𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓐 '𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷'
↳ (13 avengers x reader)
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｡･:*˚:✧｡ You crash land on Asgard, not knowing who you are or where you're from, and especially not knowing what a 'soulmate' is. May the Allfather guide you on your journey ac...
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y/n = your name
italics = thoughts
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You observed as the midgardians gathered, dancing in the living room with brightened spirits after a successful mission and reuniting with Vision who had recently woken.
Vision seemed to know how to dance as well, and he and Wanda gracefully swayed about. Steve seemed to recognize the tune as he wandered past and you briefly wondered if anything like this existed in your previous life. A feeling so pure, so serene. He stopped a few feet away, catching your stare towards the scattering of Avengers. Natasha had an air of elegance to her movements as she hummed along in the kitchen while making breakfast. Thor happily oafing about as he tried to help her out.
You smiled at the scene, truly smiled. It had been but a few days since you connected with your final soulmate. He was all too observant though, and you had felt exposed for a day or two. You still didn't know how computers worked and Tony said he was semi-linked to them which frightened you mildly. But he meant no harm.
You felt an arm hook around yours, turning your head as your smile dropped. It was, of course, a certain Steve you had already expected to be standing there. He gave you a light smirk. "Care to dance?" he asked, sly with his expression.
"I might remember how," you commented, not really declining nor accepting. You gave him a shrug of your shoulders and a show of quiet contemplation.
"So, that's a yes?" Steve guessed. In response, you walked toward the living area where the others were, sticking your hand out when you reached the larger space. Steve followed after at an almost excited pace.
"It's okay if I help position you, right?" he questioned you.
"Of course," you said, confused. He took your left hand, kissing his tattoo on your wrist. It was the year, 1945, in delicate cursive surrounded by an icy-looking sheen on your skin. Peter had said something funny about how it looked like it was covered in... what was it? Glitter glue? Yes.
Shivers ran down your spine and you resisted the instinct to snatch your hand away. They are safe. Natasha assured you they are safe.
Steve glanced up at you, placing this hand on his shoulder now. "This is where your left-hand goes, and our other hands hold each other up here," he instructs, bringing them to the correct position. "Lastly, my left-hand goes on your waist. Is that okay?" he asked meekly.
You nodded with concentration written on your features. "Yes."
Steve stepped in a few inches closer as he gently placed his large hand on your waist. There was a pause as he held you there for a moment, glancing into your eyes as if to make sure you were okay. And then he began to lead you in a slow waltz.
