I Like Her
eddie brock x fem!reader x venom
It’s late—somewhere between “I should be asleep” and “I deserve a treat.” The city hums softly under flickering streetlights as you slip into your hoodie, grab your keys, and head down the block toward Mrs. Chen’s convenience store. The night is cool, quiet, and mostly uneventful—until it very much isn’t.
The little bell above the door jingles as you walk in, the fluorescent lighting giving everything that slightly-too-yellow glow. Mrs. Chen is behind the counter in her usual seat, sipping tea and watching a tiny TV that’s clearly been through a war or two.
“Well, look who it is,” she says without looking up. “Out past bedtime.”
You grin, heading straight to the coolers. “Craving Dr. Pepper. You judging me?”
“Always,” she says dryly, finally glancing up. “Don’t take the last one.”
You grab it anyway, winking. “What can I say? Gotta keep you on your toes.”
As you make your way to the counter, the door jingles again. You don’t look at first—you’re too busy pulling out your wallet—but Mrs. Chen perks up and says, “Eddie. You’re late.”
You glance to the side—and immediately freeze.
Eddie Brock.
He’s wearing a black hoodie, sleeves pushed up, hair tousled like he fought with the wind and lost. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and has this quiet, kind-of-awkward energy like he didn’t mean to be so hot but here he is anyway. You stare for half a second too long.
He nods politely at you, eyes flickering in recognition, and walks toward the back of the store. You watch him go, subtly—but not subtly enough.
Because Mrs. Chen leans in, amused. “Don’t even think about it.”
You turn to her, deadpan. “He fine as hell. What do you mean, don’t think about it?”
She makes a noise. “Trouble. All the hot ones are trouble.”
“Girl, let me live,” you mutter.
Unfortunately, you said it a little louder than you thought—because from the other aisle, you hear a voice say:
“Mrs. Chen, you’re supposed to be my wing woman. Are you turning people away from me now?”
You practically choke. Your eyes go wide, and Mrs. Chen has the nerve to smirk.
Eddie reappears from behind the shelves with a pint of ice cream in hand and a very amused expression. He glances at you, his eyes warm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… hard not to when your name’s being dragged through the mud.”
You’re mortified.
“I didn’t mean—” you start, panicking.
“I mean,” he says with a crooked grin, “I am fine as hell. That part was accurate.”
You blink. Then you laugh, embarrassed but also charmed. “Okay, wow. I’m just gonna take my Dr. Pepper and go—”
“No, wait.” He steps forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Eddie.”
You stare at his outstretched hand. You blink. Then you take it. “Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles—awkward, genuine. “You… uh… come here often?”
Mrs. Chen groans. “Oh my god.”
And just like that, you burst out laughing again.
———
You don’t know how you ended up agreeing to the date. One minute you were talking to Mrs. Chen and low-key drooling over a man with haunted eyes and perfect cheekbones, and the next you were exchanging numbers and trying not to die of secondhand embarrassment.
Now, you’re standing in front of a small, cozy Italian place tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore—classic first date material. The lighting is warm. The smells are divine. The nerves? Off the charts.
Eddie’s already waiting when you arrive. He stands up awkwardly from his chair outside the restaurant, brushing nonexistent crumbs off his jacket.
“Hey,” he says, hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Hey,” you smile, a little breathless.
“You look—uh, nice. Great. Really great.”
You grin. “Thanks. You clean up alright yourself.”
The hostess leads you to a corner booth—quiet, dimly lit, perfect for pretending you’re not both internally screaming. Once seated, the server drops off water and menus, and you both dive into them like they’re hiding from social anxiety behind laminated pasta options.
“So,” Eddie says, eyes scanning the menu. “Do you… like carbs?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“I live for carbs,” he confesses. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not gonna fight over garlic bread.”
“I would absolutely fight you for garlic bread.”
“Fair,” he says. “That’s valid. I’d let you win.”
The banter feels easy. Surprisingly so. Conversation flows—from your favorite movies to embarrassing teenage phases to how much Mrs. Chen terrifies you in a loving-aunt-who-would-fight-a-demon-for-you kind of way.
At one point, your foot brushes his under the table and he goes still. You freeze, thinking maybe you crossed a line—but then he smiles, soft and unsure, like it’s the first time someone’s touched him and meant it.
