#venom fiction

[mikashida]

most normal guy award

[starsm00n]

IM RUNNING UP THE WALLS WHY CANT FICTIONAL MEN BE REAL ARGGHHH

[ihonestlydontknowwhattocallthis]

The idea that we may never see venom again is just so weird and honestly horrifying

And even if he does come back, it’ll never be as good unless he’s reunited with Eddie

[statisticalcats2]

Venom 3 had me wanting to make Symbrock fankids gyfudiuhas

Venom was very "Eddie, I wanna have kids with you" at multiple points in this movie!

[saturnzskyzz]

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎

Word count: 2,009

Warning: Mature audiences only, you have been warned | inappropriate jokes and comments (you know how deadpool is) this is just fiction

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍?? 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁!! 𝙰𝙰𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙷!!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘.. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 😟. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌!! 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!! 𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶!!!

Summary: Wade drags Logan along to a very long car ride followed to be his personal Uber, and best friend, to visit new Mexico for a week. Upon reading articles on the Google home page-wade- he realizes that a certain individual looks familiar from an article he read one time. So, he strikes a very interesting conversation with said individual, and finds something quite interesting and intriguing!

Divider credits

The sound of a new Honda Civic driving on an empty road could be thought of as two heroes sitting in the front seats of the driving vehicle. With the passenger jamming out to the music, and the driver peacefully in his thoughts while concentrating on the road; It was truly a cinematic experience if the two had thought about this exact moment in third person.

"Ow! Would you be mindful of where you're playing your imaginary drum set, bub?" As if the sound didn't come from Hugh Jackman himself, Logan Howlett was shown in third person, forgetting the whole "cinematic third person view" with the Honda Civic, which was what Wade- who hit the victim- had thought about.

"Oopsie daisy! It's like these drumsticks have a mind of its own, huh?" Wade huffed out a breath as he continued to slam his hands in the air to play what was heard on the radio.

Logan nodded his head disapprovingly like a father, and just continued on with the road. The peace continues.

It's not everyday that they have these peaceful drives like this. Other than when they were having to drive to where the facility of where their timelines were controlled and kept under surveillance as to not be disturbed by any high powerful GOD. Yeah, that may be pushing it. Anyway, The point is that Wade and Logan, though the claw handling mortal didn't want to admit it, they were glad they had this long drive again. The beauty of nature was an A+.

"You need to tell them why we're on the road, silly!" Wade blurted out as he was now turned, facing the back seats like he was talking to passengers.

"The fuck is you lookin' at back there, Wade?" Logan questioned, yet not really wanting to know the reason since he's trying to drive to- Oh,, right!

The reason why they were on the road is because Wade decided it would be a lovely idea to have the two take a break from their old apartment, and take a vacation over to New Mexico!

The beaches there looked lovely from the Google pictures Wade had pulled up once, just once, so that was all the good reason as to why he wanted to drive there.. Or, to sit there. He made Logan drive.

"Damn right I did!" Wade blurted out yet again, causing Logan to almost jump in his seat, but luckily for his own embarrassment, he only flinched. "Bub, what the fuck are you saying right now?" Logan asked, getting annoyed with him now.

"Oh, sorry peanut! Just reacting to this fic that's currently being typed up. Anyways, nice driving skills by the way! Oscar made sure to bring up the fact that I'm the passenger princess." Wade confidently said, pulling down the sunshade to look at himself in the mirror for some extra dramatics.

Logan glanced at him before looking back at the road in utter confusion. "Wade, you practically forced me to drive, you're not a,, Passenger- whatever you just fuckin' spurred up in your little head. And by the way, I don't trust you behind the wheel."

Wade did a dramatic gasp by that, clutching his imaginary pearls, he whipped his head to look at Logan with almost daggers for eyes. "How dare you not trust me! I am a veeeery trustworthy person, as a matter of fact."

Logan gave Wade a very interesting "oh yeah?" as to let the younger know he's allowed to rant.

"Yes, "oh yeah?"! I am such an oh yeah, trustworthy person: Yukio once left me alone in the X-Men building for half an hour to come back to the place all spiff and span! Not only that, Colossus let me hold one of his very expensive vases all because I wanted to look at it. He let me HOLD IT while looking at it, isn't that a whole lot of trust thrown into one basket?"

Logan chuckled at that. "First off, the only reason she came back to the X-Men building to a very clean interior is because you had trashed it before she even came back. And I don't mean a little trash; you had the whole place covered with things on the ground, broken, and even the walls looked terrible in the pictures you sent me. You had Colossus' help as well as mine and somehow blind Al's help to clean up the entire place in under 15 minutes- which you got scolded for by Colossus afterwards. And for the record, Yukio came back after 30 minutes because she was supposed to be gone for 2 hours helping her girlfriend with whatever they were doing, but I told her about the mess."

Again, Wade had gasped by the betrayal. He was going to bark back in retaliation but Logan had cut him off.

"I'm not done, bub. for the vase, I found that ugly thing in the trash two weeks after the fact that you had had a small obsession with it; which tell me Wade, why was it in the trash all broken up in various sizes of pieces?" Logan asked with a smug look on his face meaning "gotcha" which knowingly pissed Wade off.

"The only reason it was broken in the trash is because Mary Puppins knocked it over when she visited the place with me one morning. Colossus somehow doesn't know about that yet." Wade explained defeatedly. He crossed his arms to emphasize his defeat and frustration.

"No. He knows." Logan corrected. Still with that fucking smug look on his face, like who is this guy?

"How does he know?!" Wade looked at him in shock, desperately waiting for an answer.

"Cuz I told him, you wuss puss."

Damn, was that a jaw to the ground in betrayal². "You mother fucking, cock sucking, animal hating, snitch bitch!" Wade couldn't believe it. Like seriously, who snitches on their best friends?!

"Another thing, those examples were not what I was looking for. I said trustworthy in driving, not just whatever popped into that small skull of yours you call a brain." Logan emphasized that with a finger to Wade's temple, pushing at his head slightly to get his comedic relief friend to be even more ticked off.

"I can't believe you.. How do you go and snitch on your best friend? I'm your homeboy- we're like this!" Wade stuttered out as he crossed his pointer and middle finger to shove it in Logan's face.

"Wade, you're not my- get your hand out of my face, I'm driving here!" Logan said quickly, as he pushed at the offending hand that butted in his personal space.

"What were you gonna say, sweet cheeks? Were you gonna say that I'm not your best friend?" Wade looked at Logan all sad now.

"No, that's not what I.. Friend is a stretch in itself, pal. I appreciate the offer of me moving in with you and Al, but it's been a few years. you know..? Give it some time." Logan explained the best he could. As embarrassing as he worded it, which most likely ruined a bit of his ego, but he had trust issues.

"Just like the author said, you have trust issues, peanut." Wade said in a not-so-sad tone now. He went for crossing his arms again and looked out the window this time.

The car goes silent for a moment, much to Logan's relief since he's driving, and because he wanted to ignore his comment. They got a little over an hour left before getting into New Mexico, so hopefully the car ride ends up being dead silent until then.

. . .

"So about you not trusting my driving-" Wade was about to go on another unimportant rant before he got smacked over the mouth.

"Not. A. Word." Logan said carefully, never once keeping his eyes off the road again.

Wade had wanted to bite back with a sexual comment, but decided not to as he quite wanted his mouth open and not stapled. Yes, his mouth was stapled shut by Logan before.

. . .

Eh, on second thought.

"I'll have you know that my driving skills are immaculate!" Wade said through muffled lips.

"Oh yeah? Then take the fuckin' wheel." Logan said, letting go of the wheel as he was turning. This caused Wade to panic, and roughly took the wheel to make a sharp turn, almost hitting a tree when by passing, but successfully missed it by a smidge.

"What the fuck?!" Wade shouted, looking at Logan then quickly retreating his eyes back on the road.

Logan crossed his arms this time, pulling off his smug face as he looked down at Wade. "We almost hit that tree back there."

"Oh, you think?! You decided to let your masculinity be free while I'm over here trying to not get hit- by the way, it's very hard keeping an eye on the road while in this position.. You sure you didn't just do this because you wanted me to take a whiff of your dick? Because it smells atrocious, you should shower when we get to New Mexico."

Logan uncrossed his arms at that comment and violently pushed Wade out of the way so he could continue on with driving. "Nope. You're way too anxious, and you don't fully concentrate while driving: Remember that one time you drove into town and almost swerved into a pole all because a bird hit your side of the window?"

Wade chuckled at the memory even if it wasn't the best thing to ever happen. "Look, I get jumpy when I'm not expecting things like birds when driving. It's the animal's fault for bumping into my window. Honestly, if I had hit that pole, it should be that fuck ass pigeon who would pay for our expenses." Wade argued.

"Yeah, like that's a possibility. Don't forget the time you looked at a building for more than 5 seconds causing us to pass a red light." Logan said with a growl. That memory still pissed the Wolverine off.

"Oh yeah, ha! How could I forget you being generous to me for once?" Wade awed at the memory.

Logan was not pleased by that answer. "I had to pay for your ticket so then Al wouldn't have had to pay for it herself. I didn't do it for you, I did it for her. God knows how much money she has left with how much you steal from her. And I'm not talking about the money." Logan pointed at Wade then, almost instantly catching him pulling out a small bag of white powder with letters written on it.

"Wade.. Don't fuckin' tell me you stole her cocaine again?! As soon as I say something about you stealing, you just casually pull it out?!" Logan shouted.

