strands | kth x reader
💀summary: taehyung can't figure out how he got separated from his men, or how he ended up stranded in these woods -- hurt. the only thing he knows is that he has no choice but to rely on the beautiful, secretive stranger who's found him.
💀pairing: reader x soldier!taehyung
💀rating: mature, 18+
💀genre: american revolutionary war AU (don't ask), creepy shit, spooky smut
💀warnings: it's...gross? not pleasant? kind of nauseating? enjoy!
💀word count: 8.8K
💀notes: phew, y'all this is kind of a wild ride. there is a reason i chose this particular plot which i will explain in a follow up post but like, yeah -- if you're particularly squeamish this is not for you. otherwise, bon appetit!
this story is part of the "In The Spoop" collab i was honored to be a part of with a group of amazing writers. big thanks to @wwilloww @madseok @augustbutwinter @hobisuniverse @kkulfm @sahmfanficbts
thanks goes, as always, to the lovely @hobi-gif and @btsarmy9593 who took time to read this sick little story and who both still speak to me anyway, which i am taking as a good sign. there is a plot device in this story inspired by an episode of turn (y'all tell me i wasn't the only dork who watched this show?)
It’s the pain that wakes Taehyung.
The bright, searing throb that starts low in his foot and burns a path straight up his leg. It’s the pain that has him cracking his eyes open, vision obscured by the leaves strewn about his face and head. He wrinkles his nose at the musty smell of the forest floor.
It’s the sound that comes next that makes his blood run cold.
The all-too-familiar scrape of metal against metal, followed by the stomach-churning clank of a shell falling into a chamber. Prone as he is -- hurt as he is -- Taehyung still manages to raise his arms to his head, instinctively shielding the back of his skull with shaking hands.
“Don’t shoot,” he rasps, cheek pressed into the thick, damp dirt. “Please.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”
None of this makes any sense.
Not the way he’s come to in this dense forest, not the injury that makes it impossible to move his leg. And certainly not the soft voice that sounds from overhead, airy and feminine and laced with an unmistakable edge of warning.
“Speak, Soldier,” the voice demands, impatient. “Or I won’t hesitate to pull this trigger.”
“I’m hurt,” Taehyung protests weakly. “I can’t move. I have no idea how I even got here, I swear it.”
The voice overhead is quiet for a while and Taehyung decides to risk moving his hands. He lowers them slowly, pressing his palms flat to the earth so he can lift his head and get a look at his captor.
The soft, gossamer dress that billows all around you is the very antithesis to the heavy steel in your hands. The light wind makes the fabric dance around your legs, whips dark strands of your hair off your face. But the gun in your grip never moves, weighty metal steady as you study him.
Blunt barrel pointed directly at his head.
“Stop moving your body,” you order stiffly, “And start moving your mouth. Have you come here to rob me?”
“No -- ” Taehyung sputters, tasting the granules of dirt pressed to his lips. “ -- No. I mean you no harm, truly. I speak the truth when I say I have no idea how I came to be here.”
“A likely story from any man caught trespassing on someone’s property.”
“I never intended to trespass,” he swears, nodding in the direction of his lame leg. “I would leave this place right now but I don’t know if I can walk.”
Your dark eyes narrow as you study him, searching his face for any indication of deception.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The leaves beneath your boots crunch as you start to move, walking a slow, careful circle around him. Taehyung keeps still as you complete the cycle twice, assessing the state of his body and thus, the truth of his account. The barrel of that shotgun in your hands stays trained on him the entire time.
“Where is your gun?”
A fair question. Taehyung twists his body to search for the bayonet, one hand blindly groping for the weapon that should be strapped to his back. But he can’t feel the weight of it against his spine and his fingers grasp at nothing. And he knows what he must say next will only serve to heighten your suspicion.
“It’s gone,” he announces quietly. “I must have lost it somehow.”
“I don’t believe you.”
A soft click sounds as your finger toys with the trigger of your shotgun. “I don’t believe you,” you repeat, more fiercely now. “I don’t believe a word you’ve said since I found you.”
Taehyung tenses, squeezing his eyes shut as he waits to hear the shot that could come at any moment.
“You are on my property, Soldier. Deep into these woods. I could kill you right now and no one would ever be the wiser.”
“I know you could,” Taehyung croaks, words unsteady. “I understand how this must look. But I have only told you the truth as I know it. I swear it.”
He takes a chance in the quiet that follows. Opens his eyes to search for yours and finds them a bit less cold than before. The frostiness in your features seems to thaw, though the dour expression remains. Taehyung recognizes this moment for what it is -- a chance to appeal to your humanity.
To beg for his life.
“Please,” he pleads, eyes fixed to yours. “Please believe me. I am a man in need of help, Miss. Have mercy on me.”
Uncertainty flickers behind your eyes as you finally lower the shotgun, barrel now aimed towards the forest floor. And Taehyung’s head swims with the rush that comes from the sudden relief that floods his limbs.
“It’s Ma’am, Soldier,” you correct stiffly, turning away from him. “As I am a married woman.”
Taehyung watches in disbelief as you turn your back on him, pausing for just one moment to call over your shoulder.
“And you should be glad it’s me who found you. My husband would have shot you dead on sight.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Taehyung has to fight the urge to snatch up the porridge set in front of him.
When is the last time he’s had a hot meal? He’s lost count of the days by now. They all blend together in a blur of pain and blood and suffering. Were he with his men at this moment, he would not hesitate to grab the bowl and tip the contents back without a single care for decorum.
