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lesbian-deadpool · 1 year

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Happy Little Accidents

Part Two: Hope (Re-write)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 4,245

Warnings: Crying/light angst, adoption process, stress, so many emotions.

Request: Nope.

Summary: After a long and tedious “battle” with the adoption system, you finally get your daughter back.

A/N: I wholly believe that Valentines Day should be about all forms of love, not just romantic. Hence this family fic! When I originally wrote this, I knew I could do it better, but my writers block wouldn’t allow that to happen, so I decided to re-write it now.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

---

The adoption process was complex and complicated.

You probably should have assumed that walking into it.

Being a pair of Avengers did nothing to help in that aspect.

Not really.

On one hand, you were well-known across the globe- Household names even, be that of words good and foul.

But on the other hand, you were dangerous people. You would admit that yourselves. People with trauma and violent pasts -and futures to come, in your line of work- with more enemies between Natasha and yourself than you could begin to count. Some of which you didn't even know existed.

Honestly, who in their right mind would ever allow a child to be raised in that environment?

People have been turned down for much less.

However.

The Avengers were essentially celebrities.

And as everyone knows, that came with a lot of special treatment. Even if most of -if not all- of your team denied accepting any of it.

But in this case?

For Hope?

Your daughter?

You would do whatever you had to. Take whatever help and/or special treatment you could to get the child back in your home and where she belonged.

So, it was thanks to that, that you even had the opportunity to be considered for adoption.

And there was so much work that had to be done.

Papers to sign, meetings to attend, visits and screenings everywhere you looked. And so much more that clouded your mind.

It was a long and tedious journey.

And you still had a long way to go. The end still far in sight.

"This is pointless," you spoke from your seat on the couch, thumbs pressed against your temples, folded fingers cradling your forehead, as your girlfriends pottered around, cleaning the already sparkling apartment up.

"I know it is," Natasha said, voice just as dull as yours, as she finished fluffing a pillow, placing it back onto the couch.

"We're moving. They've already seen the house. We're not even planning on bringing Hope here. I don't get why they feel the need to evaluate this place."

"Y/N, I agree with you. I do." Natasha spun on her heel, gesturing her arms out to you in a stressed manner. "But this is just something that we have to do. No matter how illogical it may be."

With a sigh, you leaned your head back, running a hand through your hair while Natasha continued on with her stress cleaning.

"I'm sure they're trying to find drugs or weapons that we've left out or something, just to deny us."

"Could you not be so pessimistic? I thought that was my job," the redhead tried to joke, "And anyway, what more do you expect. You popped a pill in front of them before."

Your head snapped up at that. "I had a broken arm, and it was scheduled! I explained that to them, but they still looked at me like I was abusing the drugs."

It was her turn to sigh, but this time in guilt, coming over to straddle your lap, hands softly massaging the tension out of your shoulders.

"I know, and I'm sorry." It was a soft moment between the two of you, inside the eye of all the chaos your lives had become. Just relishing in the feeling of being together, foreheads pressed against the other, eyes closed, and taking calming breaths in sync with each other. "This has just got us so stressed," she stated needlessly, "I don't blame you for that." A peck to your lips. "Not in the slightest. They're just so overly critical because of what we do that it's nervewracking, and we have to walk on eggshells with them."

"I still want to punch her for bringing up your past like that."

Natasha smiled at how protective you were over her. Hands trailing from your shoulders to cradle the back of your neck. "You can want to all you like. As long as you don't actually do it."

"But it would be so satisfying."

At your mischievous words, the love of your life pressed her lips firmly against yours, leaving you to feel her smile against your skin, soon pulling you into one of your own.

It quickly turned into a make-out session, with the woman softly running her thumbs across your ears and your hands trailing up her back, pulling her further against you, basking in one another's love.

However, it wasn't meant to last. As not long later, you were interrupted by a knock at the door of your temporary apartment, signalling the case worker was here.

"Oh, God, I haven't finished cleaning up," Natasha rushed from your lap, panic washing over her like a tsunami, with you following just as quick.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, just like she did with you not that long ago, you spoke to her in a comforting tone, "Hey, don't worry. The place looks like Cinderella lives here, okay? It's perfect. Everything will be fine."

"God, I hope you're right," she breathed, watching as you strode over to answer the door and allow the woman to step inside the, quite frankly, spotless abode.

---

With your arms folded across your chest, you watched as someone picked apart your home with a keen eye, knowing they were trying to find anything incriminating against you and your girlfriend.

"And where will the child be sleeping."

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the woman, having told her you were midway through moving to a new home many times already.

"Not here," you stated.

Natasha jabbed her elbow into your ribs, scolding your dry statement and tone, "Uh, we already filed our move to the agency a few months ago. You've seen the house."

"Can I ask why you're still living here, then?"

