moment without trying to control it.

But he wasn't like that. His mind never shut up. Even now, part of him was analyzing the fact that they were here together, that this wasn't just some night; it was something. He just didn't know what the hell to call it yet.

"You ever feel like that?" he asked. "Like no matter what you do, it's not enough?"

Genji was quiet for a beat. "All the time," she finally whispered. She kept her gaze on the river, fingers resting loosely on the metal rail. "I never really got to stop and think about it, though." She let out a small breath, almost like a laugh. "Maybe that's why I don't look at cities like this."

Eminem frowned slightly. "What do you mean?”

She was quiet for a moment, like she was weighing her words. Then, without looking at him, she said, "I grew up in San'ya. It's not the kind of place you admire from a distance."

The name didn't register. He knew Tokyo had rough spots, every big city did, but he'd never heard of San'ya. "Where's that?"

Genji tilted her head slightly, as if debating how to explain it. "It's... the place Japan pretends doesn't exist." She tapped a finger against the railing. "It used to be where day labourers lived. Men who built the city but never got a place in it. By the time I was born, it was full of the ones who didn't make it. Alcoholics. Homeless. People who'd given up or been forgotten. No one wanted to admit the slums were still there, so they just stopped putting it on maps." Her fingers curled slightly against the metal. "I didn't think about making it out... I just kept moving. If I stopped, or even if I let myself feel like it wasn't enough, it would've swallowed me whole."

He absorbed that, the weight of it settling in his chest. Detroit had its own places like that: neighbourhoods people avoided, and streets that felt like dead ends in more ways than one. But at least they were acknowledged. The thought of a whole area being erased as if it hadn't existed hit differently.

Genji exhaled softly. "I did everything I could." She hesitated, then added, "Stopped school after elementary, worked whatever jobs I could find, travelled at least an hour back and forth to run with the underground rap scene in Shibuya when I was thirteen. Didn't matter what it was, as long as it meant papa wouldn't be stuck in that place forever."

Eminem turned his head slightly, watching her. She didn't say it with pride or bitterness; just fact. It was as if something had to be done, and she had done it, no questions asked.

"You were just a kid," he muttered.

Genji gave a small shrug. "So were you."

He didn't know what to say to that. It hit somewhere deep; a place he didn't usually let people in.

And that was when he realised it — He wanted her in.

Suddenly, a quiet rumble cut through the moment. Eminem needn't long to let the corner of his lips curl into a smirk. "That you?"

Genji, ever composed, simply exhaled through her nose. "It appears so."

That only made his smirk widen. "What? Too caught up in our deep, soul-baring conversation to eat beforehand?"

She glanced at him, expression unreadable except for the slight flicker of dry amusement in her eyes. "Something like that."

Eminem huffed out a laugh, pushing off the railing. "C'mon. I know a place."

The diner looked nothing special from the outside. It was just another old joint with a neon sign that had probably been flickering since the '80s. But stepping inside, it was like time hadn't touched it. Vinyl booths, the smell of frying bacon and coffee, a jukebox in the corner that nobody had used.

"You used to come here?" Genji asked, taking in the well-worn familiarity of the place.

"Used to work here." Eminem slid into a booth, nodding at the menu already waiting on the table. "Back before, y'know, when I was still trying to keep the lights on."

She didn't ask if he meant at home or in his career. Probably knew it was both.

A middle-aged waitress appeared at their table. Her sharp eye gave the impression that she wasn't the kind that put up with any bullshit. She did a quick once-over of him, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition clicked into place. "Well, damn. Look who's slumming it with us regular folks."

Eminem gave a lazy shrug. "Didn't feel like five-star dining tonight."

The waitress snorted. "Like you ever did." She turned to Genji, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "You new, or he finally convince someone to put up with him?"

Genji tilted her head slightly. "A bit of both, I suppose." The man sitting across shot her a look, but she just picked up the menu, completely unbothered.

The waitress laughed. "I like her. You want the usual?"

"Yeah." He nodded at Genji. "And whatever she wants."

She scanned the menu for a moment, then set it down. "I'll have the same." That earned her an approving nod before the waitress walked off.

Eminem leaned back, folding his arms. "You don't even know what I ordered."

"I assumed it was something you used to eat often." She met his gaze. "Or it meant something to you in some way."

He exhaled through his nose. "You always this sentimental about diner food?"

"Only when I'm hungry."

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. When was the last time he had such an interaction so easy? And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if this wasn't something he should keep trying to figure out, and that he just had to let it happen.

The food arrived, and they ate in comfortable silence. The occasional clink of silverware filled the space between them. Yet, it wasn't awkward. Halfway through his burger, Eminem found himself watching her. The way she took small, thoughtful bites, her shoulders relaxed, as if she was settling into the moment rather than just getting through it. Every so often, she let out a soft, almost inaudible hum, and a subtle nod of approval before taking another bite. It wasn't performative, as far as he observed. Just a quiet, unguarded habit. He wasn't sure if she even realised she did it.

When they finished, he leaned back against the booth, sipping his coffee. Genji cradled her cup of tea in both hands, fingers tapping absently against the glass mug in an unspoken rhythm. He was getting better at picking up on those. The world outside felt distant, muffled by the hum of old neon lights and the low murmur of conversation from the counter. For once, he wasn't thinking about what came next or what came before; just this.

Then something flickered in his peripheral vision. A quick movement just beyond the window.

His eyes flicked toward it, instincts sharpening. At first, it was nothing but parked cars and the glow of streetlights. Then, just as he was about to brush it off, a figure ducked behind a mailbox. Another one crouched low behind a bench.

The hell?

His shoulders tensed before recognition settled in.

Three familiar, not-so-subtle figures were peeking out from their various hiding spots. They seemed to be whispering to each other in hushed excitement, completely unaware of just how obvious they were being.

Eminem sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

Genji tilted her head slightly. "What is?"

He hesitated. She hadn't noticed them yet, which was actually kind of impressive given how bad they were at this. He could probably get through the rest of the night without her realising, but then Hailie, in her infinite wisdom, decided to stand up and fake a casual stroll past the diner. Her not-so-stealthy glance through the window sealed it.

"My daughters are outside," he muttered, nodding toward the window. "Looks like they're having fun following us."

Genji blinked, then turned slightly to look. He tensed, waiting for her reaction. Amusement? Annoyance? Awkwardness?

Instead, her lips parted slightly in surprise before softening, her fingers still wrapped around her tea. "Oh."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She glanced back at him, then at the three girls ducking behind poor hiding spots. A light exhale escaped her nose. "They must be curious."

"Yeah, no shit," he grumbled, watching as Alaina pulled Whitney down behind a mailbox with the grace of a badly choreographed spy movie. "They ain't exactly the sneaky type."

Genji let out a quiet hum, the closest thing to a laugh she ever really made. But there was a kind of fondness in how she looked at them. "Would it make them feel better if we waved?" she asked.

"Nah, 'cuz they'd know I saw them, and I'd never hear the end of it when I get home."

She nodded, accepting this without further comment. And that was it. No teasing or awkwardness. But it threw him off more than he wanted to admit.

They finished dinner, and as they stepped out into the cold night air, Eminem instinctively glanced around. The street was mostly empty, just a few cars rolling by, headlights casting brief silver streaks over the pavement. The sky had that deep, endless stretch of black, the kind that made winter nights feel quieter than they really were. Still, he didn't trust the silence.

His daughters were out there somewhere, probably thinking they were blending into the scenery like secret agents. He sighed through his nose, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he subtly led Genji in the opposite direction of where he'd parked. She didn't question it. though. As she followed, her gaze flicked toward the streetlights, her breath visible in the cold.

"You're taking a different route," she observed.

He shot her a glance. "So?"

Her lips curled ever so slightly. "Your daughters must be persistent."

"You have no idea."

She let out a gentle exhale, one of those quiet laughs he was getting used to. He wasn't sure if she found his paranoia amusing or if she just liked the idea of his daughters caring enough to spy on him. Maybe both. Either way, she didn't seem put off by it. If anything, she almost looked charmed.

By the time they reached his car, he did one last glance over his shoulder. No movement. No not-so-stealthy figures peeking from behind trash cans.

Huh... Maybe they actually gave up.

The drive to her hotel was quiet, yet comfortable. The streetlights flickered past in long, golden streaks, the city moving at its own unbothered pace. He snuck a glance at Genji, who had her hands in her lap, fingers lightly pressed together, as if she were sorting through her thoughts in silence. She didn't fidget or ramble just to fill space. But for some reason, he found it hard to look away.

When he pulled up in front of her hotel, the engine hummed low between them. She didn't move to get out right away. Instead, she turned slightly, watching him the same way she did when he wasn't sure if she was reading him or just observing the moment.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh... guess I'll see you around."

She tilted her head slightly. "You sound unsure."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, you never know. I might get banned from seeing you again."

She blinked, then hummed in understanding. "Paul?"

"...yeah..."

A beat of silence. Then came a soft, "Would that stop you?"

Something about the way she asked it caught him off guard. It wasn't teasing and challenging; she was curious like she genuinely wanted to know.

His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "Dunno. I guess we'll find out."

She nodded, as if that answer was enough. But she hesitated before reaching for the door handle. "I enjoyed tonight," she said simply.