Halfway through dinner, as you both split a plate of fettuccine Alfredo (he let you win that garlic bread war), Eddie excuses himself to the bathroom. He walks quickly, almost too quickly, like he’s trying to have a conversation with someone who isn’t you.
Which… he is.
Because the moment he rounds the corner, Venom oozes up into his field of vision inside the stall.
“She is delightful,” Venom says, licking imaginary fangs. “Smart. Pretty. Funny. I like her.”
“No,” Eddie hisses, pressing both palms to the stall door. “Absolutely not. You stay inside. Please. This is going well. She doesn’t know. Let me just have this.”
“But I want to meet her,” Venom insists, looming over Eddie’s shoulder like a judgmental roommate. “We could share the garlic bread. She would love me.”
“She would freak out, and then she would run, and then I would cry. You want me to cry, big guy?”
Venom makes a pouty noise. “No.”
“Then let me finish this date like a normal person.”
Venom slinks back down reluctantly. “Fine. But if she hurts you, I get to eat her ex.”
“She doesn’t have an ex.”
“She might one day.”
Eddie groans and splashes cold water on his face.
⸻
Back at the table, you’ve just finished telling the server you don’t want dessert when Eddie returns, slightly flushed but smiling again.
“Everything okay?” you ask, amused.
“Yup,” he says a little too quickly. “Just… had to tell myself not to blow it.”
Your brow lifts. “You think you’re blowing it?”
“No,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I’m kind of having the best time.”
Your smile softens. “Me too.”
And that’s how it goes: a little awkward, a little chaotic, a lot charming.
Neither of you say the word second date out loud that night, but you both know it’s coming.
(And somewhere deep inside Eddie’s mind, Venom is already planning the next one.)
———
The second date starts off suspiciously perfect.
You’d picked the place this time—an indie theater playing old-school horror movies and serving popcorn in stainless steel bowls like some sort of classy cinephile fever dream. Eddie had shown up exactly on time, held the door open for you, and hadn’t even argued when you insisted on getting the extra-butter popcorn.
Which was a red flag.
Because Eddie Brock? That man is never this smooth. Not unless he’s got something to prove.
Like maybe to a certain symbiote who is currently fighting for control of the metaphorical steering wheel in his brain.
⸻
You’re seated together in the back row, your shoulder barely touching his, your laugh echoing softly through the dark theater as a corny scene plays on screen.
And Eddie… is tense.
You don’t notice right away. You’re busy, actually enjoying yourself. But Eddie? He’s rigid, eyes flicking nervously toward the corner of the room where a sticky black substance is starting to slither out from under his collar like a nosy eel.
“NOPE,” Eddie mutters under his breath, leaning forward fast and slapping a hand to his neck like he’s got a bug bite.
You glance at him, concerned. “You okay?”
“Yep. Fine. Just, uh… popcorn kernel went rogue.”
You offer him your water. “Drink. You’re sweating.”
“Because it’s… warm,” he says, clearly lying.
From inside his mind, Venom is fuming.
“I JUST WANT TO SAY HI. ONE LITTLE ‘HELLO.’ ONE FANG-FLASH. SHE’LL LOVE IT.”
Eddie’s jaw clenches. He smiles painfully at you. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”
“Popcorn revenge?” you tease.
“Something like that.”
⸻
Once he’s in the theater’s dingy little bathroom, he locks the stall and whispers-screams into his palm.
“Dude. No. Not tonight.”
“She is fun! And smells like jasmine! And she laughed at that horrible zombie pun!”
“She’s also a normal person who doesn’t expect a parasite to crawl out of her date’s face during a rom-zom-com!”
“Symbiote. And maybe she would find me charming.”
“You called her ex’s brain ‘appetizer material’ last night. That’s not charming. That’s therapy-triggering.”
Venom pouts. Figuratively. Maybe literally. Hard to tell.
“You’re being selfish.”
“She’s not ready.”
“You’re scared.”
Eddie stares at his reflection.
“…Maybe.”
Eddie comes back from the bathroom looking like he just sprinted up six flights of stairs. His hair’s a little damp, his face pale but flushed, and the collar of his shirt is suspiciously rumpled—as if he got into a minor fistfight with himself.
“Everything okay?” you whisper, watching him collapse into his seat beside you.
He nods too fast. “Yeah. Great. That was… probably the sketchiest bathroom I’ve ever been in.”
You snort a little, turning back to the screen. “You say that like you didn’t do an exposé on moldy jail cells.”