"Well, we're just prepping the new home so that it's ready when we move in."

"'Prepping' how?" she asked suspiciously.

Shooting the woman a questioning look, you explained, "We painted a few rooms a couple days ago, and we're just letting it air out. We want it fully livable before we move in."

The woman hummed, nodding gently before scribbling something down in her notes.

If you could throw your arms up into the air out of exasperation and annoyance, you would, but you knew it would only make things more difficult for you to get Hope back. So, instead, you had to hold back your eye roll and sigh deeply.

At least you had some comfort in the form of Natasha rubbing circles into your back.

"And when will you be planning on moving in?"

"We're hoping in the next few weeks."

Another hum and more scribbled notes at Natasha's friendly words.

"Can I see the new house?"

"You've already been there?" you said.

"Is there a reason why you would not want me to see it again?"

"No. No, of course not," you gave in quickly, hating the way Natasha bunched up your shirt in her fist in reaction to the woman's question, "You wanna go right now?"

"That would be great."

You didn't know why your caseworker insisted on acting this way.

Feigning ignorance and asking repeated questions when the answers would only stay the same. If only to catch you out on a lie that wasn't there.

All you wanted was for your little girl to come home. Where she belongs.

---

You had purchased the house not too long ago, maybe a little over two months, and in that time, it had been looked at three times by the same woman who acted like she didn't even know of its existence.

To the adoption agency, it seemed like you were hardly doing anything to the place, considering you were busy working and renovating the whole house, at the same time.

The day after you and Natasha had to say goodbye to Hope, you knew that you had to get a bigger place than the apartment you had both shared in the city. And began looking for new homes the very same day.

It had taken a long time of scouring the many retail sites and an insane amount of open house walks to finally find the perfect home for you to begin your little family.

The home was large. Well… bigger than your one-bedroom apartment, at the very least.

It was a traditional-looking, colonial place in Long Island. With white panelling lining the outside, four bedrooms with a porch out front, a large front and back yard, and even a pool at the back.

It would take a lot of work before it would get to how you and Natasha wanted it for your growing family.

But it was a perfect place to start.

You had considered getting a place, possibly a townhouse, in the city. So as to be close to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ -where you both now worked the majority of the time. As when Fury found out that you were both trying to adopt Hope, he wouldn't accept otherwise, though there were no complaints from either of you. He even went as far as to lower your hours and take you off of missions altogether. Just until you were all settled- but had decided against it. You and Natasha had the picture of teaching Hope how to ride a bike when she was old enough. Of ice cream trucks driving the streets and family memories of summers in the backyard.

Tony's help wasn't needed, you had plenty of money, but he had insisted. And with how sneaky he could be, he would find a way to pay for the home, no matter what.

So, you relented.

Letting the billionaire pay for your home, and you would cover the renovation expensive -even if Tony wanted to pay for that too- and the man also helped plan the renovation.

"Oh, a lot has changed since the last time I was here."

"Oh, so now you remember," you mumbled, to yourself, as you closed the door while Natasha escorted the roman through the entryway.

"What was that, dear?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just said that the door needs another lick of paint." You pointed behind you with your thumb.

Natasha shot you a knowing look. However, the caseworker believed you, with no further questions.

"Would you like another tour?" Natasha offered the woman, who accepted gratefully.

"And this is where we hope Hope will be staying." The redhead finished off the tour, leading her into the newly decorated bedroom, with you following closely behind.

The bare room was painted in a light pink tone, with hardwood flooring and white skirting.

"We still have to pick up the furniture. But we're just waiting for the room to be painted first."

"Yeah, Hope's not gonna sleep on a stack of paint cans," you tried to joke. To which you barely got a smile from your caseworker, Stephany Halla.

"It looks decorated to me," she countered.

"Oh." Natasha smiled. "We're having a friend of ours paint a mural or two on the walls."

"Yeah, she has a few favourite Avengers, so he's gonna paint them. And he's been learning how to draw cartoon characters for it too."

"He's actually trying to adopt the child he took in with his fiancé."

"Steve Rogers?" Stephany asked.

"The very same," you replied, nodding along with Natasha, "He's not the only one either. Tony's trying to adopt the two he and his wife took in."

"Yes. I've seen them around the office," she spoke a few moments later. "So, when are you planning on furnishing the room?"

"Hopefully, during the next few weeks," Natasha replied, "But with our and Steve's schedules, things are up in the air."

Every time Stephany hummed, and scrawled further notes onto the paper on her clipboard, your heart rate spiked out of anxiety.

"Well, your home seems to be in good standing. So far. But I advise you to get the furniture for the child's room as soon as possible," Stephane commented as she began packing up her belongings and paperwork, for your to drive her back to your apartment so she could get in her own car and leave.

"We know." You nodded. "We're actually going shopping for a crib today."

