Eddie Brock didn’t know why he was wearing a button-down. He hadn’t ironed anything since 2018. Venom definitely didn’t approve.
“We are not corporate slaves, Eddie. This smells like sadness and dry cleaning.”
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered under his breath, checking his reflection in the polished glass doors of Stark Tower. “This is a real opportunity. She’s offering interviews. We need income that doesn’t come with blood or… slime.”
“Slime is profitable.”
The elevator whooshed him up 87 floors before opening into what looked like a spaceship masquerading as an office.
Y/N Stark was already there. Sitting on the edge of a floating conference table, dark lipstick, eyes sharp, expression unreadable. She was wearing Stark-level elegance and Stark-level sarcasm, and Eddie felt exactly like a guy who wasn’t supposed to be in the room.
“Eddie Brock,” she said, standing and walking toward him, heels echoing with precision. “Disgraced journalist. Amateur boxer. Alien host.”
Eddie gave her a crooked smile. “Wow. You’ve really done your stalking.”
“I do my research,” she replied. “Including on your… passenger.”
She tilted her head, amused. “I want to meet him.”
Eddie blinked. “You—you want to what?”
“Venom,” she said, as if tasting the name. “Come out and say hello.”
Venom’s head slowly emerged from Eddie’s shoulder, grinning.
“HELLO, PRETTY LADY.”
Eddie looked mortified. “Dude—”
Y/N arched a brow. “That’s Ms. Stark to you, teeth-for-brains.”
Venom purred. “SHE IS SPICY. I LIKE HER. CAN I EAT SOMEONE FOR HER?”
“No, you may not,” Eddie snapped.
Y/N turned away, walking toward a digital display wall with blueprints and energy signatures scrolling across it. “Relax. I’m not here to cage you. In fact, I’m offering you a job.”
Eddie stared. “Wait. What?”
“You’re chaotic, unfiltered, and half-alien,” she said. “I need someone to go places I can’t be seen. There’s tech being stolen. Biological weapons. People who think the Stark name died with my father.”
Venom tilted his head. “Are we allowed to bite them?”
Y/N gave a wicked little smile. “Only if I say so.”
Eddie blinked. “…Is this a job interview or a marriage proposal?”
Y/N turned to him, calm as ever. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Brock.”
Venom: “We would.”
Eddie groaned into his hands. “Oh my god, I hate you so much.”
Y/N handed him a Stark ID badge. “You start Monday.”
———
Eddie Brock didn’t know what he expected from his first day at Stark Industries, but it definitely wasn’t a titanium badge, a biometric scanner that asked for his “preferred tongue,” or a swarm of lab techs sprinting out of the breakroom screaming:
“IT ATE MY LUNCH!”
Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Venom.”
“IT HAD PICKLES. WE LIKE PICKLES.”
“Cool. You couldn’t have asked?”
“WE ARE ABOVE ASKING. WE ARE A GOD.”
“You’re a parasite in a hoodie.”
“PARASITE? RUDE.”
The elevator opened with a soft chime and revealed Y/N Stark in a blood-red suit and combat boots, holding a StarkPad and not looking up.
“You’re late,” she said, breezing past him into the secure lab.
“I was interrogating the morality of lunch theft with a space goo inside my brain.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “And losing, clearly.”
“Yeah, well, he had the high ground. And teeth.”
Inside the lab, dozens of prototypes hovered in display fields—some Stark, some clearly not. Alien alloys. Symbiote-reactive gel. Something pulsing faintly behind reinforced glass that made Venom growl low in Eddie’s throat.
Y/N noticed.
“Good. You feel that. You’re here because I need someone who knows that kind of energy. There’s been a breach in Sector 5. Someone’s using symbiote residue to corrupt biotech.” She paused. “I figured your freeloading roommate might be useful.”
“YOU FLATTER US, SPARKLES.”
“WE LIKE YOUR FIRE. YOU WOULD MAKE AN EXCELLENT HOST.”
Y/N didn’t even flinch. “Tempting. But I already have an alien inside me.”
