vic ⏾

BTS

MIN YOONGI

USING YOU: makeup artist!reader × idol!yoongi y/n has been min yoongi’s makeup artist for over a year. every day, she tells herself the same thing: he's her client. nothing more. she almost believes it until one night yoongi asks her to meet him alone. GENRE: angst, slow burn, friends with benefits, forbidden romance, eventual smut PLAYLIST: room 241 ♬⋆.˚

CHAPTERS ⟢ 01 • 02 • 03 [in progress]

Chapter 3 ⋆˙⟡

pairing ⟢ makeup artist!reader x idol!yoongi

genre ⟢ angst, slow burn, friends with benefits, smut, pining, forbidden romance

summary ⟢ y/n spends an evening at yoongi's apartment, and neither of them notices how real it's starting to feel.

warnings ⟢ swearing, unprotected sex, creampie (updated as chapters progress)

word count ⟢ 2.7k

← previous | masterlist | playlist ♫ | next →

“...he put me in my place and showed me how to enjoy myself” ⋆˙⟡

You’d spent about an hour getting ready in your apartment. You had been on the phone with Minji for a lot of it, asking for her thoughts on your makeup and outfit whilst avoiding her questions about who your “mystery man” was. Nothing in your closet felt right. No way you styled your hair felt perfect. Eventually, after Minji insisted for what felt like the hundredth time that you looked beautiful, you gave up and settled on a simple outfit. After you ended the call, you made your way downstairs, out of your apartment complex, and into your car. 

The ride to Yoongi’s apartment was nerve-wracking to say the least. The music on the radio couldn’t distract you from the way your heart was pounding in your chest at the thought of being alone with Yoongi in his most private space. I don’t have anything to be nervous about, you thought. We’ve done this before. But this time felt different, more personal. You weren’t going to be laid up in some cheap motel room; you were going to be in Yoongi’s space. And even though you remembered your agreement, you couldn’t help the feeling in your heart that maybe he was truly starting to let you in. 

You pulled up to Yoongi’s complex and slowly got out of the car, smoothing your clothes. You knew the apartment number from the texts he’d sent you, and you knew where to go. You ducked your head down as you walked to the elevator, trying to go unnoticed just like he’d instructed you to. When the elevator doors opened, a girl was standing inside. She glanced up at you before quickly walking out of the elevator, allowing you space to enter it. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have given her a second glance. But because Yoongi told you to hide yourself and be on high alert, you found yourself really looking, clocking every face around you. Your heartbeat quickened as you pressed the button for Yoongi’s floor and walked back to stand against the cold metal. She was a bit shorter than you, with long, dark hair and fair, glowing skin. She hadn’t made eye contact with you when she walked out, and you didn’t try to either. But she looked familiar, like you’d seen her face countless times before, but just couldn’t place where. You racked your brain, trying to remember who the hell that girl was. But before you could really get anywhere, the elevator doors opened again. It was time.

You hurried out of the elevator and found yourself at the door of his apartment. You didn’t knock, just let yourself in as instructed. Yoongi was sitting lazily on his couch, his phone in hand, scrolling. When you slipped into his apartment and shut the door, he didn’t look up. “You’re late,” he grumbled. “Sorry,” you said, moving a strand of hair out of your face. “There was a lot of traffic.” The lie came out easily. There wasn’t any traffic. But you couldn’t tell him you’d spent too much time trying to decide what to wear, even though you knew all he’d do was take it off. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, finally sitting up from the couch, setting his phone down. You felt heat rising to your face as you were caught in your obvious lie. You looked away from him, cheeks still warm, and set your bag down on his counter just to have something to do with your hands. 

When you looked back up, he was standing only inches away from your face. “Whatever this is, we still have a schedule.” He lifted his hand to graze your jaw with his thumb. Under his touch, you began to forget that you’d ever been nervous at all. You just looked into his eyes, swallowing hard. He didn’t wait long at all before he grabbed you and pulled you into him, kissing you hard. His hands found your waist, and your hands found his shoulders. Without breaking the kiss, he led you over to his couch and laid you down on it, his body on top of yours. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes dropping to yours. “Take off the skirt.” It wasn’t a question. You didn’t expect it to be. Your fingers hooked on the belt loops of your skirt and slid it off before you looked back up at him. He simply chuckled. It was a short, sharp sound, barely a laugh at all. “The thong too.” Oh. You slid it off, letting it fall on the carpet. “Good.” He grumbled, getting off you for only a few moments to unzip his jeans and throw them off, his boxers too. 