"And Steve did say that he was going to start work on it in the next few days," Natasha added, nodding along with you.

"Well, that is good news." Stephane smiled fully for the first time today. "I'll see you at our next meeting with Hope."

You beamed at the aspect of that.

Natasha sighed happily. "We truly can't wait."

It wasn't long later that you were back in your temporary apartment home after wishing the dirty-blonde woman a goodbye.

Turning, you beamed over to a just as happy Natasha on the sidewalk after watching the caseworker drive off.

"We get to see our daughter in a couple of weeks," your redheaded girlfriend gushed excitedly, dancing from side to side out of pure happiness. Her bright smile filled your soul with a warmth that travelled all the way into your bones.

You easily matched her emotions, arms coming 'round to wrap around her waist, pulling her into your chest and lifting the woman off her feet, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

Placing her back down onto the cement, you replied, "I know, honey. It's been so long since we've seen her. And we're gonna bring her home one day."

That was all you could say before your mouth was covered with the crushing feeling of Natasha's plump lips against yours.

---

One minute you would feel a high that was pure happiness from the aspect of getting your child back. Of even just seeing her. And, in the next, you would be in the deepest depression.

It was a difficult start to the adoption process, more so than it usually would be. Considering that the children legally didn't exist to the world. So, everything was so confusing and thrown up into the air while waiting for the kids to be registered.

Everything felt like you didn't know whether you were coming or going. Almost like you were stuck in limbo as you waited to see what kind of adoption process you would have to take. And even with all of your connections in the world, you were still left in the dark.

First, there was the fact that the kids were found overseas in Romania, so they could be considered Romanian. And so, you would have to go through international adoption.

However, none of the children had birth parents and were brought to America because you had rescued them from evil corporations. So, some would say they could be considered immigrants.

It was difficult to decern, as nothing like this had ever happened before.

Babies that had literally been grown in a lab and saved from a further torturous life that now needed legalization in the world's eyes.

Natasha and yourself -along with the other Avengers hoping to adopt- had to watch as Government's across the globe essentially fought over these children you saved. Over the same child, you fed and clothed. The one you played games with and bonded with the little girl you grew to love and consider your own.

So, as the world fought for the right of your child, your little Hope, you waited. Wishing and wanting to bring your daughter home.

But, lucky for you, the wait would soon be over.

Months later, the children were officially classed as American citizens. Which made it one hundred times easier for you to adopt than it would otherwise.

Which was honestly just crazy to you, considering just how intensely hard it still was.

You didn't want to admit it, but there were times you didn't believe you could ever adopt your child. That you would never be allowed to take her home. She would never be able to sleep in the room she would have adored.

On more than one occasion, Natasha would come to you with the same worries. Saddened to her core, because she truly believed that you would never have Hope return to your little family.

It was so fucking hard.

It was during one night when Natasha rolled over to face you in bed after you had -once again- gone through the rules and regulations of adopting, which you pretty much had memorised at this point. Uttering how you were "Never going to get her back", that there was "Just no way, they would ever let us adopt", as she cried into your arms.

But still, the process continued.

---

Nerves rattled through you, but you hadn't the faintest idea why, considering this wasn't the first time you had seen Hope since having to give her up. However, you had only been able to see her a handful of times since that dreadful day.

If you thought you were bad.

Natasha was far worse.

She was practically shaking. From nerves or excitement, you didn't know. But you had a good inclination that it was both.

You had done so much for this child in the short span of time you had known her.

And yet, you couldn't imagine your life any other way.

It was almost mindboggling to picture how your life was the year before.

No Hope. Surrounded by missions and work. Every free moment you had was spent with Natasha and the rag-tag group of heroes you had grown to call your family.

It all seemed so foreign now.

Like a past life.

'Wow,' you thought, 'Maybe I really am growing up.'

A part of you was afraid that the girl you thought of as your daughter wouldn't recognise you or your girlfriend. And would be scared of the two strangers that had just barged their way into her life, consequently breaking both of your hearts.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

But your fears were unfounded.

As that was the thing that greeted you, as soon as the door had swung open, reviling you both to the little girl. Making you realise just how stupid your train of thought really was.

Natasha rushed forward, scooping the girl up into her arms, with a bright smile upon both of their faces. As the redhead tried to hold back her happy tears.

"So, I still don't get a name, huh?" you joked, walking over to the reuniting mother and daughter.

Brushing a hand over Hope's short, fluffy hair, you grinned when she reached her arms up towards you, ready to give you a hug of your own, which you happily accepted.

"Don't worry," Natasha said, rubbing Hope's back as she hugged you," You'll get a name soon."

"I better. Or else I'm gonna have ta' tickle it out of her."

Hope's squeals reached your ears as you threateningly poked and prodded her side with your fingers.

