Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

I NOTICED [W/F] (P.I)

I TRY TO pretend it's not intentional. The way I coincidentally skip breakfast, the way I'm too busy for lunch, and the way I'm too tired for dinner.

I put more concealer than average under my eyes to hide the way my face is sullen after my long periods of starvation. I make sure my hair is always down to hide the thinning of my hair. I make sure that I'm always sitting because if I'm standing my knees will lock up and my vision will turn black.

No one notices a thing.

I work and work and work— but that's just me. I'm known for it. I "spend too much time with Miguel" and he's "rubbed off" on me. That's all there is to it. That's all there ever will be to it.

It wasn't always like this. I've always known that I've been a little overweight for my age group. It was barely noticeable yes, but when you're Spider-Woman and most of the spider people are fit and toned, it gets to your head.

You would think the constant exercise I do with saving people would easily help me get toned, but I used to eat too much. Much more than I would burn. Being a spider person meant that I was burning so much more calories, which meant that I was always hungry. The thing about eating was that I couldn't stop. When I was bored, stressed, or doing anything, I was munching on something.

And when I became known for my constant snacking to the point where I was known to have "all the snacks" I stopped. I because the spider that "works too much."

I don't mind it at all. Miguel is known for it and he doesn't. I wore closer to him than any other person in all of headquarters, so I be the first to know if the title bothered him. It didn't. And if it didn't bother him, why should it bother me?

Quickly, I realized that nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.

To be thin and fawned over. To be the subject of how other people wanted to look like. It was sick. But I liked being sick.

I guess I'm a horrible person. But I'd rather be horrible and skinny than horrible and fat. It's not like I would judge those who weighed more than me, I loved everyone the same. I just judged myself. I hated myself. I still do.

I could always be skinnier.

I was currently in the office, at my desk. Miguel had me move into his office since it was much easier, but we were still pretty far apart. He wasn't very talkative, but with me, it seemed that recently he had been asking me questions and wanting to get to know me.

Sometimes I'm too tired and dizzy to respond.

There was nothing to do today, so I was currently drafting up a list of the calories I had consumed today. Because I know I would die rather quickly with complete starvation, I ate very little. Eating a small treat in the bathroom or a chocolate bar when no one was looking. It was mostly sweets, yes, but those were the things I could get easily without consuming a lot of calories.

I lost weight rather quickly, I know. I was at my thinnest in years, but I wasn't the thinnest. I needed to be the thinnest.

Drawing up my sweater, I hugged myself for any kind of warmth. It was unbearably cold, but I didn't want to say anything. Today, I had eaten a few Hershey kisses, and my stomach was grumbling so loud I feared that Miguel might have taken noticed. And Miguel never paid attention to anything.

Folding the paper, and placing it under the paperwork on my desk, I glanced at the door as I bounced my leg up and down rapidly. Even the thought of standing up made me dizzy.

I huffed and shook my head. I can't go. I glanced at Miguel who was working as calmly as ever, speaking with Lyla every so often.

I turned back and stared right in front of me. I closed my eyes and put my head down. I was so hungry—it was all the took up my mind as of late—but I couldn't eat. If I do, I'll go back to the way I was. I can't do it again. I would rather go through a million horrible deaths.