He climbed back on top of you, bringing his lips to yours again. His kisses were hungry, almost searching for something inside of you, and you wanted to give it to him. You ran your fingers through his hair as he broke the kiss and began to trail his kisses from your jaw down to your neck. You let out small whimpers as his teeth sunk into the base of your neck, and you could feel him growing harder on top of you. He lifted his head again as he hastily pulled your shirt up just enough to bring his mouth back down to suck your nipples softly. The way his tongue moved in quick swirling motions made you tug on his hair harder and harder, and the friction of his dick simply resting on top of your pussy had your heart pounding and heat pooling in your gut. He pulled back, looking at you flushed and breathless beneath him. His expression was almost entirely unreadable, but there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes, something close to tenderness. You almost reached out to it. Then you stopped yourself. This wasn’t that. You pushed the thought away before it could morph into something far more dangerous. Yoongi held his dick, now throbbing, and leaned over you. He adjusted himself, rubbing his tip softly against your clit in a motion that made your breath hitch. “Ready?” He mumbled, shifting his tip down slightly. You spread your legs a bit wider for him. “Yeah.”

Yoongi buried his head in the crook of your neck as he slowly slid himself inside of you. You tried to stifle a moan when he slowly started fucking you. Your hands found themselves in his hair again, and you closed your eyes, biting your lip. He felt huge inside of you, almost stretching you as he drove himself all the way inside. It didn’t take long for him to speed up. His thrusts grew harder, faster, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as you dug your fingernails into his back. Every stroke brought you closer to the edge, made you moan louder, and that only seemed to drive him to go harder.  You wrapped your legs around him, and you could feel him begin to tremble while he thrusted inside of you. A broken moan escaped from him against your neck, and you tugged on his hair even harder. Yoongi suddenly went stiff. 

You could feel him twitching inside of you. Then a sudden flood of warmth. He laid there for a few moments, essentially going limp on top of you. His breaths were ragged and uneven against your neck. He pulled away slowly, his arms unwrapping from your sides. He looked down at you, at your pussy with cum dripping out of it now onto his couch. “Shit,” he mumbled, standing abruptly. “I’ll get you a towel,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing into another room. You didn’t move, just looked up at the ceiling as you tried to even out your heavy breathing. When he finally returned, holding a towel, his face was flushed. He’d put on another pair of pants and clearly attempted to fix his hair. “Here,” he said, laying the towel in front of you. You sat up. “Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing it. It didn’t do wonders to clean the cum that was now sticking to your thighs, or the sweat under your clothes. Your face burned with embarrassment. Yoongi had just stood there watching you as you tried to clean yourself. Finally, he spoke. “You can use my shower.” He said quietly, looking somewhere else in the room. You were so taken aback that all you could do was laugh awkwardly. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. It’s fine,” he muttered, still not meeting your gaze. “The shower’s in my room. It’s that door.” He nodded toward the other side of the living room. You stood slowly, wrapping the towel around your waist. “Thank you.” You walked towards his bedroom and opened the door slowly. Like the rest of his apartment, it was astonishingly clean. His bed was made, his desk clean, nothing lying on the floor. A stack of magazines sat on his nightstand, beside a carton of cigarettes and a few silver rings. A black guitar was propped up in the corner next to a small amp. The room looked almost exactly the way you’d thought it would. You stepped into his bathroom and softly shut the door. You let your towel fall to the floor before you peeled off your now sticky shirt, laying it by the towel. 

Your shower was much needed. Your hair had been messed up horribly from the rubbing against the couch, and your skin was slicked with sweat and cum. Yoongi surprisingly had an assortment of soaps and hair care, but you tried to use the smallest amount possible so as not to infringe on his things. You turned the shower off and stepped out. You grabbed a towel from the towel rack, and as you finished drying yourself off, you heard a soft knock. 

“I have clothes for you.”

Yoongi’s low voice carried into the bathroom with the door shut. You stiffened for a moment. It was like he could hear your hesitation through the thickness of the door. “Just crack the door open; I’ll hand them to you.” You wrapped your towel tighter around yourself and stood behind the door, peering around it, and cracked it open just enough for him to hand you a small pile of clothes. “Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the pile and softly shutting the door again when you heard his footsteps retreating into the living room. 