Eddie blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I meant trauma, Brock.”
“WE REALLY LIKE HER.”
Y/N turned, handing Eddie a holo-slate. “Your mission: infiltrate the auction tomorrow night. Black market biotech. My sources say the stolen Stark tech’s going up for sale. I want you in the room. Venom keeps you alive. I’ll be watching your feed.”
“Do I get backup?”
“You get a suit.”
Eddie raised a brow. “Like… a suit suit? Or, like, an Iron Man kind of deal?”
Y/N smirked. “Try it on and find out.”
She pressed a button and a section of the floor opened to reveal a matte black Stark-tactical suit with deep violet lining—symbiote compatible, according to the glowing specs.
“THIS IS SEXY.”
Eddie looked at Y/N. “Is this flirting or foreplay?”
Y/N leaned in, stopping inches from his face.
“When I flirt,” she said softly, “you’ll need oxygen.”
She turned and walked out like the devil in lipstick, leaving Eddie standing there, suit in hand, pulse thundering.
“WE ARE SO INTO HER.”
Eddie: “Yeah… that might be a problem.”
———
Eddie Brock tugged at the collar of his Stark-issued stealth suit, already regretting everything. It hugged in all the wrong places—and the right ones—and he was sweating bullets under the neon lights of a high-rise auction disguised as a tech startup launch.
Y/N Stark’s voice purred in his comm:
“Quit fidgeting, Brock. You look like you’re about to pass out, not infiltrate an illegal biotech exchange.”
“I’m wearing a suit made of nanotech and bad decisions.”
“WE LIKE IT. IT SMELLS EXPENSIVE.”
“You don’t have a nose.”
“WE DO NOW. THANK YOU, LAVENDER FABRIC SPRAY.”
Eddie stifled a groan as he walked into the crowd. The auction was buried behind layers of fake handshakes and PR smiles, but the backroom was the real show. He flashed the badge Y/N had hacked for him, and a steel door slid open, revealing a sea of wealthy criminals sipping cocktails over stolen tech.
Y/N’s voice turned sharp. “That processor’s mine. Get it out before it ends up in a missile or someone’s spinal cord.”
Eddie moved toward the platform.
A figure stepped in front of him. Slick suit. Sleazier grin.
“Don’t recognize you,” the man said. “You from Madripoor?”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie said, lying through his teeth. “Freelance…biotech consultant.”
“Funny. You look like a guy with a criminal record and an alien problem.”
“MAY WE EAT HIM NOW?”
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed under his breath.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”
“Gas,” Eddie said. “I have… IBS. Real bad.”
“WE COULD VOMIT ON HIM TO SEAL THE LIE.”
Y/N’s laughter came through the earpiece like warm silk. “You are so bad at undercover.”
“I’m not exactly Bond here, Stark!”
The man started reaching for his side holster.
“HE IS REACHING. WE DO NOT LIKE THAT.”
“Yeah, yeah, I see it—”
Before things exploded, Venom burst from Eddie’s back like a pissed-off shadow. A tendril slapped the man’s weapon away and launched him into a wall with a satisfying crunch.
“TARGET NEUTRALIZED. FUN LEVEL: 6 OUT OF 10.”
Screams erupted. Security surged forward.
Eddie turned and ran.
“Exit plan?” he shouted into the comm.
“Window. North hallway. Jump.”
“That’s not a plan, that’s a death wish!”
“WE LOVE JUMPING.”
Venom erupted fully now, wrapping around Eddie and launching them through the hallway. Bullets pinged off the suit as they crashed through the window, glass shattering into the neon night.
They landed hard on a rooftop. Eddie rolled, groaning, as Venom retracted just enough for him to breathe.
Then she was there.
Y/N, standing across the rooftop, wind whipping through her hair, one hand in her coat pocket like this was just a Tuesday night.
“You’re late,” she said again.
Eddie dragged himself upright. “You really like saying that.”
“I really like seeing you sweat.”
“SHE IS FLIRTING AGAIN. DO THE THING.”