It wasn't a grand statement. But how genuine she said it settled in his chest before he could stop it.

He exhaled through his nose, nodding. "Yeah. Me too."

She stepped out, closing the door with a soft click. He watched as she disappeared into the hotel, his fingers still gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

"You're seeing her too often," he recalled Paul's words before Eminem left for dinner. His manager had made it a point to sit him down and give him a familiar talk, which started with logic and ended in a headache.

The rapper had rolled his eyes. "Didn't know there was a limit."

Paul crossed his arms. "You know what I'm talkin' about. The press, the fans, the industry; it's only a matter of time before people start asking questions. If they start digging into her past-"

"She ain't done shit wrong."

"Doesn't matter. You know how this works."

Eminem had clenched his jaw, biting back the immediate instinct to snap. He knew Paul wasn't saying it to be an asshole; he'd seen it all before. And sure, maybe there was truth to it. But that didn't mean he had to listen.

As he pulled into his driveway, he exhaled, feeling the weight of the evening settle over him. His conversation with Paul still lingered. He should be more careful, or even take his manager's advice for once. But when he thought about tonight, he knew it didn't matter. He wanted that ease, how he and Genji talked to each other like regular folks, and even that tenderness she held when she looked for the girls outside the diner; he craved that normalcy since he signed with Dre.

He made up his mind: he'd her again. Paul, the media, the industry, the fans; whoever the fuck else be damned.

The second the door clicked shut behind him, Whitney came sprinting from the living room, practically vibrating with energy.

"So?" she grinned up at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "How was your date?"

Eminem blinked. "Huh?"

Before he could finish, Hailie was already leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "That's what we're calling it now, right?"

He scowled. "It wasn't a date."

"Uh-huh," she said, unimpressed. "Then why do you look all thoughtful and stuff?"

"She seems cool," Alaina remarked, grabbing a water bottle off the counter like this was just casual conversation.

He paused mid-step, frowning. "What?"

"We like her," Whitney added brightly. "She doesn't seem, like, weirdly fake or anything."

Something in his chest twisted at that. His girls were good at reading people; too good, sometimes. They'd watched him crash and burn enough times to know when someone was playing a role or in it for the wrong reasons. They'd seen through every carefully curated smile, every empty promise disguised as something real.

And now, here they were, telling him they actually liked Genji. He wasn't sure what to do with that.

Hailie studied him, then her smirk widened. "Sooo... are you actually gonna make things exclusive with her, or are we just gonna pretend this whole dating thing isn't happening?"

He scowled. "You three got way too much time on your hands."

Whitney giggled. "That means he doesn't know what he's doing."

"I know what I'm doing," he shot back instinctively.

"Do you, though?" Hailie raised an eyebrow.

Eminem opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no good comeback for that.

Alaina stretched, smirking. "Well, we've done our part. The rest is on you."

Whitney gave a cheerful wave before following her sisters upstairs, leaving him standing there, more rattled than he had any right to be.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is gonna be a thing, isn't it?"

Somewhere upstairs, laughter erupted.

Yeah, this was definitely gonna be a thing.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 19

About: Genji and Eminem find themselves in an unexpected dinner set-up orchestrated by Dre, leading to an evening of candid conversations and quiet revelations. Amid the cosy atmosphere of the bistro, they navigate through initial awkwardness, uncover shared experiences, and form an unspoken connection. What begins as an uncomfortable situation evolves into a moment of genuine understanding, hinting at possibilities neither of them had anticipated.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Genji sat at the small, candlelit table, her hands resting lightly on the menu. She'd arrived ten minutes early, as always. Punctuality wasn't just a habit for her; it was a form of discipline and respect, something her papa had ingrained in her since she was young. "Time shows care," he used to say, and those words stayed with her even now.

The bistro was cosy, bathed in warm, golden light that softened the edges of everything. It felt unfamiliar yet inviting, a stark contrast to the noisy studios and dimly lit backstage corridors where she spent most of her time. The delicate clink of glasses and the quiet hum of conversation made her feel like she was stepping into a different world entirely.

She stared at her phone with the text still open on the screen.

Dre: Don't be late. 7 PM. Can't wait to show ya this new spot.

She had thought nothing of it earlier. Dre's messages were always casual and to the point, and his plans were often erratic. But now, sitting here alone, she wondered. This quaint little place didn't seem like his style. It wasn't loud or flashy, and the dimly lit tables, set for two, screamed intimacy rather than business. Still, she trusted Dre, so here she was.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where faint streaks of light reflected on the glass from passing cars. She had dressed simply, not wanting to overthink things: black dress, minimal makeup, and her hair down. She rarely wore it loose, but tonight, she'd felt like it. Something about the soft weight of it on her shoulders made her feel less guarded.

The chime of the door pulled her attention to the entrance, and when she saw who walked in, her heart skipped a beat.

Eminem stood there, hood pulled up, glancing around like a man who'd accidentally wandered into the wrong movie scene. His eyes landed on her, and his face immediately twisted into a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Fu?" he blurted out, his voice louder than intended. "What're you doing here?"

Her face stayed neutral, though her pulse quickened. "I could ask you the same thing," she replied, tilting her head slightly.

For a moment, he froze, then shuffled awkwardly toward her table. The hesitation in his movements was almost funny, like he wasn't sure if he should sit down or bolt for the door. Finally, he pulled out the chair across from her and sank into it, his hoodie still up like it was some kind of shield.

"Dre said to meet him here," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"So did I," she said softly, piecing things together.

They both sat in silence for a beat, the realisation dawning on them at the same time.

"That son of a..." he groaned, running a hand over his face.

Genji let out a quiet laugh, her shoulders relaxing. "It's fine," she said with a small, amused smile. "At least the food smells good."

He raised a brow at her. "You're not mad?"

"No," she replied simply, picking up the menu. "Though I'm not sure what he thought this would accomplish."

Eminem relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair. "Probably thought he was being clever," he muttered, grabbing his own menu.

As the server came and took their orders, Genji found herself studying him. He was always tightly wound, a coiled spring of energy that seemed ready to snap. But here, in this unexpected setting, he looked almost human (if that's the right word). Not the larger-than-life persona the world knew, but just a man trying to figure out what the hell Dre had been thinking.

When their drinks arrived, she broke the silence. "Do you think he's laughing at us right now?"

He looked up, caught off guard by the question. Then, to her surprise, he smirked. "Probably. Knowing Dre, he's already planning the next round"

She chuckled softly, the sound light and genuine. "Could be worse."

"You're taking this better than I expected," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

She shrugged, her hands wrapping around the glass of water in front of her. "I've learned not to waste energy on things I can't control. Besides, it's just dinner."

He nodded, but his expression shifted slightly, like he was trying to figure her out. She was used to that look. Most people didn't know what to make of her: quiet, introspective, careful with her words. It wasn't the loud, brash personality most associated with the rap world. But then, she'd never tried to fit that mould.

Eventually, he decided to just change the topic. "Still can't believe Dre pulled this," he muttered, shaking his head as he sipped his water. "Feels like something outta one of those rom-coms my daughter watches."

Genji raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. "You watch rom-coms with Hailie?"

"Hell no," he said quickly, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Her soft laugh filled the space between them, and Genji felt the tension in the air dissipate. She'd been uncertain at first, wary of how this impromptu dinner might unfold, but seeing him relax gave her a small sense of accomplishment. She wasn't used to being around people who carried as much weight on their shoulders as she did, but he seemed to bear it all in his own way.

As the night unfolded, she found herself talking more than she expected, which was rare for her. Normally, she preferred to listen, to observe. Words had always been a careful choice, not a reflex. But with him, the conversation came more easily, like there was an unspoken understanding between them. They traded stories: bits and pieces of their pasts, their struggles, their strange paths into the world they now shared. She noticed how he laughed at her dry humour, how he leaned in just a little when she spoke, as if he wanted to catch every word.

"You know," she began, a small, nostalgic smile pulling at her lips. "One of the first times I felt like I belonged in this world was when I met Rakim."

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her glass, her gaze flickering between him and the table. She wasn't used to opening up about those years, but something about his quiet attention made her feel… safe. Like he wasn't judging her, just listening.

Eminem straightened a little at the mention of the name, his interest piqued. "Rakim? No way. You actually met him?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling faintly as she spoke. "It was back in the early '90s. I'd just flown to New York for the first time. I'd been invited to this underground event. It was supposed to be low-key, but to me, it felt like walking into the epicentre of everything I'd ever admired. I was the youngest one in the room who wasn't there to hold someone's coat.”

That earned a chuckle from him, but she didn't pause, her voice growing softer. "I was terrified, honestly. But then, out of nowhere, Rakim showed up. He was like a big brother to me —still is, in a way. I remember thinking, 'What am I even doing here? I don't belong.'"

Her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the glass, the memory vivid in her mind. "I don't know how, but he noticed me. He came up to me after one of my battles. Barely said anything, just this quiet, 'Good job, kid.' But it wasn't just the words. It was the way he said it, like he actually meant it."

He watched her intently, his expression softer than usual. "That's huge. Getting props from someone like him, that had to feel unreal."