Your thong from earlier was atop the pile. You set the hoodie and shorts aside before slipping the thong back on. A large, grey hoodie with a faded design on it that you couldn't make out and a pair of basketball shorts that were almost falling off your hips. They smelled like Yoongi. When you were all dressed, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Here you were, in Yoongi’s apartment, in his bathroom, and in his clothes. No one would’ve looked at you in that moment, standing there in his clothes, and guessed that this was supposed to be casual. 

You walked back into the living room, but Yoongi wasn’t on his phone this time. He was sitting on the couch, just looking at nothing. When you appeared in front of him, his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long before he muttered, “The shorts fit?”  You smiled a little bit. “Barely.” You glanced down at yourself. “Thank you, though.” He didn’t reply immediately, just pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. “You hungry?” he said, still looking at something on his phone. You hesitated. You didn’t want to be a bother. But he was asking. You stood there, your fingers disappearing into your sleeves as you fidgeted with the fabric. You finally said, “Yeah, kind of.” He glanced back up at you and set his phone down. He stood from the couch and walked over to the kitchen silently. You turned as he passed by you, catching his scent again. He opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out two cups of instant ramen, setting them on his counter. He stood there for a second. “You can sit.” He murmured, keeping his gaze fixed on the counter. 

You obliged. You sat on a chair in front of his kitchen island, just watching him. Somehow, the silence between you had stopped feeling suffocating. You could see Yoongi in your peripheral, preparing the ramen. “You cook a lot?” You asked, leaning your head on your palm as your elbow rested against the granite. With his back to you, you could hear Yoongi snort. “This isn’t cooking.” You smiled to yourself. Of course he’d say that. You could see his shoulders relax a bit. “I mean, I can make eggs. On a good day.” He muttered, grabbing something else from a cabinet. You laughed. “That’s it? Just eggs?” He turned back to you with annoyance that you could see through. It was the same annoyance he’d display when his groupmates would make a joke about him. He wasn’t truly annoyed. “What, like you’re a professional chef?” You didn’t break the eye contact. “No… but I know how to make more than eggs.” He shot you a look of disbelief. “Prove it then.” “Right now?” He smirked. “My kitchen is right here.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe next time.” Yoongi just watched you for a second, staying silent before he turned back to the stove. You tried not to get too into your head, drumming patterns on the counter with your fingers as you waited. After a few minutes, he finally turned back to you, holding two bowls of ramen. He didn’t set them on the counter, but nodded toward the couch. “Come.” He didn’t wait for a response as he began to walk towards it. 

You settled onto the couch with your bowl, and Yoongi sat beside you. Not too far away, but not too close. He just stared at the ramen, waiting. “Are you gonna eat?” He glanced over at you. “It’s too hot,” he mumbled. “No, it isn’t. See?” You took a bite, the noodles instantly burning your tongue. “Shit!” You exclaimed, your free hand flying to your mouth. He only chuckled to himself. “I told you.” You rolled your eyes again, fighting a smile that was creeping onto your lips. The two of you didn’t say anything for a while. The only noise was that of the rain pattering on his windows and quiet clinks of your chopsticks against your bowl. After the ramen had cooled, Yoongi finally took a bite. He didn’t eat slowly. Each bite was rushed. “Do you always eat like that?” He swallowed. “I have to.” You didn’t press him on it, but you knew it was because of his schedule. The conversation faded away again, and before long, your bowl was empty. You set it down on the coffee table in front of you before you glanced over at him. He’d finished his minutes ago. When he saw you set yours down, he stood and reached over for your empty bowl. You stood up before you realized it. “I can help.” He looked at you, only for a moment before he muttered, “...Alright.”  You both carried your bowls to the sink. The two of you worked in silence; he washed the bowls while you rinsed and dried them. It was a chore, but it didn’t feel like one with him. When you were all done, you both reached for the faucet, your hands brushing against each other’s. “Whoops,” you mumbled, smiling as you pulled your hand back. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes followed your hand as you pulled away. He turned the faucet off. 

