Yes I made this header image and I am SO proud of it 🥺 isn’t it beautiful?
Description: An unfortunate mishap leads you into the hands of the law and while incredibly handsome, you sure did wish that this detective would stop following you around. w/c: 3k
Pairing: Detective!Eddie Munson x Trailer Park!Reader.
Tags: Strangers to mild enemies to lovers, drama, romance, mystery. (This will be updated as chapters progress)
⚠️: Deceit, money troubles, found family, trust issues, weaponised independence, explorations of loneliness, abandonment, criminal activities, gun use, slow burn. Fluff, angst and eventual smut in later chapters. (This will be updated as chapters progress) My blog is 18+ MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE
Authors note: This is my new baby and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I am loving writing this story. Re-blogs and comments are ALWAYS welcome in this house and I thank you for your time xoxox
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Chapter One
The interrogation table could have been the fluffiest of pillows with the way your sleep sunken eyes blinked down at it. The silver metal beneath your elbows is so scraped and tarnished that you can't even make out your appearance in it, though sure that you looked an absolute mess. It had been two hours since someone last checked up on you and three hours since the handcuffs were slapped around your wrists. Tight enough to strangle your circulation.
You were behind this desk through no fault of your own. Luckily you had your mother to thank for the intrusion into your Friday errands. Unlike your mother, who is short fused and accusatory, you had a patience that was as free form as water and kindness by the bucketful.
In the corner of the room is an old fan that spins its rusty blades lazily, as if time has visibly slowed and you try not to fret over the sweat beginning coat the back your neck in the sweltering mid July heat.
"Sorry about the wait, Ma'am. We're a little overrun here at the precinct." Finally, another human graces your presence and the bonus? He wasn't too harsh on the eyes, either, "Have you had anything to drink or eat?" A slight shake of your head tells him 'No' and he releases a soft sigh through his nose.
Opposite from you he silently pulls out the only other remaining chair, sitting on it with a care that filled you with questions.
"I apologise about that… someone should've taken care of you. Would you like a glass of water? Maybe a soda?" In the time it takes you to respond you have already consumed intricate details from his appearance. Shiny black leather belt, polished boots with scuffs on the front that he has tried desperately to hide and a necklace tucked beneath the collar of his white button down. He'd be the picture perfect cop if it weren't for the mess of curls upon his head that he's attempted to pull back into a bun. His face is clean shaven from this morning, you can tell from the shine on his face and his lips read an expression of concern.
"I'd like these cuffs off." A silence that lingers, "But I'll take a Sprite, if you have one." To that he smiles.
You were prepared for a gruelling evening and even more so to be held in a holding cell until Monday morning, but the officer in front of you gave you a quiet hope.
"Officer Munson?" His eyebrows perk at the question, evident he has forgotten the ID badge dangling from his hip.
"Detective." He corrects with a undercurrent of pride.
You bow your head, respecting the title, "Detective." You repeat coolly, "When exactly can I leave?" Part of you suspected the answer, but who were you if not a trier?
The brunette releases a gruff sigh through his plump lips, "Unfortunately, I have no authority to say." He clasps his hands onto the table and tilts his body towards you on his elbows. His nails are trimmed and clean, "Your mother has some compelling evidence against her and thanks to your destruction to private property we may be here a few more hours or until Monday. Depends on the cooperation."
"Cooperation?" You ask instantly.
At this closeness you could smell the freshness of his cologne. It reminded you fondly of the fresh outdoor springs from your childhood where you used to play. He hums and nods, "People are going to want to ask you a lot of questions. If you're open and willing to helping them build their case against your mother then I can't see why they wouldn't release you tonight."
Your tongue pokes into your cheek, "I still have a phone call, don't I?" You knew you did.
"Mhm," He replies with a readiness to grab an attending officer to help escort you to the nearest pay phone outside, "You got someone in mind?"
The gentle urge to tell him was undeniable. Like two old friends catching up after years of distance, it felt easy and familiar. He was damn good at his job.
"I do."
That person wasn't a lawyer, as it might've been best to call on one, but it was your neighbour Sally from the trailer across the way.
