FIRST SNOWFALL JAMIE DRYSDALE
— event masterlist !
pairing: fem!reader x jamie drysdale
summary: after moving to philadelphia, you get your first snowy christmas, so jamie takes you outside to fully introduce you to snow.
warnings: descriptions of reader being from socal
wc: 1.14k
notes: fic 9 of my christmas event! as i'm writing this, we still have not gotten snow where i live... (UPDATE: it snowed literally a day after i wrote this🤐)
The morning light filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting a faint glow on the beige walls of the bedroom you now shared with Jamie in Philadelphia. The hum of the heating system was the only sound, a soft reminder of the cold winter that was approaching outside. You shuffled out of bed, your toes curling against the chill of the hardwood floor as you padded toward the window. Pulling the blinds aside, you froze.
The world beyond the glass was transformed. Snow blanketed every surface, turning the familiar street into a pristine, untouched wonderland. The cars parked along the curb were reduced to lumpy, formless mounds. The branches of the bare trees sagged under the weight of the thick white layer. It was mesmerizing, and your lips parted in awe.
“Jamie,” you called, your voice rising with excitement. “Jamie, wake up!”
From the bed, a groggy groan emerged as he stirred, his head popping up from the pillow, his dark hair sticking up in every direction. “What is it?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“It snowed,” you said, the words tumbling out in disbelief. “I mean, like, really snowed. The whole world’s… white.”
Jamie swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at his eyes as he joined you at the window. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, widened slightly as he took in your expression, the kind of wide-eyed wonder that was rare in adults. “You’ve never seen snow before?” he asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.
You shook your head, still staring out. “No. Not like this. I mean, it’s Southern California. The closest I’ve gotten is fake snow at Disneyland.”
His laugh was soft, a low rumble that made your chest warm despite the chilly air in the room. “Well, get dressed. Layers,” he added, pointing a finger at you. “We’re going outside.”
“Right now?” You turned to him, incredulous.
“Right now,” he confirmed, already heading to the closet. “Can’t have you missing out on your first real snow day.”
The process of layering up was comical in itself. Jamie had to pause several times to explain what counted as "real winter gear" and why a hoodie wouldn’t cut it. By the time you were ready, you felt like the younger brother in A Christmas Story, your movements stiff under the weight of layers upon layers of fabric.
“Perfect,” Jamie declared, tugging on a beanie and some gloves. He was significantly less bundled up, but being born in Toronto, he was used to the snow and the cold. “Let’s go.”
The cold hit you first. The air was crisp, almost biting, as you stepped out onto the porch. Your breath puffed out in little clouds, and you could feel the chill settling into your nose and cheeks. But the sight of the snow up close — how it sparkled like a field of tiny diamonds — was enough to keep you from retreating back inside.
Jamie didn’t wait. He was already scooping up a handful of snow, testing its texture in his gloved hands. “It’s good packing snow,” he said, turning to you with a wicked grin. “Perfect for snowballs.”
“Snowballs?” you echoed, but before you could react, a soft projectile hit you square in the shoulder.
You gasped, your hands flying up in mock outrage. “Oh, you’re so going to regret that.”
What followed was a flurry of laughter and snow, as the two of you lobbed hastily-formed snowballs at each other. You squealed every time one hit its mark, the cold seeping through your jacket, but you couldn’t stop grinning. Eventually, a truce was called, and you both flopped onto the snow-covered lawn, where you attempted your first snow angel. The act of lying back in the cold, damp snow felt bizarre at first, the cold seeping through your sweatpants. Jamie was at your side, moving his arms and legs with exaggerated enthusiasm, and his laughter echoed, rich and full, when your own “angel” turned out crooked and uneven.
“So,” Jamie starts once you’ve both stood back up. “What are your final thoughts on snow?”
You glance around at the winter wonderland that consumed the tight-knight community in Philadelphia that you’d grown to call home. “I didn’t know it would be so pretty,” you say softly. “And so cold.”
Jamie smirked, shaking snow out of his hair. “Well, yeah. It’s snow,” he teased.
You roll your eyes at him, but the shivering that’s started to creep in undercuts your comeback. Jamie notices immediately, his brow furrowing. “You’re freezing,” he says, already on his feet. “Do you want to go back inside?”
You hesitate, glancing at the snowy expanse once more, reluctant to leave. But when another shiver racks your frame, you nod. “Yeah, let’s head in.”
Inside, the warmth hits you like a balm. Jamie turns on the fireplace while you peel off your damp layers, wrapping yourself in a plush blanket. By the time he joins you on the couch, the flames are dancing in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.
Jamie hands you a steaming mug of hot chocolate, complete with a mountain of mini marshmallows on top. “Here,” he says, plopping down beside you and tucking his legs underneath him. “This’ll warm you up.”
You take the mug gratefully, letting the warmth seep into your fingers as you hold it close. The first sip is heavenly, rich and sweet, and you let out a satisfied hum. The warmth of the room and Jamie’s easy presence wrap around you like a cocoon. Outside, the snow still falls softly, blanketing the world in a peaceful silence. It feels like the kind of day meant for slowing down, savoring the little things.
You take another sip of your hot chocolate and glance at Jamie. “You know what would make this even better?”
“What’s that?” he asks, turning his head toward you.
“A Christmas movie,” you suggest, grinning.
Jamie raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I see. You’ve got snow outside, a fire going, and now you want the full Hallmark experience?”
“Exactly,” you reply, laughing. “And you can’t say no. It’s my first snowy Christmas, after all.”
He rolls his eyes in mock defeat but reaches for the remote. “Fine. But I’m picking the movie.”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “Nothing boring or depressing, Jamie. It has to be a classic.”
He scrolls through the streaming options, the soft clicks of the remote filling the cozy silence. “Home Alone? It’s funny, Christmassy, and has a ton of snow.”
You agree, Jamie clicking play. As the opening notes of the movie fill the room, Jamie drapes an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. You lean into him, the warmth of his touch and the crackling fire melting away the lingering chill.
