#rie

✎ by rie 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ☾

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : domestic intimacy, established relationship

Synopsis : what it feels like to be loved by someone who doesn’t always say it — but shows it in every room you walk through together. soft. quiet. a little obsessive.

masterlist

✦ the rooms he loves you in

in the kitchen:

You’re barefoot, draped in Jungkook’s favorite oversized shirt, the one he insists is yours now, its fabric soft and worn, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. You’re at the stove, wrestling with a spatula, trying not to burn the eggs. The morning’s warm, light spilling in, and you’re half asleep, moving slow, a little clumsy, but wrapped in a quiet contentment knowing he’s close.

Jungkook leans against the counter, hair messy from sleep, a black hoodie making him look softer than ever. His eyes are fixed on you, warm and gentle, like you’re the only thing worth seeing in the world. He doesn’t speak, just watches, lips curving into a small, private smile, like he’s holding onto every second of this simple moment. To him, you’re not just cooking, you’re a quiet magic, every gesture pulling him closer.

He steps near, and you feel the brush of his fingers against your lower back, so light it sends a shiver through you. He’s reaching for a mug, but it’s just an excuse, you both know it. His touch stays, warm and intentional, and your breath catches, a spark igniting in your chest. He lingers, shoulder grazing yours as he pours coffee he won’t sip, too busy stealing glances at you.

“Gonna burn those,” he teases, voice low, still rough with sleep, but there’s a playful warmth in it, like he loves your chaos. You groan, scraping the eggs onto a plate, and he laughs, a soft sound that wraps around you like a warm breeze. Then, without warning, he leans down, lips pressing to your bare shoulder, slow and tender, like he’s savoring the moment. Your pulse races, and he hums a melody, a song you played days ago, one you thought he hadn’t noticed. But he did. He always does.

“Taste this,” you say, nudging your tea toward him, your voice shaky from his closeness. His fingers brush yours as he takes the mug, the touch like a whisper against your skin, sending warmth through you. He sips, nose scrunching like it’s awful.

“Poison,” he murmurs, but his eyes sparkle, and he sets the mug down so carefully, like it’s precious because it’s yours. You laugh, and his gaze softens, like your joy is his favorite sound. “You’re so pretty when you laugh,” he says, almost to himself, and your cheeks burn, a glow spreading through you.

You turn back to the stove, flustered, but he’s still there, watching with that quiet devotion, like you’re the reason the morning feels alive. You move together effortlessly, you reach for sugar, he’s already handing it to you; you drop a spoon, he’s there, picking it up, fingers grazing yours. It’s not perfect, but it’s yours, every small moment a silent vow.

Sometimes, you catch him staring when you’re not looking, his eyes tracing your smile, the way you tuck your hair back. His love is in the small things: the way he brushes a crumb from your cheek, his thumb lingering, making your pulse quicken; the way he stands close, his warmth a quiet promise. You’ll turn and find him watching, like he’s afraid to miss a single second of you. You pretend not to notice, but the glow in your chest says you do.

in the car:

Jungkook drives with one hand, the other always finding you, like you’re a part of him he can’t let go. Today, his fingers lace through yours over the gearshift, his thumb brushing your knuckles in a rhythm that makes your chest hum. The window’s down, wind tangling your hair, but you don’t mind, and neither does he. The air smells of summer, and the radio hums a song you both know, soft and familiar.

He doesn’t talk much when he drives, but his silence is full of you. His fingers tighten when you shift, his eyes flick to you at every stoplight, like he’s making sure you’re still there, still his. You skip through songs, landing on one that makes you smile, and he hums along, always the second verse, never the first or last. You asked once, half laughing, why he does that, but he just grinned, eyes crinkling, like it’s a secret he’s saving for you. You don’t push, because the way he hums, low and warm, makes your chest tighten, like he’s singing just for you.

The sun’s dipping low, painting your skin in golden light, and he glances over, lingering too long, his gaze soft and unguarded. “You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, like it slipped out, like he couldn’t hold it in. Your breath catches, cheeks warming, and you look away, but you can feel his smile, bright and quiet. His hand stays on yours, thumb tracing patterns, each touch a spark that makes your pulse dance.

You point out a cloud shaped like a star, and he chuckles, his thumb brushing your wrist, sending a shiver through you. You laugh at a misspelled sign, and he shakes his head, lips curving, like your joy is his favorite thing. It’s not about where you’re going, it’s about this, the moments between, where his hand holds yours, where the silence feels like a love song.

Sometimes, he’ll sing a line from a song you didn’t know he loved, his voice soft and low, and you lean closer, letting it wrap around you like a warm embrace. It’s not a show, just a piece of him he’s sharing, and it makes your chest glow, your pulse quicken with

how much you adore him. Every drive is a collection of these moments, small but endless, his touch making the world feel softer, brighter.

in the bedroom:

The bedroom is your sanctuary, soft and quiet, just you and him tangled in sheets, laughter still warm from a silly moment you’ve already forgotten. A slow song drifts from another room, its melody wrapping you both in a gentle haze. Jungkook’s fingers trace your spine, slow and careful, like he’s mapping every curve of you, committing you to memory. You’re close, cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady, a rhythm that makes your whole body hum.

He kisses your neck, tender and unhurried, his lips lingering like he’s savoring every second of you. It’s not rushed, just soft, like he’s afraid you’ll fade if he moves too fast. You turn to face him, and he exhales, a quiet sound that feels like a confession. His eyes hold you, dark and warm, making your breath catch with the weight of his gaze. “You’re everything,” he whispers, like it’s a truth he’s been carrying too long, and your chest tightens, overwhelmed by how much he means it.