"I can casually pull out something else if you really want me to." When Wade looked at Logan expecting an annoyed comment, all that Logan did was look at him with disgust. "Look, I only pulled this out to gain a reaction from you for the viewers who's reading right now. Hey viewers!" Wade turned to face the back seat once again. This caused Logan to look back twice, only to be met with empty seats.

"Jesus- Wade, you make no sense whatsoever whenever I'm with you. It drives me insane sometimes." Logan breathed out, exhausted by all the talking suddenly. (Ahh, don't you just love a social battery?)

Wade looked at Logan and then out the car window to see a sign that says "Welcome to New Mexico!"

"Hey look! We made it, honey. Time to go visit the kids, huh?" Wade said excitedly, earning a scoff from Logan.

Once again, Wade is picturing the car in third person view, as he imagines the car drifting away from the camera, as the welcome sign appears in front. After a while, the screen will start to fade and soon it all goes black, waiting for a new chapter to come.

"This is going to be a fun vacation."

[mythic-rose]

❝ — "That power, it's not completely awful.'"

rose's 100 favorite fictional muses — 19/100: Eddie Brock

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Hello to anyone who sees this! I am a beta reader looking for some more fics to help with. If you are interested please refer to this post first for some more in depth details about me and how I can help before dming me. I am fine with pretty much everything, though I would prefer fandom fics instead of original works and novels.

[house-of-slayterr]

Ok, My Mega Dream Team for the night…

Hear me out Yall.

Billy and Stu

Bo Sinclair

The Lost Boys + Micheal

Murder Husbands

Daryl Dixon:

Peepaw:

Jerry Dandrige:

John Constantine

Venom:

I could take them… “in a fight” 😩

Tag: @joelsgeetar @oceansrose2002 @emeraldfangs @kados-of-chaos @willowbrookesblog @mothmans-kingdom

[the-autistic-spider]

do anyone know any good venom x dc crossovers?

if you do please reblog/comment them

thanks = ]

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Venomous

Part 5 of my Dracula x Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, threats of murder, mentions of murder, vampire stuff, vampire compulsion.

The way he'd made you feel couldn't be described in simple words. He was the feeling of eating something sweet after a long week, like dropping into your bed when things were just too much. He was like being wrapped in your favourite coat, or your softest blanket, while the world stood frozen around you.

That's what he'd become.

Your safety, your warmth, your peace. A hand, holding you steady when you felt the earth shifting beneath your feet.

It was shifting right now.

Like an earthquake that just shook harder the longer in went on, you could only scramble as everything trembled around you, threatening to fall and crush you, or splinter at your feet.

You only see in blurry flashes. Slamming your front door shut, your hand on the wall as you use it to support yourself. You can hear people around, but none in immediate observance of you. Why was your vision so shaky? Why could you hear this loud thundering in your ears?

You almost trip on the first step, but you catch yourself in time, your ankle bouncing harmlessly against the edge.

Where was your anchor? Where had he gone? Why'd he leave you untethered like this? You felt like you would float away if you didn't hold on to something.

You make it to your room, a few more steps before you crash into your bed.

A bitter taste in your mouth, a swollen feeling in your throat.

Your first sound of pain is a pathetic little sound, so pitiful that you can do nothing more that open your mouth to let out a proper sob.

There was so many emotions careening through your mind, your body shakes as you begin to cry.

There's no thoughts except the feeling of some great big unimaginable loss. You feel completely unattached from everything and everyone. It makes you yearn for him, your sire, and then you feel disgruntled for wanting him, because maybe you shouldn't... but maybe you should.

The argument is too complex to work through in your head. You keep asking yourself why? Why would he do this? Why did you have to be this way?

It's annoying how easily your head can supply answers. A defense of him mounted so simply, it could make you scream.

You sort of knew that your accusations were unfair, but then you remembered the pain you'd be forced to inflict on your family, and you got angry all over again.

It was unfair to get angry with him, and that was the worst thought of all. Because then, if he didn't deserve it... then why did you do it?

Why did you pick a fight with the one man holding you to the Earth? Didn't you deserve to float away then?

You sob and sob until your body feels as if it's run out of moisture, your skin remains cold, your tears too, and you lie awake for a long while, staring off into space, curled up on your bed, until you don't remember falling asleep.

.

Two days pass in a heavy blur. You don't know where you're going, and you can't remember where you've been. Everyone dodges you, because they know you by now. They know you prefer solitude to comfort... but not even that is entirely true.

Sure, it may have been true before you left home. Now, there was one person that you would accept comfort from if you ever saw his face again.

The prospect of seeing him was getting more and more bleak with each passing hour. He wasn't coming back... you'd pushed too hard this time.

You were stuck like this. In this new body, in a new life, and you were floating away.

Where was he now? Was he sitting somewhere, curled up like you were? Was he safe and well fed?

The thought of him being well fed reminds you of the way his teeth felt on your skin, and you have the irrational fear that he could have already replaced you.

There's no way though. Even after the scary things he suggested, you know that his words are true. That he didn't turn you because he was lonely. Maybe that was a partial reason, but definitely not his only one.

Perhaps there was something in you that had been worth saving. Maybe the world could be a little better place with you in it.

It makes you cry.

Tears spring to your eyes and you don't fight it because how could you have pushed away one of the only people that believed in you so much? Who saw the good in you when you thought you were a monster.

The tears don't stop.

You miss him. The way he laughs and the way he kisses and the way he rolls his eyes when you make a stupid joke.

What power adoration holds, what a grip love has on you-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a pebble softly hitting your bedroom window. You raise your head.

The first thing you do is check the time... 2am.

Had he come back? Was he there? You sprint to the window to look out.

No. It was some scrawny kid, standing outside your window. He's wearing all black, hanging on to a little black lunchbag as well.

You frown, deep in thought, when the boy, who cannot be any more that eighteen notices you, he waves.

You swear a couple of times in your head, before turning away from your window and racing down the stairs.

If he's surprised by the speed that you get to your door, he doesn't say anything.

Instead, all he says is that he has a delivery for you, confirming your name before he extends the lunchbag.

You take it quietly, a million questions in your head, moving too fast for your mouth to catch one.

"My number's in there, if you need more." The boy says, and you finally look up at him.

"He sent you? Did he- did he say anything about me?" You ask.

"Not really, just to make sure you got the best."

Your lip wobbles, you thank him, turning away before you can cry in front of this stranger.

You're not completely sure what's in the insulated bag, but you can make an educated guess based on the circumstances. Drac had never really taught you how to hunt, or even the skill of compulsion that would definitely make it easier. You were really still just a fledgling, and though he wasn't around, here he was, still taking care of you.

It's enough to make you cry again, curl up in bed clutching the little black bag, wishing he would come back, so you could apologise for acting so irrationally towards him.

You can't even eat, staying awake till the sun rises, and then finally falling asleep from all the exhaustion.

When you wake up later in the evening, your stomach finally gives a pain of protest. The last time you fed was on him, and your body demands sustenance.

You take your time, unzipping the lunchbag, finding two bags of blood, one labelled O posive and the other labelled AB negative.

You find that you can't do it. You hate the impersonality of it all. It's a waste of your venom, drinking from a lifeless bag, where you once had soft skin and caring hands.

You push the bag away from you, standing, and opting for a glass of water instead.

It takes you a minute in the kitchen before you're ambushed.

"You have to talk to me. This is getting ridiculous." Your mother pushes, cutting straight to the chase.

You take a deep breath, putting down your glass of water.

"I don't want to talk about it." you try, but you knew better than to hope that would work.

"I figured you probably had a fight about something. Did you two break up?"

"We're not-" you start to say, but in reality, you didn't actually know. You frown, was this the end of your relationship with him?

"I really don't want to talk about this." You try again, moving around the kitchen island in an attempt to escape.

"Maybe it's for the best? You can get someone who's not at least twice your age now."

You almost laugh, if only she knew how far in age you really were from each other.

"All I'm saying is," she continues, following you into the other room, "what could a man his age have to really talk about with someone as young as you?"

Anger burns in you, you're not sure if her implication is that he's too mature, or that you're too juvenile to hold a conversation with him.

"I thought you liked him." you say, feeling a little betrayed.

"As a person, yes, as partner for my youngest daughter? Hell no."

You stop short, trying to fight the tears that threaten to spill, raising your hands to hide your face.

"He saved my life." you try to argue.

"And I'm thankful, but is that the only reason you like him, because he saved you?"

"NO!"

"Is it his money? Or the way he babies you? What are you going to do when he gets old and sick? I don't want you to waste the rest of your life your life caring for him!"

It's too much, and before you can resist, the anger bursts from you blindingly.

"STOP." You hiss, making youself look as menacing as possible and drawing satisfaction from her horrified face.

It's her heart hammering in her chest that's told you what you've done, and you don't need a mirror to realise that you've bared your fangs and flashed your red eyes at her.

"What the hell happened to you?" She asks in whispered horror.

"Mom-" You try, voice freezing as she takes a shaky step back.

An ache in your chest, as you feel like the monster you knows she sees now when she looks at you.

You eyes fill with tears, your lower lip trembles.

Before she can spit another word of hate at you, you turn, and get out of the house as fast as humanly possible. 

.

.

You're far from home when the black car pulls up alongside you.

You pause, sniffling as the rear glass rolls down.

The first thing you see is blonde hair, and a woman who barely spares you a glance, her eyes trailing up and down before raising an eyebrow and turning away.

"Get in, and I'll take you to him." she says simply, and you swallow, finally turning to the car. You can tell that she's a vampire, and going on the lack of heartbeats in the car, the driver is undead too.

