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purplemoon7 · 18 days ago

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Golden Hour

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — A sunset, a couch, and your fiancé who acts like you're the eighth wonder of the world.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Idol!Hoseok x black!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.9k

Warnings! FLUFF! nothing but pure fluff here, you guys are madly in love, established relationship, fiancé!Hoseok, golden light, cozy touches, and sunset kisses.

The first thing Hoseok notices when he steps through the door isn't the quiet—it's the absence of you.

The house should feel full with you in it.

It should smell like your perfume drifting down the hallway, sound like your hums mixing with the L.A. breeze sneaking through the open windows. It should feel like the place where he's left his heart, like the home that he's built around you.

Instead, it's too still, too empty, and he pauses mid-step, heart doing a funny little twist in his chest.

"Jagi?" he calls out, dropping his duffel bag by the door. No answer. "Jagiya?"

He toes off his shoes, walking barefoot across the cool floors, scanning the living room. Empty. The kitchen. Empty.

He starts to wonder if maybe you've fallen asleep, if maybe he'll find you curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets like you usually are, or maybe even in the bathtub, with candles flickering and bubbles floating on the surface. The thought makes his heart clench, and he finds himself quickening his pace.

"Jagi?"

He doesn't think he's ever missed someone so much.

It's been a long day—longer than he'd like to admit—and the only thing on his mind is sinking into the mattress with your warmth pressed against him. The only thing he wants to do is feel you against him, breathe you in, taste you, be with you.

But when he steps into the bedroom, he's met with emptiness again. The bed made and untouched, and something like worry is creeping up the back of his neck as he walks back down the hall and—

Then he catches it—the slow, lazy rustle of pages turning, the faint sparkle of your laughter carried by the wind.

His shoulders relax.

He follows the sound outside, onto the sun-drenched terrace that overlooks the rolling hills, where the sky is on fire with a California sunset. And there you are.

Lounging sideways on the big outdoor couch, one leg draped lazily over the cushions, the other tucked beneath you. A book half-forgotten at your side, the golden light pooling around you like you're some kind of living painting. Your skin glows—a warm, rich brown that soaks up the sunset and reflects it right back at him. You're wearing one of his shirts, oversized on your frame, the hem brushing your bare thighs, paired with tiny shorts that he swears should be illegal.

His heart trips.

He just stands there for a moment, drinking you in like a man starved, his body aching to be closer to you.

Because you're his. You're his home, his heart, his everything.

The sun is sinking low, painting the sky in strokes of pink and orange, and the breeze is blowing gently, cooling the sweat on his skin.

You must hear his footsteps because you lift your head, blinking at him through the setting sunlight, a slow, teasing smile spreading across your lips. "Hey, stranger."

He’s moving before he even realizes it, crossing the patio in a few easy strides, the wood creaking softly under his feet. Without hesitation, he drops down onto the couch with a quiet grunt, sinking into the cushions. His head finds your lap instinctively, fitting perfectly against you as if molded for this exact place. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him like he can’t stand even an inch of distance. Like you're oxygen and he's been suffocating without you.

He squeezes you, breathing you in—the floral scent of your shampoo, the salty smell of your sweat, the scent of you—and he realizes that he didn't quite understand how much he's missed you until just now.

So he tells you.

"Mmm, jagi," he groans, his voice thick with exhaustion and longing as he buries his face into your stomach. The cotton of his shirt, still clinging to your body from the lingering heat of the sun, muffles the sound of his words. "I missed you so much."

You laugh, low and warm, the sound rumbling gently through your chest as you thread your fingers into his hair. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and you feel the way he melts under your touch, clinging tighter to your waist like he's afraid you'll slip away if he loosens his grip.

"You saw me this morning," you tease, your voice soft with affection.

"Not the same," he mumbles, lips brushing reverently against your stomach through the thin fabric. A heavy sigh escapes him, full of relief, his whole body sinking deeper into you as if he's finally found peace after a long, restless search.

His eyes flutter shut, his hold on you loosening just enough to breathe, but not enough to let go. You keep stroking his hair, nails raking gently through the dark strands, watching with a quiet smile as the last bits of tension drain from his body, like he’s tethered again, anchored safely to you.

"Rough day?" you ask, voice soft.

"Long day," he corrects, tipping his head back to look up at you. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded, adoring. "But worth it. I kept thinking about coming back to you."