But his men are not here, you are. Watching his every move with sharp eyes.
When you’d turned your back on him in the woods, Taehyung had been certain you would not return. You had already been generous enough not to leave a slug in his skull and that was a mercy in and of itself. He’d refused to delude himself into believing there would be any further intervention in his pathetic circumstances on your part.
But you had returned.
This time, without the heavy shotgun to weigh you down. You’d extended one delicate hand and helped him to his feet. Supported his tired body as he’d limped all the way into your home.
“You must be starving,” you note, waving one hand at the bowl in front of him. “There is no need to stand on ceremony here. Eat.”
Taehyung’s stomach grumbles loudly as though it’s understood your words and he nods, wiping at his dirty face with the back of an equally dirty sleeve.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, shoving the first spoonful into his mouth. The porridge is hot and it warms a path down his throat and into his empty belly. “I can’t thank you enough.”
You don’t acknowledge his gratitude.
Instead you sit silent and watch his every move as he makes quick work of the porridge, stopping only briefly to sip at the glass of water you’d provided. The quiet scrutiny is daunting and Taehyung can feel sweat beading at his temples. He clears his throat and looks around the room, catching sight of a pair of boots by the door.
“I hope your husband does not take offense to my presence.”
“Don’t worry about him,” you return evenly.
Perhaps a bit easier said than done, Taehyung thinks. The boots look to be rather large from where he’s sitting, so it stands to reason the man who wears them is rather large as well. Coming this far only to be confronted by an irate husband would be going from the frying pan into the fire.
“Well, I won’t impose on your kindness any longer than I have to,” Taehyung vows, spooning the last of the porridge into his mouth. “I swear it to you.”
You say nothing but never take your eyes off him, even as you leave the table to head back to the stove. You ladle more porridge into a fresh bowl and Taehyung could weep with gratitude when you set it down before him.
“What business do you have in this area, Soldier?”
Taehyung makes haste on his second bowl, chewing slowly as he considers his answer. War is a nasty business -- always -- but this war has been particularly difficult. It has pit neighbor against neighbor; split some families into shards. In this war, the enemy is sometimes hard to spot. Most people do not wear their loyalties on their sleeves.
He takes a long drink of water before speaking.
“I’m a scout,” he starts carefully. “I was sent ahead of my men to survey the route we intend to take towards the next meeting point. I left camp on foot so as not to draw attention.”
You digest his words as Taehyung digests his food, dark eyes skeptical across the short spanse of the table. It’s the first time he has allowed himself a proper look at you. He takes in the striking beauty of your features with awe; the midnight black shade of your hair, the unusual golden flecks in your dark irises. He hopes you have the right of it where your husband is concerned. Taehyung can only imagine that he’d be a very jealous man.
“And what do you remember of the moments leading up to when I found you?”
Taehyung wipes at his mouth before setting his spoon down.
“Very little, I’m afraid. The sun was setting by the time I reached these woods. There was no indication on my map of this property or your home, I would have remembered that. But I can’t remember how I got here or how I got hurt.”
Beneath the table, his foot throbs uncomfortably inside his boot. It’s as though his body temporarily forgot the pain in lieu of the more pressing matter of his hunger.
“I see,” you murmur. “And now you are here. Continental Army, I presume?”
Taehyung’s heart starts to hammer inside his chest. You’re staring pointedly at the worn patch sewn to the breast of his shabby jacket, the blue fabric that indicates his allegiance to the colonies. There is nothing to do now but hope that you share in that allegiance -- or that at the very least, that you’ll allow him to leave without bloodshed if you do not.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he admits, tongue feeling a bit too thick for his mouth. “5th regiment, Massachusetts. I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”
Your lips purse as you take a long moment to regard him, drumming one dainty fingertip against the tabletop.
“It won’t be a problem so long as you don’t make it one, Soldier,” you say at last, and Taehyung exhales, hit once more with another dizzying rush of relief.
Light glints from between your collarbones as you move to clear the empty bowls away.
Taehyung’s eyes search for the source of it, finally settling on a golden strand that circles your neck and falls neatly into your decolletage. He marvels at the delicacy of the metal. It’s fine as a thread against your skin.
Gold has always been rare, but in wartime even more so. You must be rich, Taehyung surmises. It would explain the quality of your gown, to be sure. It would also explain why you’d assumed he was here to rob you.
Then you catch him staring, fixing him with those peculiar sparkling eyes and Taehyung flushes, looking away.
“I’ll bring hot water to the basin in your room once it’s done warming,” you announce, leaving him red-cheeked at the table. “And I’ve set out some of my husband’s extra clothes for you. They’re a bit worn but I’m sure they’ll serve you better than what you’re wearing right now.”
Taehyung looks down at his jacket and britches, neither of which was in sterling condition even before he’d found himself stranded in the woods. Now they look to be rags, caked through with dirt and riddled with holes.
“And you’re sure your husband won’t mind? My wearing his clothes, that is.”
“I assure you that he will not,” you announce upon your return. The skepticism in your eyes is all but gone now, nothing left in your expression but a cordiality that borders on warmth. Taehyung decides to allow himself to relax, inhaling and exhaling deeply before speaking again.
“I don’t know why you took me in,” he starts quietly, “But I am grateful to you. To you both.”