"He sent you?" You ask hopefully, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward.

"No, but he needs your help."

You don't hesitate, pulling open the door and getting into the space beside her. She finally turns to you again, gives you another distasteful look. You feel grubby under her judgemental eyes, observing her designer white dress and sharp heels.

"You'll definitely need to change before we go to see him."

You look down at your aged t-shirt and sweats in betrayal.

She taps one sharp nail against the door twice, and the car takes off into the night, the glass rolling up.

"Who are you?" You ask shyly, unwilling to have this woman look at you for longer than absolutely necessary.

"He's never spoken about me?"

You don't respond, giving her a confused look instead.

"I'm Sophia, the only other person he's ever turned."

You stiffen, remembering everything he's said about her. That they ended things because she'd become something unrecognizeable to him.

"Stop the car." You say firmly.

She gives you a toothy grin.

"So you have heard of me then." She says.

"I won't ask again." You warn.

She gives you a tilt of her head, her blue eyes piercing into you.

After a moment of quiet stares, she taps twice on the car door.

The car slows to a stop. You reach to unlock the door, grabbing the handle.

"If you leave, I'll have your family killed." She says softly, her voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turn back to her in shock, her tone is so casual that for a moment you think she's joking.

Something ugly, Drac had said, and now you understand.

"If you hurt them-"

"You're not really in the best position to be making threats now are you?" She says, raising her hands to study her pristine claws.

"So come with me, do as I say, and I'll think about letting them live."

You grit your teeth, leaning back against the seat in compliance.

A smile, and another two taps, and the car is moving again.

"To be clear, I will be killing you tonight. Not him, just you, I don't like sharing my sire."

You blink, swallowing, fear and anxiety making its way through you.

You can't figure out what to do. If you leave, your family dies, if you stay, you'll inevitably die...unless Dracula manages to have something up his sleeve.

You were fucked.

.

.

She'd taken you back to her hotel, where she'd instructed you to take a shower, pointing out your own grimy skin to you in disgust. You'd listened begrudgingly, willing yourself into some kind of acceptance of your fate.

When you were clean, she'd let in a small team of stylists to offer up some dress designs. You note that they were mostly casual dresses, with form fitting material and an expensive design.

She makes you try all of them on for her, and you oblige with gritted teeth. She's mean in the way she gives her opinion, needling at every flaw in your body.

"You're definitely not his usual type." Sophia says, tapping her fingernail to her chin, deep in thought, and you let out a sigh of annoyance, tired of hearing people comment on your body.

"How did you two meet?" She continues to ask.

You almost don't want to tell her, wanting to keep it a secret, something sacred between you and your sire. You feel your heart make a great tug. You wanted your daddy.

"I was dying. Swerved from hitting a deer. She was standing in the middle of the road trying to coax her baby onto the asphalt so they could cross. I was going around a bend... couldn't stop in time. My car flipped." You find that you struggle to continue speaking.

"He saved you." Sophia says.

You blink, looking at her, her eyes reading into you.

"Yeah," You say softly, "No idea why."

After a few moments, you have more courage to speak.

"What about you?"

She gives you a delighted smile.

"We met in Athens, about two hundred years after his supposed death. He'd been living on one of the nearby islands, contemplating the horrible things he'd done. One of the humans under his care had gotten sick, and he came to the city for medicine."

Her face is alight with nostalgic bliss.

"I was a healer, insistent that I treat his 'friend' myself. He admired the way I cared, the way I fought for the people I treated to give them the best. We fell in love."

Your chest burns at the thought.

"It was more than I could have ever imagined. He became a healer to help me, he showed me who he was, he cared for me and protected me. He changed me the night we got married."

Her smile turns bitter.

"But he wanted my obedience, wanted me on a leash like a pet when I'd become a God. How could he expect me to keep healing people, living such a humble, pathetic life when I could rule the same people that once looked down on me? He gave me power and grew upset when I wanted to use it."

"The hypocrite." She scoffs.

"When we broke up, I burned a village to ash." She says, hints of satisfaction and awe in her voice. The sound terrifies you.

"We tried to kill each other. We barely made it out alive. I went searching for a weapon to kill him, I got trapped in a tomb of my own making."

"After all of that, I still love him. And then I find out about you."

You try not to shudder at the way her red eyes meet yours.

"He doesn't love you." She says.

"I know." Is your reply.

What amazing, and painful history they have, you can't help but compare it to the few months you've known him. Sophia has loved him for lifetimes, in her own twisted way, where you've barely begun.

Your heart sinks in your chest.

Maybe this was their story, and you'd just been getting in the way.

"Do you think I could get him back?" She asks.

You swallow. What did you know about the lives of immortals that could make you answer that question accurately?

"I'm sure you can try." You suggest.

It's enough to get her smiling. She stands, reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress, you hold her gaze as she takes her dress off, you can tell she's once again trying to intimidate you by flaunting her small stature. You're over it at this point.

She picks a loose flowing, flowery dress, it makes her look beautiful and somewhat innocent, and you figure you know what angle she's going to play for Dracula when she sees him later.

Having been doused in her products, you no longer smell like yourself, and you figure she does this to conceal you from him for as long as possible.

She wants you to witness it, you can tell. She wasn't subtle about her intentions, and you knew it was all an act to make you as insecure about your relationship with Dracula as much as possible.

Honestly, it had worked a little. Their history had taken root inside of you, made you wonder how you could ever hope to compete with not only his ex-lover, but his ex-wife too. A woman he'd chosen, where you were just someone he stumbled upon by accident.

.

You still didn't know what her overall plan was. You knew she had a weapon that could kill you, that she was intending to after she got what she wanted, and though she made it seem that reconciliation was her aim, you knew better.

The club she takes you to is dimly lit with a neon blue hue to everything. The music is soft, and there's the use of mirrors behind the bar to make the room seem much bigger than it is.

Overall, it's beautiful, blue crystals protrude from the walls, giving the room a lovely geode effect, the soft lights catching and reflecting off the crystals occasionally. The room was almost like a living organism, pulsing and breathing, where its patrons were not.

Sophia had instructed you not to speak beforehand. She'd shown you a picture of your sister, standing in the kitchen window, warning you that if she doesn't check in every thirty minutes, that the vampire she'd stationed outside your house would go in and slaughter them all.

It had been enough to scare you straight, and she'd assigned two large, burly vampires to sit on either side of you in one of the booths in the corner of the room. The club is filled with a moderate amount of people, all vampires, there's only a few stray heartbeats here and there.

While most of the patrons of the club look human, you can't help notice that some of them have non-human attributes.

You remember Drac explaining that there were different races, and you try not to stare in facination at some of the vampires that have glistening silver teeth, and others with pointed ears and pink skin.

It's beautiful, they all are, they move with the grace of ancient beings, perhaps even sacred idols at one point.

And when you finally spot him, your sire, sitting in a darkened seat at the edge of the bar, your heart gives one big squeeze.

Sophia, looking like the heart of innocence, slides right up beside him, and you realise that you have a mostly uninhibited view of them.

"Hello, sire." You hear Sophia say.

Drac turns slowly to look into her eyes. He blinks for a moment, raises a hand to carefully cup her cheek. You let out a slow breath, trying to ease the pain in your chest at the sight. The nostalgia between them.

"Sophia." he says casually, "I thought you were dead."

"I thought the same of you, love. When I finally escaped from the tomb I'd been trapped in, you'd become nothing more than a myth."

"Why are you here?" he asks, his thumb sliding along her cheek. Her eyelids flutter closed for a second.

"I came for your forgiveness. To say I'm sorry for all the things I've done. I realise now that it was wrong. If you would consider rekindling what we once had." She whispers, looking right at him with her most alluring eyes.

There's a long silence between them, and he drops his hand from her face, turning away.

"I've done a lot of bad things too, and I've spent lifetimes trying to atone. If you would like my help, I won't deny you. But... I don't think we can be together like we were before. Things change. They have to." He replies.

Your lip wobbles, remembering the first time you'd said that to him. Your eyes fill with tears at the idea that you might have said something to him that could stick with him like that. You squeeze your hand into fists, fighting to urge to go to him, hold him.

"Are you sure? We could just try. You loved me once. Don't you remember? Lying beneath the stars the first time I gave myself to you?"

You watch his shoulders drop.

Her words made you angry, the manipulation she was trying to pull on him when you knew it was all for show. You wanted to tear her blonde tresses out of her head for trying to hurt your sire this way.

Drac shakes his head.

"Whatever love I once had for you, it burned up when you set our house on fire with our friends still inside." he finally says.

His words hurt you. You want to go to him, you realise how selfish your accusations had been the nights before. He'd been hurt so badly, and you'd only made it worse.

"A shame, really." Sophia says, dropping all the pretense in her voice.

"I can't imagine that you would choose her over me." She says, and Drac raises his head to look back at her, in what you assume is confusion.

The man beside you takes it as his cue, grabbing you by the upper arm and hauling you up. You let out a little grunt as he grips you too tightly, and you try to move with him.

When he hears more footsteps approaching, Dracula turns to face the sound.

He freezes when he sees you, and you try to show him how sorry you are with the look in your eyes.

He stands angrily, but before he can make another step, a knife is brought to your chest. It glints in the light. The entire blade is made of some type of crystal, looking teal or magenta depending on the way the light hits it.

When the knife is pulled, the entire club freezes. All eyes turn to the spectacle happening near the edge of the bar.

