HEART ATTACK • natasha romanoff imagines

FIRST LOVE

tw: sad boi hours, implication of su/ic/de attempts and s/lf h/rm

Y/n stared up at the navy skies, glittering stars splatted across the canvas. She then turned her face to the beaming moon. It was a silver, sterling penny against the ebony night.

She cast her mind back, to years ago when her life had been the toughest. Countless training sessions, vigorous activity that strained every muscle. Every mile she'd be made to run and every life she'd be taught to take. She could remember it all so clearly because, whilst it had been easily the hardest few years she'd ever have to endure — it had been the most alive.

Love found people in mysterious ways, that's what y/n had been brought up being told before she was taken to the red room. In her case love had been given to her in the most peculiar package at the most gruelling place.

It was in the form of a lithe, small girl who's physical structure didn't effect her strength. She had hair as red as the blood y/n shed and her eyes were the deepest emerald, worth more than pure gold in y/n's mind.

Natalia had been a secret stash of stolen kisses. The medicine to soothe y/n's dwelling nightmares. She was the voice of an angel and y/n's soul's music. Natalia had been everything worth living for.

When y/n was tired, worn out and ready to succumb to the null darkness that always seemed so tempting; Natalia was there to hold her back and rescue her from tipping over the edge. A life-line and a light when all hope was diminishing. Nobody else could have coaxed her out of disappearing.

Below the clouds, the sun was rising, slowly saying hello to the morning. Y/n watched as inky blue smudged into burning orange and indigo dripped into scarlet.

Her heart was aching. It had been a lifetime since she'd last set eyes on her lover girl. She wondered briefly if Natalia had found someone else, brushing it away when it continued to tear at old wounds. The pain unbearable and worse than any physical cut or shot.

The last time they'd been together, y/n had been a shivering mess on the bathroom floor. The windows open and the record player crackling in the background whilst playing a scratchy record. Y/n was sat naked, only a flimsy robe wrapped around her body. Wet hair stuck to the nape of her neck. Her crimson life dripping down onto the blue, tiled floor.

Natalia had come back to their hotel room to find the aftermath of a hurricane. Shards of glass splattered across the floor and the bed sheets torn to pieces. Y/n was the cause of it all.

There'd been no time for condolences, Natalia had been immediately called to another mission before even finding y/n in the bathroom. She'd left with a chapped goodbye and shutting the door behind her, never returned.

Y/n knew it was selfish but as she gazed with wonder at the sky, she hoped that so was her Natalia. Some sadistic desire burning away inside her wanted Natalia to regret ever leaving, to regret not coming back for the broken girl who would have fixed herself if only Natalia had asked.

Briefly, y/n had wondered if Natalia was dead. She wasn't. Y/n could feel it in every crevice of her heart. Natalia was out there, maybe fighting for her life or in the arms of someone else.

All that y/n could hope was that some day her first love would return to her, because her first was also her forever and she would wait that long until she came.