"Here, baby. I'll save you," Natasha called, pulling the giggling girl from your arms. Both of them watched as you pulled your hands up in front of your face, wiggling your fingers almost spookily at them. The girls turned to each other with blank faces, "They're silly, aren't they?"

Almost like she could understand her, Hope beamed at Natasha.

Then they walked away, further into the room, with you calling after them.

"Hey! I may be silly, but-... I have no rebuttal!"

Just then, a clearing of someone's throat sounded through the room to gain your attention.

Who could only be your caseworker, Stephany Halla.

Natasha chuckled softly at your words before greeting the woman that had been waiting for you, albeit impatiently.

"Hello, Stephany," your girlfriend said in greeting, shaking the woman's hand. With you following suit.

"Hello." She nodded back curtly. "How have you two been?"

"Missing this little one," Natasha replied, bouncing the girl on her waist. Receiving fun-filled giggles in return.

"I bet you have. And you, Y/N?"

"Much of the same. Exhausted though," you told her honestly, "We're finally moving into the house, so. I just want to have everything done and Hope home, then sleep for a week."

Natasha smiled at you over her shoulder, remembering how hard you were working last night to finish building and moving all of the furniture into Hope's room, even at the expense of your sleep.

Stephany smiled slightly, before it dropped, and a gust of air left her nose.

"Let's hope that that's sooner rather than later then."

Your few hours with Hope passed faster than you ever could have imagined.

You played with blocks, ate lunch, "helped" Hope colour in her haphazardly filled colouring book, and tried to coax her into giving you a name of your own. But to no luck.

You absolutely adored the way her eyes lit up, and she started dancing and flailing her arms when she saw bubbles for the first time. You almost couldn't continue blowing them because of your bright smile.

And now, you were watching as Natasha spoke gently to the little girl. With Hope's hands resided on the redhead's cheeks, watching her mother with such care and concentration in her eyes.

You adored your little family.

You just wished you could have them all home.

'One day,' you hoped, 'one day.'

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things you ever had to do.

Just like last time.

And the time before that.

And the one before that.

But somehow, it just got harder and harder each and every time you did this.

Hope was crying. And so was Natasha, although silently, as she tried to console the toddler.

"I know, my little love, I know-"

"Mommy!" Hope cried.

You couldn't handle it anymore. So you quickly strode over, wrapping the two up in your arms. Pressing a kiss to Natasha's temple, then to Hope's forehead. Tears spilling from your own eyes. However, you were rendered silent.

"I know, angel. We'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"Mommy!"

"I know."

Once in the car, you continued to let your tears fall. With Natasha sobbing in the seat beside you.

"I don't think I can keep doing this anymore," you admitted. Deciding it was best that you explained when Natasha turned to look at you, with an incredulous look, upon her face, "To keep seeing her, and not being able to take her home with us. It just hurts so much, Nat."

"We'll get there." The love of your life reached over the centre console to squeeze your hand in comfort and understanding. "We will. You're the one who's always saying that we've got to take after her namesake and have hope."

"God, I'm cringy," you sniffed, wiping the tears from your upper lip, gaining a soft, weepy-filled chuckle from Natasha, "It just seems almost endless, babe."

"I know, honey." She wetly kissed your tear-stained cheek. Her lips brushed against the skin as she continued, "We'll bring her home one day. I just know it."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm always right. You should know that by now."

---

She was right.

Of course, she was right.

She was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, after all.

It was like she just had this inability to be wrong.

But in this case? You were so fucking happy about that.

Granted, it had taken a lot longer than you had hoped for -a good eight months- but finally, you were here.

Exiting the courthouse with Hope in your arms and Natasha by your side. Bright smiles upon all of your faces, about to take the little girl- Your daughter home.

You would never have to say goodbye to her like that ever again.

She was legally a part of your family now. And nothing would ever change that.

The day would be in your memories for the rest of your life.

You would never forget that day in the courthouse.

As soon as you entered the room where the judge would legally bind you and Natasha to your daughter, you heard an unmistakable outcry.

"Daddy!"

Not knowing any better, Hope ran over to your shocked form, haphazardly pushing through the swinging gate.

You scooped the girl up easily, hugging her close to your chest. Turning to a just as shocked Natasha, you breathed, "She gave me a name!"

"Ready to go home, sweetpea?" Natasha asked the beaming girl.

"I don't know about you," you started, "But... I think this deserves celebratory ice cream."

"I think you just want ice cream before dinner."

You gave an overdramatic gasp at your girlfriend, seeing right through you.

"Why, I would never! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

Natasha laughed at your antis but nonetheless nodded her head.

"I agree. This does deserve celebratory ice cream."

"Yes!" you exclaimed happily to Hope, your free arm raising above your head in victory, making the girl copy you by lifting both of her arms.

She was already taking after you, and Natasha couldn't wait to see what other habits she would pick up from you.