"Now maybe you can stop him from killing her, or maybe you can stop me from sending the order to kill her family, but you definitely can't do both, Dracula."

The crowd erupts into murmurs, no one's apparently seen the infamous vampire in centuries.

"And if you use your compulsion, I'll kill her family."

While Sophia has been dealing her threats, Drac's eyes have been fixed on you. He looks a little worn, slightly pale, as if he hasn't fed in the same amount of time as you.

You want to tell him how sorry you are. That you said all those shitty things to him. He didn't deserve a single word of it.

You want so much in that moment, to throw yourself into his arms, to ask him why he didn't come back, to demand he stay, and not think about leaving you ever again.

He looks pained too, and you're almost glad to see it. Hoping that he missed each minute he was away from you.

He takes a step forward, and you gasp as the knife breaks your skin.

The man holds it there, your skin trying to heal and unable to with the foreign object blocking its path.

"Let. Her. Go." He says with red eyes and gritted teeth.

"No. I need her to keep you in check. Because I want you to make a vampire for me."

That gets both of your attention.

She looks calm at the reveal, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?" He says in disbelief.

Sophia shakes her head.

"You're so annoying, love. You've had centuries to make a line of vampires capable of compulsion, to set up comfortable lives for all vampire kind, and instead you've squandered your gift. Hidden it away like the coward you've grown to be."

He looks at her in shocked silence for a moment, before letting out a little huff, and a shake of his head.

"I figured you were lying to me. There's just no empathy in there anymore, is there?

"Is that what you like about her? Her empathy? Disgusting."

His eyes meet yours. Warm and reassuring.

"I like everything about her."

You can't help the happy smile you give him. Despite the situation, his clear display of affection makes you happier that ever.

"Anyways," She pulls her phone from her pocket and sends a text. The man behind you keeps the dagger in your skin, the pain of it holds you in place.

All you can do is look at him, and yearn for him.

"I'll do anything you ask if you let her and her family go." He tries to bargain.

Sophia laughs, still looking at her phone.

"You'll do what I ask anyway, because if you don't, she's dead."

You wanted to tell him that you were dead anyway, that she'd all but guaranteed it to you in the car.

You don't get a chance to speak, before a vampire is moving up to the group of you. He's dressed neatly, a dark blue suit with golden embellishments. His teeth glint like silver when he speaks.

"This club has a no violence policy. Please leave, and do your business elsewhere." He says to Sophia.

The blonde simply laughs.

"I will do what I want, when I want." She simply says, and when she speaks next, you hear the power in her voice.

"Leave, and do not bother me again."

The sound doesn't vibrate your eardrums as much as Drac's does, and you figure it's because she's not as powerful as he is.

Her voice does it's job though, and before the man can protest, he's turning and walking away, his movements stiff in an effort to fight back.

After her display of power, some of the other vampires take their leave easily, and you can't really blame them.

Some remain though, too curious about the spectacle to go.

"Why do you need me?" Dracula finally asks, "Why can't you turn someone yourself?"

She checks her phone again before sighing.

"I want a coven with the strongest capability of compulsion possible. The last child I birthed was weaker than me because I mixed the races. The only way to get someone stronger is to mate with a vampire of the same kind."

What the fuck was she talking about?

Birthed? Mate? Your mind was spinning.

"What?" You say, distracting both of them. The man who's holding you tightens his grip.

"What do you mean birth?"

Sophia turns to Dracula.

"You haven't told her?"

"She's only a few months old." He answers, as if this is some type of reasonable explaination.

"Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this." She says decisively, turning fully to you.

"Haven't you noticed by now that there are somethings not quite vampire about you? The fact that you get sleepy for example. Other vampires don't need sleep."

You glance at Dracula, he's got his eyes on you.

"They don't?" You ask.

"Nope. We're something different, something very special. We can sleep, we can dream, we can get pregnant." Sophia answers.

You swallow.

"We can?" You say in disbelief.

Dracula's eyes hold no denial.

Something blooms in your chest.

You could actually have babies if you wanted?

"Why didn't you tell me?" You ask him softly.

He gives you a sad smile.

"It's a lot to put on you. The mating cycle can be very intense. You're still learning how to control your thirst."

You think you understand.

Sophia approaches, cups your cheek and turns your head to hers, breaking your eye contact with your sire.

"The mating cycle happens once in about five years. Your body burns and it aches and if you're alone you wish you were dead. He could never understand what you go through. Are you sure this is the life you really want? Wouldn't death be a blessing?" She taunts.

You sigh in defeat, and then the back door to the club swings open.

"Finally," She says with a toss of her golden hair, "You're late."

Two men enter, and you take in as much information as you can.

One is old, with a lanky stature and a bald head. He's dressed in a three piece suit, wearing a large amount of gold jewellery.

Even his ears are pierced, lined with gold hoops and you get the idea, based on his movements and mannerisms, that he's some type of old royalty.

The other man is human, dressed casually, the sound of his heartbeat echoes in your head. It reminds you of how long you've gone without feeding.

"Apologies for the delay." The older man says, "But I am here now, and ready to witness history. Oh, hello Dracula."

Drac's fangs are bared in distaste.

"Tepes, I thought I killed you."

"Yes, well... no." The man answers dismissively, with a wave of his hand and as you watch them carefully, you can see something of a resemblance.

The amount of history in the room is spinning in your head. The amount of things you've just learnt disorient you. You just want everyone and everything to stop.

Sophia throws her arms around the human, giving him a very inappropriate kiss that she subjects everyone to the room to observing and you let out an annoyed breath, jerking in place in an attempt to move.

The man behind you takes it as disobedience, and you cry out as the knife gets deeper.

It's right on your sternum now, and tears spill from your cheeks at the amount of pain you're in.

All eyes turn to you, but your vision has become too blurry to focus.

You can almost feel Dracula's anger, filling the room, making the air thick with his power. It somehow manages to make you more antsy, his irritation is yours.

"So this is the little vampire that's made everything possible." The old man says, and you raise your head to observe him wearily as he approaches.

"Very pretty, I bet she takes orders very well." The man raises his hand slowly, preparing to trace the tips of his fingers over your cheek.

"You'd make an excellent addition to my collection."

"Don't touch her." Dracula compels, and the man's hand freezes right before your face.

Sophia spins, pulling her phone out.

"Compulsion gets her family killed." She says decisively, moving to send a message.

Dracula takes a step toward her, and the knife goes deeper into you chest.

"Say goodbye." She taunts, and it's all too much, there's a great rushing in your head, a pressure that builds until it bursts, one word escaping you.

"STOP." 

You hear it, the vibration in your own voice, you feel something shift in the room as the power of your one word settles over everyone that hears it.

The entire room goes still.

You raise a hand, carefully pulling the knife from your chest, and taking it from the man before extracting yourself from his grip.

You let out a low gasp, bending over, rubbing the space over your heart, sighing in relief as the wound begins to heal.

You gasp in surprise as someone puts a hand on your shoulder. Jerking upright, you realise that it's him, the only person immune to your compulsion, your sire.

"Drac" you gasp, throwing your body into his arms forcefully, ignoring the sharp sting in your chest from your healing wound.

"I'm here baby, I'm right here." He soothes, a gentle hand over your back.

"I'm not done yet." You gasp, pulling away and turning to Sophia.

Her hands are frozen on her phone, her mouth parted in surprise as she looks at you.

You can see the appeal of her beauty, the innocent way she looks, and you can also see the serpent beneath.

"You will never, harm me or my family, directly or indirectly ever again." The words leave you easily, you watch her register the compulsion, the terrified look in her eyes as she comes to terms with the power you hold.

"You will never act against me, or my sire." You finish, turning to the older man, behind you.

When you're done, you turn back to Dracula for approval. He lets out a harsh breath, takes two long strides to stand before you, cups your cheeks and drops his head to kiss you deeply.

Sweet bliss.

Pleasure explodes in every cell of your body. You toss your hands over his shoulders and sink your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, one hand still gripping the dangerous blade.

He groans, arms wrapped around you, he lifts you until you're just barely on the very tips of your toes.

Like coming home, the smell of him, the taste of his tongue, every easy motion he makes to pull you even closer to him. Overwhelming in the very best way.

"I'm so fucking proud of you." He says between kisses, and it reminds you that you're not alone, that you have an entire room frozen, being forced to listen to you kiss him.

You giggle into his mouth, pulling away.

"I'm sorry, for what I said- I didn't mean a single word of it-"

"I know- I forgive you. I know. I just wanted to give you some space."

You grip his shirt, burying your face in his chest.

"I hate space. I don't want it. I want you, Dracula." You raise your head shyly to look into his eyes, you don't think you could go another breath without him at your side.

"If you would have me." You whisper meekly.

He cups your cheeks, studying you.

"I should be asking you. I've wanted you from the moment you looked at me. From the minute you said my name. I've wanted nothing more since."

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, happiness so potent you couldn't contain it. You let out little happy sobs, and he holds you through it.

When things finally settle, he guides you through freeing the club from your compulsion. You apologise for your actions, watching the rest of the club leave quickly, throwing you dirty looks, until only Sophia, and the two other men remain.

Defeated, she looks at you angrily, calling off her men from around your family home.

"How?" She whispers in disbelief, and you know she's wondering how exactly you managed to compel not only other vampires, but her as well. You suspect it has something to do with the connection, or lack thereof between you and Sophia, but you're not totally sure.

Drac huffs in amusement as if he knows the answer, and you turn to him for an explanation.

