Love at the North Pole - (Steve Claus x Fem Reader)

☆Flashback☆

Steve’s eyes remained locked on the photograph, the weight of the present moment pulling him down, yet the image tugged his mind back to a simpler time—a memory buried deep but never forgotten.

He and [Y/N] had met up during one of the rare free days in the North Pole—a fleeting moment where responsibility could be set aside, if only for a while. The snow had been falling in soft, steady flakes, blanketing the landscape in pristine white. Steve, as a young man, had been serious even then, deeply engrossed in a stack of logistical plans he’d brought outside, trying to get a head start on that year’s Christmas prep.

But [Y/N] had been a force of nature, full of life and mischief. She’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a playful grin on her face, and had plucked one of the papers straight from Steve’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Steve had barked, his voice sharp with irritation. “That’s important!”

[“And so is this!” [Y/N] had countered, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward an open snow area. “You need a break. Or do I have to report you for being the world’s most boring future Santa?”

“I’m not boring,” he’d grumbled, though he hadn’t resisted being pulled along. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the glint in her eye or the warmth in her laugh that disarmed him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the part of him that longed for a chance to escape the suffocating expectations, even if only for a moment.

The snowball fight that followed was nothing short of chaos. Steve had started out stiff and reluctant, but [Y/N] was relentless, pelting him with snow until he was forced to retaliate. Before long, his laughter joined hers, echoing across the snowy expanse.

The picture on his bedside table had been taken at the end of that day. They’d both been soaked, their clothes dusted with snow, cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter. [Y/N] had thrown an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close, and someone had snapped the photo before he could protest. His smile in the picture was uncharacteristically wide, the kind of unguarded joy he rarely showed.

It had been one of the few moments in his life where he’d let go—truly let go—and allowed himself to just be.

Steve’s gaze stayed fixed on the photograph as another memory surfaced, unbidden but welcome, like the soft glow of a candle in a dark room. It was another moment etched deeply into his heart, one he hadn’t thought about in years.

It had been his birthday—a rare occasion in the North Pole where the focus shifted, even if briefly, from Christmas preparations to something more personal. Steve had never been one for celebrations, much less his own. He preferred to let the day pass quietly, unnoticed, but [Y/N] had other plans.

He’d been in the workshop, checking over the latest revisions to the sleigh navigation system, when the lights suddenly went out. Before he could reach for his HOHO device to investigate, the room was filled with a soft, flickering glow.

“Surprise!”

Steve had turned to find [Y/N] standing in the doorway, holding a small cake lit with candles. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the effort it had taken to sneak the cake past the elves, he wasn’t sure.

“What is this?” Steve had asked, his tone caught somewhere between confusion and amusement.

“It’s called a birthday,” she teased, stepping closer and placing the cake on his desk. “You know, that thing people celebrate when they’ve made it through another year without losing their minds?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t celebrate, I know,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “But you do now. Come on, make a wish.”

He’d hesitated, staring at the tiny, imperfect cake. It wasn’t grand or ornate—just a simple vanilla confection topped with unevenly spaced candles—but something about it had made his chest tighten.

“What should I even wish for?” he’d asked, half-joking.

“You’re smart. Figure it out,” she’d replied, her smile softening.

Steve had finally leaned forward, closing his eyes briefly before blowing out the candles. When he’d looked up, [Y/N] had been watching him with a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, as if she’d just accomplished something monumental.

They’d shared the cake right there in the workshop, using a couple of tools as makeshift utensils. She’d told him stories, made him laugh with her imitations of the elves’ antics, and for the first time in a long while, Steve had allowed himself to let go of the endless pressure weighing on his shoulders.

The memory shifted, blending into another—an earlier one from when they were both much younger. They’d been exploring the snowy outskirts of the North Pole, something Steve rarely did but had been talked into by [Y/N]’s relentless enthusiasm. She’d insisted on building the “biggest snow fort ever,” a project that had quickly turned into a snowball war.

Steve had been terrible at it, his carefully constructed snowballs crumbling in his hands, while [Y/N] pelted him with alarming accuracy. He’d eventually surrendered, throwing up his hands in mock defeat.

“Fine! You win,” he’d called, laughing despite himself.

She’d stood atop her makeshift snow fort, arms raised in victory. “Of course I win. You’re all strategy and no execution.”

Even then, she’d been the one to challenge him, to pull him out of his carefully constructed bubble and remind him that life was more than just rules and expectations.

Back in the present, Steve’s fingers tightened around the photo frame. He stared at the young, carefree version of himself in the picture and at [Y/N], whose smile seemed as bright as the North Star.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. Not when she’d always been the one to remind him what it meant to live.

---🎁✨️

Just a small little flashback.😉