"It was," she said, nodding. "But what stuck with me the most was after that, he sat down with me, just the two of us, and started asking questions. Not about my music or what I wanted to achieve, but about me. Like where I came from. Why I started rapping. No one had ever done that before at that time. Everyone else either dismissed me or wanted something from me. But Rakim was different. Like, he was actually listening to me."

She paused, her gaze dropping to her hands. "That was the first time I felt like someone actually saw me—not as a kid trying to prove herself, but as a person. It gave me the strength to keep going."

Eminem didn't respond immediately, but she could sense the shift in the atmosphere. The weight of his attention felt almost tangible, like a spotlight she hadn't asked for but couldn't ignore. "That's rare," he said finally, his voice low. "Someone like him, taking the time to do that… I can see why it stuck with you."

She glanced up at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "It's funny. I always thought that meeting would intimidate me more, but it didn't. It gave me perspective. You don't have to be the loudest or the flashiest to make an impact. Sometimes, just being there for someone — really being there — is enough."

Her words lingered in the space between them, wrapping around the quiet hum of the room. As the silence stretched, she caught a subtle shift in his posture. He had leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table and his hands loosely clasped. His eyes, usually guarded and sharp, softened as they stayed fixed on her, like he was seeing something he hadn't expected. It wasn't a look of judgment or expectation. It seemed almost curious.

"Marshall?" she called, tilting her head to catch his attention. Her voice carried a slight hesitance, as if unsure whether to break the moment.

He blinked, like a man pulled abruptly from a daydream. "Huh?"

"You're staring," she said softly, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and shyness. A light blush rose to her cheeks, though she wasn't sure if it was from his gaze or her own sudden self-awareness.

His reaction was immediate. He looked away quickly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a way that seemed more instinctual than calculated. "Sorry. Just… y'know, lost in thought."

She studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the way his shoulders tensed slightly, then relaxed as he exhaled. The faint pink that dusted the tips of his ears didn't escape her notice. He was uncomfortable, but in an almost endearing way, like he wasn't used to being caught off guard.

She didn't press him. Instead, she let the quiet settle again, but her thoughts raced in the space he left behind. It was rare for her to let herself dwell on moments like this. She was used to reading people quickly, assessing their intentions, and then guarding herself against missteps. But with him, the edges of her usual defences felt softer, less defined. There was something about how he had been looking at her, but as if he genuinely wanted to understand. It was oddly comforting.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her glass again, grounding herself. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of something unfamiliar. It wasn't overwhelming, like a note played softly in a song that wasn't finished yet. Frankly, the thought of such vulnerability scared her. But even so, a part of her wanted to stay just a little longer, to see where this unspoken connection might lead.

When the check arrived, she reached for it instinctively, but Eminem was quicker.

"Dre set this up," he said firmly. "Least he can do is pay for it"”

She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "Fair enough," she said, standing as he signed the receipt.

Outside, the air was crisp and cool. As they walked, the awkwardness from earlier had all but disappeared. They lingered on the sidewalk.

"I guess I'll see you around," she said, her voice quiet but warm.

"Yeah," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hesitated, then added, "This was... nice. Even if it was a setup."

She nodded, her smile softening. "It was."

For a moment, it felt like there was something more to say, but neither of them found the words. Instead, she gave him a small wave and started toward her car.

"Hey, Fu," he called after her.

She turned, her eyebrows raised in question.

He hesitated, glancing at her before, with his voice quieter now, adding, "Maybe next time... it doesn't have to be a setup."

She looked at him, the corners of her lips curving upward. "Maybe."

As she walked to her car, she felt the faintest flutter in her chest. Whatever Dre's intentions had been, it felt like something had definitely shifted tonight. She wasn't sure what it meant yet, but she wasn't in a hurry to define it. For now, she was content with the way things were.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

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Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 18

About: The tabloids ignite chaos in Eminem's world after a viral confrontation with Benzino at Dre's Christmas party stirs rumours and teases unresolved feelings. Faced with teasing from his D12 crew and his own swirling emotions, he makes a bold decision to confront his truth, leading to a heartfelt late-night call with Genji that leaves them both on the brink of something deeper.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

TMZ Exclusive: Slim Shady Sees Red at Dre’s Christmas Bash

December 28, 2010 – What's a holiday party without a little drama? This year, Dr. Dre's lavish Christmas bash wasn't just about eggnog and A-list mingling. It also served as the stage for one of the most talked-about moments in recent hip-hop history.

Rap mogul Marshall Mathers, better known as Eminem, turned heads when he confronted longtime rival Benzino in front of the star-studded crowd. Eyewitnesses claim Slim Shady grabbed the ex-Source Magazine honcho by the front of his blazer, reportedly hissing, "You don't get to touch what's mine."

The altercation allegedly started after Benzino was seen chatting with Genji, the reclusive rap icon and close friend of Eminem. The moment quickly went viral on Twitter, with hashtags like #SlimSnaps and #BenzinoVsShady lighting up the platform. While neither party has issued a public statement, insiders say the tension between the two rappers is far from resolved. Stay tuned for updates, and maybe round two at New Year's?

Eminem groaned as the article scrolled across the screen, the TMZ narrator's obnoxiously cheery voice doing nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. He rubbed his temples, already regretting showing up to Dre's Christmas party in the first place. Across the room, Kuniva and Bizarre howled with laughter, slapping their knees like this was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.

"Yo, Em," Kuniva said, grinning as he pointed at the screen. "Ya really said, 'You don't get to touch what's mine'? You sound like a jealous boyfriend in a rom-com!"

"I didn't say shit," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You did!" Bizarre shot back, practically choking on his laughter. "Man, you looked like you were about to star in Love & Hip-Hop. Benzino didn't even know what hit 'im!"

Denaun leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed, shaking his head with a small smirk. "Nah, Biz's right. You don't pop off like that. Not unless there's some feelings involved."

"Shut up," Eminem snapped, though his tone was more defensive than angry.

"Y'know he's got a point," Kuniva chimed in, wagging a finger at him. "You've dealt with Benzino's bullshit for years, and you never let it get to you like that. What's the deal, man?"

"It wasn't about him," Swifty said thoughtfully, giving Eminem a knowing look. "It was about her."

His jaw clenched. "It's not," he muttered, though even he didn't sound convinced.

"Bullshit," Bizarre said, shaking his head. "You about broke your damn hand on his jacket. That wasn't just you sticking up for Genji, that was personal."

"Exactly," Swifty added, his voice calm but firm. "We've all been disrespected before, but you didn't snap like that. Not in public, or even over some petty shit. Be real with us."

The said rapper pressed his hands against his temples, trying to block out the barrage of accusations. "I wasn't gonna just stand there and let him be a fuckin' dick, okay? She didn't deserve that."

"Of course she didn't," Kuniva said, nodding. "But that ain't why you did it, and you know it."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Denaun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed Eminem with a steady gaze. "You care about her, don't you?"

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. He looked away, his mind racing. "I don't even know what the fuck that means," he muttered after a long pause.

Bizarre snorted. "It means you're a dumbass who's too scared to admit he's into her."

Eminem glared at him, but there wasn't much heat behind it. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," Swifty said with a shrug. "But you do. You been actin' weird since she came back around. All we're sayin' is... maybe it's time to stop fighting it."

"Yeah, man," Kuniva added with a grin. "Tell her how you feel. What's the worst that could happen? She says no, and you go back to being miserable and writing angry songs? That's kinda your thing, anyway."

Eminem let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You guys are real fucking helpful, y'know that?"

"We try," Bizarre said with a wide grin, clearly unbothered.

The room went quiet again, and for once, no one cracked a joke. Eminem stared at the floor, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Finally, he stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Where you goin'?" Swifty asked.

"Gotta make a call," he replied without looking back.

Genji answered on the second ring, her voice warm but a little curious. "Marshall? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, though his heart was pounding like he'd just run a marathon. "I uh… I just needed to talk to you."

There was a pause on the other end. "About what?"

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He ran a hand over his face as if that would somehow clear the chaos in his head. "About the party. Y'know, where I snapped at Benzino."

"What about it?" Her voice softened slightly, though there was still a note of curiosity there.

Eminem hesitated, pacing the length of his kitchen. Words felt heavy in his throat, like they were daring him to speak them aloud. Finally, he stopped, gripping the edge of the counter. "It wasn't just about him being a dick," he said, his voice quieter now. "I mean, yeah, he was, but… it was more than that."

"Marshall..." Her voice had that steady calm that always managed to disarm him. She wasn't pushing, but she wasn't letting it slide either.

He forced himself to keep going, the words tumbling out like a confession he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. "I care about you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "More than I probably should. More than just as a friend or... whatever. And seeing him sitting there, talking to you like that, all smug and shit… I just- I just lost it."

There was a long silence on the other end, and Eminem's chest tightened with every second that passed. He pressed his thumb against the edge of the counter, the small sting grounding him. "Fu?" he called out, his voice almost a whisper.

"I'm here," she said softly, and he could hear her exhale. "I just... wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah, well, neither was I," he muttered, letting out a weak, shaky laugh. "But it's the truth. I didn't know how else to say it, and… I just thought you should hear it from me instead of reading some dumbass headline about it."

That got a small laugh out of her, soft and breathy, but enough to ease some of the weight crushing his chest. "Marshall," she began, her voice gentler now. "Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy."