“What thing?!”
“KISS HER.”
Eddie turned beet red. “No. Absolutely not.”
Y/N took a step closer, eyes locked on his.
“Tell your plus-one if he keeps making kissy noises in your head, I’ll blast him with a sonic cannon.”
“…WE WILL BEHAVE.”
She smirked.
Then she reached into her coat, pulled out a thermos, and tossed it at him.
“Chamomile. For your nerves,” she said. “You’ve earned it.”
Eddie caught it, dumbfounded.
“You brought me tea?”
“I’m not a monster, Brock.”
He cracked a smile. “You’re something else, Stark.”
Y/N gave him one last look, then turned and walked toward the edge of the roof, disappearing into the dark with nothing but the scent of ozone and confidence.
“WE SHOULD HAVE KISSED HER.”
“I’m working on it, alright?”
———
Eddie was starting to think this whole mission was a bad idea. Not because of the top-secret blacksite, or the bio-mutated symbiotes screaming like sirens in the walls—but because Y/N Stark, standing beside him in all-black tactical gear, had just whispered in his ear:
“Follow my lead. And stop looking like you’re two seconds from spontaneous combustion.”
“I am combusting. You wore eyeliner.”
Y/N gave him a sidelong glance. “Focus, Brock. Or I’ll tell Venom what you really said about pineapple pizza.”
“HE SAID IT WAS DELICIOUS. BETRAYAL.”
Eddie hissed under his breath. “Snitch.”
They were walking through the Lazarus Facility, an offshore lab posing as a hydroelectric research site. Underneath the clean, tech-filled surface was a horror show: mutated proto-symbiotes locked in cryotubes. Tech that looked Stark-made. Screams that didn’t sound human.
Y/N moved with purpose. In this environment, she was untouchable—elegant, lethal, all fire and calculation. She hacked into a secured vault with two fingers and a deadpan look.
“You’re too good at this,” Eddie muttered.
“I built half this security, remember?”
“SHE IS BRILLIANT. LET’S PUT HER IN OUR MOUTH.”
Eddie: “No. Not the time.”
They reached the central chamber—dark, humming, lined with tanks full of twitching things that might’ve once been symbiotes.
Eddie stopped. Venom growled.
“THEY ARE WRONG. IMPURE. THIS IS BLASPHEMY.”
“Y/N,” Eddie said, tension crawling up his spine, “these things are… aware.”
One of the pods cracked.
A creature lunged inside its tank—humanoid, glitching with raw data, its face flickering between different Stark team profiles.
It looked almost like Eddie.
Then it whispered: “Host… not compatible…”
Y/N’s face went pale.
“Someone’s feeding them genetic data. My files. Your scans. They’re building hybrids that learn.”
Then a voice echoed overhead:
“Welcome back, Stark.”
A figure stepped out onto the catwalk. Slim. Smirking. Wearing a prototype symbiote suit with a corrupted arc reactor embedded in the chest.
“You left me behind,” they said. “Now I’m rewriting evolution.”
Y/N’s eyes went cold. “Jackson.”
Jackson Carter. Former Stark intern. Left behind during the Sokovia evacuation. Everyone thought he was dead.
He wasn’t.
He’d been growing. Fusing. Twisting.
Eddie stepped forward.
“You need to shut this down before these things start multiplying.”
Jackson laughed. “It’s too late. The Lazarus strain is self-replicating. Soon there’ll be thousands. And they’ll all obey me.”
“YOU DISGUST US. LET US BITE HIS FACE.”
Jackson launched himself at them—symbiote limbs lashing out. Eddie and Venom merged in one fluid snarl, catching a strike before it could impale Y/N.
The lab erupted in chaos.
Tanks shattered. Creatures shrieked. Y/N fired off pulse blasts while Eddie fought a trio of goo-hybrids crawling on the ceiling.
“LEFT! LEFT! PUNCH THAT ONE’S SPLEEN!”
“I don’t think they have spleens!”
“THEN GUESS! HIT EVERYTHING!”