You smile at him for the very first time, striking face even more beautiful when you are wearing this expression. Taehyung shyly smiles back.
“Think nothing of it, Soldier. I am happy to help.”
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It takes him nearly an hour to wash away the dirt caked to his face and hands, the mud jammed deep beneath his fingernails. He peels away his boots to reveal his grossly swollen ankle and hisses once it’s free of the leather confinement.
He would still be trapped in those woods, were it not for you. Crawling, perhaps -- aimless and lost -- and to what end? Instead he is clean and warm inside this house, limping his way towards the first proper bed he’s seen in months.
The last thought Taehyung has before he extinguishes his lamp and slides beneath the sheets is that you must be an angel.
Godsent in his time of need.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
It is well into the afternoon by the time Taehyung limps his way into the great room.
He finds you wearing another grand dress, this one a bright red silk that drapes beautifully over the lines of your body. You are seated at a loom near the window, carefully threading what appears -- to his untrained eye -- to be silk.
You speak your first words to him without ever looking away from the steady work of your hands.
“Good afternoon, Soldier. I trust you rested well?”
“I did,” Taehyung answers, shuffling slowly towards you.
He finds himself mesmerized by the effortless movement of your fingers as you work with the silk, how elegantly you weave each strand together without a single errant move. He stops to rest against the wall, shifting weight off of his bad leg as he watches you.
“I love to weave,” you sigh happily. “It calms me. I make all of my dresses myself. Do you like them?”
You stop weaving long enough to allow Taehyung to admire your handiwork, twisting your torso from side to side as you proudly display your stunning red dress. Fine threads of gold filament adorn the sleeves, visible only upon closer look. It is far and away the finest garment Taehyung has ever seen.
“Your work is remarkable, Ma’am,” Taehyung says genuinely, and your eyes light with happiness. In this moment, there is no semblance of the fierce, shotgun-wielding woman he’d met the day before. In this moment, you seem like a different woman entirely.
“Take a seat,” you direct, looking down towards his swollen ankle. “You’ll not heal that thing if you continue to strain it.”
Taehyung gladly shuffles his way to the nearest chair, groaning as he settles into it.
“Thank you. I suppose it’s too early to say but I think it might be in better condition now than it was last night.”
“That’s very good,” you hum under your breath, fingers dancing between threads in a hypnotic staccato. “I’m sure it will be even more improved by tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Then perhaps you do intend to let him stay a while longer. Taehyung scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“Yes, about that,” he starts slowly. “Has your husband returned? I want to be sure he’s not angry about my being here.”
A strange look passes over your face and the movement of your fingers stops at once. You look up at Taehyung with those ethereal gold-flecked eyes, pinning him with an earnest gaze.
“I must confess something to you, Soldier.”
Taehyung’s stomach flips uncomfortably, though he’s careful to keep his voice steady when he answers.
“Certainly, Ma’am.”
“My husband is dead,” you announce somberly, turning back to your loom. You resume your weaving and a strange sensation comes over Taehyung, half-relief and half-dread.
“I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s been dead for more than a year now,” you go on to explain, strands of bright blue silk slipping between your fingers with ease. “But as I did not know your intentions when I found you, I lied. I am sorry that I deceived you, but I hope you can understand. It’s a dangerous thing to be a woman alone.”
Taehyung wets his dry lips with his tongue, heart cracking inside his chest for you. A beautiful widow, left all alone in these thick woods -- in the midst of a war no less. No wonder you worry after your safety.
“I understand, Ma’am,” he vows. “And just as I promised you last night, I will say it again. I do not mean to cause you any harm.”
You peer up at him with those spellbinding dark eyes and Taehyung feels goosebumps raise on his forearms.
“I know you won’t.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
The two of you pass a quiet, comfortable day together.
Taehyung reads while you weave. He limps circles around the room while you cook, testing the strength of his swollen ankle.
And when he sits down to another hot meal and you smile at him from across the dinner table, Taehyung can’t help but feel just a bit sorry for all the men he’s left behind.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
What kind of man was your husband? Taehyung wonders. Thin? Husky?
The clothes you’d lent him just one day prior fit him remarkably well. But the shirt and pants you set out for him today are far too loose, hanging askew off his broad shoulders and narrow hips.
He cinches the pants tight with a belt and scrubs a hand down his face, frowning at the rough hairs that prickle his fingertips. He’s never been one to sport a beard on account of the spotty hair patterns along his chin and this growth feels significant.
It’s as if he’s skipped shaving for weeks, not days.
He limps his way out of his room to find you, encouraged by the improved speed with which he’s able to walk.
Today’s dress is yellow, bright as the sun -- adorned with the same pretty gold patterns you seem to favor so much.
“Good morning,” he greets kindly, pulse quickening when you look up at him from your seat at the loom. Your ebony hair hangs loose today, spilling over your smooth shoulders as you acknowledge him with a beatific smile.
“Good morning, Soldier. Did you rest well?”
Did he? He must have. He can’t remember tossing and turning like he so often does when he’s in the field with his men. In fact, both nights that he’s slept in that glorious bed seem like a repressed memory. Like he’s closed his eyes and been swallowed whole by blackness.
“Yes, I believe I did,” Taehyung smiles, lumbering forward. “My foot is much improved this morning, I’m happy to report. I don’t think it will be long now before I can set off in search of my men.”
Your lovely mouth twitches into a faint pout.