Your redheaded girlfriend sighed dreamily after you as you chanted, "Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!" On the way to the car, with Hope mumbling, trying to copy your cheers.

She couldn't remember a time when she was this happy.

It had been a long time since that time.

And Natasha just couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life would entail, with two of her favourite people now by her side.

---

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@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess, @wannabe-fic-reader, @vancityfire13, @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday, @007giu, @fayhar, @xxromanoffxx, @poptartpoppyy, @wlwfanfictionss, @diaryoflife, @pointconji, @readings-stuff, @tokyo-liv, @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp, @natashaownsmyheart, @marrymemcgrath, @scorpiosloveletter, @idkevenfuckenknow, @wandanatfan, @izalesbean, @iblameitonclint, @bizarrealex, @lorsstar1st, @bak3rio, @heybitches-amirightbitches, @lokisjuicyass, @marie-yt-blog, @mrswandaromanoff, @red1culous

SFW Taglist:

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel, @stupendoussportspaperempath,

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #re-write #marvel #MCU

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lightwoodbanethings · 1 year

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Murray and Steddie

So, after some discussion and my last Murray/Steddie post and fic I decided to re-write the Murray and Jancy scene from season two but make it Steddie!

Hopefully it makes sense and fits, also big thank you to @steviesbicrisis for giving me the idea of the sexuality crisis comment! It felt like it fit so well and I could definitely see both Steve and Murray saying it!

You can find it here on AO3 and please let me know if you'd be interested in me writing to next scene too (the sharing the bed/morning after).

Psst...part two is now here!

(Please note that there is use of a derogatory slang term for Russians, it is the same as the line from the show)

When Steve had told Eddie he knew someone who could help them translate the Russian interference they had picked up on, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be greeted by a greasy looking, balding man wearing slippers.

But hey, he’d seen stranger things by this point.

When they had first pulled up at the desolate building, Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It felt like they had travelled hours to arrive in the middle of nowhere, awkwardly sharing a room in a motel along the way, to find this ‘Murray’ that Steve had told him all about. According to Steve, Murray could speak Russian and would be able to get their found information into the right hands. From the bits and pieces he’d heard about Murray from the others, he sounded like a drunk conspiracy theory nut job. Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how much help he’d be.

They got out of Steve’s beemer, because “no way in hell are we traveling in your beat up van Eds”, and approached the rusting front door. Big red letters were spray painted across the front, ‘Keep Door Closed’.

“This feels like a bad omen,” Eddie whispered to Steve, side eyeing him.

Steve let out a little exhale of air at Eddie’s comment and then pressed the buzzer by the door. It let out a shrill buzzing sound that made Eddie jump slightly. There was a few seconds of silence before a voice spoke over the intercom.

“Look at the camera.”

Eddie looked around confused, he turned to Steve who looked equally as confused. Brows furrowed, Steve leaned closer to the intercom, inspecting it as if expecting the camera to magically reveal itself.

“Not the loud speaker, above you to the right.”

The voice sounded condescending, however it was correct. On the building to the right of them was a badly hidden camera. Eddie had an initial thought that his dad wouldn’t have been pleased that he didn’t immediately locate a camera on the property, but quickly pushed it back because fuck him. He isn’t his father.

Both Eddie and Steve shuffled around awkwardly, looking into the camera and then back to the door as the metal creaked on its hinges as it was opened.

There in front of them in a white t-shirt, glasses, dark jogging bottoms, slippers and some sort of dirty multicoloured robe, was who Eddie assumed to be Murray.

“Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson” spoke the man, looking at them both respectively, “you two are a long way from home.”

With a small smile, Murray stepped aside and gestured for the boys to enter. They took one last glance at one another before entering the building. Eddie allowed Steve to enter ahead of him and turned back to see Murray quickly looking around outside before closing the corroded door behind them.

They were led into a living space that was full of clutter, the desk, chairs, sofa, tables all covered with various files and boxes. The floor was a hard, cold looking concrete but there were rugs scattered around the room as if to make up some type of carpet. There were posters on the walls that Eddie didn’t recognise and an obscene amount of televisions with what looked to be radio equipment and VHS players stacked upon them.

Murray turned back to the boys, “I hope you’re not here to tell me about the bear in the little Byer boy’s backyard, I’ve heard that one already.”

Then before either of them could answer, Murray turned back around and unlocked a sliding metal door. Eddie and Steve couldn’t believe what they saw, newspaper articles, documents and photos all pinned to a cork board with red string joining them. The evidence was stacking up that Eddie’s initial judgment of conspiracy theory nut job was correct.

Murray had been tracking the whole upside down shenanigans from the beginning, there was even a photo of bald El with a scribbled comment above her, ‘Russian?’

