#ayie

Peter rushed towards you with his hands flailing around as his mouth rambled words you half-understood.

"—not what you think! I was j-just— You were hallucinating! Yes, this is all a dream—" His hands waved in front of your face, "You are experiencing a heart attack! Wait— no— that's too much—"

"Peter, that's enough," You said as you pushed him away from you. He stumbled back, mouth finally shut. "I've known you were Spiderman for a while now."

Peter paused, panic filling his expressions once more, "Spider-who? I-I don't know no man spider and if I did, I would definitely walk away and act as if nothing happened."

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time, weirdo?" You crossed your arms and quirked a brow. He instantly relaxed, slumping over one of the lab stools. "Anyways... You think I can help you out with your webs?"

It's a month since you've been helping Peter with the creation of his webs; You were taught the formula first and foremost, and were tested with small amounts of the needed substances so you could make your own webs. To put it shortly, he was very impressed.

"You wanna help me?" Peter asked you. You merely nodded, and he seemed to consider you for a moment, before ultimately saying, "Alright."

From then on, you've been creating your own webs with his formula as a base; funnel webs, tangle webs, sheet webs, orb webs, and many others. They're inspired by actual webs spiders create, which amused Peter to no great deal.

"What? If you're Spiderman, then you gotta have some spider webs!"

"I already do!"

"Those? Nah, homie, those are Peter webs, not spider ones."

No matter how much he likes to complain, Peter is grateful for your assistance in making webs, especially since he has web block almost every other day; An incredible hassle during patrol nights.

One day, when you went to study with Peter at the Avengers Compound — they let you in there? — you couldn't find the guy for the life of you.

But there are other ways he's grateful for your webs as well.

You looked at the kitchen, the lab, his room, anywhere he would be seen by the others; However, none of those places had that red-blue spandex wearing man in them.

It took you longer than expected just to find him outside in the garden, where Tony and a webbed up Steve were talking. They were standing next to this huge funnel web, all the spokes spiraling inward to a large hole where a little dug-out hole was. When you extend your neck, you could see your friend laying down inside, sleeping comfortably on his bed of webs.

"Hey! You!" Tony called out to you. You walked closer to where the Ironman and the Captain stood. "You think you can get Pete out of there? I kind of need him in the lab, and Cap can't get him without being webbed together."

You nod your head and walked closer to the funnel, very carefully stepping on the intricately made webs. Just as you stepped down, Peter's head popped out of the hole; His foggy and narrowed eyes tried to focus on you as he assessed whether your were a threat, prey, or a friend.

Peter perked up when he noticed it was you, though, and immediately scrambled up with a handful of something.

"Pete! What are you doing?" You asked him as he got closer to you, "Tony Stark had to ask me for help. He doesn't as people for help, Peter!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll deal with him later, but right now, hold out your hand," You suspiciously did what he asked, and he beamed brightly at you. Before you could ask him again what he was doing, he dumped whatever he was holding into your hands.

Flies. Dead flies.

You screamed in shock and shook your hand to drop all of them on top of the web you and Peter were standing on. He preciously bright smile twisted into a crestfallen look, sadly glancing down at his trophy of flies.

"You don't like them?" He genuinely asked you, which both confused and scared you.

"And you do?!"

"Well, I just thought you'd like some..." Peter said with sadness. You winced at the utter genuineness of the guy and tried to smile.

"Thank you for... that, Peter, but Tony Stark needs you right now and afterwards, we need to work on our chem homework."

Peter looked a bit better after you thanked him, and instantaneously looked happier at the thought of working with you after whatever Mr. Stark needed him for.

It's a month after that incident that you two started dating, and everything was bliss.

"Okay! Let me help you out of the web and I'll be quick with Mr. Dad!" You chuckled and nod, holding tight onto his arm as he maneuvered you out of his web.

Peter took care of you like a housewife to her army husband. It was almost overbearing if it wasn't so gosh darn adorable of him to worry about whether you ate or not.

The first time you invite him over your apartment, it was for a movie night. It was just the two of you, a bowl of buttered and salted popcorn between you two, and a movie both of you weren't really paying attention to.

After a while, Peter stood up to get some water for the two of you. However, it took a little bit too long for him to come back.

"Pete? Are you okay?" You called out to him, reaching down for some popcorn to munch on.

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay..." He replied, sounding kind of far-away, "I just... didn't realise you had eggs."

"Well, I have to eat something for breakfast, don't I?" You half-joke, finally standing up to face whatever he was doing in your kitchen.

What you didn’t expect, though, was Peter holding your batch of organic eggs and wrapping them in his webs.

"Peter, love, what in the name of the good Lord are you doing?" You watched in horror as he grabbed yet another egg from your fridge to wrap with his webs. Before he could get more, you stop him with your hands, holding his wrists to your chest.

"What? I'm helping protect our eggs!"

"Protect— What— No, Peter, what you needed to do was get us some water," You pulled him away and made him hold two glasses that you filled with water.

When you faced him, Peter had the most pathetic and pitiful face on. It made you feel so bad that you reached to kiss his cheek, "Thank you for protecting our eggs, Peter. But only do that when I ask you to, okay?"