"It wasn't," he said honestly. "But I needed to say it. Even if it fucks everything up."

"It doesn't," she reassured. "At least, not for me. I care about you too... more than I've probably let on. But this is a lot to process, you know? And after everything that's happened…" She trailed off, and he could hear her choosing her words carefully. "Maybe we can talk more when it's not all so fresh. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice steadier now. "That's okay."

"Good," she replied softly. "We'll figure it out. Together."

"Yeah, together," he echoed, the weight in his chest easing just a little more. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope.

As they said their goodbyes and the call ended, Eminem leaned against the counter, staring at the blank screen of his phone. The knot in his stomach wasn't gone entirely, but it had loosened enough to let him breathe. Whatever came next, he'd face it; and for once, he wasn't afraid of the outcome.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 17

About: At a star-studded Christmas party, Genji finds herself cornered by Benzino, whose sly advances and thinly veiled provocations set her on edge. The situation escalates when Eminem intervenes, his simmering jealousy and protectiveness boiling over into a tense confrontation.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The event was in full swing, the grand ballroom buzzing with the hum of voices and clinking glasses. Genji sat at a table near the back, where the noise wasn't as suffocating, her hands loosely gripping the flute of sparkling water she'd barely touched. The industry types mingled in glittering clusters, laughing too loud and gesturing too big, each interaction a performance.

Genji adjusted the collar of her dark green satin suit and leaned back slightly in her chair. The jacket hugged her frame perfectly, paired with slim trousers that skimmed the tops of her black heels. She wore a silver bracelet on her wrist and small, delicate earrings that caught the light, understated yet elegant. As papa always told her, appearances were a matter of respect and not a spectacle. Still, even in her simplicity, she carried an air of quiet sophistication that turned heads without trying.

She wasn't here to draw attention. Had it not been for Dre's insistence, she would've spent the night hiding in the comforts of her temporary residence, scribbling lyrics in the solitude she preferred. Nevertheless, she resigned herself to the role of a quiet observer, content to let the waves of noise and colour wash over her. She always gravitated toward the quiet corners of events like these, where the weight of public expectation felt less crushing.

But, of course, quiet wasn't always an option for her in such a crowded place.

"Well, well," a smooth, confident voice called, slicing through the din like a blade. "If it isn't the Genji."

She looked up, her polite smile faltering for a split second when she recognised him. Of all people, it had to be him.

The man standing before her, all tailored charm and calculated charisma, was a name she knew as someone currently embroiled in a very public feud with Eminem. They called him Benzino, for his real name barely mattered. He came dressed to impress: a sharp, tailored black velvet blazer with satin lapels cutting a sleek figure against the crowd. Beneath it, he wore a crisp white shirt with the collar casually unbuttoned and accessorised with a chunky gold chain, diamond earrings, and an oversized watch that caught the light with every movement. Polished leather loafers completed the look, his overall attire exuding luxury and swagger, the perfect mix of holiday elegance and hip-hop bravado.

"I thought that was you," he said, pulling out a chair without waiting for an invitation. "What's a legend like you doing all the way back here? Hiding?"

"Just avoiding the spotlight," Genji replied, her voice soft but steady. She was careful not to let her discomfort show. Years of navigating spaces like this had taught her the art of composure.

He laughed, leaning in slightly, his cologne sharp and overwhelming. "Whatta shame. Someone like you belongs front and centre."

Genji's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She could feel his gaze lingering, heavier than it needed to be. She wasn't naive; she recognised the way men like him operated. Compliments wrapped in charm, their true intentions lurking beneath the surface.

He reached across the table, his smirk wide and deliberate, the kind that screamed provocation. His fingers brushed against Genji's wrist. "Y'know, I've always admired your work. Maybe we could collaborate sometime. I could use someone with your… finesse."

Genji tilted her head, her smile polite but distant. "I'll keep that in mind." Unfortunately, that didn't seem to deter him as he launched into some half-charming, half-condescending spiel about "respecting her artistry" and "recognising real talent."

She remained composed, as always, offering measured responses that revealed nothing. But there was something about Benzino's tone that set her on edge: the way he lingered on her name, the too-familiar way his hand brushed against the table.

"Hey, Gen," Eminem's voice suddenly cut through the air like a razor.

Her head turned, and relief flashed briefly in her eyes. There he was, standing next to her in a black leather bomber jacket over a plain dark grey T-shirt, paired with tailored black trousers and classic white sneakers. As usual, he only had a sleek watch to complete the look, and a black beanie that added a casual touch to his otherwise polished outfit. Yet, it wasn't his outfit that drew her attention; it was how he carried himself that commanded the space without even trying.

Benzino turned slowly, his smirk unfaltering, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "Marshall," he drawled, dragging out the name. "Didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Eminem didn't break eye contact, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "What the fuck are you doing at her table?"

Benzino chuckled, leaning back slightly like he was enjoying the show. "Relax, man. I was just having a conversation with your... friend here. Didn't know she came with a babysitter."

Genji saw Eminem's jaw twitch, his fists clenching at his sides. He stepped closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its edge. "You don't get to talk to her. Not now, not ever."

"And why's that?" Benzino shot back, crossing his arms. "You scared someone else might actually treat her with respect? Or are you just mad you can't keep her to yourself?"

The words were a match to gasoline. Eminem's composure cracked, and he stepped even closer, the space between them now nonexistent.

"You think you can walk up here and start some shit?" he hissed. "You don't get to touch what's mine."

Genji stiffened slightly at the word, her gaze flickering to Eminem. He hadn't noticed, for his attention was fully locked onto Benzino, the seething intensity in his eyes unrelenting.

The latter laughed, shaking his head. "Whatever ya say, Marshall. But if she was mine, I wouldn't be standing on the other side of the room, watching someone else take my spot."

Before the words could even fully register, Eminem's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Benzino's shirt. The room seemed to freeze for a split second as conversations faltered and heads turned.

"I fucking dare you to say that again," he growled, his voice low and shaking with fury.

"Marshall." Genji's voice cut through the tension, quiet but firm.

He froze, his grip still tight on Benzino's shirt. Slowly, he turned to look at her, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly.

"Let him go," she said, her tone calm but unyielding.

For a moment, it seemed like he might ignore her. Then, with a sharp exhale, he released Benzino, shoving him back with enough force to make the man stumble.

Benzino straightened his shirt, glaring at Eminem but wisely choosing not to escalate further. "Enjoy the rest of your night," he sneered before disappearing into the crowd.

Eminem stood there for a moment, his fists still clenched, his breathing uneven. Genji rose from her seat, stepping in front of him.

"You didn't have to do that," she said softly, her eyes searching his face.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Yeah... I did."

"Why?"

The question hung between them, and for once, he didn't deflect. His shoulders slumped slightly as he looked at her, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes.

"Because I can't stand the thought of someone like him being near you," he admitted, the words rough like they had been dragged out of him.

Genji blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his tone. She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head, stepping back.

"I'll be with Paul," he muttered before walking away, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 6 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 16

About: Eminem wrestles with an unexpected sense of vulnerability after a conversation with Genji reveals her true name and the story behind it. Reflecting on her resilience and how she navigates between her identities, he begins to see cracks in his own walls, and he's not sure whether to guard them or let them break.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

Eminem sat on the edge of his hotel bed, the faint hum of the TV in the background doing little to drown out his thoughts. The laptop sat on the desk, still open to the last frame of their call. He had half a mind to shut it down, but Genji's soft laugh echoed in his head, clear as if she were still there.

Futaba.

The name hung in his mind, and the weight of her story lingered in his chest. He hadn't expected her to open up like that. It was as if she offered it like she trusted him. That thought hit him harder than he was ready for.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. Strange. Why'd that get to him? It wasn't like they hadn't shared stories and vulnerabilities.

Genji — or Futaba — wasn't like anyone else in his life. Most people either wanted something from him or kept their distance. But with her? She had a way of seeing through all the noise without pushing too hard. It unnerved him how easily she slipped past the walls he didn't even know he was still holding up. Yet, that felt foreign and grounding.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a text from Hailie.

Hailie: Did she like the scarf?

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Hailie had been so insistent about picking the perfect gift for Genji, poring over photos online and debating colours like it was a life-or-death decision.

Marshall: Yeah, she liked it. Even wore it on tour. Said thanks.

The reply came almost instantly.

Hailie: Told you! You owe me.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, kid. You're always right," he muttered.

The smile lingered for a moment before fading as he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted back to the call. He could still see Genji sitting there with her chin resting on her hand, amused at his attempt to tease her about the scarf.

But it wasn't just her laugh or smile that stuck with him. It was how she looked when she talked about her name. Her gaze slipped off-camera as if she was caught between pride and doubt.

"When I started out, I was the youngest and the only girl. A name like 'Futaba' sounded too soft or feminine for them to take me seriously. So I became Genji. It made them listen."

Her words replayed in his head, feeling the weight of them sinking in. He knew that feeling of having to build a persona to make people take you seriously, to shield yourself from judgement and doubt. He'd done it with Slim Shady, letting the chaos and the anger do the talking when Marshall felt too small to be heard.

But it was different for her. She wasn't hiding behind Genji. She was both, fully, and somehow she made it work.