You brush a strand of hair from his face, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, like your hand is his anchor. It’s a small moment, but it feels like the world, like you’re holding his heart, and it’s beating just for you. He doesn’t say I love you, doesn’t say stay, just presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips, and the quiet says it all.

You fall asleep tangled, his arm draped over you, his breath soft against your shoulder. When you wake, he’s still there, holding you like he’s never let go, like he never will. These nights are your haven, where he’s just yours, open and unguarded, every touch a promise. You’ve spent countless nights like this, wrapped in each other, every breath a shared secret, every glance a vow.

Sometimes, you wake to find him watching you, eyes soft and warm, like you’re a dream he’s afraid to lose. “What?” you murmur, voice thick with sleep, and he just smiles, pulling you closer, kissing your forehead like it’s enough. And it is. It’s his way of saying everything he feels, and it makes your chest glow, your pulse race with how much you love him.

at parties:

He doesn’t cling, doesn’t hover, but he’s always there, eyes on you like you’re the only star in a crowded sky. The party’s loud, music and laughter swirling, but he’s your quiet anchor, leaning against a wall, drink in hand, watching you like you’re his favorite melody. You catch his gaze, and he smirks, lifting his glass in a silent I see you. Your breath catches, a warmth blooming in your chest, but you play it cool, even as his stare sets you alight.

When someone laughs too close, their voice too loud in your ear, he’s there, arm slipping around your waist like it’s always belonged there. “Having fun?” he murmurs, voice low, just for you, his breath brushing your ear. Your pulse quickens, and you nod, leaning into him, feeling the steady warmth of his body. He presses a kiss behind your ear, soft and private, not for the crowd, just for you. It’s his way of saying mine, and it makes your chest hum, your skin tingle with how much you want him.

He’s not possessive, not in a heavy way. It’s softer, like you’re a piece of his heart he’s guarding with every glance. You move through the crowd, and he’s never far, his eyes keeping you close, making you feel safe, cherished. You laugh with friends, and he watches, his smile soft, like your happiness is his own.

Sometimes, when the music slows, he pulls you to a quiet corner, his hand finding yours, tugging you close. He sways with you, not quite dancing, but close enough, his arms around you, lips brushing your temple. Your chest tightens, and you rest your head against his, feeling his heartbeat, steady and sure. It’s not about the party, it’s about you, about the way you fit together, about the way he looks at you like you’re his entire world.

on bad days:

When you fall apart, he’s there, gathering you without a word. You’re a mess, tears stinging, and he pulls his hoodie over your head, the fabric warm, smelling of him. Your fingers clutch his shirt, like he’s the only thing holding you together. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t try to fix it with empty words. He just holds you, steady and warm, letting you break without judgment.

He lies beside you, breathing even, hand on your back, tracing slow circles, a rhythm you can follow when the world feels too heavy. Your breath hitches, and he pulls you closer, his arms a safe haven, his warmth sinking into you. “Breathe,” he whispers, lips against your shoulder, soft and grounding. Your chest glows, not from pain but from the way he holds you, like you’re his to protect. And you breathe, because he’s there, because he makes it feel possible.

He stays, quiet and unwavering, his presence a light in the dark. He makes you tea, knowing you won’t drink it, just so you have something to hold, something to ground you. He sits with you, letting you lean into him, letting you cry or be silent, whatever you need. His love is in the way he stays, in the way he doesn’t flinch, in the way he looks at you like you’re still whole, even when you feel shattered.

These days show his heart most clearly, the way he loves you without conditions, without expecting you to be anything but you. It’s in the way he tucks your hair behind your ear, the way he kisses your forehead when you’re too tired to speak, the way he holds you until the world feels softer, safer.

Jungkook’s love is a gentle melody, woven through every room you share, every touch, every glance. He doesn’t say I love you often, but you feel it in the way his hand finds yours, the way his eyes light up when you smile. It’s in the mornings when he watches you fumble with breakfast, his laughter soft and warm, making your chest glow. It’s in the drives where his fingers lace through yours, his touch a promise that makes your pulse dance. It’s in the nights when he holds you close, his breath a rhythm that lulls you to sleep.

His love is in the small things: the way he brushes hair from your face, his touch so gentle it makes your breath catch; the way he hums your favorite song, like it’s a secret he’s kept for you; the way he stays when you’re falling apart, his arms a home you didn’t know you needed. It’s not loud, not grand, but it’s everything, a love so deep it makes your chest hum, your skin tingle with every moment.

Wherever you go, Jungkook is there, his love etched into every corner of your life. It’s in the way he looks at you, like you’re his beginning and end, like you’re the song he’ll never stop singing. It’s in the way he holds you, like you’re a treasure he’ll guard forever. Your breath catches, your pulse races, because this love, this quiet, steady, glowing love, is yours, and it feels like forever.

authors's note :

i just know this is how jungkook would love. not loudly, not all at once but in every small, unspoken thing. the kind of love that lingers.

this was my first fic i wrote with no intensions of posting but i had to if you felt anything reading this reblog, heart it ,it would mean a lot to me!! or drop me a rec or idea to spiral into next. i’d love to write more softness like this. thanks for reading 🤍 drop a 💌 in the comments to be added in my taglist!

— rie ♡₊˚.

Yoojung [black-eyed susan] - endurance, encouragement, positive change

Kyubin [green carnation] - acceptance, homosexuality

Rie [orange zinnia] - lasting affection, constancy, daily remembrance

Junji [purple zinnia] - spiritual exaltation, soulmate love

Nine [anemone] - protection, anticipation, renewal, undying love

Week: 71 of waiting