Peter caught you talking to Pietro the other day, and the effect was hissing towards the speedster whenever he got too close to you. But it was all for naught as Pietro didn't care for what people thought, except for Wanda.

Placated, Peter skipped as cheerfully as he could with two full glasses in his hands. You shook your head and followed him back to finish the movie you've both forgotten about.

Pietro would tease Peter, though. Sometimes the Sokovian would grab you and spin you around as a greeting, right in front of Peter. Other times, Pietro would get you things you wanted faster than Peter could; You want cereal? Sure, Pietro's got you covered. You're craving that meal you had down the street? Suddenly it appears right in front of you.  

One day though, for the nth time, you think, Peter has gone bonkers.

You woke up in the Avengers compound, having gotten used to spending weekend nights there with Peter whenever you can, alone. Before you could question where Peter was, a scream tore throughout the hallway; An impressive feat, considering the fact that the walls were soundproofed.

You rushed out of your shared room with Peter, seeing Wanda do the same as well as Clint who fell out of a vent. All of you ran toward where the noise was, surprised that it came from Pietro's room, and stumbled inside.

It was a sight, for lack of better phrasing.

Peter was on top of Pietro on the speedster's bed, crouched in his signature spider pose. Pietro, on the other hand, was bound with your boyfriend's webs, stuck inside with no way out.

"Peter!" You shouted, making the boy himself freeze at your voice. When he turned around, he faced your fury, "What the fuck is going on right now?! Release Pietro right this instant!"

"No! If I do, he's going to take up all your time just like the week before and the week before that!"

"Spider, if you don't release my brother right now..." Wanda threatened, eyes glowing red and swirls twisting and turning around her fingers, "You won't forget my name ever again."

Peter looked apprehensive, hesitant, before taking out some web dissolvent out of his pocket. It was a relief that he had some on his person; It showed that he wasn't completely insane.

After Pietro was released, he ran toward his sister and Clint, and sped the three of them away from you and Peter.

It was silent for a moment, Peter looking at the ground in shame, and you glaring at him like there's no tomorrow.

"What is going on with you, Peter? You've been acting out of it the past few months!" You exclaimed loudly, making your boyfriend flinch.

"... I'm sorry, angel, I didn't know what I was doing, honest," He said, looking up to show you how sincere he was. "I consulted Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark about this, but all they told me was that I've been behaving more and more like a spider since the bite and—"

You furrowed your brows as you walked closer to him, carefully laying your hand on his chest, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't wanna worry you... This all seemed so little, so insignificant that I didn't want to burden you with it."

"You could never burden me with anything related to you, Pete. I love you, and I mean all of you. Spider or no spider." He smiled at you and leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. Pulling you into an embrace, he thanked and apologised to you numerous times.

II.

"You never said what your name is." you said in your third meeting when you heard his voice in your studio.

"Haven’t I?" his voice is teasing.

"Obviously," you said, in a duh tone. "I would have remembered the name of the person who saved me."

"Satoru." Satoru? You turn in his general direction. "Gojo Satoru."

You don’t know what he looks like or what he does for a living; you only know his name.

"Gojo Satoru," the name is foreign on your lips, but there’s something special and sacred when you speak his name outloud. "Thank you again for saving me."

You only know his voice and name, and it’s more than enough.

III.

He visits randomly, but they are consistent enough. He talks and teases a lot, you notice. He talks a lot, but never about anything intimate. He tells you about ‘the kids'-Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Inumaki, Yuuta, Maki, and someone named Panda, and how proud he is of their potential and progress (he must be a teacher, you make a mental note to ask later on). In return, you tell him about your step-sister and how you wish you could see her cute face. You tell him about your friends and how they stuck by you despite your disability. In return, he tells you about his best friend—how he stuck by his side, how he’s a brother, a moral compass, and a friend in one. (There’s resentment, pain, longing, and hate in his tone. A story, your mind whispers. A pain that hasn’t quite healed yet.)

You think you’re getting to know him more. You don’t know if it’s a good thing.

IV.

"Are you a teacher?"

"What do you think?" a rustle.

"You mention kids often. So you must be a teacher." You shrug.

"I wonder..." he drawled, annoyingly, teasingly.

"So you’re not a teacher?"

"I thought you said I was an angel?"

Your face heated up, remembering your meeting.

"Fine, be that way." you huffed, embarrassed. Your hands searched for your chisel to start working on your latest work, but couldn’t find it.

You heard him at the same time you felt his hand placing something in your hand. Your chisel.

"I’m a teacher."

Then he is gone again.

V.

Gojo Satoru is a man of contradictions. He doesn’t like being touched, yet he craves human touch; his touches on your sleeves, taps on your arm, pokes on your face, a reminder of that. He talks a lot, giving you an impression that he is letting you in, when in reality he is keeping you at arms length. He is all boast, confidence, and arrogance, yet he sometimes sounds insecure and scared.

You think, how could someone be that enigmatic?

"What do you teach?" you asked when you felt his presence in your studio for the first time in two weeks.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do." then. "Who do you teach?"