The chamber was collapsing. Alarms blared. Lightning cracked from an exposed reactor.
Y/N slid beside Eddie, breathing hard. “Blow the core. We end this now.”
He stared at her. “You’ll be caught in the blast—”
“I’ve got a way out. Do you?”
He gritted his teeth. “You better.”
Venom launched them both toward the central reactor. Y/N hacked while Eddie held the creatures off. Sparks rained like fire. One claw came too close—Y/N gasped—
Eddie moved before thinking. Took the hit. Hit the floor hard.
Blood. Pain. Blurred vision.
Y/N screamed something he couldn’t hear.
Then her face hovered over his. She was touching his face, eyes full of panic and fury.
“You idiot,” she whispered. “You jumped in front of me.”
“Yeah,” he said weakly. “Stupid… heroic stuff.”
“WE HATE THIS. TOO MUCH BLEEDING.”
Y/N pressed a patch to his side. “Hold still.”
“Are we gonna die?” Eddie muttered.
“Not tonight.”
She activated the failsafe. The reactor detonated in a white-hot blast of light—
—and the world vanished.
⸻
☁️ Later – Quinjet, En Route to NYC
Eddie blinked awake. Pain in his side. Warm blanket. The scent of antiseptic…and vanilla?
Y/N was sitting beside him, hair messy, bruised but alive.
“You’re awake.”
He tried to smirk. “Wasn’t gonna die before our first kiss.”
She rolled her eyes—but her hand slid over his.
“Don’t push your luck, Brock.”
“KISS. NOW. DO IT. DOOOO—”
Y/N leaned down and kissed him, soft, warm, with just enough pressure to shut Venom up.
It worked.
“…OH. OH. THAT WAS… NICE.”
Eddie blinked. “Are you okay?”
Y/N smiled. “Ask me again when you’re shirtless and conscious.”
He groaned.
“I’m never gonna survive you, am I?”
Y/N kissed his forehead.
“Nope.”
———
“You realize this looks like a date, right?” Eddie muttered as he followed Y/N Stark into the rooftop restaurant overlooking Manhattan.
“It’s not a date,” she replied, gliding through the room like she owned the place—which, technically, she did. “It’s a post-mission debrief. Over overpriced pasta. With wine. And me in a dress.”
She was in a dress. A black satin number that made Eddie’s brain short-circuit. He was in a pressed shirt and jacket he hadn’t worn since his last court summons. Venom had preened in the mirror for fifteen minutes.
“WE LOOK DELICIOUS. THE WAITRESS IS STARING. SHE SMELLS LIKE CUCUMBER SOAP.”
“Stop talking about people’s soap,” Eddie whispered under his breath.
Y/N glanced over her shoulder, amused. “Venom narrating your inner monologue again?”
“He thinks the waitress wants to eat us.”
She slid into their private booth. “She’d have to get in line.”
“WE LIKE HER.”
Eddie sat across from her, trying not to squirm as she handed him the wine menu like this was totally normal and not a giant public Are We Or Aren’t We event.
“Let’s talk Lazarus,” she said, sipping her wine with casual grace. “We neutralized the clones, Jackson’s in containment, and Stark Industries is officially wiping the Lazarus tech off the grid.”
“Great. So why am I here?”
She tilted her head. “Maybe I wanted to see if you can sit through one dinner without punching someone.”
Eddie leaned forward. “You sure this isn’t a date?”
She smirked. “Does it feel like one?”
Pause. Beat.
Too much eye contact. Not enough breathing.
“IT FEELS LIKE SOMETHING. WE HAVE IDEAS.”
The waiter appeared like a ghost, breaking the tension. “Anything to start?”
Y/N barely looked up. “Two Negronis. Truffle gnocchi. Extra bread.”
Eddie blinked. “Did you just order for me?”
“You trust me with global weapons contracts but not carbs?”
Fair.
Dinner arrived. They bantered through the meal—flirting disguised as arguments, compliments buried under sarcasm. Y/N licked sauce off her thumb and Eddie momentarily forgot his own name.