"She only drinks from me." He murmurs, looking at you with affection, one hand cupping your face, leaning in to kiss you easily, in front of his ex-lover, his ex-wife... whatever.

"A nice, steady diet of power will do that." He says, giving you a sharp grin, "Though compulsion at only a few months old? That was all you."

You smile, turning to look at Sophia, satisfied with the sour expression on her face.

That's right, bitch, you think easily in her direction.

You pass the knife over to him, and you watch as he tucks it into the waistband of his pants for safekeeping.

He wraps a hand around your shoulders next, and you lean into him as he guides you out of the club.

"Did you drink the blood I sent you?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Uuummmmm....."

"Oh baby," he says with disappointment in his tone, "You must be so hungry, you're lucky your control didn't slip."

You swallow, remembering the actions that happened right before you left your house.

"So about that..." You mumble, acknowledging that you still had loose ends to tie up.

The night wasn't over yet.

.

.

.

A/N: WHO'S OUT HERE CHOPPING ONIONSSSSSSSS 🧅

[moviepanda]

No horror today cause my sister is visiting and she doesn't like them 😄

But we were at the movies and watched this one

What I love the most about these movies is that they show how draining life is for Eddie and that they're not just putting him in the best clothes and the best make up even though it's not realistic

I love Tom Hardy, I love Venom, I love the goofiness - but the first two movies were better

Ohhh and I absolutely loved the soundtrack!

And sweet Venom singing and dancing was beautiful 🥹

10/24/2024

[asheurbanipal]

Larger Rules Even You Must Follow

Venom, Eddie x Venom, symbrock

Explicit

7k words

Content: mention of suicidal ideation, angst, reunion, minor gun violence, tentacle masturbation

Ep 1 in series

On Ao3

Summary:

It's been six months since...well...since the voice stopped altogether. Life was supposed to be normal again. He's working as a reporter again! It's fine! Except there's some kind of new, mysterious figure climbing across the roof's of New York. Good thing the multiverse opens the door for those we think are gone to get...a second chance.

Notes on continuity:

Fun fact, I know the Venom comic canon backward and forward, intimately. However, the movieverse doesn't follow comic canon and technically wraps itself up with Madame Web and Morbius. And while I want to include facts and characterization from the comic canon, the movie continuity seems like more fun to write in with more spaces to write into. What the FUCK is a boi to do?

My solution? Well? Fuck it, multiverse.

Which means I also had to watch Madame Web and Morbius. These movies aren't nearly as bad as people say they are.

Eddie laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. It was too quiet. He scrambled for the remote and turned it on to General Hospital. Too quiet. He used another remote to turn on the window AC unit, turning the fan all the way up. Too quiet. If he turned on the radio, too, the downstairs neighbors would complain again.

That was fair, honestly. She was a work-from-home mom with three kids under five. She didn't need him making her life harder. 

eddie

He rolled off the couch and hopped a few times, shaking the auditory shadow from inside his ears. He shuffled over to the office/exercise area he had set up in his dining space. He didn't touch the free weights, instead dropping to the chair in front of his laptop. Then he looked at the dumbbells. Then the computer. 

"Ten reps. Just ten reps of ten." Once he actually started, though, he rolled into a proper, basic, low weight arm routine. Nothing fancy. Nothing hard. Just something to keep his body moving so his brain wouldn't catch up. 

Before Ve-...before he wasn't really the dedicated exercising type. Living in walkable cities kept him fit enough for what he needed to do on the daily. When he met…when he had the other, though, he learned quickly he was not in any kind of shape to handle the things his body demanded of him. Yeah, he wasn't necessarily doing most of the heavy lifting, but he could feel it afterward. Punching through walls still hurt even when the force was distributed by black goo around his wrist and arm. Even a basic weightlifting routine had helped him get out of bed every morning without feeling like a robot. 

He had fallen out of the habit over the last six months. Since…

He was determined to get back into it, though. Something to make it easier to deal with…

"Fuck, I'm crying again." He dropped into the computer chair and swiped his hands across his eyes. It kept happening. He didn't even feel some specific swell of emotion, just suddenly his eyes were welling up. He had convinced everyone in the office that he just had the worst allergies known to man and they appeared at extremely inopportune times. 

Speaking of, a Teams alert went off on his laptop. He didn't have a dedicated desk, one of the hybrid reporters, but there was a last minute meeting. They wanted him at the office. 

He slammed the lid of the computer closed. Good. Fine. Anything to get out of this apartment where only shit feelings lived. 

Grief was supposed to get easier with time. That's what the book said.  

It better start working soon. 

The problem was that it came in waves. Through the weeks after, through moving back to New York, through settling into a shitty one-bedroom apartment, through all the little things he needed to do to get his life back on track, he had been fine. Sad, but fine. Distant from everything but fine. 

It was after that. After he found a routine again. After life started looking normal. 

That's when the weight of the loss hit. 

No one to talk to as he drifted off to sleep. No one to make half of breakfast poorly. Yeah, he hadn't eaten a head in half a year, but was that worth it? Really?

He had made it from his apartment, to the subway, then down a few blocks to the building of the Daily Globe , all without really thinking about what he was doing. 

"Thanks for making it Brock." Barney Bushkin was a weird guy. Fat bald. A man caught in the middle of a different time. The Globe was on the downswing, falling apart against its rivals that had better been able to adapt to an all-digital world. 

But they were willing to take them--him back. 

They probably needed him more than he needed them. The Eddie Brock byline was facing another Renaissance after internet conspiracy had (mostly correctly) decided he was the victim of some alphabet agency black op. If he kept his head down, he could ride it into a book deal of some sort. 

What the fuck would he actually write about, though? 

Bushkin led him into one of the small conference rooms with the handful of other managing editors for sections of the website and paper. Eddie shouldn't technically be there. He was a team of one, covering obscure crimes and tracking down the seeds of high-level corporate espionage. No one else wanted to touch his niche, so he had no one to report to but Bushkin himself. It was nice to have a long lead, but that also meant if something went sideways, he was the only one carrying the weight. Again. 

Bushkin closed the door and dropped the blinds. 

"This is an in-person meeting because I don't want any of this in writing." He dropped a manila file on the table and opened it up to a few 8 x 10s. It was some guy in red, swinging on some kind of thin rope between skyscrapers. The pictures got picked up and passed around the room.

"These came in anonymously, and I got a call from Jameson at the Bugle and a few other places that they got the same. Now this combined with some weird street crime patterns lately means we've come to a bit of a truce. We're all gonna hold back until we have more information. Not just gonna run any random old picture. We're gonna at least pretend we're journalists. Because honestly? None of us know what the hell this is, and no one wants to look stupid. Doesn't mean we can't get the scoop, though."

The pictures made it to Eddie, and he flipped through them. Something pinged a memory deep down that shot an arrow of unease through him. Action shots were blurry, a red and blue figure hurtling through the sky. A nighttime candid from inside the crown of the Statue of Liberty when it was absolutely closed to the public. He sent them along to the next person.

Bushkin nodded to a young woman with pink hair. One of the designated "younger generation" that every paper needed and he had been at one time. 

"Lee, is this enough to figure out how and where these were printed? Get us something to work back from?"

"I've got an ink analysis guy," she assured, and that was enough, for now. 

"Okay, everyone else, I want you on your toes, looking into this, but I don't want you dropping off your main stories. We've still got a paper to keep running." 

Bushkin answered a round of questions, then everyone was released out of the office. 

"Brock." Except one. 

Bushkin waited for everyone else to filter out before leaning into Eddie. 

"Is this the kind of thing you might know something about?" 

Bushkin knew Something. Eddie didn't know how or what or any actual useful details that would help him navigate this conversation, but Bushkin had some kind of information that other people didn't. And he had figured out Eddie did, too. 

"Nothing from me." Eddie had gotten good at failing to commit to anything specific. In more ways than one.

"You sure? Maybe, you find something no one else would think to look for?"

Eddie sighed. 

"Barney, you don't want it to be something I know about. Because I won't be able to give you that scoop without being put in a wooden crate and stored at the back of a warehouse. Are you getting me?" This was the first time he had been this direct about the situation, and it was still skimming around the outside. But Bushkin nodded. 

"Then I'll just ask you to use your unique experience and keep an eye out."

"I can do that." He gestured vaguely toward the door. "We good?"

Bushkin flicked his head in dismissal. 

 

"Hey, Yousef, can I ask you about something?"

Eddie slid into the bodega at the corner by his apartment and headed straight back for a six pack. By the time he made it to the counter he had a bag of chips and a chocolate bar. He didn't remember grabbing the chocolate bar. For a half second he stared at the shelf, considering whether to put it back. Then Soup the calico nudged his hand from her station on the counter, and he focused his attention on petting her, instead.

eddie, kitty

"Stop it," he muttered to himself.

"What are you yelling at me about, boss?" Yousef emerged from the backroom. He was probably only a few years older than Eddie, but he'd been in the city his whole life. Street level. 

"Do you remember something maybe…fifteen years? About some dude in, like, I don't know…a unitard chasing people around the city?" 

Yousef stared at him with narrowed eyes, thinking.

It had struck him while he was dredging through crime reports looking for possible clues or information, a sort of weird nag of information in the back of his head. He had been a dumb college kid at the time, though, still pretending he was hot shit out in the suburbs. He was too disconnected from things happening in the city. The general internet had shit-all, and if the crime beat archives at the Globe ever had anything, it was gone now.

Suspiciously gone, honestly. 

But people don't forget so easily. 

