Detective Charming and Prince Longlegs - A F! reader x Taehoon Seong fanfiction

PROLOGUE

TW: Mention of rape, flagelling, starvation

Your POV:

As soon as the sunrays pierce through the windows and strike my closed eyelids, I groan. What the heck are curtains for?! Those cloths of good for nothing shi-

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" comes my mother's cheery voice. Huh, so this was her doing? She moved the curtains?

I simply groan again and turn to the other side, bothered by the sun no longer.

"Come on, love. Don't be like that. Wake up or I'll pour cold water over your head", she threatens.

"Do it", I mumble quietly, knowing she wouldn't.

"Looks like someone will be left behind, then", comes my father's voice suddenly, as he, presumably, entered my room.

As soon as I hear his words, I jump up and sit up straight.

"Huh? Would you look at her excitement, darling? If only I knew that bringing the topic of leaving today would get her up so quickly", says my mother.

"Well, now that she's awake, honey", says my father to my mother, "it's time for us to head down and finish the rest of the packing."

"Sure thing, darling", says my mother, and giving me a kiss on my cheek, to which I lightheartedly shove her in reply, she leaves my room and leaves me to my thoughts.

I am looking very forward to moving.

Want to know why?

Well, the thing is, in our country of Aidle, Mareleans is said to be the perfect city. In fact, many people call it the epitome of perfection. Just how perfect it is, I want and need to know firsthand. Having heard tales of its perfection most of the times, I have gotten tired. Everyone is so prosperous, everyone is so generous, everyone is so happy.... bullshit. If it really is so 'perfect', where did Minho go?

Tears pricking at my eyes at the memory of him, I wipe those away. He was the only person I could call a friend. Even his memory is a cherished friend to me. After him, many came and many went, but none other friendship of mine had that same bond as with Minho.

When I was 7 and we lived in the village (even then we were rich and had the biggest house in the village), I had run away from home, crying, because my parents refused to buy me a pet dog. What can I say? I used to be a spoiled brat. I went to the riverbank and sat there, crying. Then, I met a boy who arrived there, saying he had come for skipping stones in the river. As he did not give me attention while I was crying, I was kind of mad at him, but curious at the same time.

After all, whenever I cried or yelled or threw a tantrum, everyone would coddle me and try to pacify me. But this boy just continued with his own task. Stopping crying and enticed by the way the stones were skipping so perfectly in the river, I got up and stood next to him.

I asked him if I could also try doing that. He gave me a pebble, but I was unable to make it skip. It simply sank. He laughed at me. I felt that it was outrageous of him to do such a thing, but I also wanted to learn the 'art' he could do. So, I told him to teach me. He did.

I wasn't able to do it the first day. Or the second. Or the third. However, on the fourth day, the pebble skipped two times before sinking. Although he was laughing, I knew he was somewhat proud of having taught me how to do it.

In a matter of a few days, I had become a master at skipping stones. We had become friends by then. I had never told my parents at that time that I had him as a friend, reason being simply that the friend was a 'he'. I had thought they would object.