football imagines [requests open]

marcus rashford.

eutony

Returning from training Marcus let out a yawn, dropping his bag by the door. The player found himself tired—rather exhausted—and kinda dazed for the most part. And he expected no less from how he felt after an intensive training session. Still, he wanted it all to pass over so then he could spend the night, or what was left of it, with his little family.

But hearing Y/N's voice come from somewhere in their home, Marcus, in a second or a few, found himself at bay.

There was something about Y/N's voice that made him adore it so much, Marcus really liked it. She wasn't a singer or anything vocally challenging. She didn't receive any vocal training in her lifetime or something that would enhance her voice (or so she claimed). It was simply all Y/N. It was a given, sure, in any relationship to like your partner's voice, an aspect that usually remained unconscious. But Marcus always let his likings be known to his wife, a compliment or two whenever the two crossed paths never hurt.

And walking up the stairs he could hear her voice growing louder and louder, smiling galore as it sung to his ears. Her voice was animated and soft yet vibrant, lacing through each word—each sentence, each page—with ease. It fit the kid's bedtime story so well that made Marcus question how Y/N had yet to narrate an audiobook of some sort. Really, Y/N's voice held everything and more. It would catch your attention and you would be so memorised and taken aback that you simply just couldn't pull away. Or, at least, you could, you just wouldn't want to.

You could see how their son, Kenny, too, was all for his mom's voice, almost as much as his dad. Leaning on his son's door, Marcus watched Y/N read Kenny a bedtime story. She always did, and Marcus didn't mind that it wasn't him. The young boy was always so in tune with his mom's words, his kid mind so amazed by how Y/N could make a story seem so much more fun than his English teacher. With so much love and happiness tied to his mother and reading, the player couldn't bring himself to feel left out or jealous in any way.

And Kenny took on his mom's love for reading. Always in the mood to read along, following with his little finger passing under every word, bedtime almost becoming his favourite part of the day because Y/N could read to him or they could read a story as a pair. The way he bonded with Marcus through football, he bonded with Y/N through reading.

"... and they lived happily ever after," Marcus said with Y/N as he entered the room, causing Kenny to jump from his bed and toward his dad. The player laughed as he picked him up and spun him around, giggles soft in the bedroom.

Meanwhile, Y/N closed the storybook and sighed. Her tired eyes perfectly showed the energy and strength of taking care of a little boy for the whole day, especially for a kid like Kenny who refused to remain still like his father. That's why she, too, enjoyed bedtime. Not only did she have a moment alone with her child, but for fifteen minutes or so, she could get Kenny to calm down without needing to negotiate. "You do know that the point of a bedtime story is to help him fall asleep, right?"

Marcus pushed small hairs out of Kenny's face as he held him up again. "I'm sorry?" He couldn't contain his laughs with his son, too, laughing into his shoulder.

"It's whatever," she rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a small grin. "He wanted to see you before sleeping anyway."

"Did you hear me read today, daddy?" Kenny asked Marcus, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I read a whole page by myself!"

Marcus pressed a few kisses to his son's cheek. "I know, kid. I heard everything. You did so well, Kenny!" Reading was simply a past-time for Kenny so he didn't see much to it like that. But reading so much with Y/N came with improved literacy skills and heightened confidence which was noticed by his schoolteachers, and Marcus loved that for his kid.

"Let's read another one!" Kenny exclaimed before quickly turning to his mom. He tilted his head. "Can we please read another story, mummy?"

Y/N looked to Marcus, who was already looking at her for approval. "Pick one off the shelf then," she hummed and waved them off, chuckling at the two getting so excited.

And together on the tiny twin bed, the little family read the bedtime story, wholesome and cute. Where the son and the dad were memorised by the mom's voice and how she conveyed every little detail in the book. Where the dad was corrected by his son whenever he mispronounced a word (due to his accent). Where the mom encouraged her son to lift up his voice and sing (read); if her reading was just so great then it was because of practice.

Breaking his eyes away from the story, Marcus stared at his wife quite shamelessly. There was beauty in it, in Y/N. In how her voice always took him away, like always took him away. How she could always find the words that he lost, how it could make him fall out of a moment of focus. How her voice let the bond between her and her son grow into something outwardly whole, how her wows at their wedding had everyone in kind tears.

For someone who was around her every single day—when he woke up, throughout the day, moments before he fell asleep—Marcus knew that he couldn't get enough of Y/N, so much that the time until their final days just wouldn't be enough for him. If he could, Marcus would listen to Y/N for an eternity and more.

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for clintthehumanshield, sorry this took so long!