↳ Vik x Reader
Requested? | Request: can you please make a vik one and like make it that you are very nervous for him to meet your parents and you guys have been together for a long time and he (behind your back) ask your dad for your hand in marriage and vik proposals you then and there and you say yes obviously
Warnings | fluff, fluff, fluff (and swearing)!
Word count |
Hands on the steering wheel, your entire body tensed once you realized just where you were driving to. You and your boyfriend Vik had been together for five years, yet he had never formally met your parents. Since Vik was constantly so busy, he barely had time for you, let alone your parents, but you didn’t mind. Finally, after so long, your parents were alone and Vik had enough time to come for a much-needed visit.
Your parents had always been excited to meet Vik, ever since the day you said you were dating. However, just as any parent would normally be, they were rather confused when you explained his career--of course you were immediately shot with bundles of questions, one of the many being: what was his job? Maybe they were expecting something like a doctor, or a therapist, or even a retail worker...but how do you explain Youtube? Uh, yeah--he speaks to a camera and lots of people on the internet watch him? That was really the best you could muster, and even though you parents found it weird, it’s not like they disapproved--it would at least spark conversation!
Vik, beside you, instantly noticed how stiff your posture was, lips tucked in a thin line with furrowed brows. This didn’t look like your relaxed face at all! Eyebrows knitting together, Vik tilted his head tightly as he asked, “what’s wrong, [y/n]?”
Snapping yourself out from whatever trance you had succumbed to, you frantically shook your head yet kept your eyes on the road, attempting to crack a crooked smile. With a nervous chuckle, you simply shrugged. “I’m just nervous, I guess,” you replied.
“Nervous?” he repeated, a brief look of surprise crossed over his features before his usual cheery, broad grin stretched across his face. Cheeks flushed slightly, he giggled rather cutely before joking around, “you really have such little faith in me?”
“Of course not!” you quickly retaliated, defending both yourself and him as you stretched your fingers from the wheel--how long had you been driving for? It certainly felt like forever, especially on your poor hands. “My parents are really excited to meet you, but...” you trailed off, face scrunching and distorting for a split second. “My dad’s pretty judgemental, sometimes, I guess.”
“That’s okay.” He seemed pretty sure of himself, despite the fact that he’s never even met your parents before...but Vikky was a good person, it’s not really like he could fuck this up in any way: he’s smart, adorable and very kind, especially to you. Even if your parents didn’t like him, that wouldn’t stop you at all--you knew, most certainly, that he was the one for you, and only you couldn’t know that. Not your parents, not your friends--just you, and you alone. “I’ll do my best to make a good impression.”
At that moment, your heart swelled with adoration. Of course he’d say that, he’s said a thousand times over that he’d to absolutely anything for you, and he always sees it though to the very end: that was just your Vikky in a nutshell. Cheeks flushed, a subtle smile plastered on your lips that seemed to stay there forever, you glanced at him out the corner of your eye before chuckling, “you’ll do great, Vikky.”
About another half-hour later, you eventually reversed into your parents drive. Immediately, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you. This small little cottage had been your childhood home until you moved out when you were eighteen, into your own flat, then eventually into the Sidemen house with Vik and his friends. A brown, brick roof accompanied by a white, concrete build. A mahogany, wooden door with a small, circular window in it, then four other windows scattered across the main front: in reality, it looked like your typical home that a child would draw when asked to draw a house.
With a deep inhale, you unbuckled your seatbelt before rummaging in your pockets, searching for the spare key to the house. Clutching it in your palm, you watched as Vik unbuckled himself and made his way out of your car, to which you followed, shutting shutting the car behind you with your heel.
Making your way up to the door, Vik instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours as you fiddled with the keyhole, inserting your key and twisting your wrist as a reassuring click resounded throughout the area, indicating the door was open. Gently, you pushed the door further open with your fingers, ears twitching as the hinges creaked--immediately, you inhaled the refreshing scent of home-baked cookies. Your mum had always loved baking.
“Mum, Dad? I’m home!” you called, your voice echoing slightly as you sauntered into the hallway, dragging Vik behind you. Kicking off your shoes and lining them up with Vik’s, you heard rushed feet scampering down the stairs. Chuckling to yourself, you were greeted with the smiling face of your Dad.
“[Y/n]!” he chirped, welcomingly opening his arms as you released Vik’s hand from your own, falling into the arms of your father who smelled vaguely of you cologne he always wore--Lacoste, was it? Nuzzling into his side, he chastely kissed your forehead and rubbed your back comfortingly. “I missed you, sweetheart.”
“I missed you too Dad,” you replied, voice laced with relief--besides Vik, your parents always made you feel safe and welcomed, no matter the situation. You considered yourself lucky--not many people could have parents as brilliant as your own. “Dad, this is Vik,” you introduced, separating from your Dad as you extended an arm, gesturing to Vik.
Immediately, your father’s face dropped, a subtle frown crossing his features as he stubbornly folded his eyes. Though you could see the visible discomfort on his face, Vik continued to muster a cheeky smile as he extended his arm, offering a handshake. Feigning confidence, he said, “nice to meet you, sir, I’m Vik.”