As Murray started talking about his theories and the connections he had made, Steve wandered over to the photo of El. He reached a hand out to gently touch it and turned to Murray, cutting him off, “She’s not Russian.”

Murray looked taken aback at first by the interruption, “sorry?”

“She isn’t Russian, she’s from Hawkins Lab” Steve said as he turned back around to face Murray.

Eddie could tell he was pleased with himself, knowing something that this wacky man clearly didn’t. Murray also seemed slightly annoyed by this information, his head cocking to the side like an intrigued dog.

“Her name is Eleven,” Steve continued. Murray kept staring at the boys, not saying a word.

Eddie eventually spoke up, for the first time since meeting this man, “you might wanna sit down for this.”

At first Murray didn’t move, he kept staring at them as though they were a puzzle he was trying to solve. Eddie wondered if he was possibly trying to figure out if they were lying or not. But, then Murray turned around and headed back out of the room mumbling something under his breath that the boys didn’t quite catch.

They followed him back out into the hectic living room and Murray pushed aside some of the stacks of papers to sit down on one of the many sofas. Steve got out the tape recorder and hit play, the Russian transmission that they had caught on Dustin’s super radio began to play.

Murray stayed silent the whole time and stared off into space, his face looked serious as though he was really taking in what the Russians were saying. Once the recording stopped, Steve looked over to Eddie, unsure what to do next. Murray kept sitting silently on the couch.

“So…is it important? Is it enough to figure out what the hell is going on?” Eddie asked, turning his attention back towards the bald man on the couch.

Murray stood up, wiped his hands on his dirty robe and walked out of the room. Eddie looked back at Steve who just shrugged at him and then headed into the direction Murray had gone. They came into a kitchen area, just as cluttered and grim as the rest of the building. The kitchen sides and cupboards had paint peeling from them, the fridge dirty and covered in what looked to be grease stains and a shelving unit full of cups, plates, bowls ect. He even had a hanging array of mugs that reminded Eddie of his uncle Wayne.

Murray began skittering around the kitchen and grabbing various items that he then put on the empty little table. Looking at the items he had gathered, he was clearly making some sort of alcoholic beverage. He added the liquids into the shaker with ice and began to shake.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, other hand on his hip, “what are you doing?”

Eddie could tell he was getting frustrated, he understood why but was also just amazed by what on earth was going off in front of him.

Murray briefly stopped his shaking to answer, “thinking.”

“With vodka?” Eddie added, confused but also intrigued.

“It’s a central nervous system depressant, so yes with vodka” Murray replied as he poured his drink into a class and then pushed past Eddie to make his way over to a collection of vinyls that Eddie hadn’t even noticed up until now.

He saw Steve slump beside him and let out a sigh, “music, really?”

“Yes, it helps me…” Murray replies as he gently takes the vinyl out of the sleeve and places it on the record player.

Soothing jazz music begins to play and Murray wanders around the room, with an air of almost grace to his movements. He closes his eyes and begins to sway gently.

Steve stands up straighter and walks over to him, “how long is this going to take exactly?”

“Longer if you keep talking” Murray snaps back, not even glancing Steve's way.

Eddie knows Steve is getting more annoyed, especially if his ‘both hands on his hips’ mum pose is anything to go by.

“Is it useful or not? Is it incriminating or not? It’s a simple question.”

Murray laughs and finally turns towards Steve, “there’s nothing simple about it, nothing simple about any of this situation.”

He begins to walk over to the stack of televisions and gestures around, “we need Them to believe us and that isn’t easy.”

“Them?” asks Eddie.

“Them, with a capital T. The world at large,” Murray scoffs and then takes a big gulp of his drink, “they won’t believe us.”

“But we have the tape, we have evidence! Right?” Steve begins walking closer to Murray who’s looking at Steve like some naive child.

“They’ll bury it, easy. Those people aren’t like us ok? They’re wired differently, they don’t spend their lives trying to look behind the curtain.”

Murray puts one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his glass as he moves closer to the boys. He laughs before adding, “they like the curtain, it provides comfort and stability.”

At this point he has pretty much lost both Eddie and Steve, neither having any interests in his analogies or metaphors. But he keeps talking about curtains and curtains behind curtains and then moves onto authority, which Eddie can understand much better than curtains. Even with all the metaphors and analogies, Steve understands that Murray is saying that their little tape recording of the transmission doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things.

“So this was all for nothing?” Steve shouts, once again interrupting Murray.

“I’m saying that I’m thinking,” Murray says as he lifts his glass in the air like a cheer, before taking another sip and grimacing at the bitterness. He makes his way back over to the kitchen and adds more soda water to his drink, before putting the bottle down with a thud.

“That’s it!” he exclaims, as though he has had his eureka moment.

“What’s it?” Eddie asks wearily, not really wanting to send Murray off on another tangent.

