We Made You || An Eminem FanFiction

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown.

"Okay so we'll be doing the shoot first then the interview questions after"

Marshall frowned, staring ahead of me watching the various members of staff set up for the photoshoot, spinning a crown around his finger nonchalantly "And why the throne again?"

"To signify your titles of Royalty ofcouse! This interview is with both of you, following your recent engagement, it's the acknowledgment that you both are the respective King and Queen of your genre of music"

I found myself zoning out as their voices became murders, the shoot director was awfully peppy this early in the morning, we had a very early flight to make it back in time for the magazine shoot.

My head pounded due to lack of sleep and a run-in with my mother at the party last night.

She had taken a liking to Marshall's daughters which had thrown me, I wasn't sure if it was sinister or not because somehow she seemed... Sincere.

The only things my mother has ever been truly sincere about was speaking about herself and when she was collecting money from my father or to sincerely tell me how fat I had gotten.

My stomach lurched in pain as I ignored yet another dull hunger ache.

Turning and sending a wink to Marshall's youngest, who was looking cute as a button, answering me with a giggle, in her pigtails, jean overalls and pink t-shirt, sitting at the staff table with her colouring pencils under the watchful eye of the others.

Before we arrived on the shoot, the stylist department people handed me a delicate blush cape dress, it featured crystal embellishments and iridescent fabric, yet another amazing piece from the designer Elie Madi.

There was no doubt it was beautiful.

I had just sat in hair and make up for over two hours and looked like a million dollars.

I side glanced at Marshall, who stood next to me nonchalant and unbothered, with his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, slouching lazily, wearing a blue jumper over a white t-shirt, black jeans and Nike Air maxes with his white cap backwards, not even looking remotely different to his everyday look.

"Okay" The shoot director beamed as we followed her to the throne "Harleen I want you very casually sitting on the throne, sideways, with your legs over the side, one of your arms relaxed on your lap, the other holding the gold rope chain up with you finger, playfully smiling into the camera, looking every bit of the million-dollar sweetheart you are"

I nod and take my place uncomfortably as she turns to Marshall who is looking at her waiting in the direction.

"Marshall, I'll have you standing next to the throne, arm up leaning on it nonchalantly, your famous glare upon your face, holding the cowboy hat with your free hand"

He lazily places the crown on his head on top of his hat, so that it's tipped to one side, rolling his eyes, as they glistened with humour, stepping into place, his cologne somehow still finding its way to my senses.

I sat there watching as all the staff were gathered for the photoshoot.

It takes place in the middle of a scene where there is a throne that represents royalty, the concept imagined by the director of the photoshoot, the royalty of two colliding musical genres.

Soon the media will find a name à la Bennifer,

Marshall is already cringing about the name as the only publically know relationship he's ever had was with Kim.

I am surprised that this has not already been done, but after this exclusive article on our engagement, I'm sure it won't be long until that happens.

I tried to keep my composure as Marshall would make clever musings between shutter clicks.

It's impossible not to smile and laugh around him.

He is something you wouldn't expect when he had his working cap on.

I quietly half expected him to be quite difficult, but I was only led to that assumption because that's how he plays himself off to the media.

When in fact was the opposite.

He was the most friendly and polite individual when it came to the professional side of his career.

Sure he cracked dirty, wildly inappropriate jokes most of the time, but he never made the workload hard for anyone.

He was also very creative and would point suggestions out to the director, who thought they were great ideas.

I continued to find myself in awe of him, and it was completely absurd, but he was almost like a unicorn, but in human form.

As the process continued around me I zoned out, moving on autopilot, using the many years of faking it to survive take control.

I feel transported by the waves without really controlling what happens.

I had clearly lost the control at some point, but I would be lying if I was to say I ever felt in total control of myself.

First of all, our so incongruous "couple", then my cohabitation with Marshall which went without saying to give credibility to the pseudo-relationship and now we were engaged a few months later for the gallery.

On one hand, I feel lost in a whirlwind and on the other, there is Marshall, keeping my head just above the water.

My feelings are so mixed in all of this.

We're playing a dangerous game and the lines are even blurrier since sleeping together.

How do I put all the feelings aside? For now, I'm fine, I'm managing as much as I can.

I mean, that's what I make myself believe.

And Marshall?

Well, he's not exactly the easiest to read of people, he's got walls higher than fort Knox.

I zoned back in to watched as the director asked us to change positions again, removing our crowns and placing them on the back of the throne, this time Marshall sitting on the throne, lazily, legs spread apart, slouched back, resting an elbow on the chair, again, nothing out of the ordinary for him as it was how he had always sat.

So nonchalant about everything.

This time he held a cowboy whip in his free hand, I couldn't help but imagine the fuss this was about to create with his heram of ever-loyal female fans.

I was directed to stand beside the throne, the prop I had been given was a baseball bat that was wrapped with barbed wire, I believe Austin would call it a good night stick.

I had it slung over my shoulder casually leaning on the throne.

It was the same kinda Louisville slugger I had for the film clip of before he cheats.

It was also Marshall's creative touch.

Before I know it, we are being ushered off for the interview, it all seemingly blurring past.

Asking a range of intimate questions about our lives and relationship, focusing on both our engagement, recovery, future projects and of course our upcoming tours.

I felt as if I was sitting outside my body watching myself answer questions with Marshall on autopilot.

"Yo earth to Harley Quinn, I said are you ready to head back to change then roll out?"

I snapped out of my trance seeing Marshall in front of me with an amused expression, looking exhausted, still dressed in his shoot outfit, his daughters waiting patiently by his side.

"Yes, just give me a moment"

I had been zoning out a lot lately.

Another sure sign that I was losing control.