“I see no need to rush your healing, Soldier,” you say agreeably. “I think it best you take the time you need to recover fully before attempting to re-join your war.”
Taehyung nearly trips over the hem of his pants as he settles into the chair near your loom, grimacing at the awkward way his ass meets the surface of the sturdy wood. You quirk one eyebrow high as you watch him.
“Yes, it’s just as I said,” you remark with a hint of a smile. “You should be sure you’re fully healed before leaving this place. There’s no rush.”
Taehyung studies the dazzling blue silk on your loom and notes that the dress you’d started only yesterday looks to be almost complete. He wonders if you’d stayed at that loom all night, weaving while he slept.
“You are very generous to say that, Ma’am,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes trained on the steady work of your fingers. “And I wonder if I might impose on that generosity again.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I was hoping that you might still have your husband’s shaving implements somewhere,” he says, rubbing his fingers against the grain of the bristled growth. “I am not the kind of man who likes to keep a beard, I’m afraid.”
“I do believe they’re around here somewhere,” you muse, rising from your seat. Taehyung watches, entranced, as the bright yellow fabric of your dress drapes enticingly around you. The silk shifts, hugging the curves of your backside and legs as you disappear into the back rooms of the house.
You are a beautiful woman, of that there is no doubt. And how long has it been since Taehyung has known a woman? Far too long. Far too long in the company of men, filthy in every sense of the word. Far too long since he’s known the pleasure of tasting soft, scented skin -- or the pleasure of being buried between a pair of supple thighs.
You glide back into the room with a satchel in hand, extending it to him with a smile.
Taehyung silently berates himself for entertaining such lewd thoughts about you. You’ve shown him only kindness during his stay here and in turn he’s fantasizing about what it would feel like to bed you.
“This is what I was able to find,” you explain, and Taehyung accepts the satchel and pulls the strap open. Inside lies an ancient straight-razor, in bad need of sharpening. But it will have to do.
“Thank you,” he croaks, clearing his throat. “I’ll do my best with it.”
He lifts himself off the chair, taking great care not to trip over the hem of his overlong pants as he limps back towards his borrowed room, shaving kit in tow. But he pauses as a thought occurs to him.
“If I could bother you for just one more thing,” he calls out. “Where can I find a mirror?”
You shake your head and strands of inky black hair cascade down your back.
“There are no mirrors in this home, Soldier,” you say with nonchalance, turning back to your work. “Vanity is a terrible sin, you know.”
Taehyung stands in the doorway of his room and puzzles that for a long moment. It’s a strange sentiment for anyone to have, and certainly even stranger for a woman as beautiful as you. But he shrugs it off.
It is, after all, but a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.
“It’s no matter,” he concedes pleasantly. “I’m sure I can make do.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
The clothes you set out for him today are a much better fit, if a bit short in the leg.
Taehyung dresses with ease, encouraged by how well he’s able to move this morning. He limps around his room as he readies with a bit more finesse than before, efficiently making his way from the bed to the wash basin. He splashes water onto his face, rubbing his fingers across his stubbled jaw. At the very least, it’s a bit less wooly than before.
His steps are still a bit jerky as he enters the great room, surprised to find you dressed in a beautiful black overcoat. Bright green silk spills out from beneath it, adorned with those familiar gold threads.
“Good morning, Soldier,” you greet kindly, tying your coat tight around your waist. “I’ve left food in the kitchen for you. You’ve caught me just as I was heading into town for some supplies.”
Taehyung’s heart sinks.
He too, would like to head into town for supplies. He’d love to walk you there, to stand at your side and allow the men who pass to believe the breathtaking woman on his arm is his in some way. But as remote as this home is, there is certainly no way to take on the journey with his foot in his current state.
“I won’t be gone long,” you promise sweetly, and Taehyung wonders if you can see the disappointment in his face. “Just a quick jaunt and I’ll return to you.”
Return to you. It’s a curious choice of words, and it makes Taehyung’s skin hum with awareness. It’s almost as if you feel the same strange pull he’s felt the entire time he’s been in your home.
“Don’t worry on my account,” he smiles, reassuring. “I’ll be just fine on my own.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Taehyung decides to make himself useful in your absence.
He roots around in your kitchen until he finds a broom and spends much of the afternoon staggering from room to room, sweeping. It’s more physical activity than he’s had for days and his muscles protest the vigorous exercise but he pushes through, sweeping until the floors gleam.
He rests and helps himself to the stew you’d left warming for him, savoring the luxury of yet another hot meal. It will probably be some time, probably years after this war is fought and won, before the simple indulgence loses its novelty.
The sun is starting to set by the time he sets to work on sweeping the wrap-around porch. He shuffles his way across the creaking wood, clearing away the scattered leaves and dirt.
Just a short distance away sits a large shed.
It’s where your husband kept his tools, Taehyung reasons, and he decides that he’ll have to leave the arduous task of walking to it for another day. He’s already been on his feet as long as he can bear.
So he slowly makes his way around the porch, clearing it as he goes. But he has to stop to squint down at his feet as he reaches the most isolated part of it, the part that wraps around the back end of the house. Dozens of tiny black bugs march over the point of his boot and across the warped wood. He scowls, swatting at them with his broom.
Then he follows the creeping line with his eyes, vision slowly adjusting to the ebbing sunlight.
They’re spiders.