"Yeah…yeah." Yousef knocked his knuckles on the counter then started ringing up Eddie's purchases. "Some fucking asshole in black pajamas blew up a taxi then went chasing an ambulance through Queens. News said they were shooting a music video and the pyrotechnics malfunctioned. Never believed it for a second." 

Yousef looked at him sideways.

"Big shot reporter asking makes me think I'm right." 

Eddie leaned across the counter conspiratorially. 

"Not that you heard it from me. But if you happen to see or hear anything else about a man running around in a onesie, I would appreciate the notice." 

Yousef tapped the side of his nose that he understood.

 

Eddie sat on a crate on the fire escape pretending it was a balcony drinking a beer and doom-scrolling on his laptop. The city was noisy. Bright. A lot of extra-sensory information in the background to keep the soft parts of his brain occupied. 

eddie

He tossed the echo of a sound out of his head and chugged down the last half of his beer in one gulp. His thumb hovered over the trackpad. He told himself he would stop doing this, but the urge kept rising up. 

His fingers found the keystrokes before he realized he was doing it. "Life Foundation rocket" "Carlton Drake" "San Francisco church" "Cletus Kasady" "Nevada aliens" Then a collection of additional keywords and searches laying out the major events of the most eventful year of his life. True to the word of the US military, there was nothing that could incriminate him beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Carlton Drake had died in a rocket launch failure. The Life Foundation had been shut down, at least temporarily, for unknown disclosed FDA-related reasons. Cletus Kasady had orchestrated a prison break with a homemade explosive and burned down a church. Which, by the way, Eddie Brock had nothing to do with upon further investigation. It was a misunderstanding based on the raving declarations of a now-dead serial killer. 

And, of course, there was an absolute glut of conversation about aliens at the old Area 51 site. Some of it was eerily accurate, but it all lived on forums and subreddits and Discord servers and old-school IRC channels that didn't exactly hold themselves to a high burden of proof. 

"Goddamnit, Martin," he muttered. Once he had figured out his handle, it was easy to track him across every site. "They're gonna come get you if you're not careful." But the Martins of the world helped keep the secret. Cover the truth with loud absurdity. He glanced through the window at a manilla folder on his desk. Inside were photocopies he'd secretly made of the weirdo in red and blue. He wiped away a mysterious stray tear.

"I swear to god, if all the politicians end up being lizard people, I'm gonna be so pissed."

 

eddie

He sat up in bed, the fabric of his blanket agony against the gooseflesh of his skin. 

"Stop it." He pressed his palms to his ears and growled into the empty room. "Stop talking to me like this. Just…be dead…I can't…I can't keep doing this." 

I'm sorry, Eddie. Do you want me to go?

He froze, hands still over his ears. It was real. It was real and it was inside his head. This wasn't possible. He had watched the symbiote melt in a rain of acid. Felt the connection sever. Felt the silence descend and expand through his body until the only thing left was himself.

"Buddy?" Eddie searched the room, crawling to the end of his twin bed. "Buddy, are you there?" The tears came hot, pouring down his cheek, dripping down over his chin and jaw. "If you're actually here, you need to fucking talk to me. I can't…I can't do this." 

Can I come into you Eddie? I want it to be better this time.

"Yes, please oh my god." He held out his hands, unsure where to aim them. Part of the pitch black darkness of his room reached out and touched his fingertips. It crawled up his arm, circling his chest, his neck, his face. Then it settled down under his skin. A sea of bubbles spread between his fat and muscle, popping in quick succession until he was floating in his own skin. He focused on the sensation of the symbiote--his symbiote--wrapped around his spine. The tendrils curled around his ribs and settled into the spaces between his organs. He felt so heavy. So dense. Mass stacked on mass stacked on mass. 

He didn't even realize how much he had missed this. How much he missed the weight . 

"So you didn't die or…where have you been this whole time?" 

I'm tired, Eddie. Took so long to find you, again. Let me rest then I'll show you.

Eddie moved the conversation to his internal monologue, tripping into the line of thought awkwardly. He had barely mastered it before…well…shit before the alien died. 

Yeah okay, buddy. Yeah. 

Eddie fell back against the lumpiest set of pillows in existence. Matter raised along his chest, seeping out of his skin and through his undershirt. It formed into the shape of an arm across his sternum, a half-formed hand dropping around to his back. 

Is that safe? For you to be out like this?

It's fine. I'll tell you what I learned later.

They sounded so tired. Eddie nodded. Rest. Right. There was a twitch in his arm, and he followed the impulse to pick it up and place it across his stomach. His symbiote's arm moved lower, and their hand intertwined with his, fingers clasping over the back of his hand. 

I missed you, Eddie.

I missed you, too, bud.

Eddie was out the minute he closed his eyes, and he had the best goddamn night of sleep in months. 

 

Something in his body was waiting for the symbiote to wake him up when he sensed the sunlight on skin. They didn't. 

Eddie forced it himself, blinking his eyes open against the new daylight. It was brighter. Whiter. Like he used to see it. When he tried to move his hand, it was stuck in a death grip of alien matter. His other hand was free and he looked down at his body. He was wrapped in thick bands of matter around his chest and stomach. Thinner stripes coiled around his thigh, and he couldn't tell whether they were curling up the leg or down the waistband of his boxer briefs. Or if they simply erupted from his skin. 

He brushed a hand over a band of matter. It was warm. Pulsing. The matter was unmoving, but not still, micro-twitching and breathing under his hand. He ran his fingers along it, trying to find out how it faded back into his body before giving up and giving in to the feeling. 

This specific display was new. A strange middle ground between extension of his body and limbs and existing as their own being. 

"Hey, are you awake?" 

Waiting for you, Eddie.

The bands moved around his body, sinking back into him. Eddie let his symbiote move him out of bed and gently pad across the room to the window. His symbiote emerged from his shoulder.

"You can't see the statue from here, Eddie," they said. They're cadence was still subdued but not as tired as the night before. 

"Well, yeah, you can't see it from everywhere. I'll take you down to Battery Park when you're feeling better." He could feel the matter-deep weariness in the other part of him. His other part. His Other. The Other touched the top of their head to Eddie's, knocking their temples together. 

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Eddie asked. 

"While we make some breakfast. You're hungry." 

On cue, Eddie's stomach growled in anticipation. The Other sunk back into Eddie's shoulder and let him stay in control as they moved into the kitchen. The other's arms and tendrils hesitated at first, feeling out the new kitchen. Then they moved, slow and deliberate, pulling eggs and milk and bread to their workstation. This wasn't the same frenetic energy that he'd fallen into sync with. 

No baking powder, Eddie. Can't make pancakes. A tendril touched Eddie's cheek in apology. 

"That's fine. I usually have coffee and nothing for breakfast. So…"

Not good for you, my beloved.

Something tightened around their words, like they had let them slip and fall and tumble without thought. The Other produced a small head to speak again. 

"What have you been doing while I was gone?" they asked.

"Nah, you go first. My life is boring without you. You can just pluck the last six months from my brain."

"I'd like to listen to your voice," The Other said quietly. The eggs they had scrambled and thrown in the pan were cooking up perfectly smooth and light and fluffy.

"Ahh. Okay. Well. I'm at the Globe . Bushkin has me looking into these people in spandex tooling around the city. I think I might be onto something, but…I don't know."

He could feel the other's interest pique.

"Are there pictures?"

"Yeah, actually. I'll show them to you…after you tell me where you were and what you've been doing."

The Other slid back into his body with a sigh. 

Eat your food. 

This time they were forceful, dragging Eddie's body to the high stool on the other side of the kitchen island while they finished and plated the eggs. The other added fresh toast then went searching in the fridge for something. They returned with butter slammed hard on the counter.

I didn't die.

  "Obviously," Eddie replied, taking a bite of the best fucking eggs he'd ever eaten. 

Shh and listen.

The other thwapped him on the side of the face with a tendril. 

A few cells survived and remained here, but my consciousness retreated into the hive. Back beyond the edges of the cage. Then…I don't know. 

The Other showed him something. A forever collapsing infinity. An event horizon. Light and heat and time compressed in on him revealing an eventuality at the end of time. 

I was nothing. I was everything. I connected to all the different versions of us through space and time.

"Wait, what?" Eddie found himself pausing with the tip of his fork resting on his bottom lip. 

The multiverse Eddie. Versions of us over and over and over again. I watched through the eyes of different hosts. Versions of me that weren't bonded to versions of you. I watched you hesitate as you held a gun to the roof of your mouth. I watched you actually pull the trigger a few times. 

I saw you angry and sad and riddled with sickness. I saw you fueled by rage, justified and otherwise. 

I saw Anne dead. 

That stopped them both. Eddie had texted her exactly one time to inform her he was in New York and off the FBI's most wanted list. She congratulated him. From there, he had decided to let her go. She had a life to lead, and he didn't belong in it anymore. 

I saw…I saw versions of your life that I don't know how to give you, yet, but I want to. I saw versions of us that…hmmm. I'll have to show you. But not, yet. We're not ready.

The Other slid a tendril across Eddie's chest, dropping over the opposite shoulder. 

I was wrong about the Codex…..no….not wrong. I was just missing pieces. Knowledge all caught up in the hive that I knocked loose. Knull knows it now, too. But that means he won't try to kill us again. Not yet, at least.

"What did you find? About the codex?"

The Other made a rumbling sound. Nothing he heard but felt in his stomach.

I can't figure out the words. Can I show you? I'll be gentle. 

