This story is for a friend of mine, but I figured I'd put it as a John x reader story so it could be relateable to more people. Cause, y'know, I sure wouldn't mind being in the reader's shoes for this one. :P

I normally don't write stuff like this (or even read it, for that matter), but I figured I'd try it. Something new. So I hope I do it justice! :O

The Snowy Night You Met John Oliver

You blink curiously at the person who just accidentally bumped into you. You're on the ground, your hands and bottom sinking into the cold snow. Great, now your ass is wet and your hands are frozen because of the crappy gloves you're wearing with holes in them. You had never bothered to buy new gloves because it seemed pointless, but now it seems like that would have been the best investment in your life.

But you try to ignore this as you gaze admiringly at who you just bumped into of all people.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there," he speaks in that lovely British accent of his. You know of him very well because you watch him on your favorite television program The Daily Show.

John Oliver.

He extends a hand toward you, which is your cue to grab it. But as soon as you do, you regret it. You have now just made John's hands wet. Great.

You squeal and instantly apologize, but he helps you up anyway.

"Don't apologize," he says to you. "I'm the one that ran into you."

He pauses to look at your hands, or rather, your gloves. The ones with holes that you're still wearing even though they're soaked.

"Don't you have…some better gloves?" he asks, although you notice that he's not even wearing gloves himself.

You decide to point this out to him.

"…Good point," he chuckles and you blush. Did you just make him laugh? "I actually lost my gloves and was on my way to get some new ones."

You nod, then realize your butt is still wet and cold. You try to fix your pants from sticking to your skin, grunting in frustration.

"I'm sorry, you fell on your arse and now your trousers are wet." You're tempted to laugh at the very British sounding sentence, but you somehow compose yourself. "Hmm. Well, would you like to come with me? The least I could do is buy you some new gloves."

You almost can't believe he's asking you that. You don't respond immediately because you honestly don't think you heard him right. Then when he raises his eyebrow in what looks like confusion—although you fear it's out of annoyance that you didn't answer fast enough—you quickly nod and say yes.

The two of you decide to walk down the sidewalks of New York City, surprisingly not to busy at this time. Probably because it's snowing pretty hard; it's not blizzard weather, but visibility is very low and it's piling up quick. Smart people would be at home cozying up to a fire or something.

But not you. You decided taking a walk in this awful weather was a great idea. But wowwie, great idea it turned out to be when you ran into John. You've admired him for quite sometime, always dreaming to meet him.

And now look. You two are walking side by side to a store so that he can buy you some gloves. What a treat!

You and John walk into a small store along the sidewalk that contains many winter clothes. You believe it to be a clothing store to accommodate for each season, since right now it's specifically decked out with heavy coats lining one wall, while snow pants, gloves, hats, mittens, and other warm clothing are scattered in various boxes and on coat lines.

"Well, do you see a pair you like?" he notices that you're looking at the gloves, but you haven't even walked over to them yet. You step toward them and carefully look through the assortment. You grab a pair of nice, thick purple gloves and slid them on your hands. They're very warm and you smile. These would be perfect.

But then you check the price and gasp as you remember that you aren't buying them. They're twenty-five dollars. Those are some expensive gloves.

"Those are nice," John stands over you and says. "How much?"

You turn to him and shake your head. You take them off and put them back in the box.

"Now, hold on," John grabs the gloves and checks the tag. "That's not bad. And you seem to like them. Do you want these?"

You tell him no thanks because they're too much.

"I'm the one that offered to buy them," John says. "This isn't bad at all. I'm getting them for you."

He begins shifting through the box of gloves himself and you blush. He's being so nice and you just can't understand how you managed to wind up in this situation with probably the nicest man ever. It's still a little unfathomable to you.

He finds a pair that suits him and pays for both pairs of gloves. You guys walk out of the store and he hands you your pair. You put them on and tell him that you can't thank him enough.

"Don't worry about it," John waves with his new gloved hands. "You're very polite, you know?"

You tell him that you can't help it because he's being so kind and you really like him and—then you pause and cover your mouth. You just blurted out that you like him. Great job.

John blinks at you curiously before chuckling. "So you've known who I am this whole time?"

You blush madly, stuttering your words as you explain that you watch The Daily Show and that he's your favorite correspondent. You then openly admit that you have a big crush on him and that you never expected to bump into him—quite literally—in real life.

He stares at you for a minute before smiling brightly. "Really, now?" You nod and he chuckles warmly again. "Well, that's nice. How about we keep the generosity going? Are you doing anything Christmas Eve?"

You shake your head and jokingly say that you have no life.

"Well, how about this? I don't have any plans for Christmas Eve, so why don't we spend it together? Maybe go out for dinner or hang out by the Christmas tree in Times Square. What do you say?"

You stare at him for the longest time before his words actually process correctly into your brain. Is he…is he asking you out? Like, on a date?

You try to respond, but all that comes out is a garbled mess of words. Now you just sound like an idiot. He laughs and you give up trying to say anything else comprehensible.

"I'll take that as a yes," he smiles. "May I have your number so that I can call you?"

He pulls out his phone and you try to give him your number, but talking properly is impossible at the moment. You decide to just bring up your number on your phone and hand it out to him.

"All right, thanks," he says. "I'll give you a call on Monday. Oh, what's your name, by the way?"

You tell it to him.

"Well, what a lovely name."

Your heart is about to explode. You just pray that it waits until after the date.

"I'll see you around," he waves as he walks off down the sidewalk. You can't help but grin as wide as you possibly can and you just want to scream, but you're afraid people are going to give you the weirdest looks.. You put your hands to your face, the gloves that John bought for you heating your face even more than the blood rushing to your cheeks could ever do.

You run off toward your house as happy as can be and wonder how you're ever going to be able to wait until Christmas Eve.

And you decide to scream obnoxiously in excitement anyway.

Merry Christmas! :D