── ⟢ ·⸝⸝

Yoongi stood by the door as you slipped your shoes back on. Your clothes from earlier were stuffed into your bag. Once you were all ready, you looked back up at him. “When do you want me to give these back?” You asked, gesturing at the outfit you were wearing. He looked at you for a few heartbeats before he replied quietly, “Just keep them for now.” You tried to hold in your surprise, swallowing a smile. “Okay then.” You turned your back to him and reached for the doorknob, about to turn it, when you felt his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N.” You turned slightly. “...Text me when you get home.”

Chapter 2 ⋆˙⟡

pairing ⟢ makeup artist!reader x idol!yoongi

genre ⟢ angst, slow burn, fwb, eventual smut, pining, forbidden romance

summary ⟢ one night changes everything. back in the daylight, pretending nothing happened proves harder than either of them expected.

warnings ⟢ swearing, brief sexual content (will update as chapters progress)

word count ⟢ 2.2k

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⋆˚☆˖ “You’re the only one who’s making me come to my sinful senses”

Yoongi’s gravelly voice from the end of the hallway made you jump. Your hand flew to your chest as you turned to look at him. “God, Yoongi, you scared me.” You chuckled nervously as you let your arms fall back to your sides. Yoongi didn’t seem concerned. He just stared at you for a moment, almost sizing you up before he spoke again, 

“I said come here.” 

Every instinct told you to turn around and leave, but your feet carried you toward him anyway. Slowly, you crossed the hallway until you stood a few feet from the doorway, peering into the motel room. He huffed as he looked at you simply standing there. “Are you gonna come inside?” He grumbled as he shifted away from the door to give you space to walk in. “Sorry.” You said quietly before quickly slipping into the room. Yoongi stepped past you and looked out into the hallway before slamming the door shut. You lingered by the door, waiting anxiously to find out why he'd called you to a cheap motel in the middle of the night. 

Yoongi sighed and walked past you before he sat on the bed. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at you. “Listen, Y/N. I’m not stupid. I can see the way you look at me. I see the way you whisper to Minji when you think I’m not looking. And I know what you’re thinking when you’re touching my face.” You froze, still standing by the door. You weren’t sure whether to bolt out of the room or fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, anything that could stop the embarrassment that your face was flushed with. Yoongi’s voice cut through your racing mind. 

“I’m not upset, Y/N.” He rose from the bed and slowly walked closer to you. “I like it.” You couldn’t speak. All you could do was swallow hard. It was the man you’d been fantasizing about for a year, whose face you’d been touching every day, looking you in the eyes and telling you that he knew exactly how bad you wanted him. 

And he wanted you too. 

“You do?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Yoongi wasn’t surprised. He took another step closer to you, his face now only inches away from yours. “I do.” He said quietly, before he raised his hand to brush your lips with his thumb. He let it stay there for a few seconds before he moved his hand to cup the side of your face. You trembled slightly under his touch. You were so used to being the one to touch him. 

“I-” You tried to speak, but you couldn’t. Yoongi just softly laughed. He looked at your face, still cupped by his hand, before he closed the gap. His lips came crashing onto yours. Not lovingly, not tenderly, but hungrily. You couldn’t think anything else. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him until your bodies were pressed tightly against each other. He took his other hand and found the back of your head, and tugged on your hair as his kisses grew hungrier. It was like he was searching for something inside of you. You kissed him back, but at a softer, steadier pace. He pulled away suddenly, his expression still hardened. “Whatever this is, it can't leave the room.” You looked at him, torn. You could leave right now. Walk back to your own hotel. Pretend this conversation never happened. Go back to being his makeup artist tomorrow morning.

But that isn’t what you wanted. 

You wanted Yoongi. You needed Yoongi. You’d spent countless nights dreaming of him, days thinking about him, private moments imagining him on top of y-

“Y/N? Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

His voice snapped you back to reality. You looked back up at him, still breathing heavily. You couldn’t go back to being just his makeup artist. You wanted to mean something to him, regardless of what exactly you’d be. “Fine.” You said. You’d made up your mind. This wouldn’t leave the room. At least that’s what you told yourself. Yoongi looked at you again. “Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded sharply and brought your lips to his that time. 

He kissed you back as though the pause had never happened. Without breaking the kiss, he turned your body and walked you closer to the bed before lowering you onto it. He was on top of you. Min Yoongi was finally on top of you. 