Hundreds of them, from what he can tell, spilling from and into a bush that’s overgrown onto the porch. Taehyung’s skin crawls as he attacks them with his broom, beating back the few he can see. He stays at it for a while, bringing the broom down like a hammer until the porch is littered with tiny black bodies.
Then he sweeps what’s left of them away and limps his way back into the house.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Night falls and you still haven’t returned.
Taehyung sits alone with his book and an oil lamp, reading in the chair next to your loom. He ponders your long absence with dread, imagining all the ways you might have left this home and fallen into some kind of danger.
What if you had been robbed on your way into town? What if you’d crossed the path of some barbarian who’d taken stock of your fine clothes and glimmering gold necklace? What if you’d happened upon a camp of Kingsmen and they were holding you against your will at this very moment?
Well, Taehyung would be powerless to stop it, wouldn’t he?
There is no way he could set out into these thick woods to find and rescue you, even if that was the case. So he shakes away the fears and tells himself to relax, that you’ll return to him just as you’d promised.
But when he finally climbs into his bed, he isn’t welcomed by the same blackness that’s shrouded him all the nights before. He’s tormented all night by visions of you -- naked beneath him, naked on top of him. Your breasts in his mouth and hands. His cock buried deep inside of you and that melodious voice of yours calling his name.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Taehyung wakes to find new clothes set out for him.
He staggers his way into the great room and finds you seated at your loom, weaving a new dress this time. This one a deep red. You smile up at him as he enters, gait smoother than when you’d seen him last.
“Good morning, Soldier,” you greet sweetly. “I’ve made eggs for us this morning. Fresh from town.”
Taehyung smiles back, despite his confusion. He suppresses the urge to question you about your whereabouts because who is he to demand such things? A guest in your home and no more.
“Good morning, Ma’am,” he says carefully, shuffling towards the scent of eggs. “Welcome back.”
You ignore the lead in his greeting, offering no explanation for your long absence. And Taehyung can’t help but feel spurned somehow, not unlike a jealous lover. Once again, he must tell himself to keep quiet and mind his own business.
“A beautiful day,” you sigh, looking out the window. “I wish we could go for a walk. But I know that you must heal that injury well before you try it.”
Taehyung swallows around a mouthful of eggs, washing them down with a sip of water.
“Actually, I think I might try it,” he starts. “I spent the day sweeping the floors yesterday and found that I’m able to move around quite well.”
“I noticed that,” you return, fingers twining between red silk strands. “Very kind of you to do that for me, Soldier.”
Taehyung finishes his eggs in a hurry, shuffling into the great room to sit beside you.
“I swept the porch as well, Ma’am, and I must tell you that I found something of great concern outside.”
“Oh?”
“There’s some kind of spider infestation near the back of the house. Hundreds of them from what I could see. I killed as many as I could and beat back the others, but you ought to consider burning that bush away to rid yourself of them.”
Your eyes go wide with horror, pretty lips pursing with shock and Taehyung nods.
“I know, I know,” he commiserates, “Foul creatures.”
“Oh, Soldier,” you bemoan, shaking your head. “You can’t just go around killing spiders! They do far more good than harm, you know. Misunderstood creatures, in my experience. Vilified for no good reason.”
“But I -- ”
“Leave them be,” you say firmly. “They’ve never bothered me once and they dine on the things I’d rather not have in my home. There will be no burning of any bushes today or the next.”
“Very well,” Taehyung concedes, astonished. What a curious woman you are. “I just thought you ought to know.”
“And I thank you for that,” you say, dazzling him again with another brilliant smile.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Evening comes and Taehyung feels unsettled.
There is something so odd about you, he thinks. Something that draws him in and at the same time makes him feel disoriented, lost.
There is the issue of his lust, yes, the ever-constant throb inside of him when you are near. It’s hard to be in your presence and not be overwhelmed by it. By the lascivious thoughts he has to fight off more and more each day.
And he wonders if you feel it, too.
When you look at him the way you do sometimes, with a gaze seemingly ripe with yearning. When you look at him the way you’re looking at him right now, dark eyes glowing in the lamplight between you.
Taehyung cuts into the roast chicken on his plate and savors the way it falls apart in his mouth.
“An indulgence just for you, Soldier,” you murmur, eyes brimming with pride. “I was able to find one in town. I thought to bring you something you might enjoy.”
“I am enjoying this. Perhaps a bit too much,” Taehyung chuckles. “My men have probably written me off as a deserter at this point.”
“Don’t be silly,” you say with an airy laugh.
“No, I mean it. You’ve made it nearly impossible for me to conceive of leaving this place and walking back into a war. But it’s something I must do. My men are counting on me.”
A sullen expression falls over your pretty face as you fork at your plate.
“The war will be there when you return. Certainly there is no need to leave in haste?”
Taehyung can’t help but feel as though he’s disappointing you and it feels as though he’s disappointing himself. He sips at his water and clears his throat.
“I think I should try to leave tomorrow,” he admits, heat creeping a path up his neck. “I can tolerate the walking. And the swelling is nearly gone.”
“So you mean to leave me then? Just like that?”
“Well, I -- ”
“ -- It’s fine,” you announce, words clipped as you jolt out of your chair. “There’s no need to justify it, and I’ll ask you kindly not to bother.”
You take your plate with you as you leave in a huff, china clattering loudly as you drop it onto the kitchen counter. Taehyung springs up from his chair with surprising speed to follow you.
