Avengers Family

Anorexia (Natasha Centric)

Since then, they'd figured it out. Worrying was just in Steve's nature, and, especially after binge-watching Dateline with Sam, he still liked to check on Natasha when creepy men were around ,even if she could kill them with one hand behind her back and knew how to avoid poisons. She was still his teammate. To be fair, he was about two minutes from abandoning his date to grab Clint, who was currently boasting that he could juggle fire. He probably could, but Steve didn't want to see it happen.

She was just about to abandon her spot to join Tony on the floor when a conversation got her attention.

"Bitch is probably a slut anyway. Her red hair's probably fake too. Just an attention whore." The man who had tried to hit on her loudly complained to his friends, who nodded and agreed.

"Right? Where do these women get off dressing like that and being so choosy about their men. That's why they always end up going for assholes instead of nice guys like us."

"She isn't even that pretty. I like a real woman - small and graceful. I mean, just look at those back muscles. Men don't want a woman like that. Get out of the gym and go back to the kitchen if you really want to be attractive."

Natasha sighed and downed one last shot before grabbing Tony's hand and letting him spin her around to some song.

The rest of the evening was a short-lived blur. It ended with Steve carrying Clint bridal style as he incoherently belted out what was probably a song. Tony was relatively sober, more mature with the alcohol than he used to be, and he was telling JARVIS to record Clint for tomorrow morning. He also slipped in a command for his bots to bring Clint coffee, water, and some aspirin, as well as keep the black-out blinds pulled shut. She was a bit clumsy on her feet, but she made it to her room, occasionally grabbing one of Steve's arms as he walked her up.

When she flopped on the bed, she felt simultaneously so tired, and also wide awake. The men's words replayed in her mind and something in the pit of her stomach throbbed.

"Too muscular," she whispered into the night air.

She was attractive, she knew that. She'd seen the '30 day Black Widow Workout Challenges' online despite never releasing any information like that. She'd see all the pictures from fans of her body on posters in their rooms, or her as their screensaver, or her as a tattoo. People had even messaged her saying that she was their 'celebrity freebie' Comment sections under Avengers' videos were full of adoration, jealousy, and pure horny filth about her.

But emotion ran deeper than logic. And deeper than emotion, ran KGB training. Maybe it was the alcohol, but her insecurities bubbled closer to the surface tonight, and hearing that man say he was not into her stung. If she was not pretty, she was worthless. Her spy skills were incredible, but what made her truly exceptional were the honeypot missions she was able to conduct. The Red Room had drilled this into her.

Men could get very far in espionage missions, but women could have the same discipline and skill set with the addition of sex appeal and seduction. She had been trained to read emotions, to flirt effectively, to dress in an appealing fashion. Her trainers had given her personal 'lessons' on how to please men in bed for undercover missions. Hearing that man and his friends insult her had triggered something within her, and in this state, she didn't have the mental capacity to fight back.

The next morning, she stood in front of the mirror, in her underwear. Maybe she had bulked up? Being a part of the Avengers had killed parts of her that the KGB had built. She had people and things that were more important than missions. She had a life that included hobbies and free time. She worked out with Steve lifting weights instead of doing ballet till she fell unconscious.