He grabbed the notebook from the nightstand, flipping it open to a blank page. His pen hovered over the paper before he started writing. It wasn't for a track or for anyone else; it was just for himself.

Futaba

He paused, the name stared back at him, stark against the empty background.

The thought unsettled him, though he couldn't say why. Maybe it was because she seemed so sure of who she was, even with the doubts she'd shared. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone had seen through the layers he wore and didn't flinch.

He closed the notebook and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He didn't know what to do with the way she made him feel, like she was pulling at parts of him he wasn't ready to unpack. The TV droned on in the background, some late-night talk show he wasn't paying attention to. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar tension building in his chest.

He thought about what she'd said when he told her to call him "Marshall".

"Are you saying we're close?" "I mean, we've not only known each other for a few years but also been through a lot. Feels weird you still call me by my stage name when we’re like this."

Her hesitation had been brief, but when she said "Marshall", it felt like something shifted. It wasn't just a name; it was a crack in the walls he'd built. And then she'd told him her real name.

He stood up and turned off the TV, plunging the room into darkness except for the faint city lights outside. As he stared out the window, his reflection caught in the dark window, faint and ghost-like. A rare sense of calm settled over him. Yet, he wasn't sure if that scared him or gave him hope.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 7 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 15

About: Genji and Eminem share a rare moment of vulnerability during a late-night video call. Beneath the lighthearted banter about scarves and tours, their conversation turns to identity and the weight of their stage personas.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

As she sat in the dim light of her hotel room, Genji lingered in the quiet spaces. She flipped through the old leather-bound notebook she carried everywhere, a habit from her early days when she scribbled rhymes on anything she could find. The pages smelled faintly of ink and nostalgia, the words spilling across them in meticulous Japanese script and scatters of English words.

Across the room, her laptop screen glowed, connecting her to a video call. The man on the other side leaned back on a couch, his grey hoodie soft against the low light of his hotel room. His blue eyes flicked toward the camera as he sipped from a mug, his smirk unmistakable even through the slightly grainy connection.

"You're late," Genji teased, leaning back in her chair.

He smirked, sipping from his mug. "C'mon now, you know me. Gotta make an entrance."

"Right," she said with mock exasperation, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "How's Fontana treating you? Crowd eating up the tour?"

He nodded, his posture relaxing. "Yeah, it's been wild. Recovery tracks are hitting different live, y'know? Fans were all in. What about you? Toronto treating you alright?"

Genji nodded, resting her chin on her hand. "Fans here are super polite. I dropped a diss I haven't performed since the early '90s. Felt like apologising after."

He chuckled at that, the sound warm and genuine. "No way. I bet you still killed it."

Her lips curved into a soft smile. Before she could respond, Eminem leaned closer to the screen, his brows knitting. "Wait a sec... are you wearing a scarf indoors?"

Genji glanced down at the light shawl draped around her neck and shrugged. "It's cold."

"Cold? It's September in Toronto. How cold could it be?"

"Cold enough for me," she said with a slight pout, making him laugh again.

He shook his head with a chuckle, but then his gaze sharpened, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "Hold up. Is that…?"

She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Is that what?"

"That scarf." He pointed at the screen. "That's the one I sent you for your birthday, isn't it?"

Genji's cheeks warmed, but she managed a nonchalant shrug. "It might be."

Eminem leaned back with a smirk, crossing his arms. "Damn. I knew it was good, but I didn't think it'd make the world tour wardrobe so fast."

She laughed softly. "You somehow managed to send it to me on time while I was in Paris. That alone deserves credit."

"Damn right, it is," he shot back, grinning. "I don't just pick some random scarf. Took me hours to find that."

Genji tilted her head, her smile gentle but teasing. "Hours? Really?"

"Okay, like twenty minutes," he admitted, throwing up his hands. "Got some help there."

Her curiosity flickered. "Help?"

He nodded, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Yeah. Hailie helped pick it out. Said you'd probably like something simple but classy. She's got good taste for stuff like that."

Genji blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then her expression softened into something warmer. "She's right. It's perfect."

"She'll like hearing that," he said, a rare touch of pride in his tone.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the scarf almost absently. "Well, thank her for me. And you, of course."

"Will do," he replied, his smirk returning. "But don't expect me to make a habit of consulting my kid for fashion advice. You just got lucky this time."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Lucky, huh? I'd call it thoughtful."

They both laughed, the easy banter bridging the miles between them. For a moment, the screen wasn't a barrier, and the noise of their separate lives seemed to quiet.

After a moment of quiet, he leaned closer again, his expression softening as he broke the silence. "Y'know, I noticed something. You always call me 'Eminem'."

Genji tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "What else am I supposed to call you?"

He held her gaze, unflinching. "How about 'Marshall'? People close to me call me that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we're close?"

He met her gaze, unflinching. "I mean, we've not only known each other for a few years but also been through a lot. Feels weird you still call me by my stage name when we're like this."

She hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. "Marshall," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue.

He nodded, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Genji leaned back in her chair, studying him through the screen. "If I call you Marshall, then it's only fair I tell you my real name."

His eyebrows shot up. "Wait- you mean 'Genji' isn't your real name?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "No. Genji was something I came up with before I started. My real name is Futaba. Futaba Hagihasa."

"Futaba," he said, testing the name like it was foreign currency in his mouth. "Why'd you change it?"

Her smile faltered, and her gaze drifted off-camera. "When I started out, I was the youngest and the only girl. A name like 'Futaba' sounded too soft or feminine for them to take me seriously. So I became Genji. It made them listen."

His jaw tightened, his frown deepening. "That's fucked up. You shouldn't have had to change yourself just to fit in."

"It's how it was," she said quietly. "But it made me tougher. Still, sometimes I wonder if I left Futaba behind."

"Genji or Futaba — they’re both you," he said firmly. "Just like Eminem, Slim Shady, and Marshall are all me."

She studied him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe. But it's not that simple."

"Never is," he agreed. "But it's worth figuring out."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward, just heavy with unspoken thoughts. Genji's lips curved into a faint smile as she looked back at him. "You know… you're not so bad at this heart-to-heart thing."

"Don't let it go to your head," he said, smirking. "I've still got a rep to protect."

Her laughter echoed through the call, a sound that lingered even after the connection ended.

Later that night, Genji sat alone in her room, the city lights spilling through the window. Opening her notebook, she flipped past pages of rhymes and ideas until she found a blank page.

Futaba Hagihasa

She wrote the name slowly, letting its weight settle. When he called her Genji, it felt like he spoke to the artist the world knew. But when he said "Futaba", it stirred something quieter, something she thought she'd left behind.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff

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amayaonly1 · 7 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 14

About: Eminem confronts his own emotional barriers as he observes Genji's quiet resilience amidst the chaos backstage. Their conversation, filled with unspoken truths and mutual recognition of pain, forces him to reflect on his guarded nature and the shared burdens of their pasts.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The hum of muffled chatter and the occasional thud of equipment being moved around filled the backstage area of SEC Armadillo. The glow of stage lights spilt faintly into the corridors, casting long shadows on the worn carpet.

Eminem spotted Genji as he turned the corner. She sat quietly on a metal folding chair, her back straight and her hands clasped loosely in her lap. Her straight posture and loosely clasped hands gave off a composed stillness that contrasted with the buzz around her.

She looked up as he approached, her dark eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity that halted him in his tracks.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice rougher than he intended.

"Hey," she replied softly, her tone carrying a measured wariness.

He gestured toward the chair beside her. "Mind if I sit?"

She shook her head. "Go ahead."

He lowered himself into the seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise from the stage crew filling the silence between them. He hated how heavy it felt, like there were things he should say but didn't know how.

"You've been quiet," he said finally, risking a glance at her.

"I usually am," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I know. But this feels... different."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Does it?"

"Yeah," he muttered. "It does."

His eyes briefly flicked to her hands, noticing the way her fingers rested lightly on each other. There was a calmness in her that unnerved him, like she was grounded in ways he wasn't. He didn't know if it was comforting or unnerving, or both.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he admitted, running a hand over his face. "About Hailie. And… other stuff."

Her expression remained calm, though curiosity flashed briefly in her dark eyes. "Other stuff?"

"Yeah." He hesitated, tapping his fingers on his knee. "Look, I didn't mean to be an ass back then. When you came by the house with Hailie."

She blinked, surprise breaking her composure for a fraction of a second. "I didn't think you were."

"Come on," he scoffed. "I was. I barely said two words to you. And when I did, I was..."

"Guarded," she interjected, her tone matter-of-fact. "I didn't take it personally."

"Maybe you should've," he muttered. "Most people do."

"Most people expect something from you," she pointed out gently. "I don't."

Her words landed harder than he anticipated. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's the thing. You don't expect anything, and I don't know what to do with that."

"You don't have to do anything," she said. "Just be you."

The simplicity of her statement hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He met her gaze, searching for some sort of a catch. There wasn't one.

"I saw that interview you did back in Japan," he said, his voice quieter now. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't interrupt. "I don't know why I watched it. Maybe I was just trying to figure you out. Or maybe I was pissed because you seem so... put together. Like nothing gets to you."

"Things get to me," she said, her tone measured. "I just don't let it show the same way you do."