"Yeah, yeah, go for it." Eddie closed his eyes, waiting for the boil-over of information. It wasn't like the last time The Other had done this, forcing a curling mass of sticky, prickly Stuff down his throat. This was nice and slow and his dumb-ass understood it.

It took more than a single codex to unlock the cage around Knull. It was a collection of codices. And they came together and…and that part he wasn't sure he understood, yet. Something about…connection…to the hive? It must be something symbiotes…klyntar understood innately. He'd get there. It would all come together. 

So there are more codexes? It was easier to keep the voice in his head now that he'd slipped into the liminal space of thought. 

Yes. Which is super confusing to me, I'm not gonna lie. I know that we have one, but now I'm not so sure how they're made. 

Can you go back into the hive thingy? 

Not without Knull knowing again. And I don't think I'd find the answer. I think this may be new. Or something so old we've forgotten how it works. 

But you're sure Knull won't come after us?

Yes. I'm sure. Not yet. 

That "not yet's" scaring me a bit, buddy.

It's fine, beloved. 

They did it again, freezing up for half a moment. 

If you're done eating, show me the pictures. 

He was halfway through a bite of toast when The Other yanked him off the stool and across the room, dropping him at his desk. Symbiote matter dropped over his head, and he found himself looking through The Other's eyes. His hands moved the pictures over into the center of their shared vision. Matter emerged from his fingers to trace the line of action of the blue and red swinging figure. 

Spider-Man.

"Whomst the fuck?" Eddie said, the incredulity pushing his voice from his throat. The Other released his face to emerge as a head. They spread the rest of the pictures out. 

"There are universes where we never meet, but in all the ones we do, it's because of Spider-Man," the other explained. "Sometimes he finds me on a space station. Sometimes I hitch a ride on a meteor. He becomes my host, but we never truly bond. Not really. He gets tired of me and uses sound to pull me off."

"That's rude," Eddie said. 

"You did the same thing with the MRI machine, Eddie." 

"Yeah, but not because I was tired of you. I was scared because of the, you know, organ failure." 

"And when you kicked me out the second time?"

"You beat me up then left!" 

The other vibrated and hummed. A tendril passed over Eddie's cheek. 

"I don't want to fight with you. Not now." 

"Keep telling me about this Spider-Dude," Eddie said softly. 

"After he leaves me, I find you. And we become Venom. This is the only universe where none of that happened. Where he wasn't part of our creation. Maybe because he didn't exist yet." 

"I'm not gonna pretend I understand this multiverse shit, but…like…why?"

"Maybe we're simply inevitable."

 

Venom sat on the edge of the rooftop not doing anything in particular. Just…existing…a black mass against the night and the lights of the city. They pulled another chocolate from the sampler box and threw it back. 

Cherry cordial is fucking disgusting.

I don't disagree, but the only other option was vegan.

That's unacceptable. 

I know. Fiending for brain?

I'm okay. That probiotic actually took the edge off.

Yeah, I learned a little about bio-chem while you were gone. 

Smart man.

It had taken a few days to readjust to being Venom again, all of which he had managed to convince Bushkin he needed to work from home from. He sweetened the deal by strongly implying, without outright lying, that he had information on their mystery masked crusader and was close to tracking them down. The Other expressed some uneasiness but didn't say anything outright. 

What do you want to do, Eddie?

Is this not fine for now? Still getting our sea legs back. 

No, in the long term. What do we do with ourselves?

Gotta figure out how to deal with the big guy in the cage, but otherwise, I don't know. Been a rough two years, mate. Having a hard time seeing very far into the future. 

Well, I've seen a whole bunch of futures, so-

Something disturbed the atmosphere. A twitch in the fabric of reality. Then a scream maybe five blocks over. 

LET'S GO EDDIE

They were running across the rooftop before he ever realized he was moving. The wind rushed past their head as they leapt to the neighboring rooftop. The next jump dropped them down the side of the building, claws slamming into the brickwork and slowing them as they dropped downward. 

You need to hold back or the military's gonna have our ass.

It won't be the worse thing that happens to us.

That cryptic shit was getting old fast, but it certainly kept piquing his interest. They slipped through a few more alleys and fire escapes, fast enough that no one caught them. 

They finally found the source of the scream in a blind courtyard between buildings. A group of four that was almost cliche in their arrangement. Two men in beanies pulled low over their brows were bearing down on a young couple. One had a gun and the other looked like he maybe wished he had a gun, too. 

Eat their heads?

Let's stop them first, then cross that bridge when we get to it. 

Good enough. 

Venom didn't need to be fast, now, heavy doing all the work as they came down hard on the man with the gun. The woman screamed again. How did no one else hear this? These muggers were just some asshole dudes, so landing on him was enough to disable him. The other mugger tried to get away, but a fling of matter around his waist pulled him back to join his friend with another glue of matter. 

Venom turned on the victims, keeping his mask in place but pulling back on the teeth a little. 

"Are you ok-"

The man had a camera up, filming them, dancing around to get better angles. 

"You fucking kidding me?" Venom snatched the phone. This was, again, just some dude, so it was easy. He broke it in half with a quick snap. "You can't fucking film me, dude. What the fuck? You want me to be fucking X-filed? Goddamn think for a fucking minute, dude." 

"GUN!" The woman shouted. 

Venom turned. They had forgotten about the gun. One of the muggers had been able to wriggle out of the matter enough to reach it. He got one shot off. The kinetic energy pushed him back half a step, but bullets didn't exactly do anything. 

" Oh, now we're eating his head."  

A soft quick sound -- a thwip -- ricocheted down through the canyon of buildings. Some kind of sticky material, not unlike his own matter, shot down from the rooftop and knocked the gun to the ground, glueing it in place. Venom looked up. At the edge of the roof was a guy in a red and blue one-piece morph suit with bright white eyes. Most of the other details were lost in the distance. 

"Spider-Man?"

" Nope!"

And The Other yanked Venom up through the night, dashing across rooftops. 

 

Venom rolled through the window, breaking apart into Eddie again. 

"Why did you pull us away? The kid was right there!" 

The Other emerged from his shoulder with gnashing teeth.

"No. Not until we understand him better."

"How am I supposed to do that if I don't talk to him, huh?" Eddie fell on the couch, dropping his face into his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"We just need to be careful." 

"Careful for-" but then Eddie felt it. Fear. Worry. Something that reached back through the Everything. "What does Spider-Man do to us? What have you not told me?"

"When he rejects me, the other versions of me become so…mad. Sorrow. Need. I can still feel it when I look at him. In all the universes I seek out hosts who feel the same about him just to feed the rage. To have a like-minded partner. It's what he does to you, though. That's what scares me."

"He seems like a good dude, I'm sure whatever it was--" but there was that shiver of panic again. The other clicked their teeth and re-merged. 

It's a little different every time, but you're working on a story. It's important. It's the break of a lifetime. You're at the top of your game. Then Spider-Man undermines you. Scoops you. Finds the real killer. You lose your job, your credibility. You lose Anne.  You lose your mind. Lose your will to live. I find you at your lowest and we bond over our shared hatred. 

"Okay, well, you already found me at my lowest. We've been through that. Anne is off being…all…happily ever after with Dan. She's solid. I've got a new job. And I didn't even want to kill myself." The Other knew it was a lie when he said it, and something grazed his brain in consolation. 

There had been a few moments in that six month gap between everything going to shit and joining with his other where things grew particularly dark. He had briefly wondered if everything would be better if he stopped existing. Had never existed to begin with. 

"I'm just saying we'd be meeting this kid at a totally different time in our lives. And also those other versions of me seem super dramatic. We're chill."

Our hatred of Spider-Man turns us into a monster, Eddie. 

"Sweetheart, we're already a monster."

Shut up and listen. 

The other slammed him with a punchbowl of emotion. The same things The Other already described. Rage. Sorrow. Agony. All dialed up and tuned in to a level that wanted to pop his limbs at the joints. And at the center of it all the overwhelming desire to completely and totally decimate Spider-Man down to a molecular level. 

Okay. Okay. I get it. We'll give the kid some space until we figure it out. 

Thank you, beloved. 

Eddie threw his head back against the couch.

"I want to ask how I stack up against this…multiverse of other hosts, but I think I might hurt my own feelings."

One version of me attached to a talking raccoon for a short while. 

"Wait, is there a way into that universe? That sounds fun as hell."

Nah, those guys were fucking assholes. 

"Anything else interesting from the magical symbiote multiverse I should know about?"

Matter rose across Eddie's stomach and started creeping up his chest. It tugged at his shirt and started removing it. 

"I hate it when you do this, you know that."

Want to show you something. Take your shirt off. 

Eddie tutted but obeyed, pulling it over his head. As soon as he leaned back, another shirt appeared, just like the first. 

"Yo, what the fuck?" 

The other branched from his shoulder. 

"It's a trick I learned," The Other said. The shirt changed from blue to white and the words "FRANKENSTEIN HIMBO" appeared across the chest in block letters. "I've got shirts figured out, but I'm still working on pants. Then I'll figure out jackets. And suits. You look sexy in a suit." 

"Ah, man, if you were able to do this in Vegas, we wouldn't have had to knock that one guy out. WAIT?! Can you make other stuff?"

A tendril emerged from the matter to hover over the coffee table. The Other formed a little cube of matter and set it on the table. Once it detached, it lost structure and melted into nothing. The Other reincorporated it back into their matter. 

"Other versions of me were able to take on more solid forms on Earth without a host," The Other lamented. "I'm not sure how, yet." The other tilted their head against Eddie's. He reached up and pressed his fingers against their temple, stroking their cheek with his pinky. 