For a moment, there was complete silence--just Vik and you Dad staring each-other down, as if waiting for one of them to break...and fortunately for Vik, your Dad did first. After about thirty seconds, your Dad burst out laughing, a broad grin on his face as he snatched Vik’s outstretched hand, shaking it vigorously. “Nice to meet you too, Son!”
Son. At this, your smiled, baring your teeth as you watched Vik nervously keep up with your Dad’s shakes, an uncomfortable yet relieved smile on his face. With your heart warmed and uneasiness controlled, you watched as they commenced a full-blown conversation already. However, their “father-son” bonding time was halted abruptly as your mother sauntered in with a tray of warm, freshly-baked cookies.
“You must be my daughter’s little Vikky!” she chirped, her chubby cheeks rosy as she shoved the tray of cookies into Vik’s chest. “My [y/n] has told me so much about you--you seem like such a lovely boy, have you been treating [y/n] well?”
Urging him to take a baked good, he simply nodded reluctantly and took one, simply holding it in his hand as he replied, “yeah, I’ve done my best to make sure [y/n]’s happy and healthy. I love her more than anything.”
Of course he says he loves you all the time, but you never become immune to the way he says it--with a voice laced with adoration, always with a smile, even when you’ve had an argument. With Vik, you never had to doubt yourself or him...he was always sincere, kind and gentle. Your Vikky.
Heart fluttering and skipping so many beats you think it’s unhealthy, you all have a conversation before your Mum reminds you that there’s more food in the living room, like a buffet, so you all filter into the aforementioned area. Sitting down on the sofas, you all engaged in active conversation once more, digging into a wide selection of foods that your mum, quite obviously, went overboard on.
“Oh, I’m gonna go get us some drinks--does anyone want anything?” you asked, standing up from your seat as you scanned the faces of your family--Vikk counted as family, right? Everyone simply shook their heads, so you shrugged in reply and headed towards the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Vikk made sure his posture was formal and upright before staring at your Father with a jittery yet stern expression--clearing his throat, he said, “sir, I have something very important to ask of you. I know you just met me, but I can only hope I’ve made a good impression so far...” he trailed off.
Intrigued, your Father arched an eyebrow and folded his arm across his chest, almost suspicious. Nodding his head, signalling for him to continue, Vik sharply inhaled and bobbed his leg up and down, “I love [y/n]...so much. I’ve been her boyfriend for five year and I’d really like to take the next step, if you’d let me...”
Suddenly on-guard, your Dad hunches forward with his hands on his knees, his own fingers intertwined as you mother continued to watch on, anxiously munching on her fifth cookie. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he said, “the next step would be?”
“Sir, if you’d let me, could I please marry your daughter?”
Marry his daughter--marry his sweet baby girl, [y/n]. In a way, he was reluctant: this was [y/n], the girl he raised to be kind and always happy, but to be vocal about her worries. She was his little girl, and always would be...could he really let some random kid take away all he had?
...But he wasn’t some “random kid”--[y/n] knew him, knew Vik--and they made each-other happy. Actually, [y/n] is the happiest she’s ever been since she got with Vik. If he truly made her happy...he sighed, taking a moment to assess the situation and take his request into account. Sitting back, he nodded his head hesitantly.
“Vik, you have my blessing--I’m sure you have my wife’s, too...”
For a moment, Vik couldn’t believe his ears...did he really just say that? Baffled, Vik widened his eyes as they glazed over, heart swelling with relief, veins swarmed with anticipation.
“Th-...thank you!” he exclaimed, nervously shaking hands with your dad with a crooked smile stretched across his face, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I guess it was only a matter of time until he’d ask you--after all, he had already gone and bought a ring suited for a princess the second he thought marrying you would be a good idea. Fiddling around in his backpack, he pulled out a black-velvet box and stared at your father. “Please, may I ask right now? I can’t wait, I need to know what she says...!”
Unable to get an answer, you had already sauntered into the room, drink of water in-hand as you came and sat on the sofa--all eyes on you, it was easy to detect the tension in the room. Concerned, you turned towards Vik who simply stared at you, dumbfounded and dishevelled, with wide eyes and a velvet-coated box in his hand.
Perplexed yet intrigued, you tilted your head and cut through the deafening silence as you spoke, “what’s wrong, Vikky?” You could only see him visibly gulp, glancing at the box then back into your suspicious eyes. “Vik?”
With a defeated sigh, you watched as Vik slowly, carefully got down onto one knee in front of you--there was no fancy shindig, no over-hyping, he just knelt down, in front of you, your parents, and held the box between his small hands. He cleared his throat.
“[Y/n],” he began, clearly nervous as his breath hitched--you had a feeling that he was going to ask something, but you wouldn’t interrupt this moment for the world. “I...am so in love with you. Like, I love being with you so much, you make me so happy...I don’t wanna be with anyone else, ever. So...[y/n], please, make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
His heart raced, as yours did, but you’ve never felt so in sync with him--honestly, this was probably the most unexpected thing you’ve ever experienced, but it’s not like you hated this, not in the slightest. Short, heavy breaths and shaky hands, it didn’t take long for you to reply with a vigorous, excited and over-emotional, “yes, Vikky! Yes, yes, yes!”
