#dkxreader

THE KITCHEN

LeeSeokmin x costumedesigner!reader

It's late, and Seokmin has an audition in the morning for a new musical. You are a costume designer living across the street- completely unaware.

Genre: slice of life

WC: ~2.1K

Warnings: voyeuristic imagery (nonsexual), introspection, no smut (but maybe eventually in the series), female terms used for the reader, his perspective v reader's perspective

A/N: First time posting. Idk why I am way more nervous about this section than the actual post. lol. If I missed some warning that should be noted, please let me know. I saw Between the Lines off-Broadway when it was running, and I can't help but think DK would be the cutest Oliver. Give it a listen, watch it on Prime. It's adorable. I cry. This will be a series. But I have a million things I am doing, so get ready for the slowest burn ever. Also, I think I did different tenses from each perspective. I am too tired to go re-edit that soooooo..... deal

The city lights of Seoul cast a faint glow throughout the apartment as Seokmin returned from work. By the time he slipped off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket, the exhaustion had settled into his bones. He could still hear echoes of laughter from the practice room, fragments of lyrics looping in his head long after the speakers had gone quiet. There was comfort in that chaos-- it was home-- but it didn’t leave much space for stillness. How could it with all thirteen of them hyping one another through each difficult dance move and every challenging riff?

For the past week, Seventeen had spent long days filming new content between rehearsals for their upcoming comeback. Each day brought something new. Often, Seokmin didn’t even know what they’d be doing until he arrived at the studio. Still, the Carats loved the photos and videos, and the group genuinely enjoyed making them, even if it meant running on little rest.   

Tonight wasn’t ideal for a Weverse live. He had an audition the next morning for a new off-Broadway-style musical opening in Seoul. The producer had personally invited him after seeing his performance as Arthur, and though Seokmin didn’t need a change of pace, he couldn’t deny how good it sounded-- a steady schedule, consistent rehearsal, a stage again. Something tangible. Something that wasn’t dictated by shifting content calendars.. Life, while full of fun and laughter, was still work. 

He ordered food and stepped into the shower. Warm water soaked into his tired muscles, steam clouding the mirror as the sound of running water drowned out the rest of the world. It was rare- this kind of silence. For a moment, he could almost forget the constant hum of managers, cameras, and expectations.

 As he lathered up, he rehearsed the monologue they’d sent him. The character intrigued him- Oliver, the storybook prince who longs to break free from the pages of his own fairytale. 

Oliver was trapped in a story written for someone else, repeating the same perfect lines over and over until a girl from the real world- Delilah- reads the book and changes everything. Over the course of the musical, their connection evolves from a parasocial fantasy to something painfully human. But she is real and has to move on. He is trapped in the book, left to perform his story again and again so the next reader can grow, learn, dream- while he remains behind every time. A fragment of his memory clings to every reader who passes his way. It was whimsical, romantic, and a little melancholic- a story about wanting to be more than the version of yourself everyone expects. 

Seokmin could understand that feeling better than most. 

He tilted his head back under the spray, letting the heat loosen the tension in his shoulders. The words of the monologue rolled easily off his tongue, bouncing softly against the tile walls. He adjusted the tone each time, hearing where he could breathe more emotion in certain lines, where Oliver’s longing might sound gentler or sharper. When he finally shut the water off, he felt steady. Grounded. Ready. 

Now it would come to tomorrow’s audition, and whether the producers liked what they saw. 

The food arrived just as he’d dressed. He set up his camera by the window, adjusted the lighting, and went live. Within seconds, Carats flooded the chat-- the usual mix of hearts, compliments, and affectionate chaos. 

“Did you eat?”

“You look tired but handsome!”

“Sing for us, Dokyeom!”

He laughed through it all, answering questions, teasing the fans, smiling between bites. There were always a few overzealous comments, but he’d learned how to navigate those-- a gentle acknowledgement without feeding the obsession. Mostly, it was light and genuine, and he enjoyed it. The familiar warmth of their affection always grounded him in a strange, digital sort of way. 

When the meal was done, he leaned into the camera, flashing that smile that everyone swooned over. “I’ll see you soon,” he said softly, winking before ending the live. 

Afterward, silence settled over the room. The kind that felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… real. 

He sank into the chair, glancing out the window as the lights of Seol glittered below. Then he caught movement across the street. 

One floor down, through the wide glass of an apartment window, someone was dancing. 

You. 

Loose, clumsy, completely uncaring. The light from your kitchen framed you in warmth as you spun a dishtowel in your hand, singing into a spoon before laughing at yourself. You had no idea anyone could see you. Why would you? You were home, barefoot on the tile, moving to a rhythm only you could hear. Well, you and perhaps your next-door neighbors. 

He couldn’t help it- his lips curved into an easy smile. Elbows on the table, chin in his hand, Seokmin watched the moment unfold like a secret shared with no one. You were so alive in your own little world, so genuine in your joy. Whatever song you were listening to had you moving like no one was watching-- head bobbing, hands in the air. He even recognized a few challenge moves- Ateez, Le Sserafim- though none from Seventeen, which made him huff a quiet laugh.

