ikpopwriting - But She Had Wings
But She Had Wings

Jess, 26, Sagittarius, Slytherin, Sometimes I write stuff MasterlistJust a writer obsessed with BTS Asks are always open!

274 posts

My Head On Your Shoulder

My Head On Your Shoulder

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: A song in a moment brings back memories with a common theme: your head on Taehyung’s shoulder.

A/N: Inspiration for this struck while listening to Michael Bublé’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder

My Head On Your Shoulder

The soft notes of the song start up, and Taehyung leads you out onto the empty dance floor, ivory dress rustling quietly around your legs. He stops, turning to face you as he wraps his arms around your waist, yours coming up around his neck as you look into each other’s eyes, and begin to sway to the music. All eyes are on the two of you, but the world beyond his warm, love-filled eyes and fond smile has faded away. Your head starts to lower, dipping down towards his shoulder, bringing with it numerous memories of the past that swim behind you closing eyelids:

At your grandfather’s funeral when you were seven, tears streaking down your face as you hide out back on the steps away from everyone else for a moment, tired of being strong for your mother and father, for your siblings and other relatives. You didn’t have to be, but you wanted to be. The door opens, and you hastily wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand before turning to see who’s found you. It’s the grandson of your grandmother’s best friend, the one who has the strawberries.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” he says.

So you do, as he sits beside you and hugs you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder as your sobs wrack your small body.

~*~

The next summer, as you’re staying with your grandmother to give her company and help around her house, laughing under the old oak tree in the front yard with the swing tied to its lowest branch as he tells you his latest adventures in the city with his siblings.

“You have a pretty laugh,” he tells you, smiling.

“Not as pretty as your smile,” you assure him.

He smiles around you all the time after that, especially when you laugh so hard you lean into him, forehead pressing into his shoulder as you hold onto your stomach that clenches with the sounds bubbling up from your lips.

~*~

Your thirteenth birthday, when he plays the saxophone for you and you can’t help but smile, not so much at his performance, but at the passion he has for music. He tells you he practiced even harder, just for you, and you blush over a boy for the first time, hiding your red cheeks with his shoulder as you hug him in thanks. He sings you Happy Birthday, and it’s the best birthday you’ve had.

~*~

When he comes back from accompanying a friend to an audition and tells you he auditioned as well, and passed, you feel several things. Excitement and pride, because of course your Taehyung is uniquely talented, but scared you’re about to start losing him. He’s talking about Seoul, and being an idol, and all you hear is him leaving you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he talks, so he can’t see the growing dread in your eyes.

~*~

At eighteen, when the storm of the century comes through, and you had driven your grandmother over to his grandparents’ house to huddle in their storm shelter. He was there visiting, and you were surprised to see him, but happy. He held you as the wind howled and thunder boomed, your head tucked into his shoulder as your grandmothers looked at each other knowingly, but didn’t say a word as the boy distracted you with tales of stages and his band mates. His grandfather was too busy worrying over the harvest of strawberries being battered to notice what’s happening right in front of him.

~*~

When you had opened what you thought was just another silly letter passed “like our grandparents did”, and had found front-row tickets, backstage passes, and first-class round-trip tickets instead, with a simple “see you there ;)” on a sticky note. You had scared your roommate half to death with your sudden squeal at finally getting to see the other half of your heart again after so long, and had apologized profusely afterward.

The next week, standing backstage at the sold-out concert of Korea’s largest stadium, meeting the six brothers-in-arms of the Kim Taehyung, V of BTS, you had been slightly overwhelmed. Until he had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side and smiling down at you with that beautiful smile you’ve loved most all your life. You had rested your head on his firm shoulder, letting him reassure you. Everything had righted itself then, and a place had been made for you among the seven.

~*~

The day you realized you were hopelessly in love with Kim Taehyung, your heart broken, because he was in love with some other girl. A girl who loved his boxy smile, and his silly ways. Who fit in with his friends, and was the missing piece of his heart. A girl who—

“—who has been my friend since I first saw her, crying on the back steps of a funeral home when she was seven,” he had said, noticing the look in your eyes as you had misunderstood his confession. “A girl standing right in front of me, and whose tears had better turn happy or the guys will beat me up.”

You had stood there, shocked, before launching yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing happy tears into his shoulder.

“I love you too, Tae.”

~*~

Your first date, where he had taken you to the nicest restaurant in Seoul and all you could focus on was him, not the ridiculously overpriced food and drink, but the boy who you had watched grow into a charming man as sickeningly in love as you are.

Until the next morning, when your picture was everywhere on social media. Fans were split in their opinions of the obvious date: most seemed happy that your friendship took the (rather obvious) next step. Others where outraged, and wanted you gone.

You had secretly feared Taehyung would listen, but then knew him better than that. He’s his own person, and when you had let their words get to you, had tucked you into his shoulder and let you cry a bit before assuring you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ll quit before I give you up, now that I have you.”

You wouldn’t let him, but it had made you laugh and eased your mind.

Over the next few months, support for your relationship grew, with haters outvoiced greatly and quieted quickly by ARMY. They adopted you like an extension of Taehyung, and you are grateful.

~*~

Then, your last date with your boyfriend, when Taehyung had proposed to you in front of all of your friends and family at the end of the night, in your shared apartment. It had produced your favorite photo of the two of you: but not of you, hand covering your mouth as your eyes water with the happiest tears you had cried up to that point, him on his knee with an open ring box; no, of you and him hugging, your head on his shoulder, smile on your face as you look down at your engagement ring, his eyes alighted above you as he looks at you with fond love.

All of these memories flash by in the time it takes your head to meet his shoulder once again, branding another memory in a string with a single commonality: your head on his shoulder, this time as you dance to the perfect song on the day that you have both said “I do” to forever and always, together, as husband and wife, surrounded by the people who have watched your story unfold like a love song.