Your chest squeezes. You lean down, brushing your nose against his. "Sappy."

"You love it," he teases.

"Unfortunately," you sigh dramatically, earning a chuckle that vibrates against your thighs.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, slow and lingering, sending a shiver racing up your spine. His hand finds the bare strip of skin just above your shorts, thumb stroking lazy circles.

The sun dips lower, casting everything in a deep amber glow. The breeze picks up, warm and lazy, ruffling his hair and yours. It feels suspended in time, this moment—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the world fading to a quiet hum in the background.

Hoseok hums again, content, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. "You look so good like this."

"Like what?"

"Wearing my clothes. All mine," he says simply, matter-of-fact, and you’re helpless to the way your cheeks warm.

"I am," you whisper.

He grins—that wide, heart-stopping grin that shows every perfect tooth—and shifts so he can prop himself up slightly, trailing kisses up your stomach to the center of your chest, where your heartbeat thrums against his lips.

You giggle, a soft, breathy sound, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then your temple. His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you don't hesitate to meet him halfway.

Your lips meet his, soft and sweet, just a brush, and then his mouth is on yours, and his hands are in your hair, and your fingers are gripping his shirt. He kisses you deep and slow, savoring the taste of you like he's been starved, and you kiss him back with the same hunger, the same longing. The same desperation.

When you finally part, it's just enough to breathe, your foreheads pressed together, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip.

"Marry me. Right now." he says suddenly, voice low and serious against your skin.

The breeze stirs around you, warm and soothing, and the sky is blazing with sunset colors, and Hoseok is here—alive and warm and here. And he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world, his eyes so dark they’re almost black.

You snort, threading your fingers tighter through his hair. "The wedding's already planned, Hobi. You just wanna get out of writing your vows." His expression shifts, looking scandalized, and you press your lips together to hide a smile. "Coward."

He gasps, offended, and you laugh, a bright, tinkling sound that makes his whole soul ache.

"Marry me tonight, then," he insists, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes alight with mischief.

"You're ridiculous."

"But I'm your ridiculous," he points out, smiling wide, his thumb brushing loose coils from your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "you're my ridiculous." You pull back slightly, tilting his face up to you. His skin is sun-warmed and soft under your palms, his eyes crinkled at the corners with affection. "You better cry when you see me," you tease.

"Baby," he says solemnly in english, the word coming out heavily accented. "I'm gonna be a mess."

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him again—a slow, languid kiss that tastes like sunlight and home.

He moans quietly, arms tightening around you, pulling you half onto his chest. The book falls forgotten to the floor as you lose yourself in him, in the familiar press of his body against yours, the rhythm you always find together.

Your legs tangle with his. His hands roam up and down your back, under the hem of his shirt, finding bare skin and tracing shapes there. You nudge his nose with yours, smiling against his mouth, feeling his heart beat wild under your palm.

"You’re all mine," he murmurs between kisses, a possessive edge softening into pure devotion.

"Mmhmm," you hum, nipping at his bottom lip. "All yours."

He flips you onto your back with a playful growl, caging you beneath him without ever breaking the kiss. You laugh against him, the sound bubbling up as he peppers kisses along your neck, your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder.

"Hobi," you giggle, squirming when he finds that spot just below your ear.

"I’m addicted to you," he breathes, nuzzling into your neck. "You’re my favorite everything."

Your heart swells, too full to hold all the love you feel for this man—this beautiful, radiant, chaotic man who loves you like it's the easiest thing in the world.

"You're my favorite too," you whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression open and achingly tender.

"I mean it," you say, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." His breath catches in his throat, eyes going glassy, and you smile, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth. "I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes."

"Jagi," he whispers, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as he cups your face gently between his palms. "I—"

He breaks off, choking up, and he just… stares at you.

Your eyes are so full of love for him, so full of adoration, and it hits him right then that this is his life—his fiancé, the love of his life, the person who’s stolen every part of him and made it whole again.

He feels his eyes prickle with tears because you make him feel so much, so much that it overwhelms him, overwhelms him in the most beautiful way.

You’re his. He’s yours. Forever.

You lift your head from the cushions, capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

"I love you," he breathes, words vibrating against your lips, "So much." He kisses you again, slower this time, wanting to carve the memory of this moment into his bones.