"My students." He is so annoying. He must have seen your face because he laughed. "Angels." he continued, easily, teasingly, because he couldn’t help it.

You sighed. "Where do you teach?"

"Heaven."

You threw a look towards the direction his voice came from. His laugh booms around your studio. You ignored him then, intending to finish the work you’ve been procrastinating on.

"So do you just carve angels and call it a day?"

"I carve human faces, too." You retorted, rolling your eyes. "Angels are just the easiest ‘cause I already saw them once."or so I think, your mind supplies.

He hummed. He’s pacing in your studio again. You think he’s thinking of something to reply to. You already told him that you saw an angel once before you lost your vision in that car accident. You don’t know if he thinks you’re imagining or hallucinating some things since he never said anything against it.

"How?" he asks instead.

"I touch their faces—try to paint a picture of them in my mind."

He was quiet for a moment before he said, "Carve me, then."

You automatically look in his general direction.

"What?"

You could hear his footsteps approaching you and feel his gaze on you.

"Carve me."

"Err... as long as you’re comfortable then." You tried to remain nonchalant even though having him in close proximity was giving you strange feelings. "And you better not expect a discount!"

He chuckles then, because, of course, he didn’t need the discount. If he wanted to, he could buy the whole building where your studio is located.

He pried your chisel from your hand and placed your hand on his face. He lets you touch his face—feeling the sharpness of his jaw, his pointed nose, his soft and beautifully shaped lips, his smooth hair, and lastly, his eyes. His lashes are long, and you are reminded once again of the intimacy of the situation (even when it’s not your first time doing this).

"What color are your eyes?" to stop your mind from racing.

"Blue."

Ah. You think, it suits him. It suits him very well.

The dept of the ocean and the wonders of the sky.

You tried to concentrate as you did the motions again (his breathing was tense the whole time.) and finally had a picture of him in your mind.

(Your imagination doesn't do him justice. In your mind, in your bones, you know he is the most beautiful person you have ever met.)

All the while, he is just watching you intently. You hope your cheeks aren't red.

"Well, what do you think?" he asks when your hands fall to your side and your head is bowed to hide your blushing face.

"I think you look like an angel." A beautiful angel.

He laughs. Your heart aches.

VI.

"You’re here often." You’re starting your new project when he came. He hands you the snacks he brought.

"I’m bored."

"Don't you have students to teach?"

"Nah."

You hear his footsteps around your studio—probably looking around again. You don’t know what he’s looking for or if he’s even looking for something.

You stopped when you felt his head on your shoulder.

"My commission?"

"Y-yeah."

You hope he doesn’t notice your nervousness.

(He does.)

VII.

You don’t see-feel his presence again after that. He has a teacher conference, he said.

You ignore the feeling of longing. You’re just used to him now, you berated yourself while working on his commission.

VIII.

The finished commission sits on top of your desk.

It’s been weeks and he still hasn’t come yet.

You allowed yourself to miss him.

VIIII.

He visits again—snacks in hand and an annoyingly angelic voice. You showed him the finish commission.

You hope he likes it—remembering the sleepless nights and your arms aching because of overworking. You played your fingers when he hadn't said anything.

He’s quiet for so long that you begin to fear that he hates it. Your hands move to hide the commission in panic.

"Is it ugly? I can make another. Sorry, you don’t have to pa-"

Your ramblings ceased when he hugged you. He sounds broken and whole at the same time. "It’s perfect, thank you."

X.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"I don’t have the money to pay you back right now."

"Who says you have to pay me back?"

"But it’s a huge amount of money." You remember your shock and panic when he said the amount.

"I know."

"And you’re just giving it to me?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?"

You didn’t have a choice but to take his money when he forced it on you.

XI.

Your operation was a success.

He visits you regularly; tells you what his students are up to; his friends-Shoko, Nanami, and Utahime (you commit respect and fond tone to your memory).

He asks you how you feel. You tell him you’re scared that everything will change. You tell him you’re scared that nothing will change. He tells you he is, too.

Why?

I don’t know.

I thought you knew everything.

Maybe I don’t.

Your doctor is kind and gentle when she unwraps the bandage covering your eyes. She tells you everything you need to know, but you don’t listen, you can’t. Not when there is a beautiful man staring at you.

Blue eyes stare at you intently.

(Your imagination doesn't do him justice. At all. In your mind, in your bones, you know he is the most beautiful person you have ever seen.)

You blink. Once. Twice.

Blue eyes.

The depths of the ocean and the wonders of the sky, your mind whispers.

"Satoru?"

Even his answering smile is angelic.

XII.

You’re back to where you started. In the alley where you met him, scared, with someone something (you know that now.) threatening to eat you whole and him.

You look at him—bloodied clothes, the body of something not human behind him, his hair in disarray, and eyes wild and searching. (How can he look like that and still look so angelic?)

You think he must think that you are scared, but you’re not. You’re not. Not of him, never of him.

"Are you okay?" He sounds mad, he sounds worried, he sounds scared.

(He is mad that this happened again even when he already cleaned the area, worried that you’re harmed, and scared that you’re terrified of him.)

"Y-yeah."