“Don’t be angry with me,” he pleads, closing in on you. “You’ve been so kind to me. And maybe one day I can repay that kindness. When all this war madness is over.”
You keep your back to him, shoulders stiff as you stand at the sink.
“I’m not angry.”
It is then that Taehyung takes a liberty, touching you for the very first time. He grasps your arms with his hands and turns you, heart twinging at the way he finds your eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I’m not angry,” you repeat, voice just a whisper now as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’m lonely, Soldier.”
You reach up to brush his hair away from his face, fingertips lingering as they trail a path from his cheek to his neck.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Taehyung wants to tell you exactly what he knows of loneliness.
The many nights he’s lay awake beneath the stars with only the sound of gunfire to keep him company. How he sometimes envies the men with wives and children praying for their safe return home. How it’s harder to fight when there’s no one at home doing the same for him.
He would tell you all of those things right now, were his mouth not already covering yours.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Bright red silk slips off your shoulders and pools on the floor at your feet.
Taehyung reminds himself to breathe as you make your approach, looking nothing like the teary widow from the kitchen. The woman before him standing before him in this room is remarkably bold. You approach him completely bare, brazen, without hesitation.
And Taehyung is more than keen to accept what you offer.
The bed in this room is larger, a bit more plush than the one he’s enjoyed in his own. And when you sink down onto it, straddling his slim waist, Taehyung sinks down a bit, too.
“I want you to forget all your worries,” you whisper, tongue pressing against the seam of his lips.
He opens his mouth to accept it, cock already rigid and pulsing beneath you. You kiss him with abandon, scraping your teeth down his neck, licking at his pulse point with the tip of your tongue.
And when you take him in hand to line him up at your entrance, Taehyung feels almost certain he could die from wanting. That is, until you let him breach you, inch by inch. Then he’s sure he could perish from the pleasure.
It goes on for hours like that, it seems, because at no point do you tire.
You make him come with your hands, your mouth, your cunt -- and Taehyung does everything in his power to return the gratification in kind.
By the time grey morning light starts to trickle through the trees, Taehyung can go on no more.
He slumps deep into the sheets, body boneless with exhaustion. And you crawl up the bed to settle into the crook of his shoulder, lightly humming him to sleep.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Well perhaps he could stay for just one more day.
That is the first lucid thought Taehyung entertains when he wakes. You are still curled into his side, silky black hair falling like a drape over your face. Taehyung carefully winds a hand into it, smoothing the strands between his fingertips.
But nature calls.
It takes work to untangle your joined limbs, to move the arm and leg you have wrapped around him, but eventually he’s able to slip away without disturbing you. He presses both feet to the wood floor and his swollen ankle throbs, though the sensation is much more bearable now than it was before.
He creeps quietly from the bed, cursing the groaning floorboards as he staggers his way out.
The injured foot makes him clumsier than he should be and pain shoots up his leg when he jams his toe against the edge of your closet door. He claps a hand over his mouth to contain the sound he wants to make, something between a sob and a roar.
But it takes only seconds for that pain to become the least of his concerns.
Taehyung stares into the sliver of space revealed by his bungling, eyes falling onto a pair of boots. A pair of boots that looks to be much smaller than the ones he’d seen in your great room.
He shuffles closer to push the closet door open just a bit more and a frisson of fear runs down his spine. The boots sit next to another pair of boots which sit next to another pair of boots. Each of them lined up in a neat little row.
Each of them a different size.
Over the years Taehyung has known thin men who’d become heavy ones, and heavy men who’d become thin ones. But never once in his life has he known a man to wear more than one size of boot. Let alone seven of them.
“Are you looking for something, Soldier?”
Taehyung nearly comes out of his skin when your voice pierces the silence. He jerks backwards, breathing a bit harder than he should as he wills his racing heart to calm.
“No, I -- ” he stammers awkwardly, “ -- I jammed my foot a bit. That’s all.”
You sit upright in bed and the sheets fall to your waist, but you seem to have no qualms with the casual nudity. You shake your head with a smile as you regard him.
“You’re a careless little thing, aren’t you?” you laugh and the sound sparkles just a bit less today than it has in the days before. “You ought to be more cautious. Someday you’re going to wind up seriously hurt.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
“Not hungry this morning, Soldier?”
Taehyung blinks as you pose the question, looking up from his bowl to find you watching him with one eyebrow raised high. Obediently, he lifts a spoonful of porridge to his mouth, peering at you cautiously across the table.
The meal is delightfully made -- porridge seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg -- but it may as well be a bowl of sawdust set down before him. His mouth and throat feel unnaturally dry. He grabs his water glass with an unsteady hand and sips, forcing the food down.
“I guess not,” he says at last, forcing a watery smile.
“Well I’m surprised you’re not ravenous after last night,” you tease, dark eyes glittering. “I know I certainly worked up an appetite.”
Taehyung chews his porridge slowly, mind cluttered with a thousand clashing thoughts. Could there be another explanation for those boots? One that does not make his palms sweat? Perhaps cobbling is another one of your gifts along with weaving.
Perhaps not.
You smooth down the sleeves of today’s dress, the brilliant blue garment he’d found you working on that very first morning here. The gold filaments twinkle in the light and Taehyung stares at them as he tries to justify the discovery he’d made just a short while ago.
He can’t.
He has to leave this place, he knows it, can feel it in his bones. But the days are short this time of year and he’ll have to set out early to make use of the sunlight. The woods surrounding this home are unfamiliar and they won’t be any easier to navigate in the dark.