“It’s too strong, we just need to water it down a bit,” he takes another sip of his drink, “perfect.”

He looks up towards the pair, a big grin spreading across his face. Eddie and Steve look at each other, equally confused before turning their attention back to Murray. This whole interaction has been confusing and strange.

Murray begins to explain his plan to make the situation more tolerable for the public, not to introduce them to the true horrors of the upside down and the Russian involvement. As he explains, the boys nodding along, he pours another two drinks and hands them out. Eddie immediately downs a big gulp whilst Steve hesitantly takes a sip of his.

The group then set about making copies of the tape, Murray making written translations to go with them, and begin to put them into envelopes to post to various newspapers and media companies. They spend a good chunk of the evening labeling and securing everything. Before they know it, it has begun to get dark outside and they’re all sitting back in the living area with drinks ready to celebrate a job well done.

Murray pours himself more vodka, “the commie bastards sure know how to make a good spirit don’t they?”

Murray raises his glass in the air and both Steve and Eddie follow suit, “to taking down the man!”

“To taking down the fucking man!” Eddie joins in, taking a big sip of his drink before grimacing at the strong taste.

Steve takes another sip of his drink before they both put them back down onto the table, Steve checks his watch for the time.

“We should probably start to head off, it’s getting late.”

“Shit yeah, Wayne is gonna be worried about me.”

Murray leans back in his chair, “I’m sure whoever Wayne is, he would be proud of what you’ve been up to. Tell them you’re staying at Jonathan or whoever’s house and crash here in my guest room.”

Eddie leans into Steve and asks quietly, “do you wanna stay?”

“I mean, it is getting kinda late.”

Eddie suddenly becomes very aware of how close he leaned in towards Steve and abruptly pulls back, clearing his throat and hoping the sudden redness of his cheeks is blamed on the vodka.

He turns back to Murray, who’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow, “would I be able to crash on the sofa?”

“Ok, I’m confused”, Murray’s brows furrow and he shakes his head a little, “lovers quarrel?”

Eddie and Steve both immediately begin to heat up and jump to the defensive.

“No, no, we’re just friends”, Eddie hurries out.

“Yeah, friends…just friends” Steve tries to explain, but he can feel the blush covering his face and he begins to feel twitchy. All of a sudden very aware of Eddie’s presence next to him, especially where their knees are touching.

Murray leans back further into his chair, head lolling back as he laughs.

“You’ve told me a lot of shockers today, but that is the first lie.”

Steve finds himself shaking his head, “it’s not a lie!”

“Really? You’re young, attractive, you’ve got chemistry, history and then the real shit, shared trauma”, Murray begins explaining as he gestures with his hands, glass still gripped tight in one of them.

“But…I like girls!” Steve exclaims, his last hope in trying to get Murray to stop talking.

Eddie looks towards Steve, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. Of course, he already knew all of this. Knows he doesn’t stand a chance with The Steve Harrington, but hearing Steve be so clearly disgusted in the idea does make his heart ache.

Murray on the other hand just looks bewildered, because can this kid really be this oblivious?

“Oh great, I can’t believe I have to also get you through a sexuality crisis too”, Murray leans forwards and rubs a hand over his face.

He hears Steve try to disagree once again but just holds his hand out to him and the boy immediately stops. He then points towards Eddie, “and you, I’m gonna say trust issues, am I right? Something to do with your dad.”

Even though Eddie feels like Murray is being rhetorical he still feels the need to defend himself, he’s just met this man, he doesn’t know Eddie or his family.

“Wha-I mean my dads an asshole yeah but..”

Murray cuts him off with a short hum, “it is a curse to see so clearly.”

Once again Murray leans back into his chair, the stress leaving his body as he relaxes and takes another sip of his drink. He points towards Steve this time, “you are just like everyone else, scared to be yourself, retreating back into the safety of….”, Murray clicks his fingers, “name.”

He says it like a command and Eddie immediately finds himself scoffing and muttering, “Nancy.”

He feels Steve side eye him before looking back towards Murray.

“Nancy”, he snaps his fingers again, “Oh, we like Nancy….but we don’t love Nancy.”

Eddie dares to look towards Steve and sees the younger boy's face drop slightly, mouth open as if he’s trying to think of a response.

“I mean…Nancy is…well we aren’t together…not since..”, Steve stammers his response, he can’t quite seem to get the words out. He does like Nancy, but Murray is right, he doesn’t love her. Not anymore, at least not like he used to. He wants her to be happy and safe, he loves her platonically.

Steve slumps back, as though he has given in to defeat.

“My goodness, you two are adorable aren’t you?” Murray asks as he leans forward to pour himself yet another drink.

The boys quickly glance at one another before looking away.

Murray stands up, the chair creaking as he does so, “Listen, there is a pull out sofa in my study if you want it.”

