One Directon Preferences

Getting Permission

 (Y/C/B) = Your choice of  boy

He always thought performing on stage would be the most nerve-wracking thing he'd accomplish in his life. He never thought asking for your hand in marriage would be up there with that. You'd been blessed with dating (Y/C/B) for nearly 5 years, meeting him in a busy coffee shop one cold and rainy London morning. Your father had always had a soft spot for (Y/C/B), so he knew he had nothing to worry about, but he just couldn't help thinking that maybe your father didn't want you marrying someone in the limelight. He might not want his daughter plastered on every front page of the daily newspaper he took to reading every morning with his breakfast.

Your father knew that though. He knew that a consequence of being with (Y/C/B)was having your face plastered around so everyone knew who you were. Both your mother and your father understood in that aspect, and they knew that he loved what he does. They knew that you loved him, and who he was behind the fame and the spotlight. They adored him. And he kept trying to tell himself that there was nothing to worry about. Your parents had loved him from the moment he met them nearly 5 years back.

* *

"(Y/C/B) , my parents wanted to invite us for Sunday brunch today. It's a chance for you to get to meet them! What do you say? Can we go?" You begged, as you turned to see him walking from the kitchen. His hands nursing a mug of warm peppermint tea. His body was clad in a white t-shirt and blue running shorts, and his feet were bare. His hair was messed slightly, and still partly damp from his morning shower. His eyes were still full of sleep as he trundled towards the sofa, plopping down gently into the cushion beside you. He kicked his feet up, and sat them in your lap, his heels resting where your thighs rested next to one another.

"Do you want me to meet your parents? I mean, I've taken you to meet mine. It's only right to meet yours, yeah?" He grinned, as he rested the mug on his lips, taking a small sip from the warm liquid. He watched as you tapped away at your phone, a huge grin on your lips as you replied to your mother's text. "What time though? Because, I feel this isn't good for a Sunday brunch outfit..." He chuckled, as you pressed a hand to his belly. Your fingers dragging soft patterns into the material.

"You could go in anything, and they'd still love you, babe. I've not even taken you to meet them, and they're already saying how much they adore you" You giggled, as you rested your forehead against his bent knee. "It's just the local restaurant by them. We used to go for a family tradition nearly every Sunday. Me, my mum and my dad, and my aunts and uncles. It was fun. But, that kind of stopped" You sighed, as you looked to (Y/C/B). A devilish grin on his lips. "What are you thinking about, mister?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just, imagine a family tradition we could have. Like, we could go to a carvery close to home and meet with your parents and my family, and we could get together, and after we'd eaten, we could take walks in the park and play in the play areas" He smiled, as you ran a hand up his calf. His muscles tense and hard.

"You think about that?" You wondered, as he gave you a swift nod. "You're so adorable, you know that? We've been together for 7 months and you already think of a future with me?" You smiled softly; as you watched his cheeks tinge a pink colour. He knew it was early, but he knew. And he could feel it. You were definitely the one he wanted all of that with. You were the one he wanted to marry, and the one he wanted to have children with. And he knew you were the one who would watch him grow old, and stay by his side through anything coming your way. He knew it.

"Sometimes I do. When I feel I'm missing you on tour, and you're asleep back here. I don't know... It just comes to mind. It's not something massive I think about all the time" He chuckled, as he leaned over to the coffee table of his living room and placed his mug on the coaster. "But anyway... Shouldn't you be going to get ready? Make yourself look all pretty. We've got to dress formally if I'm meeting your parents, right?" He winked, as you slapped his bare thigh softly.