You fumble the spoon, caught it in midair, then bowed dramatically to an imaginary audience. He chuckled under his breath. It should’ve felt intrusive to watch, but it didn’t. There was something to pure about it- the kind of happiness that didn’t perform for anyone. Just a person being happy because they could be. 

He found himself thinking about how fleeting moments like that were. How easy it was to lose them when the world demanded you be someone else all the time. 

And maybe, he thought, watching you twirl with your silver spoon microphone, that was what Oliver had been chasing too- that kind of freedom. 

The kind where no one’s watching, no one’s waiting for perfection. Just joy, messy and real, burning bright in the quiet glow of a Seoul evening. 

Your keys jingle in the lock as you push open the apartment door. A soft buzz vibrates in your pocket. One that doesn’t hold the recognizable strength or pattern of a phone call or text- nothing urgent, probably an app notification. You ignore it for now. The lights flick on with a low hum, the kind of background noise your brain filtered out as your foot presses into your heel, slipping off your shoes and into slippers. The day has been long. More like the week has been long- paperwork, swatches, research, meetings that drag into each other until you can barely remember what show you were talking about an hour earlier. 

Everything has been through endless rounds of approvals. Lighting wants new swatches. Set wants to renegotiate logistics for two quick changes you warned them about months ago. Every department has a question, a concern, an opinion. You just want your cast finalized. Without casting, the rest of the design timeline has stalled, and you’re starting to feel that familiar anxiety at the forefront of your head. Missed deadlines, tightening schedules, hell week fast approaching. Egos heightened and flared from one talking head to another. 

Only one costume is still stuck in the approval process: Oliver’s. It has gone through more revisions than anything else in the show, but the latest version is solid. Clean and whimsy. It hits all the beats you want to communicate in the story from the moment he first steps on stage. The perfect fairytale prince that would make any girl swoon. Now you wait to see if production agrees. 

The clock is ticking. Most modern looks are sitting in a cart, ready to be purchased as soon as the cast's measurements are collected. The fairytale characters are being built piece by piece in the shop. You’ve been juggling this show between the other productions you’re designing, but now, finally, you’ve carved out space to breathe and dive into “Between the Lines” fully. This one feels special. A fresh new story that only briefly gained some attention in the States. 

As the costume designer, you had already spent months working on the new production of “Between the Lines” in meetings after meetings between the other shows you were designing. It had finally come through, the time you could devote most of your focus to this delightful new musical.

Rumor has it that casting has a surprise for everyone.

You let the curiosity drift as you walk into your kitchen. A few dishes from breakfast lay waiting in the sink. Nothing lingered longer than the morning. You pull out your phone at last, thumb sliding across the screen. The earlier notification reads across the screen. Dokyeom is live on Weverse.

You're not the type to sit there spamming the comments in the chat section, but you’ll listen in. His voice fills the kitchen while you whip together a quick and simple dinner. It held the pretense and comfort of someone talking to you on the phone. 

You've followed Seventeen for years. Dokyeom had caught your eye and heart early on. You watched performances online, attended a concert when you could manage, and followed his excursion in Xcalibur. You still catch yourself daydreaming sometimes: what it might be like to design for a production he's in, to see him step into clothing you built, to have a brief, albeit professional moment where world's crossed. Nothing ridiculous or lewd- just the cool surrealism of working with him.

Your apartment is a haven of creation and art. On the wall perpendicular to the window hangs a growing collection of sketches. From across the street, the wall is just out of view. The wall is pinned with inspiration photos, sticky notes scribbled with questions and concerns, and receipts. It’s a map of the whole show from your perspective, thrown visually in a web that made sense only to you. Notepads with half-completed to-do lists, pens, and fabric swatches litter the table where you eat. As DK talks about filmings and rehearsals, you catch yourself smiling. Work has been relentless. The communication and back and forth is challenging as everyone tries to bring their vision into he picture. But this part- the creation and dreaming still sits on your chest with excitement. A satisfaction that part of you was getting to be shared. 

His live ends right as you finish eating. You set your phone aside, click on your music, and let shuffle decide your fate. The exhaustion of the day weighs heavily on your shoulders, but the right song lifts you up. Energy surges back in with a step and a smile. You move without thinking. A heel-step here, swaying of your hips, shimmy of your shoulders. The kitchen becomes your solo stage, your sanctuary of safety and comfort as music frees you from stress and deadlines. Everything is a microphone: the spoon, the spatula. The broom an imaginary duet partner as you sing and dance to your favorites. Your attempt to harmonize is off-key. But who cares? This is your private space. 

In the warm glow of your apartment, you feel content. The job is demanding, but it is the dream. You have your routine, comfort, and security. What more can you ask for? You have a social circle, friends who have your back. For a moment, the stress fades, replaced by serenity and joy. 

You have no idea you’re being watched. You are too happy to care if you were.

But there, across the street, behind a window you can’t see from here, someone you admire pauses. Someone looking in at the exact moment you laugh as the spoon, dripping in soapy bubbles, slips from your fingers. 

