When The Snow Settles - Justin Bieber Fanfiction

On the First Day of Christmas

Disclaimer: You do not need to imagine Emma as Madison Beer. She was chosen because she fits Emma's description. You can imagine *yourself* as her! Events in this story are fictional, using some of Justin Bieber's past life experiences. 

The first of December arrived with a quiet, biting chill, as I rested beneath my thick blanket, reluctant to leave its warmth. Frost decorated the edges of my bedroom window, casting delicate patterns across the glass like fragile lace. The early winter light shines through the thin curtains, painting the room with a soft, silver glow. I could feel the cold air seeping through the cracks of my apartment, wrapping around my ankles as I tossed aside the covers, finally surrendering to the day.

I wasn't one for the spotlight, always content to be on the sidelines, quietly observing the world around me. A book in my hands, and a cup of tea nearby—that was my comfort zone. The solitude suited me; it gave me time to think, to dream, and, more importantly, to escape into the pages of whatever story I was immersed in.

With a long sigh, I walked across the wooden floor, my breath visible as I moved toward the window. I traced a finger over the frosted glass, my touch leaving streaks of warmth. Beyond the pane, Stratford was blanketed in snow, the familiar town almost unrecognizable under the white layer. The air was crisp and still, making it seem as though the whole world was holding its breath.

I dressed in my usual style, opting for a soft, turtleneck sweater in cream, its high collar adding just the right amount of warmth and comfort. I paired it with light trousers, favoring their understated elegance and ease. My choice of footwear—a pair of classic loafers—offered both practicality and a subtle nod to timeless style. To complete the look, I layered on a structured, oversized blazer in earthy tones, its clean lines and neutral palette perfectly reflecting my quiet approach to fashion. Each piece was simple but intentional, blending seamlessly into my routine without drawing attention, just the way I preferred.

My mornings were always the same, filled with routine. A small cup of Cuban coffee, no sugar—strong, simple, and exactly how I liked it. I skimmed through my planner, mentally organizing my day, my thoughts already drifting toward the bookstore. Today, the newest Simone Fontaine novel was waiting for me, and I had been counting the days. Fontaine's writing was exactly the kind I loved—complex, introspective, and filled with quiet tension. The kind of book where the real action wasn't in grand gestures, but in the subtle shifts between characters.

Slipping a crossbody leather bag over my shoulder, I glanced at my reflection—not for vanity, but to ensure the balance of my outfit was just right. My gold jewelry, delicate and minimal, added a soft shimmer that complemented the overall neutral aesthetic. I adjusted the blazer's collar slightly, feeling its reassuring structure against me. I was used to the simplicity of my world, and I liked it that way. The bookshop was my haven, where I could lose myself among the shelves, feeling comfort in the familiar quiet and the unspoken elegance of my surroundings.

Today was just another day, except it wasn't. I had no idea that everything would change with a single encounter—one I never expected.

As soon as I stepped out of my apartment, the cold air hit me like a wall—sharp, biting, and invigorating. With a final, absentminded touch to my blazer, I made my way down the steps. The sky was a muted grey, the sun hiding behind thick clouds that promised more snow. The streets of Stratford were quiet this morning, just the occasional car rumbling by and the soft crunch of snow beneath my boots.

Stratford had always been a sleepy town, especially in winter. Snow clung to the rooftops, the old brick buildings lined with frost, while icicles dangled like teeth from the edges of gutters. Even the air seemed still, as though the town itself was hibernating beneath its thick blanket of white. The holiday decorations were already up—wreaths on doors, twinkling lights wrapped around the lampposts, a few red ribbons here and there. There was a comforting familiarity to it all, like the town was an old book I'd read a thousand times but never grew tired of.