“That mold was safer.”
He laughs a little too hard. Then he goes quiet.
You offer him the popcorn again, and he waves it off. You notice he’s wringing his hands—like his fingers can’t sit still—and chewing on his bottom lip like he’s got some sort of internal monologue happening at full volume.
“You’re nervous,” you whisper, nudging his knee with yours. “Did the popcorn mess you up that bad?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No, I just—” He looks at you, and for a second his whole face softens. “You’re… very cool. And sometimes I feel like I’m not.”
You blink.
“That’s why you’re twitching like someone dropped you in a blender?”
“Yep.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Look, if I ever do something weird—like really weird—you’ll tell me, right?”
You furrow your brows, playful but confused. “I mean, you’ve already said ‘no offense to zombies, but if they were real, I’d sue for copyright infringement’ out loud, so… yeah. I’ll call you out.”
Eddie chuckles. But the smile fades quicker this time. His fingers flex on his knees. You don’t notice the way his shoulder subtly tenses like he’s holding back… something.
Something that wants out.
⸻
When the credits roll, you stretch your arms overhead and yawn, giddy from the movie and warm from sitting close to him. Eddie walks you back to your apartment again. You talk about the film, joke about who would survive the zombie apocalypse (you say you would, he disagrees), and your hand grazes his once or twice on the way.
At your doorstep, you pause.
You tilt your head, teasing. “You gonna survive another bathroom trip?”
Eddie gives you a weak laugh. “Not if the plumbing looks anything like that theater’s.”
You smile, but there’s a flicker of curiosity under the surface now.
There’s something… off. Something twitchy. Something guarded.
But he’s sweet. Kind. And trying. Maybe even a little in awe of you. You like him.
So you lean in.
He kisses you goodnight—hesitant, gentle, like he’s afraid he’s going to break something if he’s not careful.
You go inside, heart full, mind spinning, completely unaware that you’re now dating two beings.
One of whom is desperately trying not to introduce himself.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the car, Eddie slides into the driver’s seat and grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles go white.
“YOU ALMOST LET ME OUT.”
“I literally didn’t.”
“You thought about it.”
“No. You thought about it.”
“I LIKE HER.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I like what I know. She is soft and funny and pretty and her blood smells like cinnamon toast—”
“STOP. STOP TALKING ABOUT HER BLOOD.”
“YOU’RE NO FUN.”
“You’re gonna get us both dumped.”
“YOU LOVE ME.”
Eddie groans and bangs his head softly against the steering wheel.
The symbiote purrs.
“You’re welcome.”
———
THIRD DATE – HER APARTMENT THIS TIME.
It had started off simple: a movie night at her place. She offered, shyly, and Eddie—despite the symbiote’s very loud objections—agreed. Venom wanted her to come to their place again (“We have snacks! And chocolate! And a better couch!”), but Eddie promised Venom a triple-decker chicken burrito if he behaved.
And Venom, ever the glutton, accepted the bribe.
So now Eddie sat on her couch, something cheesy playing in the background—some rom-com neither of them were really paying attention to. She was curled up beside him, legs tucked under her, sipping hot cocoa and smiling in that way that made Eddie’s chest do something weird. Not panic attack weird. Not Venom-arguing weird. But happy weird.
The kind of weird that made him think too hard about what it would be like to wake up next to her.
Venom stirred.
“Tell her. I like her.”
Eddie didn’t move.
“I’m being good. I want her to know that.”
“No.”
“What if I pop out just a little bit? Say hi?”
“If you so much as twitch, I will feed you kale for a week.”
“…Monster.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back. She had no idea he was having a telepathic standoff with a symbiote in his head. No idea her date was literally arguing with a seven-foot-tall black goo alien with teeth and a voice like a nightmare.
“What?” she asked softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Eddie blinked. “Huh?”
“You made a face.”
“Did I?” He chuckled. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”
“About?”
Eddie hesitated. “You,” he wanted to say. “Us.” But the words stuck in his throat.
Instead, he said, “Nothing bad. Promise.”
She yawned, then nudged him with her shoulder. “Good. I like this.”
“This?”
“Us,” she said, quietly, the same thing he’d been too scared to say. “I like being with you.”
His heart damn near burst.
Venom purred.
“TELL HER.”
“Shut up.”
She laughed at something on the screen, her hand absently resting on his thigh. Eddie barely breathed. He was holding onto this night with both hands.
