Peter X Wanda One-Shots

The end of one thing, The start of something new.

Author's note: this first one shot takes place after No Way Home and it's assumed the events of WandaVision never take place. Peter and Wanda are 2 years apart in age difference. The story is told in first-person from Peter's perspective.

I woke up this morning, a bit better than before but still not great. I've been sitting here in my one-room apartment for the past three, four hours? I don't remember. I've been sitting here, eating a modest breakfast, trying to take my mind off of everything, but that gets harder and harder when no one remembers who you are. You have no one to talk to, no one to take comfort in, no one who can guide you out of the seemingly bottomless pit you find yourself in. What's worse, you live a life that makes it that much harder to find people who could do such things for you. You worry that letting anyone in your life will only put their lives at risk...just like before.

It wasn't always like this. I had a friend, a girlfriend, a loving aunt who substituted for my mother, and what seemed like a bright future ahead. But I blew it, all of it; all because I couldn't decide what path I should take in my life. Being a superhero, it takes its toll on you, whether you realize it or not. Even on the days when your body isn't aching from its latest beating or damned mutilation, you constantly struggle with balancing your personal life and your "heroic" responsibilities. I tried to strike a balance, I really did. But all it led to was my identity being revealed to the world, being framed for a crime I never committed, those closest to me being persecuted for my mistakes, and even my beloved aunt's life. That wasn't even the worst of it, a spell had to be casted by one of my former colleagues to save the world from inevitable destruction I had caused. This spell erased all memories of me, across the world. And so I lost all I had left as far as relationships go. After this happened I had contemplated trying to find a way to get my best friend and girlfriend to remember me, and the spell's effects were confirmed when I met up with them in the diner. My best friend, or former best friend Ned, practically ignored me, and as I looked into the eyes of my former girlfriend Michelle Jones, she looked back and spoke to me as if I was a stranger. At that moment I realized, after all the danger I had put them both through, it'd more than likely be better for me to remain a stranger in their eyes. That was nearly a year ago now.

So here I am now, and here it seems I'll remain. Alone in a small, rundown apartment listening to a police scanner nightly, to live my true life as the so-called "Spectacular Spider-Man", stopping any crime that I stumble across, no matter how dangerous. All the while I scramble during the days to pay off my rent in order to avoid being thrown out of the damned place. I suppose I've done better than most in my position would. After all, I've managed to hang on to the same place for almost a year despite gradually rising prices. Of course, due to the nature of this life I've lived and what grief sticks with my for the life I've left behind to protect those I've cared for, I've fallen in and out of depression. My landlord noticed this once and recommended therapy, but how? Even if I did have the time to find someone I couldn't tell them the whole truth nor do I have the money to afford such a thing. Though I have been thinking, I do at least have a phone and cell service, and there are plenty of good therapists online. Of course this idea wasn't my own, it was a suggestion my landlord's wife gave me some time after my landlord had first suggested therapy. More than likely he mentioned my money issue to her in a conversation between the two of them after I informed him about my budget, or lack thereof. But, I soon hear a police siren go off outside my window, and it seems looking for online therapy will have to wait. I rush frantically to replace my morning clothes with my spider-suite, grab my mask, and I'm out the window in a flash.

*Minor time skip*, I followed the police car to a bank, typical case. In-and-out, a crime I've stopped hundreds of times before. Nothing of note happened, so I decided to go on patrol for the rest of the morning. That seemed to be common story most days, it would've been more fun if there was a prison breakout to be honest. But no, the worst I'd have to worry about for today would be J. Jonah Jameson yelling at me through the radio and online and offline news outlets, either stating that I was a criminal who was wiping the competition, or over analyzing my every move as a vigilante crime fighter to point out to the public X, Y, and Z things I did wrong during the robbery, etcetera. This was made worse by the fact that the previous spell I've mentioned had only erased the world's memory of who Spider-Man truly was, and not also the false accusation of murder that had been imposed on me. While a lot of time has passed since then, many people still believed in the accusations made against me, and I had only managed to convince a few police units in New York that I was on their side. Though I guess this doesn't matter as much as I've made it out to. I've made my bed and now I must lay in it. I was on my way to my apartment, ready to be done for today, when suddenly, I hear crying, so swing in that direction to see where it's coming from.