“I should tell you that I plan to leave in the morning, Ma’am,” he ventures carefully. “It’s time. The weather looks fair enough to travel and I need to find my men.”
There are no teary protests from you today, no angry outbursts or female manipulations.
You seem to take the news in stride, nodding with a smile as you say, “Yes, Soldier. Of course.”
💀💀💀💀💀💀
The two of you pass another quiet day together, this one a bit less comfortable than the days before.
Taehyung reads in his chair, as he’s done every day since arriving -- and you sit at your loom and weave, as you’ve done every day since he arrived.
It’s a shame he can’t focus on the story coming to life on the pages in his hand -- last he remembers, the tale had taken a rather exciting turn. But every few words he can’t help but sneak a glance at you, turning the worries and doubts over in his mind, over and over again.
You disappear into your room after lunch, and Taehyung takes up the task of clearing away the plates. It’s only late afternoon but the sunlight has already started to wane. He makes a note of the hour, silently plotting his escape from this place.
Running down the relevant details in his mind like a battle plan.
You breeze back into the great room a short while later, surprising Taehyung by turning up dressed for an outing, blue dress cloaked in your exquisite overcoat. He swallows thickly, attempting to alleviate the sudden dryness in his throat.
“I must make for town once again, Soldier,” you explain apologetically, gathering your things as Taehyung watches with wide eyes. “Forgive the late notice. This cannot wait.”
“But it’s nearly da --” Taehyung starts, astonished, before abruptly ending his argument. The last time you’d left for town you’d not returned until the next day and perhaps this particular circumstance plays to his favor. “Yes, Ma’am,” he amends evenly. “I’ll think only of your safety until you return.”
You smile at him then, sweeping grandly across the room to press a kiss to his cheek on your way out the door.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
You’ve left him with little sunlight to work with, and so Taehyung sets out with an oil lamp in hand.
He slowly lumbers the distance from the house to the shed, the aging warehouse nearly swallowed whole by the overgrown trees. He frowns when he spots the rusty padlock hanging from the double doors, but the corroded metal serves little use as a deterrent.
The pieces come apart with ease after just a few forceful pulls.
The splintered wooden door springs open and Taehyung pauses for a moment, peering into the darkness. He takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves -- telling himself that it’s not even likely he’ll find anything of interest inside.
And he’s hoping that he won’t find anything inside. Hoping that he’s only allowed his imagination to run wild. That you are not the deceiver he now believes you to be.
He retrieves the oil lamp at his feet and makes his way inside.
At first, the glow of the oil lamp reveals nothing out of the ordinary. He spots gardening tools hanging on the wall, a saw left to rust on a wooden work bench. Deeper into the shed he presses on, startling when a shadow from his lamp passes over a scarecrow tilted against a wall.
He shakes his head with a nervous laugh and keeps moving, careful steps kicking up the fine layer of dust and dirt that cover the straw floor.
It takes a bit of maneuvering not to trip over the wheelbarrow he doesn’t see coming, but Taehyung manages -- eyes falling onto a massive wooden cabinet tucked into the furthest corner of this shed.
There is another rusty padlock to contend with now, this one a bit more stubborn than the one at the entrance. He sets the lamp down once again to free his hands and struggles with it, jiggling the metal pieces for what feels like an age.
After a while, the lock in his hand gives -- shackle loosening just enough for Taehyung to slip it off the cabinet’s handle. He lets it drop to the floor and grabs his lamp before cracking the heavy doors open to search it’s contents.
He finds guns. A veritable arsenal of guns.
Muskets and rifles and pistols, hanging neatly from a line strung inside the cabinet. Dozens of them, lined up in a row -- enough weapons to outfit an entire militia. He goes down the line, one by one, examining each piece, some of which look to be antique.
But it’s the very last gun he finds that makes his blood turn to ice in his veins.
Taehyung holds his lamp up to the bayonet, fear pooling in his stomach as he runs a finger down the thick leather strap. He already knows what he’ll find when his fingertips slide down to the base of it. The grooves he’d marked into that strap long ago, when he was more a boy than a man and newly enlisted in the Continental Army.
His fingers brush against those grooves and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end.
“I hope you don’t intend to use that,” you warn darkly.
Taehyung stops breathing. He turns slowly, lamp in hand, to face you.
There is no beauty in your face in this moment, though your features remain the same. The dazzling smiles you’d once showed him are gone now, replaced by the hard set of your jaw.
Your eyes, once sparkling, are now flat -- terrifyingly cold.
“It’s considered quite rude to rifle through someone’s belongings, Soldier. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that? Very, very poor manners.”
You inch closer and Taehyung tries to retreat, back knocking against the cabinet.
“You’ve d-deceived me,” he stammers, shaking his head. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time.”
You laugh at him, the mocking sound of it echoing off the rafters of the shed.
“I only let you see what you wanted to see, Soldier. Some men prefer seduction and some prefer helplessness. I could see in you right away that you were the latter. But in the end, all human men are the same. Not one of you can withstand the temptation of a willing woman. You saw fit to slake your lust, and now I see fit to slake mine.”
Human men?
“What are you?” Taehyung rasps, heart pounding violently inside his chest. “What do you want from me?”
You sigh, as though bothered by his questions.