"You'll get it. Anything else important?"

"It's all important, Eddie, but there's so much of it. Let me save some for later." 

"Okay. That's fair." He pressed The Other's face to his. It was nice. It was one thing to have another voice inside his head, another to experience the physical touch.

The Other's head turned under his hand and pressed further into his cheek. A grazing of teeth ran along his skin. 

"I did not miss this little bitey-kissy thing you do," Eddie said, slightly turning his head. "Just commit in one direction-" The Other answered him by kissing him. Actually kissing him. 

Lips pressed to his, slithery tongue prying open his mouth and clicking around against his teeth. The fucked up thing was that Eddie let it happen. He let the other form hands to wrap around the back of his head. When his own hands came up, he knew it wasn't the other controlling him, and he hooked them around the back of the other's head. It wasn't until he started trying to work his fingers down a neck and back that didn't exist that he startled himself out of what was happening. The other almost didn't let him draw back, clutching around his neck. Eddie became starkly aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt as the other moved their hands down to his chest. 

"We've never done that before," Eddied gasped stupidly. 

"Fuck, you're right. Shit. Shit. I forgot we weren't here, yet."

"Have…other versions of us…done this?"

"Other versions of us have done so so many more things, Eddie. Brought you to the height of ecstasy over and over again."

"Okay that's…that's a lot. That's…I have to think about that."

"I know. I'm sorry." 

"Stop saying you're sorry. Goddamnit, ever since you've been back…You weren't like this before."

"Did you prefer me before?"

"No! I mean…yes. I mean…fuck. I mean I don't get what your deal is. Apart from the whole dying and slipping through interdimensional portals yeah…okay. I'm realizing that I've also done that at least once, and it does kinda suck. You don't come back super normal from that." 

"No, you do not." The other pushed their head back to create space, but they kept their hands touching Eddie's chest. "I've lived a hundred thousand versions of us, but in all that I've managed to mostly hold on to what is true to our reality. The things we've actually done. While there are other versions of me that despise you and tried to destroy you from the inside out, I can separate that from the Now. From the Us. But all those lifetimes of loving you? That I can't seem to get rid of. That's sticking around, and it's going to make some things more difficult." 

"Love?" Eddie choked.

"You didn't believe me the first time, either."

"I didn't think it meant the same thing to you." 

"It doesn't mean the same, probably. Klyntar don't have the need to form the sort of social groups that humans do, so the names for those things are different. Doesn't mean it's not important. That it's not strong."

"I didn't say it wasn't. I just don't think I understand. What do you want from me? What does whatever this word mean for you? Feeling a little lost." 

The other rubbed their head against Eddie's cheek. 

"I can give you the feeling I feel," The Other offered.

"No, that's too weird. I get all hungover when you do that." 

"Then I'll show you." 

"Show me what?"

But the other slid back into his chest. Tendrils rolled up from his stomach. One flicked at the button and zipper of his jeans, pulling it down. Another tendril slid down and around the bulge covered by his boxer briefs. His body reacted immediately. He couldn't be sure he didn't want it to. This was normal, right? Any red hot American man would react to any kind of stimulus of this nature. Right? Right…

A tendril slipped through the slot of his fly and around his dick which hardened immediately. 

"Okay… okay… hold on."

Of course, I'll stop if you want Eddie, but…

"But what?" he choked. 

Did you think I just disappeared when you masturbated? I've been here the whole time.

"I spent a great amount of energy not thinking about it, actually." 

Eddddiiiee. I know what you like. Let me show you. The voice whined in his head, and The Other's impatience tugged at his spine. But they stopped, their matter pulling back into a mass at the base of his pelvis. Eddie took in a deep breath and sunk back into the shared place in his mind, the little hollow spot where their voices connected. 

Okay.

The Other was slower this time, delicate. The Other pulled down the waistband of his briefs then slipped a tendril around his cock, pressing around it softly. 

First it was just a ring that settled at the base of his cock, pulsing and squeezing in pattern.Then more matter stretched up from the ring, swirling upward until it covered his entire length. A soft tip of tendril traced along the sensitive head making him jump. The matter was dry but full of undulating pressure, squeezing bottom to top, dragging the sensations out of him by the root. 

You think you like it hard, Eddie. You and your deathgrip.

It's how I learned to do it, I guess. Somehow his inner voice was panting more than the hot breaths that emerged from his lips. 

I can feel your mind and all the dirty parts of it. What you really like is soft and slow.

With a slow pump, the matter began to move up and down, the inside against his cock moving faster than the layer on the outside. A piece reached down to cup his balls warmly, rolling them ever so gently in the hammock of The Other's hand. More matter emerged from his stomach and crawled up his chest with thin hands. 

You like to be touched. Two hands splayed flat on his chest over his pecs, palms pressing into his nipples. Two more hands emergred to run up his neck. To be caressed . The Other's head emerged in a flow from his chest.

"To be kissed." Their mouth fell against his, tongue dipping casually into his mouth. Soft. Hesitant. Testing and tempered. Their teeth nipped at his mouth but didn't puncture. The Other was so rarely like this, treating him so gently. He didn't totally know who was in control of his hands anymore as he lifted them again to the sides of The Other's head, keeping them locked so he didn't drift down and freak himself out again. He focused, instead, on the sensation happening around his mouth., the ever deepening kisses, the fingers digging and scratching at his chest, the quickening movements of The Other on his cock. 

A stifled moan rose in his chest, bleeding out around the edges where their mouths touched. The sound didn't stop as The Other moved faster and faster, increasing pressure slowly as the heat burbled in his body. The other clicked into the cavity of his mouth while he grunted and keened, climaxing into the warmth of The Other's matter. At the same time The Other's chirps became growls, pressing harder into Eddie's mouth, swallowing his breath and every other part of him. 

The Other's head slunk back into Eddie's body, replacing itself with a tendril that crept around Eddie's head and neck. The Other tucked his now soft and sticky cock back into Eddie's shorts and patted it gently. Eddie leaned back against the couch, panting.

"Uh…did you also…um…"

I feel everything you feel, Eddie.

"So you…okay…okay wow."  

Do you need some more time to process that?

"A little yeah, thanks."

We can go to sleep, Eddie. That might help. You're exhausted.

"That is actually a not terrible idea." 

Eddie let The Other pull him up from the couch, across the living room to the bedroom. Let them strip him out of his jeans and flop him into bed. The blanket pulled up over his head, and he went out like a light.

 

Eddie woke to bands shifting around his body. He was on his side and a symbiote head was resting in the curve of his waist. He looked down to find The Other flicking through his phone, half body leaning against his back. 

"Don't delete any of my e-mails," Eddie said. 

"I'm on Twitter. We might have fucked up last night by smashing that guy's phone."

"Knew that would come back to haunt us, what's happening?" Eddie sat up, the bands shifting to give him space. The Other's half body followed, attaching at his side and head rubbing against his. They brought the phone over. 

"Douchebag is all over Twitter saying a 'tentacle monster' attacked him and his girlfriend last night," the other explained.

"Leaving out that we saved him from a mugging, I'm sure." 

"Of course. But here's the real fucked up part. A bunch of people got a bunch of photos of Spider-Man last night. So now people are putting those two things together."

"I mean…okay…not totally off, I guess. I feel like that is not gonna go well for this kid. Shit." A weird pulse of emotion shot through his body that he knew was from The Other. "Are you excited about everyone thinking Spider-Man's a bad guy?"

"Remnants of another me."

"Yeah. Alright. Okay. Don't be a loser."

"Takes one to know one," The Other replied. One of their tendrils curled around his shoulder, then ended up flicking through his hair. 

"Do we…um…do we talk about what happened last night?" Eddie asked. "Is that a thing that happens? Or are we ignoring it?"

"I have no intention of ignoring it, beloved. I'm just waiting for you to catch up."

"For me to fall in love with you?"

"To realize you already are."

"You're so fucking weird."

The Other pressed their face to his cheek and slid a tendril down his stomach. 

"I can show you something real fucking weird, if you want."

A text message on his phone saved him from having to make a decision about consenting, and he took it from the perch of The Other's matter. It was Bushkin asking if he had seen Twitter that morning. He was going to need about fifty lifetimes to figure out how to answer that question. He absently rubbed the surface of one of the tendrils that had dropped over his shoulder then let the tip of it curl around his finger. 

"This is my new normal, isn't it?" Eddie sighed.

"Took you long enough." The Other pressed their forehead to his temple. Eddie brushed his fingers over their cheek.

"Sweetheart," Eddie said, really feeling the shape of the word form on his lips, "we have to track down Spider-Man." 

"Fuck," the other replied. They sighed. "I guess it's…haaah…"

"Inevitable," Eddie finished.

[changbinholic]

Getting drunk on your touch

↬pairing: Bangchan/ Han Jisung|Han/ Seo Changbin

↬rated E pwp

↬Word count: 3.787

↬Summary:Changbin is venom, Chan is his host, Jisung is their neighbour that totally has a thing for monsters

↬a/n: brainworms that came to life because I'm insane ok bye

[fabulous-gabulous-theartist]

Another Voxman fanfic wooo! It's a sequel to my previous one, Something about us. Rated M for heavy topics.

[saturnzskyzz]

It would be hilarious to read a fic where Eddie, venom, and Deadpool tried to hold a decent conversation while trying to get to know each other's back story. That's all.

[stacydrumartist]

Some Comic Book Characters I've tried my hand at recently-except for Venom. He's a few years old. Oils on board. Venom on prime printmaking paper.