Life feels steady. Predictable. Good. 

You have no way of knowing that this moment, silly and harmless, has started something you never planned for. Something you couldn’t fathom in reality. In dreams, maybe. Absurd, ridiculous dreams. 

You’ve unknowingly stepped between the lines of your own fairytale.

Pairing: SVT Lee Seokmin x Reader

Genre & Theme: Romance with sloght angst but ehhh, Soulmate AU

A/N: here is part 2 of the AU im surprised by the length, i didnt expect it to be long ... hope you enjoy and if you havent read the first part ... go and read it haha, HAPPY READINGS and send thoughts or feed back, they help me :)

FIRST PART 

>Looking at him closely he was very handsome and tall, he looks charming on stage even with just a simple long sleeve and rip jeans, the pain was overlaid with his alluring voice.

>You look at him closely again and see, he has no red string on his finger, but a red knot, and it was glowing.

>You looked at yours which was hiding in your pocket and see that it was glowing too, eyes widen looking back and forth at Seokmin’s hand and yours, are your eyes deceiving you ? Are your blurred forgot my glasses eyes playing tricks on you ?? But the pain and the glowing it kinda connects now, you found your soulmate.

>You felt overwhelmed and started to tear up, you rub your eyes softly with your sleeved pulled to your wrists.

>Your friend finally looks over you and sees your state,

>“Are you okay ?” And you just nod amidst the eye rubbing and sniffing,

>“Lets go outside your friend guides you through the crowd and whispering sorry’s to each seated person.

——

>“Now let us call call, our final contestant, Lee Seokmin” he feels his heart pumping louder than ever, singing is his passion ever since he was younger, it was his second favorite thing in the world other than finding his soulmate.

>He struts across the stage but something felt wrong, as he was coming closer to the ‘X’ mark on the center of the stage he felt growing pain from his hand he hides his hand behind his back and making it to a fist.

>The pain was just so immense he started breaking to a cold sweat, but he had to continue. Music start and he sings a bit off beat but catches up immediately.

>Still a bit focusing on the pain he tries to convert it to singing emotion, and it kinda works, he started singing better than the first moments.

>He starts waving around his hand where the knot is, he sees that its glowing, “is she here ??” Gazing over the audience, but the spot light was blinding him, he continues to sing and wave his hand in gentle motions.

>He sees a small redish gold twinkling glow amongst the audience and red string floating in the air, and he see its moving out of the court, the pain starts fading a little bit, he continues singing but in his mind he is shouting “dont leave !!”

>You exit with your friend and sit in front of the court building.

>“YoNa whats wrong ?” Your friend asks worried while circling your back.

>“I-I think *sniffle* he is my*sniffle* s-soulmate” you say while inhaling sharp breaths.

>“WAAAAH ??? Why are you crying then ??”

>“Im just overwhelmingly happy” you slightly smile now, and your friend abruptly stands up fist in heart,

>“After he is done singing lets go fine him and tell him you both are soulmates !!” Then the door bursts and comes out He himself, he was panting heavily and looking around, he turns around and see you and your friend just stunned and surprised that He instead came.

>He fixes his hair and slowly walks to where you were seated, still stunned you just sit there as his shadow hovers over you.

>“Hi” we sheepishly says while looking elsewhere,

>“Hi” you meep back,

>“Well, I see that you’re here so ill take my leave, take care of her ~” your friend then proceeds to hop away leaving you and Seokmin in a somewhat awkward atmosphere. He breaks the silence,

>“Umm, want to talk somewhere ?” He asks rubbing the back of his neck, “sure” you stood up and started walking to who knows where, you both still feel the pain but knowing that you were both just beside each other, it didn’t matter.

>You both sat in a bench where there weren’t a lot of people,

“Here” he hands you a can of orange soda, you happily take it.

>Still awkward you both were waiting for this day but you never imagines what would you two would do, so you sit there stealing glances of each other and when your eyes meet you both would immediately look away blushing,

>“Soo umm, how are you ?” You ask,

>“Im okay, you ?

>“Im doing okay” you smile, which makes him smile.

>“You sounded great” you say, and he begins to smile bigly his eyes crinkling and turning to crescents, what a beautiful smile you thought, its so welcoming.

>“Thank you” he blushes and laughs, and you couldn’t help but smile

>“Does it or did it hurt ?” His smiles kinda fades and he now has a kind serious tone,

>“What hurt ?”

>“Being a knot ?” Silence kinda fills the air and you take a deep breath,

>“Kinda, it felt lonely”

>“I see...well, i felt lonely too” you both shared silent chuckles,

>“Umm its weird but-”

>“But ? But what ?”

>“But, can I hug you ?” Your face just turns to a tomato, but with no hesitation you humm your reply,

>You both stand up facing face to face, slowly lifting his arms up, and gently wraps his hands around your mid.

>It first started of soft and awkward, then the hug became warm then the the next thing you know it, both of you start tearing up, you cry on his chest while he cries on your shoulder.