"Sally? Hi! Uhm, I'm in a bit of a pickle, would you be able to go on over and feed Ellie at around 6 tonight? The keys where it usually is… I won't be home for a while and you know how she gets when she's hungry." A coy smile is feathered onto your lips, "Yeah, that's the one. Okay, thank you, Sally. Buh-bye now. Bye."
To your right, the attending officer has been replaced with Detective Munson who's bulging arms are crossed comfortably over his chest and his dark brown eyes have a intrigued twinkle to them.
"Is Ellie a daughter?" There was nothing casual about the question and his body language demanded a response.
"Something like that."
"Because if there is a child at home then we can post an officer out there with them until this is all sorted out." You dismiss him with a flick of one of your contained wrists.
"Ellie is the family dog, she'll be alright." And that ended the conversation.
For the following hours men came and went with questions about your mother and about her finances. A lot of the questions you had no answer for. You didn't know much about what she did, or where her money came from, exactly, but what you did know is that it was shady. Apparently you weren't aware of just how seriously she had messed up.
Her conviction? Fraud and embezzlement.
Yours? Damage to private property.
A.k.a, when you kicked the wing mirror from your mothers car after she accused you of ratting on her. She always said you had the temper of your Daddy.
The good news is that Detective 'Hot Stuff' was able to get those charges waived on the grounds of your cooperation with the leading officers.
You'd face no consequences.
For the most part.
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The trailer park sits settled in the dim light, but not yet asleep as you arrive home and the red marks around your wrists itch with mild irritation. A not so gentle reminder of what you'll always be… what you'll forever be seen as.
Every night without fail you can rely on the faint music playing from Sally's porch to bring sleep into your reach. Her radio was old, small and would often glitch and jump around to other stations, but every now and again there was a sweet spot that played some classical music for hours on end.
In the Summer time it was near impossible to get Sally to go indoors to bed, her husband Ally tried tirelessly but she wouldn't budge from her wicker chair out front. She was an observer, not dissimilar to you.
When you first moved to the trailer park when you were only 16 years old, and you hadn't a clue about living life on your own, you thankfully found Sally and bonded with her instantly. She reminded you of your late grandmother Patty who you could only remember through blurred memories from your youngest years. Slowly but surely that lone wicker chair on her front porch turned into one more reserved for your late night chats together and midnight nibbles of home baked goods.
As much as you cherished Sally's wisdom and her ability to make you belly laugh, you decided to steer clear of her detection tonight and clamber into your trailer through the back door. You'll thank her in the morning. Welcomed, you were met with a slobbered teddy bear dropped at your feet by Ellie, your trusty Retriever who has clearly missed you dearly.
"Hey, baby! Wait a sec while I turn a light on", The warm bulb from the red beaded lamp illuminates your small space in a homely glow, one that throws a blanket of relaxation over you instantaneously. Your window nook sofa has never looked so good.
Before bed you decide to fix yourself something quick to eat, a bland sandwich which was too dry to swallow comfortably accompanied by a can of soda fresh from the fridge. Match made in Heaven.
After allowing your food to digest a little you go about your nightly routine; refilling Ellie's water bowl, giving her a quick little treat and then taking her on her last walk of the day when the concrete is cool enough for her paws to endure. You never felt alone with Ellie, or unsafe on these late night walks because you knew her nature. She was your life's purpose and you were hers. Equally, you would protect each other.
Which was confirmed by Ellie's reaction to a strange man standing by your front door as you returned to the park. She nearly pulled your shoulder from its socket as she tried lunging toward him, "Ellie, heel! Heel, girl!"
She hadn't barked yet so hopefully the neighbours kept their noses to themselves but you could hear the growl resonating at the back of her throat. Poised and ready.
"Can I help you?" You stop a few feet away from the steps leading up towards your porch and the figure raises his hands in friendly surrender, in one of his grasps you see the reflection of a gold badge glint beneath a nearby street light.
An officer.
Your conclusion comes and goes as a whiff of aftershave engulfs your nose.
Not an officer. A detective.
"I don't mean to intrude, Detective Munson, from earlier…"His hand finds his chest sincerely before he is tucking his badge back into his pocket, "I just wanted to swing by and ensure you got home alright, you refused the lift from the other officers."