And somehow, miraculously, Venom stayed quiet the rest of the night.
⸻
LATER THAT NIGHT – EDDIE’S APARTMENT
The moment he walked through his door, the peace was shattered.
“You fool!” Venom’s voice echoed through his head as the symbiote practically exploded out, forming like a shadow from his back and slamming down onto the kitchen floor. “You are WASTING TIME!”
Eddie dropped his keys into the bowl by the door. “Could you maybe not scream right after I get home?”
“She likes you. I like her. We are in agreement.”
“She doesn’t know you exist.”
“Whose fault is that?!”
“She will run. I like her. I don’t want her to run.”
Venom hissed but didn’t argue right away. He slithered around Eddie’s shoulders like a living hoodie, half-formed.
“…What if she doesn’t?”
Eddie looked into the mirror across the room. His reflection showed half his face—and Venom’s.
“Then I’ll tell her,” he said, quietly.
Venom blinked those wide white eyes.
“You will?”
Eddie nodded. “Just… not yet. I just got her. Let me enjoy it a little longer.”
Venom tilted his head, then slithered down Eddie’s arm like a dripping shadow.
“Fine. But if she dumps you because you waited too long, I will eat your socks.”
———
She hadn’t planned on staying the night.
It had started out like any other cozy evening: Eddie had made his famously-mediocre spaghetti, and she’d brought over her favorite movie snacks—popcorn, Twizzlers, and Dr Pepper. They were getting comfortable in each other’s space now. Close. Easy. She kicked off her shoes without asking. He let her take over the couch with a blanket without thinking twice.
It was the kind of domestic comfort that made his heart ache a little. Like he was tasting something he hadn’t realized he was starving for.
And then it happened.
Eddie had stepped into the kitchen to make hot cocoa—real hot cocoa, with milk and melted chocolate and those weird peppermint marshmallows she liked. He was humming. He felt happy.
Which was exactly when Venom decided to ruin his life.
As Eddie stirred the milk over the stove, Venom slithered up and out behind him, sensing movement—her, padding softly down the hallway looking for the bathroom. She passed by the open kitchen just as—
“Hey.”
A voice. Not Eddie’s. Deep. Rumbling. Alien.
She froze.
And when she turned, there it was. A massive, slick, black shape, with an angular, sharp face and huge white eyes, rising up from Eddie’s back like something out of a horror movie. Its teeth glinted under the overhead light. It looked alive.
She screamed. It was pure instinct—loud, scared, raw. She backed up against the wall, heart hammering, eyes wide.
Venom blinked, confused. “I was trying to be friendly.”
Eddie bolted into the hallway, cocoa abandoned, panic already setting in. “Shit—shit! I told you not yet!”
“She screamed at me!”
“She doesn’t know what you ARE!”
He rushed over to her, hands up, trying to calm her. She was still frozen, trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. “Eddie,” she whispered, “what the hell is that?!”
Eddie glanced over his shoulder. Venom had retracted partially, goo dripping along the walls like oil. “That… is Venom.”
She didn’t move.
“I can explain. Just—just sit, okay? Please?”
She hesitated, then numbly followed him to the couch. Still shaken. Still silent. Still watching every twitch of his body like something might jump out again.
Eddie sat across from her, elbows on his knees. “Okay. Deep breath. I’m not possessed, okay? I’m not a zombie or an alien or a monster. Well… technically, he is an alien, but I’m not.”
“What the hell is going on, Eddie?”
He swallowed. “Venom is a symbiote. He… lives inside me. We’re bonded. He keeps me alive. He has powers. And hunger. Sometimes for chocolate. Sometimes for… less ideal things.”
She blinked.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you. I know it’s a lot. It’s too much, probably. But I like you. I really like you. And I didn’t want to lose that before I even had the chance.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Eddie sighed, leaned back, ran his hands over his face. “Okay. If you want to leave now—if you never want to talk to me again—I get it.”
“…Can I ask him a question?”
Eddie looked up.
“…Seriously?”
She nodded slowly, still cautious. “If I’m gonna process this, I need to know what I’m processing.”
Eddie exhaled. “Alright. Yeah. Okay.”
Venom oozed out from behind his shoulder, this time smaller, more contained—just a head, floating and blinking with big alien eyes.
“Hi,” Venom said, sheepish.
She didn’t scream this time. Didn’t move. Just stared.