“I’m hungry, is what I am,” you return, taking another step closer. “And though I am not the type of woman to play with my food, I simply could not resist with you, Soldier. You are far and away the prettiest thing I’ve caught in the last hundred years.”
You shut your eyes then, and when they open again the glimmering golden flecks and whites are gone. The eyes that stare back at Taehyung now are shiny black, beady.
Vile.
“Get away from me,” Taehyung shouts, shuffling to the side as he tries to clear the cabinet with his body. He stumbles over the nearby wheelbarrow and falls to his knees, nearly dropping the oil lamp in the process.
It’s as he’s struggling to stand that he begins to hear the sounds, grotesque sounds -- fabric ripping apart and popping and cracking that make him want to heave. He abandons his attempts to get to his feet and starts crawling, hooking his lamp between his teeth.
The sound of clanging metal rings out behind him, tools crashing to the ground as you -- as whatever you are -- makes its advance. Taehyung crawls faster, panting as he moves desperately towards the shed doors, which he realizes with dread are now shut tight.
Something comes down on his leg, something that feels like a rod and he scrambles away from it as pain blooms from the point of impact. It is only as he is reaching the doors that he chances a single look back, muscles locking with terror as he holds the lamp before him.
It illuminates the true form of the woman he’d lain with just the night before.
Not a woman at all, but a giant, grotesque spider.
Shiny black legs extending from a long body covered in spots of yellow, blue, and red. The spider rears up on its back legs, poised to strike and Taehyung forces his body to move, hurling the oil lamp into the straw beneath its giant abdomen.
The lamp explodes on impact, flames bursting out of it and onto the straw floor. They lick at his legs and feet as he turns back towards the doors, shoving at them with all of his might.
The spider hisses as the fire grows, the sick smell of burning flesh filling the air as Taehyung keeps shoving, ramming against the doors with his shoulder. They come apart just a bit, enough for Taehyung to squeeze his torso through the opening, dragging his battered legs behind him.
And when he finally manages to stagger to his feet he turns back, just long enough to see the flames start to overtake the roof.
Then he runs.
As fast and as far as his legs will take him.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
Taehyung wanders the thick woods for two days.
He limps his way beneath the canopy of the trees, searching desperately for markers, ears attempting to isolate any sound of rowdy men or gunfire. His swollen ankle seems to have a heartbeat of its own, pulsing miserably inside the stressed leather of his boot. The charred skin on his shins rubbing painfully against the rough material of his pants.
Two days he goes without water, without food. Two nights he goes without sleep, refusing to shut his eyes for even one single second.
Never again will he allow himself to let down his guard. Never.
It takes two days for Taehyung to stumble onto a stream, slowly shuffling his way along the bank in search of men camped near the source of water.
He’s close to collapsing from exhaustion and dehydration by the time he spots a bright blue blur through the thick of the trees.
He follows the blur, heart in his throat as it slowly gets closer, clearer. Limping faster with a reserve of energy he’d not realized he could conjure until this very moment.
And when he staggers into the very edge of the Continental Army camp he does collapse, only to be hoisted to his feet by unfamiliar men.
“He’s one of us,” one of them declares, looping Taehyung’s arm over his shoulder and helping him towards a tent. “Looks like he’s seen some shit, too.”
Taehyung would laugh at the absurdity of that understatement if he could only muster the energy.
💀💀💀💀💀💀
The campfire puts off a comforting heat, and Taehyung scoots a bit closer to the flames.
Most of the men are drunk tonight, singing and dancing as though there’s not an entire war going on around them. It’s the kind of reckless behavior that would have set him on edge not long ago, but tonight Taehyung can’t bring himself to care.
A soldier settles into the space beside him, extending a shabby tin cup of ale which Taehyung quickly accepts.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, before he turns back to stare into the flickering light.
“You’re welcome,” the man grins, tipping his cup in a salute before he drinks. “Whole camp’s talking about you. They’ve come up with some wild stories about how you got separated from your men.”
Not wild enough.
“It’s not something I care to recount,” Taehyung shrugs.
“Yeah well, thing of it is that you’re the sixth man to disappear into thin air, from what I’ve heard. We got reports from regiments as far away as New Jersey of soldiers vanishing just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers for effect. “Only you’re the only one who’s come back.”
Taehyung’s stomach lurches, like the ale has spoiled inside his belly.
A memory comes back to him in that moment.
It’s the memory of all those tiny little spiders on the porch, crawling over his boot. He’d been able to beat back the ones he could see, but beneath that bush there must have been hundreds more.
Perhaps thousands more.
Taehyung shrinks into his tattered overcoat to hide the way he starts to shiver.
And he doesn’t say another word.
hi there! are you mad at me? please don't be! i'd love to hear from you about this story 💕you can send me an ask here.
also -- in case you're wondering where i pulled this twisted plot from, i have an explanation for you here.
permanent tag list: @japzalileo @dionysusrage @hey-itsmina @myimaginationsrunningwild @spring2787 @suppbeccc @veronawrites @minyoongiboongi @katbonv @pxy99 @duck-tan @juliaz1798 @babycoffeefire @oosnapitskat @taefect94 @kookiesspacebuns @namjooningelsewhere @beprisma @thetaetaeworld
this is delightfully spooky and such a fun, quick read. i could see the house and the loom and the shimmery gold threads of the dresses. the pacing of this was lovely, and the hints dropped are just enough to make you uneasy up through the reveal. what a fantastic halloween treat, ana! thanks for writing!