He chuckled dryly. "Yeah, no kidding. You've got this way of keeping it all in check. Meanwhile, I'm over here losing my shit half the time."

Genji's lips curved in a soft, teasing smile. "I think you'd scare people if you didn't lose your shit once in a while."

The unexpected humour cracked his defences, drawing out a genuine laugh. The tension between them eased slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of camaraderie.

"Some people think I've had it easy," she said, her voice quieter now. "That I just sailed through everything."

He frowned, sensing the weight behind her words. But he remained silent.

"My divorce… it was ugly. Eight months in, I found out about his affairs. I wanted to handle it quietly. But someone tipped the media, and suddenly I was 'that woman' in the eyes of the entire country. 'The Fallen Rapper'. 'Wife of Infidelity'. They didn't even use my name. I stopped being a person to them."

Her calm delivery didn't mask the pain in her words. Eminem felt a pang of guilt for not realising how much she'd endured. "I didn't know," he admitted.

"Besides Dre and Snoop, nobody here really does," she replied. "After that, it was like every decision I made was under a microscope. I couldn't even walk down the street without whispers. And the worst part wasn't the headlines. It was having to face my family and friends. They didn't know how to talk to me. They either avoided the subject altogether or pretended it wasn’t happening."

She hesitated, her gaze softening as she stared past him, lost in thought. "Papa was the only one who was truly there for me. He didn't even ask a lot when I went home to him. But one night, I overheard him talking to his friend. He said he felt like he'd failed me. That he was sorry for not being a better father. And I… I didn't know how to process that. He was the one person who made me feel safe, and suddenly, it felt like even he thought he wasn't enough."

Her voice faltered for a moment, and for the first time since he'd known her, he saw the crack beneath her composure.

Eminem looked away, the weight of her words sinking in. "I didn't know," he repeated, softer this time.

She gave a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Not many people do. I've learned to keep it together in public, but inside... it's different. The aftermath of everything — the divorce, the media, even my dad's guilt... it still stays with me. It doesn't just go away. I don't think it ever will."

He felt a pang of recognition, the words cutting too close to his own scars. "I get that," he said quietly. "People think they know you because of what they read or see. With me and Kim, it was a fuckin' circus. The tabloids, the fights… It felt like every piece of me was being chipped away." He hesitated, the words harder to form than he expected. "That's why I am the way I am. I don't trust easy. And when I do, it's like I'm just waiting for it to blow up in my fucking face."

Her gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "We're not so different, then."

"No," he said quietly. "I guess we're not."

The silence that followed was less heavy, tinged with understanding rather than tension.

"Maybe the trick isn't climbing over the walls," she said softly. "Maybe it's letting someone in through them."

He scoffed lightly, but her words stayed with him. The air between them felt heavier now, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts and shared understanding.

A voice called out from the far end of the hallway. "Genji! We gotta start packing up. Sound crew's waiting."

She turned her head toward the voice, her shoulders visibly tensing before she gave a small nod in acknowledgement. Standing, she glanced back at him, her dark eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

When her hand brushed his briefly, an accidental, fleeting touch, it was enough to send a ripple through the guarded stillness he carried. Something had shifted.

"I'll see you around," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet certainty that somehow felt like a promise.

He watched her walk away, her silhouette blending into the chaos of the backstage crew. A part of him wanted to call her back, to say something that would keep her there. But the words stuck in his throat, too tangled with the weight of everything he wasn’t ready to unpack. The faint echo of her voice, and the subtle brush of her hand, lingered long after she disappeared into the crowd. Watching the empty hallway where she’d been, he couldn't help but wonder if she was right.

And for the first time in years, he felt the walls around him begin to crack; not from force, but from a quiet willingness to let them fall.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem comfort

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amayaonly1 · 7 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 13

About: Genji seeks solace and wisdom from her father during a rare visit to her home. Through their heartfelt conversation, she confronts her own fears and decisions. Coincidentally, this introspection carries her into an unexpected reunion with Eminem on stage, where unresolved tensions unfold through a powerful and raw performance.

*Italics = Speaking in Japanese

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The soft rhythm of the April rain against the shoji screens was the only sound breaking the silence. Genji sat across from the elderly man, dressed in a blue yukata, at their chabudai, steam rising from their cups of roasted barley tea. It had been a few days since her last performance, and this brief break back home in Kichijōji was a welcome pause. The man, calm as ever, sipped his tea, the gentle clink of his cup against the table marking the moment.

Genji's fingers traced the rim of her teacup, her gaze distant. Her mind, however, was heavy with the swirling thoughts of the past few months. The uncertainty. The decisions. The distance.

"Papa," she began, her voice hesitant, breaking the silence.

Her father set his cup down, tilting his head slightly, his weathered face kind and attentive. "Hmm?" he responded, his heavy accent adding a melodic rhythm to the single syllable. He had a way of making everything seem less overwhelming.

Genji hesitated, her eyes fixed on the dark liquid swirling in her cup. "Do you think..." She paused, then exhaled, forcing herself to continue. "Do you think it's possible to hurt someone because you're trying to protect them?"

He leaned back slightly, his thoughtful silence filling the space between them. But she wasn't worried about his reaction. Growing up, she'd always known him not to be the kind of man to rush into words, believing in letting silence breathe to allow thoughts to settle before speaking.

"Is there someone you have in mind?" he asked gently, his voice like the steady flow of a stream.

She shrugged, a slight frown pulling at her lips. "I'm not sure," she said evasively. "Maybe. I just… I don't understand why someone would push someone else away if they cared about them. It doesn't make sense."

The elderly man hummed thoughtfully, folding his hands in his lap. "When people push others away, Fu-chan," he began. "It is often because they are afraid."

"Afraid?" Genji repeated, her voice tinged with frustration. "Of what? If you care about someone, shouldn't you want to keep them close?"

His gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "Afraid of losing them, or of being seen too clearly. Being vulnerable can be frightening, especially for someone who has been hurt before. They may believe that by creating distance, they are protecting themselves or the other person."

"But doesn't that just make everything worse?" she pressed, her voice rising slightly, frustration seeping through.

He nodded slowly. "It does," he admitted, his tone measured. "But fear is not rational. And when people act out of fear, they often make choices that don't seem to make sense. Like when your mother…" He stopped himself, the weight of the memory momentarily visible in his eyes.

Genji's breath hitched. Her mother had always been a quiet, almost sacred topic between them, a shadow that lingered but was rarely spoken of.

"When your mother left," he continued nevertheless, his voice steady but low. "I thought the best way to protect myself and you was to close myself off. I believed it was the right thing, to build walls so I wouldn't feel the loss so deeply again. That was why I never remarried, as my priority has always been you. But in doing so, I hurt many people, even if I didn't mean to."

The admission, though spoken without bitterness, struck her like a chord that resonated in her chest. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, they sat in that shared, vulnerable silence.

"And you," her father added softly, his tone almost teasing but his eyes serious. "You did the same once, didn't you? After… everything."

She stilled, her fingers tightening slightly around her cup. Her father didn't need to elaborate; they both understood what he meant. The time she spent retreating into herself after her marriage ended, shutting people out as though isolation could stitch the fractures in her heart.

"You told me once it was to protect yourself," he continued gently. "You couldn't bear the thought of going through the same experience with another man. I think this person you speak of might have thought the same."

Genji's lips parted, but no words came. She hadn't expected to hear her own story mirrored back to her. It was a truth she rarely touched, and hearing it now, framed so plainly, left her feeling exposed yet understood.

Her father leaned back, his gaze steady but kind. "The hardest lesson I learned was that vulnerability isn't weakness. The bravest thing you can do is let someone in, even when it scares you. So if this person truly cares for you, he will find his way back."

The rain outside slowed, its rhythm tapering into a gentle drizzle. She nodded slowly, his words weaving themselves into the quiet storm inside her. She didn't reply immediately, but the weight of her thoughts felt a little lighter, the edges a little softer.

The heat of the stage lights in SEC Armadillo seeped into Genji's skin as she stood backstage, her heartbeat syncing with the muffled roar of the crowd as she prepared for the second half of her world tour performance. The electric energy of the arena vibrated through her chest, but her thoughts were still on the conversation with her father. His words lingered, yet they felt unresolved. She exhaled deeply, shaking the thought away as she adjusted the microphone in her hand, smoothing the fabric of her outfit. This was her stage, her moment. She was ready.

A crew member appeared, gesturing. "It’s time."

Stepping into the wings, Genji let the crowd’s cheers wash over her, each roar sharpening her focus. The house lights dimmed, signalling the start of her set. But instead of the anticipated opening beat of "Shatterproof", a hauntingly familiar rhythm filled the air.

Her breath hitched.

It was "Walls of My Own", the track she had written with Eminem. They hadn't performed together since they recorded in Dre's studio.

The crowd faltered briefly, a wave of confusion rippling through them. But as the iconic beat dropped, their hesitation gave way to deafening cheers. The rhythm pulled her forward like a magnet.

The spotlight found her as she stepped onto the stage. The energy surged as the audience buzzed with anticipation.