He begins to walk towards a set of stairs, once he’s stepped up the first few he gives the boys one last glance, “but if I were you, I’d just cut the bullshit and share the damn bed.”

With that final statement, Murray carries on up the stairs, leaving both boys alone on the sofa.

#stranger things #st4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #murray bauman #steve harrington x eddie munson #fic #ao3 #st 2 #re-write #the boys are oblivious

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ihasafandom · 4 months

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Carnage re-write

I'll add these all together into a single post and probably put it onto a03 and my artblog when I'm done with all of these, but for now we're going with this format.

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So for Eddie’s arc let’s have him learn that he needs to open up and allow himself to listen to and rely on other people. He can’t go around behind other peoples’ backs, and he can’t lie to the people in his inner circle. This will connect back to his flaws in the first film, where he tried to do everything himself his own way without considering how other people would feel about/react to that or reaching out to any of his contacts or allies for help or anything like that.

Venom meanwhile got hints of it in the first film, but we need to double down on it learning the value and meaning of community and friends and allies and all that. In theory Eddie has some of that, but he also tends to throw them away so if we can have Venom glom on and stick that’ll be good for them both in the long run (not a necessity for a good story, but I like when partners fill eachothers’ weak spots.

As for the relationship, we need them both to go on a journey where they realize that/why they care about eachother, and come to value that enough to compromise and work to find their balance.

They also both need to temper their impulses and instinctive responses to be able to think thing through and not just rush in guns blazing, though that might be a series arc and not just for the one movie.

Probably makes the main thrust of this movie something along the lines of: People and relationships are important and irreplaceable, but also hard work and compromise. They are well worth the effort of doing things right.

Which gives us some nice points to invert for our villain trio.

And speaking of villains, the villains and side-characters need arcs too.

In the film, Cletus wants to tell his story, wants to escape, wants to find his girlfriend, wants to get married, and wants to wreak havoc and kill people.

Scream wants to escape, wants to find her boyfriend, wants to get married, and wants to wreak havoc and kill people.

That’s all perfect for what the film wants to do (I have not read the comics and know nothing about scream, don’t at me. But also do, maybe you’ve got some ways to sell all of this better) 100%, no notes.

Where this breaks down is when it comes to Carnage itself. We get very little of its motivations, and we don’t get much between the symbiote and Casady, and even less between it and Scream. And what we do get isn’t compelling. It seems clear to me that they were trying to do a parallel to Eddie and Venom here, but it lacks the clarity and follow-through to really work.

Also AFAIK Carnage symbiote is supposed to be she/her and it’s a bummer that it’s not in the movie though I am always gonna be a “symbiotes are it/its first and anything else second” truther.

So to fix it:

Carnage is newly born straight off of the “we should be able to do what we want with no morals/consequences/limits” argument that Eddie & Venom were having and bases its initial personality off of that. Its motivation is that it wants to murder-party its way across the Earth. It sees Cletus as a good time and it is covetous of him as a host. It wants a match at least as good as Venom’s, and it wants its host to have things that make them feel hedonistically good, but it does not respect Cletus and it doesn’t care about Scream herself.

Cletus loves Scream. And he appreciates the abilities and possibilities that Carnage brings to the table and the way that their goals and desires align, but nothing more than that. People are a means to an end, to be used as he sees fit. To be manipulated and lied to without a thought. He doesn’t care to tell Scream about Carnage being its own being, all the better to bask in the glory of saving her and being powered up all by himself. He doesn’t care to explain to Carnage how the world works, or to reel it in, preferring to ramp it up for the carnage and chaos and pretend that it was all his idea.

Scream loves Cletus, but she is jealous and suspicious. She acts up whenever Cletus seems to have anyone else important in his life, and is even more dismissive of the people around them as little more than backdressing and playthings at best. She has skills and knowledge, and tries to use them to plan their future, but gets ignored by Cletus overruling her opinions and choices unless he is in a “yes, anything for you, everything you say will be done” mood. When she finds out about Carnage she is HECKIN jealous. How dare he have someone even closer to him than she is?

The marriage going from the two of them to the three of them is a peace offering without solving the underlying issues. And when Cletus ignores one of Scream’s choices – the officiant or somethign and Scream gets mad and Carnage slaps her for ruining their big day and then Cletus fights with Carnage for hurting his love, that is the crack that weakens them enough for Eddie and Venom (with backup) to eventually win the day. Their bond is stronger, they have put in the work, they have laid out a support network and talked about their needs, and in the end they will prevail because they have a healthier relationship for it.

This is of course diametrically opposed to how the actual movie played it, where Eddie and V got back together with no actual changes and out of desperation but the movie still kind of tried to imply that they won because their bond was better? Nah, you gotta earn that, on both sides, and we’d seen more problems on the protagonist side than the antagonists’ by far at that point.

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