note: this is just a vent, i'm not sure how much sense it'll make. just pretend it does because it was a loose idea that got carried away.
in other words: you're talking to natasha without her knowing its you. (social media au)
literally begging you guys to be nice with this fic sjdjdjdjd its kinda cringey idk. really just posting this for myself and hoping at least one person will like it.
warnings: talks of eating disorders & depression. there's a minor mention of self-harm (brief description of scratching, nothing more). (sawwwrrriii im #gointhroughit)
word count: 3.1k
. . .
natasha romanoff was one of the last avengers people would expect to have social media. everyone knew her to be an insanely private person, so the fact that she managed something so public was a stark contrast to their beliefs.
she didn't post much, didn't see much of a point in posting really. sometimes the spy would reply to fans, sometimes like their posts, and other times stalk their pages. that only happened once every few months though as social media was the last thing natasha worried about.
the most recent change in natasha's life had been a new addition to the avengers.
you.
she hardly ever acknowledged your existence, let alone speak to you. for reasons unknown, natasha wasn't too keen on getting to know you.
which, in a way, crushed your soul.
you'd looked up to the ex-assassin since before you were recruited. it was amazing to you how someone just a few years older than you could stand so strong, so put together, almost unbreakable.
since day one natasha underestimated your skillset and ability to function as part of the team. after a while, her lack of trust began to irritate you, but you managed to hold on to a sliver of hope that she'd someday let you in her little circle.
for now, as embarrassing as it was, you ran a small twitter account for the redhead. you already had a list of insecurities, it might actually kill you if anyone found out. your paranoia was what made you so protective of everything you did, touched, and left behind.
first thing in the morning you woke up dizzy, heart pounding in your throat, and your stomach hurt from being on over 40 hours of emptiness. then you'd gotten your ass chewed out by fury in front of the entire team for being reckless on a mission. everyone ignored you for a good bit of the day, too overwhelmed with disappointment towards your actions to speak to you.
lunch was an easy slip, but dinner was hard to get out of. you tried to go straight to your room but steve began to interrogate you as to why you weren't having anything. you could feel natasha's eyes burning in the back of your head with each question the super-soldier asked. nonetheless, you blamed your lie on a wave of nausea and made your way into your room.
after changing into baggy sweats and a t-shirt you plugged in your phone, ready to be done for the day.
you were half asleep when a blue notification lit across your phone screen.
8:06pm
natasha romanoff: i hate romcoms.
her tweet was very random, but very much natasha – punctual, straight to the point.
replies, likes, retweets and quote tweets quickly began to build upon each other in response to the statement. you fumbled, desperately trying to think of something to reply with.
