Peter Parker OneShots!

They're Gonna Taste My Venom Pt.1

Warning! Swear Words ;)

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"Fuck, this headache is fucking killing me" A slender man walked down a dreary alley, his shirt drenched in sweat, black blood dribbling from his mouth.

"Sir? Are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?" Curly brown hair made light, as 12-year-old Peter was on his walk back to his orphanage. Peter reached out and touched the strange man, and was suddenly stricken with an insatiable hunger. Peter shook his head back and forth, trying to reckon what had just happened. His mind held captive the answer. Peter, shaking it off, continued his walk back to the orphanage. The lines of the sidewalk became blurred the further he walked, the sun seemed to beam down in rays of 1000 degree heat. The small boy was confused, he was perfectly healthy 30 minutes ago, and now it was agonizing to walk any longer. Despite his condition, Peter continued, for he feared the punishments he may face at the orphanage. As Peter returned to his hell, he walked through the brown door, up the stairs, into his room. He didn't feel like talking, he felt incredibly sick like he was going to throw up, but he still felt the insatiable hunger, that had not been satisfied.

"Peter!" Christopher, the director, shouted from down the stairs. He stood 6'2, awfully handsome, he was a charmer. Make you fall in love with him in the blink of an eye. Despite the blonde hair and striking steel blue eyes, he was a sadist. Not sexually, but just a general sadist. He was constantly torturing the boys of the home. Peter never knew why but figured he deserved the beatings.

Peter pranced down that stairway, locking eyes with Chris, as the child's curls flung everywhere. Peter still had a massive headache, he felt hungover. Despite being 12, the kid had gotten into some of Christopher's scotch and had a nasty hangover the next morning. Peter yawned as he walked towards Chris, "Yes sir?" His words were drugged out, slurred to an extent. The boy looked pale and sickly, but still had high hopes and good spirits. Chris cleared his throat, "Now, now boy, no need to embarrass me in front of two of the most marvelous superheroes on the planet." Peter straightened at Chris' words, and attempted to make himself more presentable, smiling, and trying to even out his heavy cluttered breathing. "A-aven-avengers!?" Peter managed to sputter out. He was trying to keep in his excitement but simply could not contain his curiosity. He started spewing questions, not bothering to let either of the avengers talk. "What are your suits made out of?" "What are the other avengers like?" "What does the tower look like?" "How did you program J.A.R.V.I.S" "Oooo and what about F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Peter had been so excited that he had forgotten to breathe between each question, running on little oxygen, with a fever of 101.2, the petite curly-haired boy passed out. He heard the two avengers mutter some words before Peter passed out "We'll adopt him."

Peter awoke on a hard and lumpy couch. He jolted from the spot, breathing uneasily. "Peter, Peter, it is2 okay...You're okay." A slightly larger man was comforting Peter, the man's sunglasses left on the table next to the couch. "How long have you been sick Peter?" The small boy sat up, "I suppose my cold started yesterday, I think I caught it on my walk home..." "Peter" A gruff and mumbled voice came from out of nowhere. Peter looked around, for he couldn't find the origin of the voice. "Well, Peter, me and Steve, or Captian America, we're going to adopt you. Are you...Are you okay with that?" "Peter. Do not be afraid. We...Are Venom." "Peter? Peter...Peter! Are you okay?" Tony put set his hand lightly on Peter's shoulder, shaking the boy gently. "Uh...Yeah, I'm fine, I just uh, zone out sometimes...You're, you're really adopting me?" Tony smirked, "Yas, we filled out the paperwork whilst you were asleep." Peter smiled, the grin gleamed from ear to ear. He leaped from the couch, he bones reviling in the movement, his eyes were sparkling with ambition. His thoughts were paced. He felt flowery like his wildest, most unimaginable dreams were coming true. He turned on his heel and made a dash for the stairs, they creaked under the slight pressure, normally Peter would be more careful, quiet, but he no longer had to worry about the tremendous beatings he would face if he didn't do his chores, or if he made too much noise coming in. As the young boy was packing, pacing the room throwing together the small lot he had left, the voice had spoke again. "Hello, Peter" "H-hello? Who are you? Where are you? What are you?" Peter's lips sputtered strings of words, barely keeping himself together to link the incoherent sentences.

Word Count: 826