"It's a small community here," You needn't say much else, the shadow in front of you nods like he knows all too well what it's like, "Can I do you for anything else?" Ellie rests by your side now, much calmer than before.
"I guess I also wanted to confirm that Ellie really was—"
"My dog?" With a tilt of your head you look down at the panting girl by your side, patting her head lovingly before rewiring your attention back to the detective.
"Yes." He replies plainly but with a small smile which you register now as he makes his way cautiously towards you.
"Well, meet Ellie and Ellie meet… I'm sorry, do you have a first name? Or is that just detective as well?" The stranger chuckles heartily at your quick mouth and you smirk only to yourself.
"Eddie. Eddie Munson." You hum, satisfied with that reply. He looked like an Eddie.
"Do you check in on all your released criminals, Eddie, or just this one?" Your hip pops to the side and your hand follows to sit on your waist, your feet still unmoving toward your home.
"Not all of them," He hesitates, "Only the pretty ones."
A sharp inhale through your nose fills your lungs with the needed capacity to reply with composure, "Well, I thank you kindly but I'm sure you have other pretty's that you can go and holler at whilst I pitch up for the night…" You say all of this whilst moving around him, the pitter patter of Ellie's claws against the gravel acting as a pendulum as the call of your name from your unmade bed grows more tempting by the second, "I've had a long day, Eddie, if you wouldn't mind trailing off." Your head bobs in the direction of the dirt road stretching out and away from the trailer park and Eddie, the gentleman that he is, doesn't stick around to make you beg.
"Goodnight." He bows his head as if he were respectfully tipping a hat towards you.
"Bye, now."
Your bid farewell is half swallowed by the jingle of your keys in the door and as you are met with the quaintness of your empty living room you can't help but ponder the real reason why he came by tonight. And even more worrying:
Will you be seeing him again?
-
The never tiring light of Summer stirred you from slumber long before the sunrise took to the pale blue sky and as you lay staring at your alarm clock with exhaustion you can tell that today was going to challenge you in unavoidable ways. Especially with only four measly hours of proper rest.
By day, you worked with a cleaning company for businesses and home owners: Wiped Clean. One day you could be at an intimate B&B which only took an hour or two to get around on your own and the next you're at a house big enough to be a gothic castle which would take you well into the early evening with additional help. After clocking out it's heading back home to shower, change and tend to Ellie before you're hiking out again to your late shift at one of the local bars centred in town. Vinny's.
Your work schedule was arduous but the bills never did find a way of paying themselves without your help and your tin can of a car needed more gas than a lorry truck some weeks with all the miles you'd cover.
Generously, Wiped Clean would sometimes cover travel expenses if your work for the day was further than usual, but anything closer than the strict 20 miles was left up to you to finance. Today you worked close to home on a farmhouse that you visited regularly. The owner, Bob, is a sweet old man that always awaits your arrival with a huge smile and some peach iced tea to get you going. His wife, Jessie, who was unable to move much now with her crippling arthritis, waved at you from the living room window like clockwork.
"I always ask for you, I say, 'She's the sweetest girl and she's a very hard worker' I say, 'I'm not paying anyone else, you gotta send her.'" Bob follows you in from the growing heat with a hearty chuckle, imitating his phone calls with the cleaning company and you huff a laugh through your nose, already weakened with lack of sleep and his story that he has repeated to you a hundred times over. Evidently, they didn’t receive many visitors and from the lack of family photographs around the house you assumed they must be childless. But their wedding pictures were divine and pumped full of love and devotion.
"That's real kind of you, Bob. I'm glad you keep having me back." You place your bucket of supplies at the bottom of their staircase, taking a sip of the cold tea and waiting for any further instructions from the grinning old man in front of you.
"Just the same as always, Dear. Only needs a little spruce up here and there and you can be on your merry way. Don’t wanna take up too much of your time on a day like this." Internally you scream with gratitude and nod with a sweet smile before turning on your heels and heading up the stairs. Each one creaks beneath your weight and every time without fail, no matter how many times you visit, you always picture yourself falling through the wood.