“What do you… like to do for fun?”
Venom tilted his head. “I like eating chocolate. And saving the city. And eating… bad people.”
She blinked.
He grinned—all teeth. “And chicken nuggets. Especially the spicy ones.”
There was a long silence.
Then she stood up, walked calmly to the bathroom, and closed the door.
Eddie rubbed his face. “You had to say ‘bad people,’ didn’t you?”
Venom made a wet, guilty shrug.
Behind the door, she was pacing. Breathing heavy. Whispering, “Okay. Okay. He’s not evil. He’s not evil. He’s just… different. Like superhero different. Antihero different? Shit…”
When she finally came back out, she stood there, eyes on Eddie. Still processing. Still unsure. But calmer.
“…So you’ve had this thing in you the whole time?”
Eddie nodded. “Since before I met you.”
“…You could’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
She stepped closer. “Do you think I’m that easy to scare off?”
“You screamed.”
“…You’re not wrong.”
Venom’s head popped back up. “Do you still like us?”
She blinked.
Then smiled.
“…You made me hot cocoa?”
Eddie stared, then slowly grinned. “Yeah. It might be cold now.”
She stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Then go reheat it. I have a million questions. And I guess I’m staying the night.”
Venom beamed. “I like her.”
———
It was a Friday night, and Eddie had his hand wrapped lazily around hers as they strolled down the cracked sidewalks of San Francisco. She was rambling about something funny she saw at work—her nose crinkling when she laughed, her thumb absently brushing over his knuckles—and Eddie couldn’t stop smiling. Not for a second.
They were only a block from Mrs. Chen’s shop, the neon flicker of the “Open” sign visible in the distance when it happened.
“Give me the bag.”
The voice was low. Sharp. Laced with a threat that turned her spine to ice.
A man stepped out from the shadows of a side alley, hoodie pulled low, gun glinting beneath the streetlight. His hand was steady. His eyes were wild.
She stopped, heart lurching. Eddie instinctively moved in front of her.
The guy motioned again. “I said give me the bag, lady. Don’t make me ask again.”
She tightened her grip on the strap. “I don’t think you wanna take my bag.”
Eddie’s pulse was already climbing. He felt Venom stir inside him—like an animal licking its lips.
The mugger scoffed, waving the gun at her face. “What, your puny little boyfriend gonna stop me?”
And then—like it was nothing—he yanked the bag from her shoulder and shoved her hard. She stumbled back and hit the pavement with a thud, gasping as her palms scraped against the concrete.
That was the exact moment the air shifted.
Eddie’s eyes darkened. His shoulders rose. His head tilted, slow and steady.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly.
The mugger turned toward him, annoyed. “What—”
But he didn’t finish.
Because from behind Eddie, something surged up. Fast. Fluid. Massive.
Venom exploded out of Eddie like a vengeful shadow, black tendrils slamming into the man and dragging him up off his feet, dangling him upside down like a ragdoll.
The guy screamed—loud, terrified—but only for a second.
Venom opened his monstrous jaws. “We warned you,” he growled, voice layered and deep. “You hurt what’s ours.”
And then—
CHOMP.
It was over in seconds. The man dropped to the ground in a heap—alive, but passed out cold. Covered in slime and half-conscious.
Venom licked his teeth.
Eddie turned, heart still racing. “You okay?” he asked her, rushing over.
She was still on the ground, blinking in stunned silence, staring up at the towering, hulking symbiote standing over them like some feral protector.
“…Did he eat him?” she whispered.
Venom grunted. “Bit. Just a little.”
She looked at Eddie. “Just a little?”
Eddie offered a sheepish shrug. “He doesn’t like when people touch you.”
She stared. Then wiped the grit from her hands and stood, eyes narrowing.
“…Okay. I’m gonna need a burrito after this.”
Venom purred. “With tater tots.”
She blinked. “…Did he just say—?”
“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “He’s been obsessed with tater tots lately.”
They stared at the still-unconscious mugger for a second.
“…Should we call the cops?”
Venom rumbled. “He’ll wake up. Eventually.”
“…Cool.” She shook her head. “You owe me a new bag. And tater tots.”
“Done,” Eddie said, sliding an arm around her shoulders as they started walking again.
Venom slithered back inside Eddie’s body with a huff. “She’s growing on me.”
Eddie smiled to himself. “Yeah, me too.”
