One Direction | Preferences

Winter

Winter

Niall: It’s harder to get out of bed in the morning, and so you tend to stay in there longer, sometimes hours, trying to collect body heat and delaying getting up to turn the heating on for as long as possible, snuggling together under the covers and dragging sleepy kisses over warm necks. It’s lazy and eventually Niall will roll out of the duvet with a groan and hurry through the house to turn it on and let the warm air flood through the house, running back to the bed and pressing his cold body against you, moaning about how cold it is, insisting you kiss him to warm him up.

Harry: You steal his jumpers and lounge around in his sweatpants, grabbing one of his discarded beanies on your way out of the door. His clothes smell like him, a mixture of cologne and soap and some kind of scent you’ve never been able to place apart fromHarry. They’re warm and rather big on you, and Harry always seems to smile extra bright when he catches you in them, grabbing your face in his hands and planting a sloppy kiss before dragging you into the bedroom to remove them.

Liam: You wake up one morning to that muffled silence of snow cloaking everything, icicles hanging off the roof and the car covered in the freezing particles. You make coffee and bring it back to bed, opening the curtains so you can look out at your yard that is now barely recognisable, snow everywhere. “It’s so pretty,” Liam mumbles against your shoulder, having rested his chin there, pressing occasional warm kisses to your neck. He smiles against your skin before saying, “But you’re prettier.”

Louis: He gets a cold, and is absolutely miserable, curled up on the couch with about five different blankets, sipping endless mugs of tea and moaning about how bored he is. You manage to coax some medication into him, also sneaking couch syrup into his twelfth cup of tea, turning the television on and settling down on the floor by his head, waiting for him to fall asleep which is surely inevitable. He eventually does, with a final sniff and cough, and you switch the TV off, rearranging the blankets so he’s as warm as possible, hoping to get him to sweat the fever out.

Zayn: You get cold feet and hands, constantly blowing warm air on your fingers and padding around the house in fuzzy socks. Zayn thinks it’s absolutely adorable, pulling your feet into his lap when you’re watching television to warm them up, and cradling your hands in his when they get too white for his liking, pressing gentle kisses to every fingertip. “You’re cute,” he announces, and you roll your eyes, “I’m also very cold.” He laughs, cupping your face to kiss your mouth, curling his arms around your back to tuck your body against his, “I’ll keep you warm, baby.”