The minutes tick on and an hour passes quickly. Bob was right, there wasn't much that needed to be done. It's just unfortunate that you are paid by the hour, "That's me all done, I'll see you guys next Saturday?"
"Absolutely, Honey! See ya then." Jessie replies this time, her eyes only flicking away from the television screen for a split second to acknowledge your departure before she is invested back into her show. It must've been a juicy episode.
On your way to your following and final home you wolf down your lunch in the car with one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other rummaged around blindly on your passenger seat for any other snacks you had thrown into the car with you and you washed it all down with four greedy gulps of lukewarm water. The heat was absolutely unbearable and thanks to your car air conditioning that only half worked you arrived to your new location fully drenched in sweat, windswept with grains of sand and gravel stuck to your hair and face. This wasn't a fashion runway, you knew that much, but still you felt overly aware of your appearance as the customer looked you up and down with caution.
All you could do was gleam at him.
"Cleaner?" Carefully groomed dark eyebrows perk up above his eyes, the clearest icy blue eyes you had ever encountered in your life. So blue that looking at them made you question if he were human.
"Yes," You confirm with a flash of your small ID card which has a faded headshot of you stamped in the left hand corner. Desperately you begin using your forearm to dab away at your slick forehead, pulling some rouge hair from the skin by your temples. The house behind the man looms down at you and your heart pricks with panic, "Am I the only one here?"
Registering your worry, the curly haired blonde shakes his head, "Don't worry, it's only the one room I'd like focused on today. My usual maid is out on… annual leave." You remember now, this was the customer that kept rotating different cleaners from the company. Some would come in groups for the entire house, but throughout the week it would be one or two for maintenance and upkeep purposes only. Mr. Hargrove was his name if you seemed to remember correctly from all the stories from the other ladies.
"Okay." Your bucket rattles at your side in your loosening grip.
"Shall we?" He asks with a voice dripping with charm, extending his arm back toward the front door of the property.
"Lead the way."
You couldn't help but feel semi-frustrated as you knelt scrubbing the toilet bowl elbow deep to reach the bottom. One room. Just one room and you travelled all of this way. The room did take you some time, changing the Egyptian cotton sheets, making the bed to a standard of high quality and vacuuming the thick rugs and wooden floor but still not enough time for you to have wasted coming here. The adjoining bathroom also needed some major TLC.
By the looks of it, Mr. Hargrove had had a wild evening the night before. The telltale giveaway?
Used condoms in the garbage can which you tried your best not to dry heave at.
Snapping off your yellow rubber gloves with a satisfying pop you slap them down into your bucket and after checking over all the intricate details you wander your way down towards the first floor where you'd hope to find Mr. Hargrove easily. This house appeared even bigger on the inside than it did from the outside and each corridor lead to someplace else, sometimes wrapping you around in a circle. The decor was an elevated modern style which screamed new money and the paintings on the walls made your eyes roll. You could definitely do better than most of these pieces.
Closer inspection told you of Mr. Hargrove’s character. The house was lonesome and unlived in. Ornaments dusted and polished, but unmoved and unloved. Flowers that appeared fresh poked out of grand vases but they too turned out to be fakes.
It confused you, this big house and no one to cherish it.
Finally you reach the floor below and you find Mr. Hargrove pacing the tiles in the kitchen with a tattered notebook in his hands. He looked and dressed like a business man, maybe he was practicing an important pitch.
He stops dead when he sees you, almost surprised that you're still here, "All done?" He asks gently and you nod.
"Yep. Good as new." You shoot him a thumbs up and immediately cringe at yourself afterwards.
"Great, here's some cash. Thanks again." Awkwardly you watch as he digs through his wallet that is thick with all sorts of bills. Part of you questioned if you should tell him that the company pays for these visits and he shouldn't have to pay you anything today, but you stay silent. Accepting the $50’s that he hands to you. Not like he'd miss it.
"Thank you, Mr. Hargrove—"
"Call me Billy." He reaches an open palm out to you and you wipe your hand on your pants leg, ensuring it's dry before you clasp your fingers with his, "See you next time."
He dismisses you with a wink and you take that as your queue to get out of there which you do all too eagerly.
Now onto the next eventful thing:
Your shift at Vinny's Bar. Never a dull moment.
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