The sun finally dips below the horizon, leaving you bathed in the soft afterglow. The lights of the city begin to twinkle in the distance, but neither of you notice. You're too wrapped up in each other, too busy whispering silly secrets and pressing lazy kisses to every patch of exposed skin you can find.

You don't even realize when you both fall asleep there, tangled together under the stars, your heartbeat and his beating the same soft rhythm into the night.

Home, you think, right before you drift off. Home is wherever he is.

- Moon ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

#bts x black reader #bts x reader #moon #hoseok x black reader #hoseok x reader #hobi #bts hobi #jung hoseok #hope on the stage #hoseok #j hope

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andy-wm · 12 days ago

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We are enough and love will always win

I've just returned from Singapore where I was lucky enough to see Hobi for his Hope on the Stage concerts.

Besides the absolute awesomeness of Our Hope, which I'll come back to, I wanted to share a few things.

The first being that when he sang Equal Sign I cried.

Hate’ll paralyze your mind

Gotta see the other side

It costs ya nothin’ to be kind

Not so different you and I

Lookin’ for love in a different light

Until we find that equal sign

It's a beautiful song and being surrounded by ARMY from across the globe, all singing together, filled my heart with warmth.

I love the community of ARMY.

I'm not saying we're perfect, not at all. We're messy and loud and too inclined to throw punches when we could just use our words. But we're also instantly a family when we are together at concerts.

Strangers from all over the world embrace each other, support one another, and share the joy of Bangtan.

We laugh together, we cry together, we form bonds that might last a few hours or might last a lifetime. We are ARMY and in that moment, that's all we need to be. We love them and that is enough.

We are enough.

💜 These are two of my favourite photos even though theyre out of focus. He was so happy 💜

And that brings me to the second thing:

ARMY is OT7.

The overwhelming feeling at these concerts was that Our Hope is opening a door that's been sealed since 2023.

It's the door to our Magic Shop

ARMY time had so many beautiful words of love and support for Hobi. But there were also many banners celebrating the return of Bangtan.

We cheered thunderously for those banners.

We are waiting for them.

For all of them, together 💜

The cheers and screams for Hobi's solo work were amazing but when Mic Drop gave us the opportunity to do the fan chant, that whole arena shook.

Bear in mind this is a small venue - Singapore Indoor Stadium only holds about 12k people. And this video doesn't capture the swell of sound because I was in the tiny standing pen wedged between the side of the stage, the screen, and the wall supporting level 1 seats.

Believe me, we were LOUD.

In that moment I knew for sure... ARMY are still OT7.

Solos and antis will never win.

Another of my famously terrible videos. I amaze even myself with my ineptitude.

But back to the star of the show:

Our Hope

I can't tell you how cathartic these concerts were. I can't tell you how much I needed to be there. I was too busy and distracted to realise until I got there, that I was hanging by a thread.

I've spent the last 18 months drowning in grief, trying to come to terms with a huge personal loss. I've kept my mind on other things, pushing the pain into the dark corners of myself, but my energy has been dwindling and I desperately needed respite from all of it.

I needed something good. I needed Hobi.

I needed his light and his energy and his poetry and his rage.

And boy, did he deliver.

Hobi is fearsome and relentless and unstoppable. He is a perpetual motion machine.

He generates fire and life and joy.

Singing, dancing, rapping, flirting (seriously, he's outrageous) and moving, moving, moving all the time. One moment he's a storm and the next he's a gentle breeze but he never stops moving. And like the Pied Piper you can't resist him. You have to go with him, moving and singing and being carried by his effervescence. He's a vibe, and a solid presence on that stage. You just know the future's gonna be okay when he's up there.

I would go and see him again and again if I could but money doesn't grow on trees so I'm back at work replenishing the bangtan savings for the next concert and the next one after that. Because this is not gonna be the last time.

It is never gonna be.

Jungkook said so, and I believe him.

🕺🏻💜🕺🏻💜🕺🏻💜🕺🏻💜🕺🏻💜🕺🏻💜🕺🏻

#j hope #hope on the stage #OT7 #apobangpo #kim namjoon kim seokjin min yoongi jung hoseok park jimin kim taehyung jeon jungkook BTS #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS fanchant #BTS ARMY #jung hoseok #J-hope #hope on the stage singapore

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