傷ついた夢、消えない記憶 (Kizutsuita yume, kienai kioku) (Dreams that are broken, memories don't fade) 孤独の中で進む軌跡 (Kodoku no naka de susumu kiseki) (Walking through the loneliness, the path I made) Breakin' through the static、音を裂く (Breakin' through the static, oto wo saku) (Breakin' through the static, tearing through the sound) 闇の中でも光は描く (Yami no naka demo hikari wa egaku) (Even in the dark, the light will come around)

Her first verse came naturally, her words sharp and clear, each syllable sliced through the air like a blade. The Japanese verses, rooted in her upbringing, carried a defiant edge. She paced across the stage, the rhythm grounding her even as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Each line felt like an unfiltered offering. The crowd was hers, their voices rising in unison with her own.

Then, as her verse ended, the beat shifted. His voice cut through the air like a lightning strike.

Eminem stepped out.

The crowd erupted. Their excitement was visceral, shaking the walls of the arena.

I'm a ghost in the booth, yeah, I haunt this mic, Turned my trauma into tracks, now I'm locked in a fight. Every grin's a grenade, every laugh's a knife, Every line's another layer of my fucked-up life.

Genji stepped back for a moment, watching him strode onto the stage. His intense delivery filled the space as the words he spat were filled with an anguish that mirrored her own, his pain laid bare for the world to hear. She watched him as he moved with the music, his body leaning into the rhythm with his energy commanding the stage. She had always admired how he poured his pain into every verse; and here, tonight, it was no different.

She felt his presence loom closer. He stepped forward, locking eyes with her for the briefest of moments. His gaze was a mixture of defiance and something unspoken as he rapped the next verse.

I shove you away 'cause I'm savin' myself, But I'm dyin' inside while I'm screamin' for help. Buried the truth deep beneath the facade, The saboteur's a voice that keeps me at odds.

His voice cracked slightly, carrying the weight of his struggle through his aggressive verses. They were more confrontational than anything Genji had ever heard from him in person. She could almost feel his frustration seeping into every line, his internal battle laid bare for the world to hear. For a moment, everything else faded. The lights, the crowd, the music; none of it mattered. It was just them, sharing a stage after months of distance. The crowd saw only a performance; she saw the man behind the bravado.

As the song came to an end, the final notes echoed through the arena. The crowd roared, their excitement so overwhelming that they were oblivious to the two rappers looking at each other. For them, at least in Genji's mind, the performance wasn't just about the applause; it was a moment of reconciliation.

It wasn't long before Eminem strode to the front of the stage, his signature smirk firmly in place. He grabbed a mic, lifting it to his lips as if he'd owned the stage all along.

"Glasgow," his voice cut through the noise, a teasing edge to his tone. "I told myself I'd stay backstage tonight, but Gen here made it impossible. So, yeah, I crashed her party. You're fuckin' welcome."

The audience erupted in laughter and cheers.

Genji turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. She tilted her head slightly, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "Didn’t think you were the type to crash concerts," she quipped, her voice smooth yet edged with amusement.

He shrugged, stepping closer to her, his smirk widening. "Guess I'm full of surprises."

She shook her head, letting out a laugh. "Alright, alright," she said into her mic, her tone mock-reluctant. "If you're gonna hijack my set, at least make it worth their while."

"Oh, I plan to," Eminem shot back, his confidence electric.

Genji turned back to her band, grinning as she stepped toward them. "Guess we'll have to switch it up," she said, her voice laced with playful confidence. "How about an instrumental version of We Made You?"

The crowd buzzed with intrigue at the mention of the familiar hit. However, things could be said differently for the band leader, who instantly let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Instrumental? Really?" he mocked jokingly as he adjusted the strap of his bass guitar. "C'mon, G, don't insult us like that. We've got ya covered." The rest of the band chimed in with grins and playful nods of agreement.

Genji laughed, shaking her head. "Okay," she said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Let's see what you've got."

The opening beat of the track dropped, and the applause surged again. The music hit like a spark to dry tinder, igniting the room. As the music for We Made You began, their synergy became undeniable. They moved in perfect rhythm, their verses weaving together like a dance, neither outshining the other but elevating the performance.

When the final note faded, the lights dimmed, and Eminem turned to the guitarist, who gave him a knowing look before adjusting his instrument. The soft chords of Beautiful began to play, transforming the atmosphere into something intimate.

Genji hesitated as the spotlight found her again. But when Eminem gave her a small nod, she raised the mic, her voice steady:

Lately I've been hard to reach I've been too long on my own...

Her voice carried the weight of the moment, each word resonating deeply. Eminem stepped into the centre, his mic raised as his voice became apparent with every word he rapped.

I'm just so fucking depressed I just can't seem to get out this slump If I could just get over this hump But I need something to pull me out this dump

The audience fell silent, hanging on every word. There was something deeply personal about the song tonight. Genji, standing beside him, didn’t hesitate. She took her place, her voice gentle but filled with strength, a calm contrast to his intensity.

But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful, oh They can all get fucked, just stay true to you, so Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful, oh They can all get fucked, just stay true to you, so

Their voices blended seamlessly, a perfect harmony of strength and softness. The crowd was enraptured, lost in the music, in the raw emotion of the moment. There was no bravado here, just truth.

As they continued the song, the connection between them deepened. It wasn't just a performance anymore. It was a shared experience, a catharsis. They were sharing pieces of themselves, laying them bare under the harsh glow of the stage lights. The world outside of the arena didn’t matter. Only the music did.

When the final notes faded, the crowd erupted in applause, some waving their phones like lighters in the dark. Eminem turned to Genji, his expression softer now, a quiet pride in his eyes.

"Thanks for letting me crash," he said, his voice low enough not to carry past her. "It's your show, after all."

Genji smiled, a genuine curve of her lips. "Thanks for making it unforgettable." She then turned to the crowd, one hand raising the mic, and the other gesturing at him. "Give it up for Eminem!"

The crowd's response was deafening, a tidal wave of cheers and applause that reverberated through the arena. Genji stepped back slightly, allowing him to bask in the moment, but before she could retreat completely, Eminem closed the distance between them.

He leaned in and gave her a side hug. His lips barely moved as he whispered into her ear, "We'll talk backstage."

The quiet intensity of his voice left her momentarily stunned, her heart racing for reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint. But before she could respond, he pulled back, smirking as he turned to wave at the crowd one last time.

Their silhouettes lingered onstage for a beat longer, cast against the glowing lights before they disappeared into the wings. For the audience, it was a night to remember. For Genji, it was a moment that left her wondering what awaited her in the conversation.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 7 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 12

About: Eminem is unable to shake his thoughts of Genji after she visits his house. But after a conversation with Hailie about Genji's genuine nature, he is forced to confront his growing fascination with her as he starts questioning the walls he has built around himself, perhaps hinting at a shift in his perspective.

*Italics: Speaking in Japanese

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The hum of the studio equipment filled the air, broken only by the occasional scratch of a pen or the faint shuffle of papers. Eminem sat back in his chair, the faint glow of the computer monitor casting sharp shadows across his face. His mind wasn't on the beats loaded in the DAW or the lyrics he'd been scribbling earlier. It was somewhere else — on Genji. Specifically, on the memory of her at his house with Hailie.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the scene replaying in his mind like a tape stuck on rewind. Hailie had taken to her instantly, and watching Genji patiently guide her through that school project was something he couldn't shake off. He barely acknowledged it at the time, brushing Genji off like she was just another fleeting collaborator.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath.

It hadn’t even been that long since they’d worked together, but it felt like a lifetime. Genji wasn't like anyone else in the business: no pretences, no drama. When they were in Dre's studio, she had this laser focus, diving into her work with such quiet determination. She didn't expect him to be anything other than himself, and that unsettled him.

He hadn't let anyone in like this for years. Trust wasn't something he gave freely, but with her, it felt different. Her calm and collected interactions with others were contrasted with his usual whirlwind of frustration and sarcasm. Even that night, she didn't back down from him, never taking his anger personally. That should've pissed him off; instead, it drew him in more. The more he tried to push her out of his head, the more she crept in; the more she occupied his thoughts, the more irritable he became. He was starting to resent how much of his focus she was stealing, how her presence drove him up the wall.

He now realised the problem — it was too easy to be around her.

He reached for his phone, his thumb instinctively hovering over her Twitter profile. He caught himself before pressing it, tossing the phone onto the desk like it had burned him. What the hell was he even doing? Checking on her? She wasn't some high school crush. He didn't even do this kind of thing.

Without thinking, he opened YouTube and typed her name into the search bar. A few music videos popped up, along with interviews he'd already seen. But then something else caught his eye — "Genji on SMAP×SMAP (with ENG Subtitles)". The thumbnail showed her mid-laugh, her smile lighting up the screen as she sat among the five hosts. His thumb hovered for a second before he clicked.

Curiosity won. He clicked.

The screen filled with a brightly lit studio set. The hosts greeted her with theatrical enthusiasm, their exaggerated bows earning laughs from the audience. Genji stepped into the frame, composed and graceful. She wore a white button-up shirt styled casually with light blue distressed jeans, paired with black ballet flats. Her luscious black hair was tied into a ponytail, and a gold pendant necklace added a touch of elegance. Her smile wasn't flashy, but it lit up the room.

"Welcome to Bistro SMAP!" the subtitles read.

Eminem turned up the volume.

"Do you have any special requests?" one host asked, grinning. "We can make anything!"

