PUTTY, chapter one
(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)
PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader
SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.
SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!
WORD COUNT: 3.7k+
A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.
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Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.
Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.
While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.
But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.
Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.
He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.
"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?
"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."
Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.
Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.
Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.
"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.
"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."
"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.
With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.
Eddie was beyond confused now.
"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"
"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.
Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."
But Al was already making his way to the door.
"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.
Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.
Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.
His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.
While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.
What else could he do?
Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.
Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.
Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.
Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.
Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.
The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.
Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.
Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.
So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Wayne didn't have to wait long.
Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.
When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.
"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."
You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.
Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.
"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."
From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.
"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."
Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.
You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.
And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.
Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.
Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.
Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
You were far from struggling for money.
Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.
Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.
You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.
You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.
If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.
You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.
You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.
You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.
You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.
You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.
The next bit was where the excitement wavered.
The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.
That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.
You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.
You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.
You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.
But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.
You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.
You figured it'd be best to just stay away.
But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.
Maybe you were getting a second chance.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Eddie was running late.
He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.
The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.
By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.
Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"
Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.
Olly had just been playing.
Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.
By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.
You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.
"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"
You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.
You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."
Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.
No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.
Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"
Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.
"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.
Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.
He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."
You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.
A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.
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