Under You [N. Romanoff × Female Reader]

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗧𝗪𝗢

A few more days later, it was Thanksgiving week, your father called again the day after he called begging if you could maybe stay for a week in that small town, and since you didn't have anything else to do, rather than get depressed in your room, you said yes.

Unfortunately, you missed your train for some reason and once again you doubted yourself whether this was a good idea or not, and irrationally thinking, you went out to get some air since your ride wouldn't be here for the next six hours so it's just your luck.

Sometime later, the sky slowly dimmed its colors, and the temperature slowly dropped to dose off into the early evenings. Your ride had arrived two minutes ago but your legs decided that they wouldn't move, and you just sat there on the pavement, looking hopelessly out of love and life. A man sits next to you— a goofy-looking guy who is unsurprisingly smoking. You side glanced at him and he noticed.

He smiled. "Want a drag?" He offered the cigarette in his hand.

"No, I've never had one before," you give him a tight smile.

"So then try it, what do you have to lose in one try?" He replied.

Shrugging, "I don't know."

"C'mon, just one drag," he encouraged, looking very convincing.

"And..." You trailed off, squinting your eyes at him.

"And if you don't like it then you're free to do anything with me," he was getting a bit cocky and dirty, or maybe it's just your green-minded brain.

"Unbelievable," you mused with a small scoff, "But fine, give me one..." and he did, lighting one for you. "Are you sure about this?"

"Hundred percent," with that, it was enough to convince you, that this man was a stranger yet you trusted him. You took a drag.

Again

And again

Then again,

One more.

"God, this is good, why haven't I tried this before?" You wondered, looking back at the guy next to you. "What's your name?"

"Joe," he answered.

"Just Joe?" You retorted, taking another drag.

"Mhm, just Joe," he confirmed.

"Alright, just Joe," you mocked.

"What's yours?" He asked.

"Y/N," another drag.

"Just Y/N?" Before you could answer his question, the hand that was holding the cigar was yanked away from your mouth, and you thought for a moment it was Joe's, but it wasn't.

"You," she had a firm voice, "get out of here."

"Wait, who are you?" Joe asked, a bit defensive because of how she reacted.

"I'm nobody, now go," she answered. It was Natasha of course, who else?

"I'm not leaving Y/N here with you," Joe stood up.