"If you say that, I might get my hopes up," Genji replied, her tone light.

The banter was quick and sharp, the kind of back-and-forth that usually bored him. But not with her. She held her own with the hosts, neither shrinking back nor trying to dominate. They joked about her music, her time abroad, and even her love of handwritten letters, a detail that struck him as oddly intimate.

"Letter writing? That's kind of romantic!" the host teased, his eyes twinkling.

Genji tilted her head slightly. "I'd say it's more about the sentiments with the people I miss back home."

Eminem's jaw tightened. He didn't even realise it until his teeth ground together. Her voice, her laugh, her way of making everything seem effortless; it all grated on him in a way he couldn't explain. Not because she was doing anything wrong. Quite the opposite. It felt like everyone else could see this side of her that he'd ignored or pushed away.

And that pissed him off even more.

The host leaned closer. "You're really amazing, Genji-san. Is it alright if we keep you here in Japan forever?"

The audience laughed, and she smirked faintly. "We'll see," she quipped.

The faint glow of the screen reflected in his eyes as he stared at her frozen image. Her smile lingered, taunting him with its warmth. Why did this bother him so much?

A knock at the door broke his reverie.

"Dad?"

Hailie's tentative voice pulled him back to reality.

"Yeah?" he called back, trying to sound casual.

The door creaked open, and Hailie peeked in before stepping into the room. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight like she wasn't quite sure how to start. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's up?"

She hesitated momentarily, then blurted out, "Are you mad about me bringing Genji here?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "Mad? No. Why would I be mad?"

"You didn't really talk to her," she pointed out, her tone measured. "You were kinda... weird."

"Weird?"

"You barely looked at her. And when you did, it was like..." She scrunched her nose. "I don't know. Like you didn't want her here."

Eminem rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not that. It's just... complicated."

"Complicated how?"

He sighed, searching for the right words. "She's different. I don't know how to deal with that sometimes."

Hailie tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You know I'm the one who reached out to her, right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

"Yeah." She stepped closer, her voice gaining a little confidence. "You remember I mentioned that my project is about how songs reflect people's culture, right? I thought she'd be perfect to talk to, so I sent her an email. She got back to me right away. She didn't even make a big deal about it."

Eminem's lips pressed into a thin line. "So… you just emailed her, and she showed up?"

Hailie nodded. "Pretty much. We were supposed to meet at a diner, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, it was kind of noisy there, and I didn't want her to get swarmed by people. I figured it'd be easier if we worked here. Plus, I thought it'd be cool for you to meet her too."

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "You thought it'd be cool for me to meet her?"

Hailie shrugged, her smile small but sincere. "Yeah. I mean, she's really nice, Dad. And she talks about music in this way that makes it sound like… like art, you know? I thought you'd get along."

He blinked, his chest tightening at the idea that Hailie had thought so much about it. "I didn't know that."

"Would you believe me if I said she didn't even know who you were?"

Eminem's eyes widened, startled. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, she didn't know you were my dad until she saw the family photos," Hailie explained, her tone both incredulous and amused. "She didn't say anything, but I could tell she figured it out right then."

He didn't know how to respond to that. It was almost laughably unbelievable, someone in the industry not knowing who his daughter was despite the numerous times he mentioned her in his songs.

Hailie gave him a small, knowing smile. "She's not what you think, Dad. I mean, she's famous and whatnot. But she's not, like, all caught up in it. She's just... real."

Eminem had to admit. His daughter was more perceptive than him. Like she said, it made sense with Genji. She wasn't like anyone else. She didn't seem to care about the fame or the reputation. In a way, it actually unsettled him more than anything else. For a moment, neither of them said anything. He stared at his phone, the video of Genji laughing with the hosts still paused on the screen.

Eventually, Hailie broke the silence. "You're not mad, though, right? About me bringing her here?"

He shook his head, his voice softer now. "No, Hailie. I'm not mad."

She smiled, now seemingly satisfied, and turned to leave. But before she stepped out, she glanced back at him. "Maybe you should talk to her again. You know, when you're ready."

Eminem didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the screen. His mind was racing, but one thought kept cutting through the noise: maybe Hailie was right.

Eventually, he gave up trying to push Genji out of his mind. But as much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, she was occupying more space in his head than he cared to acknowledge.

Maybe it was time to let the walls fall.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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amayaonly1 · 7 months ago

Text

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 11

About: Genji reflects on her collaboration with Eminem, revisiting moments of vulnerability and connection that once felt meaningful. As she wrestles with the growing silence between them, her lingering questions about their bond drive her to confront emotions she has been trying to ignore.

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The crisp winter air of Tokyo greeted Genji as she leaned against the frosted windowpane of her apartment. The city outside bustled with life, its neon signs fading against the encroaching daylight. February's chill seeped through the glass, a reminder of her restless schedule: interviews, promotional events, and music show performances. Yet, amidst the chaos, her thoughts wandered to one particular moment half a world away.

She caught her reflection in the glass. Her dark eyes were lined with exhaustion, but it wasn't just from the relentless pace that consumed her for the past weeks. It was something deeper, a restlessness she couldn't quite name that always seemed to lead back to Detroit.

Hailie's laughter was the clearest echo. Genji had always believed that children carried the purest forms of joy, untainted by the burdens adults bore. Working with Hailie on her project had been a welcome reprieve, an anchor in a storm of uncertainties. The girl was bright and curious, her enthusiasm infectious. But the memory of Eminem standing in the doorway, silently watching, stayed with her just as vividly. She remembered sensing the restraint in his jaw, his arms crossed and his gaze lingered before flicking away.

Genji thought back to their collaboration on Beautiful, a song that felt like peeling back layers of his guarded exterior. The way his voice softened when he explained the inspiration behind the lyrics made her feel like she was being allowed into a private part of his world. Then there was the book launch, where he showed vulnerability while recounting his past and struggles that had stayed with her long after the event. She'd thought, perhaps foolishly, that it had meant something.

But now? Now, their conversations had grown layered over time, filled with subtext she couldn't quite decipher.

She admired him, that much was certain: his resilience, his talent, his ability to channel his pain into something powerful, even his devotion to his daughter. And yet, there was more to it, something she hadn't dared to name.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be.

Could it?

She shook her head as the thought tightened her chest, trying to push it away. Love had no place here. They were artists who had briefly shared creative space. That was all it was. She had learned long ago to set her heart aside, to survive by shutting doors that didn't need opening.

Genji sat back down at her desk, the night creeping in as the room grew colder. She pulled her notebook closer. The worn cover and ink-stained pages were a testament to her constant need to process her world through words. Yet tonight, the pen hovered over the page, unmoving.

Her laptop's soft bing broke the stillness, and when she glanced at the screen, her breath hitched.

Eminem: "Thanks for helping Hailie. She loved working with you. Keep doing your thing."

It was polite and distant. If she squinted, she might find a thread of warmth. But reading it felt like reopening an old wound. The words made her feel like she was still an outsider in a world she almost become a part of. After all that had happened, it was starting to feel like she had become another one of the countless voices in the background, nothing more than an occasional collaborator.

Her hand hovered over the keyboard button, but the words wouldn't come. She stared at the screen, wondering if she should reach out, if she should ask him about Hailie again or inquire about their next project together. But the hesitation lingered like a shadow, pulling her back. There was nothing she needed to nor should say. And yet, her chest tightened with the weight of everything unsaid.

The screen dimmed as the notification faded, and with it, her resolve. She closed the laptop. Some things were better left unsaid. Yet the silence that followed felt deafening. She pulled her notebook closer and began to write, the words spilling out like a dam had broken. They weren't lyrics, not yet. They were raw and jagged thoughts, questions she dared not ask aloud, feelings she couldn't fully name.

あなたの胸の奥、今も私の声が響くの？ (Does my voice still echo in the depths of your heart?)

刹那の嵐じゃなく、時を越えて共に描けるの？ (Not just a fleeting storm, can we paint eternity together beyond time?)

The pen stilled, her hand trembling. She stared at the words until they blurred together, her vision clouded by unshed tears. It wasn't that she wanted to chase some fleeting fantasy, nor did she regret their brief collaboration either. Rather, it was the silence that had followed, the way he stepped back after the project wrapped as if she'd never been a part of it. She ripped the page from the notebook and crumpled it, tossing it onto the floor where it joined a growing pile of discarded drafts.

Later, lying in bed, Genji stared at the ceiling. The room was too quiet now, the silence pressing against her ears as she lay there, tangled in her own thoughts. Detroit felt far away, yet it clung to her like a second skin. She thought of their last conversation; his guarded expression, the way he always kept an arm's length from her, even after the months they'd spent working on lyrics together. It felt like he had built invisible walls around them, as though he was afraid to let anyone in. She had seen that before, people shielding themselves not because they didn't trust others, but because they were afraid of being seen.

Maybe she was as much a hypocrite as she feared he was, expecting honesty from someone when she had spent years avoiding it herself.

Although one thing was certain — she wouldn't let the moment pass without clarity the next time she saw him. Whatever this was, she needed to face it head-on. For now, though, her focus had to remain on her work. Tomorrow, she would channel this confusion and pain into something real. Tomorrow, she would face the silence and turn it into sound.

#eminem #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader

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