football imagines

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝

"i'm proud of you."

it'll be the 1-3 win in the 18/19 season where they go through to the next round

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y/n's pov

seeing my boyfriend have a penalty, at the parc de princes, in the 90+ minutes, makes me nervous. the whole of manchester united is practically on this shoulders, so he must have a lot of pressure.

but, he only goes and scores it. my boy, marcus fucking rashford, has got manchester united through to the quarterfinals of the champions league.

after about fifteen minutes after the game, he came to where the family area is. he saw me, came running, and i jumped in his arms. i pressed kisses to his neck, before we said something.

"i'm proud of you." i whispered, as he put me down and gave me a normal hug.

"if you're proud of me, i must have done good."

"you always make me proud. you were so calm, i would have never been able to take a penalty with that much pressure."

"aww," he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "let me go make an instagram post, love."

marcus did what he needed to, then he came back to me.

"come on, you're staying with me tonight. if ole wants to be mad at me, he can try."

we got on the bus and back to the hotel. i got into his room, once i shut the door, he put his lips onto mine. it wasn't too much, but it took me by surprise.

marcus went to get changed in his pj's so we could chill, and i did the same. i laid on the bed, scrolling on social media, before a topless rashford joined me.

he kept me close to him, as i got under the covers. marcus soon was knocked out (metaphorically), and i fell asleep, beyond proud of him.

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hope this is okay! will rewrite if you want :)

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sending love and stay safe, c <3