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3 years ago

My Head On Your Shoulder

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: A song in a moment brings back memories with a common theme: your head on Taehyung’s shoulder.

A/N: Inspiration for this struck while listening to Michael Bublé’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder

My Head On Your Shoulder

The soft notes of the song start up, and Taehyung leads you out onto the empty dance floor, ivory dress rustling quietly around your legs. He stops, turning to face you as he wraps his arms around your waist, yours coming up around his neck as you look into each other’s eyes, and begin to sway to the music. All eyes are on the two of you, but the world beyond his warm, love-filled eyes and fond smile has faded away. Your head starts to lower, dipping down towards his shoulder, bringing with it numerous memories of the past that swim behind you closing eyelids:

At your grandfather’s funeral when you were seven, tears streaking down your face as you hide out back on the steps away from everyone else for a moment, tired of being strong for your mother and father, for your siblings and other relatives. You didn’t have to be, but you wanted to be. The door opens, and you hastily wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand before turning to see who’s found you. It’s the grandson of your grandmother’s best friend, the one who has the strawberries.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” he says.

So you do, as he sits beside you and hugs you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder as your sobs wrack your small body.

~*~

The next summer, as you’re staying with your grandmother to give her company and help around her house, laughing under the old oak tree in the front yard with the swing tied to its lowest branch as he tells you his latest adventures in the city with his siblings.

“You have a pretty laugh,” he tells you, smiling.

“Not as pretty as your smile,” you assure him.

He smiles around you all the time after that, especially when you laugh so hard you lean into him, forehead pressing into his shoulder as you hold onto your stomach that clenches with the sounds bubbling up from your lips.

~*~

Your thirteenth birthday, when he plays the saxophone for you and you can’t help but smile, not so much at his performance, but at the passion he has for music. He tells you he practiced even harder, just for you, and you blush over a boy for the first time, hiding your red cheeks with his shoulder as you hug him in thanks. He sings you Happy Birthday, and it’s the best birthday you’ve had.

~*~

When he comes back from accompanying a friend to an audition and tells you he auditioned as well, and passed, you feel several things. Excitement and pride, because of course your Taehyung is uniquely talented, but scared you’re about to start losing him. He’s talking about Seoul, and being an idol, and all you hear is him leaving you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he talks, so he can’t see the growing dread in your eyes.

~*~

At eighteen, when the storm of the century comes through, and you had driven your grandmother over to his grandparents’ house to huddle in their storm shelter. He was there visiting, and you were surprised to see him, but happy. He held you as the wind howled and thunder boomed, your head tucked into his shoulder as your grandmothers looked at each other knowingly, but didn’t say a word as the boy distracted you with tales of stages and his band mates. His grandfather was too busy worrying over the harvest of strawberries being battered to notice what’s happening right in front of him.

~*~

When you had opened what you thought was just another silly letter passed “like our grandparents did”, and had found front-row tickets, backstage passes, and first-class round-trip tickets instead, with a simple “see you there ;)” on a sticky note. You had scared your roommate half to death with your sudden squeal at finally getting to see the other half of your heart again after so long, and had apologized profusely afterward.

The next week, standing backstage at the sold-out concert of Korea’s largest stadium, meeting the six brothers-in-arms of the Kim Taehyung, V of BTS, you had been slightly overwhelmed. Until he had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side and smiling down at you with that beautiful smile you’ve loved most all your life. You had rested your head on his firm shoulder, letting him reassure you. Everything had righted itself then, and a place had been made for you among the seven.

~*~

The day you realized you were hopelessly in love with Kim Taehyung, your heart broken, because he was in love with some other girl. A girl who loved his boxy smile, and his silly ways. Who fit in with his friends, and was the missing piece of his heart. A girl who—

“—who has been my friend since I first saw her, crying on the back steps of a funeral home when she was seven,” he had said, noticing the look in your eyes as you had misunderstood his confession. “A girl standing right in front of me, and whose tears had better turn happy or the guys will beat me up.”

You had stood there, shocked, before launching yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing happy tears into his shoulder.

“I love you too, Tae.”

~*~

Your first date, where he had taken you to the nicest restaurant in Seoul and all you could focus on was him, not the ridiculously overpriced food and drink, but the boy who you had watched grow into a charming man as sickeningly in love as you are.

Until the next morning, when your picture was everywhere on social media. Fans were split in their opinions of the obvious date: most seemed happy that your friendship took the (rather obvious) next step. Others where outraged, and wanted you gone.

You had secretly feared Taehyung would listen, but then knew him better than that. He’s his own person, and when you had let their words get to you, had tucked you into his shoulder and let you cry a bit before assuring you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ll quit before I give you up, now that I have you.”

You wouldn’t let him, but it had made you laugh and eased your mind.

Over the next few months, support for your relationship grew, with haters outvoiced greatly and quieted quickly by ARMY. They adopted you like an extension of Taehyung, and you are grateful.

~*~

Then, your last date with your boyfriend, when Taehyung had proposed to you in front of all of your friends and family at the end of the night, in your shared apartment. It had produced your favorite photo of the two of you: but not of you, hand covering your mouth as your eyes water with the happiest tears you had cried up to that point, him on his knee with an open ring box; no, of you and him hugging, your head on his shoulder, smile on your face as you look down at your engagement ring, his eyes alighted above you as he looks at you with fond love.

All of these memories flash by in the time it takes your head to meet his shoulder once again, branding another memory in a string with a single commonality: your head on his shoulder, this time as you dance to the perfect song on the day that you have both said “I do” to forever and always, together, as husband and wife, surrounded by the people who have watched your story unfold like a love song.


Tags :
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Chapter Six: Designer Choice is posted!

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