Across the room, someone took a picture.
Eddie stiffened. “We’re being watched.”
Y/N didn’t even look. “Let them. Everyone thinks we hate each other. This’ll confuse the hell out of them.”
“WE SHOULD WAVE. AND THEN LICK HER.”
“No licking!”
She raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Not you. Him. Sorry. Symbiote nonsense.”
The photo-taker approached. Guy in a blazer, too confident.
“Y/N Stark?” he asked. “Can I get a photo with you?”
Eddie tried to stay calm, but the guy was lingering. Way too close.
Y/N smiled politely. “I’m off the clock.”
Blazer Guy ignored her tone. “Just a quick one—”
Eddie stood. “She said no.”
The man scoffed. “Who the hell are you?”
“WE ARE PROTECTION. BACK OFF.”
Venom flared out of Eddie’s shoulder just enough to flash teeth. The guy practically tripped over himself backing up.
The restaurant went quiet for half a second.
Y/N sipped her wine like nothing happened. “You couldn’t go one dinner, could you?”
Eddie sat back down, flushed. “He was harassing you.”
She tilted her head, softer now. “And you defended me.”
Beat.
Then she smiled, slow and real. “Maybe it is a date.”
Eddie’s heart stopped.
“KISS HER. ON THE MOUTH. NOW. DO IT.”
Instead, he grinned. “So what happens after this strictly professional dinner?”
Y/N leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “We go back to the Tower. I brief Pepper. You ice your ribs. Then maybe—if you ask nicely—I’ll let you touch my tech vault.”
Eddie blinked. “Is that a metaphor?”
She smirked.
“Guess you’ll find out.”
———
Y/N walked out of the debrief room, her heels quiet against Stark Tower’s polished floors. The lights had dimmed for the night, casting long shadows through the glass corridors. She was bone-tired. Her braid was slipping. Her brain was buzzing with everything Pepper had just grilled her on.
And she definitely wasn’t thinking about Eddie.
Definitely not.
Except—
Except there was a voice from the hallway.
“Hey.”
She turned, and he was there. Half-lit by the corridor glow, still in the button-down from dinner, jacket slung over his shoulder like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Eddie Brock looked like he wanted to say five things and didn’t know how to say any of them.
“Didn’t think you were still here,” she said, calm but curious.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… I was gonna leave.”
“But?”
He looked around. Took a step closer.
“But Venom yelled at me for twenty straight minutes and now I think I’m legally required to talk to you.”
“TELL HER YOU LOVE HER. NOW. DO IT. SPIT IT OUT, YOU USELESS MEAT SACK.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You and your plus-one had a heart-to-heart?”
“She called it an intervention.”
“YES. BECAUSE YOU ARE PATHETIC. LOOK AT HER. SHE IS SHINY AND POWERFUL. PERFECT FOR NESTING.”
“Nesting?” Y/N echoed, blinking.
Eddie groaned. “Ignore that part.”
There was a pause.
He stepped closer. Not touching, not yet, but just inside that dangerous space where the air between them felt electric.
“I’m not good at this,” Eddie said quietly. “Any of this. The hero stuff. The team stuff. The dinner-that’s-not-a-date-but-definitely-was kind of stuff.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re better at it than you think.”
He looked at her like he was seeing the whole galaxy in one person.
“You scare the hell out of me,” he admitted.
“And yet, here you are.”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head and in my space and somehow Venom likes you more than he likes me, which is insane.”
“BECAUSE SHE IS SUPERIOR. WE WANT HER TO BE OUR QUEEN. MAKE HER PANCAKES. HOLD HER HAND. LICK HER FACE.”
Eddie winced. “Please don’t do any of those things.”
Briefly putting aside the fact that Eddie Brock has never been a good judge of character once in his life, the implication that Eddie just casually brought up Moon Knight to his kid is really funny to me. "Well son, another day of being tormented by The Visions and The Voices. You know, if you ever have any trouble with that, you can go to to this guy I know. He won't be able to help at all but he will, like, sympathize."