He didn’t falter for a second. Still, without breaking the kiss, he slipped off his jacket before bringing his hands to your hips. He hooked his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and slid them off, leaving you exposed. He could feel you go stiff for a moment beneath him and pulled back, looking into your eyes. “What?” He said roughly. “Is this not what you want?” You shook your head. "No," you whispered. "It's exactly what I want." His expression softened for the first time that night. "Then don't stop me."

Before you knew it, you were both undressed. Your head was against the pillows as Yoongi kissed your neck, his fingers inside of you. You felt like you were on top of the world. But the sex was even better. Yoongi wasn’t simply pleasing himself. He paid attention to you. If he saw a flicker of hesitation in your eyes, he’d slow down. If you got louder, he’d put his hand over your mouth, but he’d keep going in the same way. He knew what he wanted just as much as he knew what you did. You wanted to please him too. When you did something that made him bite his lip, you’d keep at it with the same rhythm. You’d tug on his hair at just the right moments, pushing him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Yoongi said, collapsing onto the bed. You didn’t speak at first. For a good minute, it was only ragged breaths before he finally turned on his side to face you. “You know, we leave the day after tomorrow.” He reached out and laced his fingers with yours. “Once we’re back in Seoul, things go back to normal.” You felt your stomach drop a bit. “Then what is this?” You said quietly, looking into his eyes. His eyes scanned your face. “Whatever we can get away with.” You looked away from him, to a random spot on the wall. “You want that?” You could feel his eyes on you as you spoke. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t.” He paused. To anyone else, it would’ve just been a pause. But you knew him. It was hesitation. You still didn’t look. “That’s all it is.” 

Your heart broke a little. Still, you knew you'd rather have some of Yoongi than none of him at all.

── ⟢ ·⸝⸝

The next morning, there wasn’t time to think. You and the other artists were called to a television station in the central part of town to do the boys' makeup for the final interview of the U.S. leg of their tour. The rest of the girls arrived half an hour early, but you cut it closer. You walked into the dressing room 10 minutes before the boys were due to arrive for their makeup. Your hair wasn't styled as neatly as it usually was, and the concealer beneath your eyes did little to hide how little you'd slept. As soon as you walked into the room, Minji’s head perked up. “Y/N!” She practically shouted from across the room before rushing over to you. She looked at you with excitement before it almost immediately shifted to concern. “Jesus, Y/N, are you okay? You look like shit.” You scoffed, smiling wearily. “I’m fine, Minji. Just didn't get a lot of sleep.” At the mention of sleep, she hurried back to her station before returning with an energy drink.

As she came back, she held an energy drink. “See, I had a feeling that I should bring an extra one. I’m glad I did!” She said with a smile, extending it out to you. You smiled, more of a performance than a real one, and thanked her quietly before carrying it back to your station. You went through the motions of setting up robotically. Makeup out of the bag, onto the table. Only after you were done did you sit for a minute, sipping the drink Minji gave you. You wondered if he’d slept at all as you brought the can to your lips for another sip.

Before you could think anything else, you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and the boys entering the room. The room immediately filled with conversation as each of them made their way toward their stations. Yoongi waited for a moment, watching. Then he crossed the room and sat in your chair. He didn’t meet your eyes, and he certainly didn’t touch you. He only said, “Morning.” 

“Morning,” you replied quietly, reaching for your palette. You clipped his hair back with practiced hands, the same hands that’d been tangled in his hair only hours before. You tried to steady your breathing as you reached for the foundation, but your hands shook anyway. Pull yourself together, you thought. There were only 10 minutes before the boys needed to be in front of the cameras being interviewed. 

Applying Yoongi’s makeup was the easy part. You’d been doing this for what felt like forever. It was keeping your eyes from wandering; that was the difficult part. Keeping your gaze fixed on where you were blending his concealer, and not letting your gaze drift down to his collarbone. Each touch of your skin on his made you tremble a bit harder. Every time your eyes drifted to his lips, you had to fight the urge to kiss him. 

The director of the TV program stepped into the room. “You guys are on in two minutes.” He shouted over the noise of our conversations. One by one, the boys began to rise from their seats and head to the door. Yoongi was the last one. When all the other boys had cleared out of the room, he stood. He didn’t say anything to you as he began to walk, and it was almost too much to bear. With his back turned to you, you decided to speak up. “Good luck.” You said quietly. He paused, just for a second, before he turned to look back at you. “Thanks.” And then he was gone.

── ⟢ ·⸝⸝

You sat on the couch in your hotel room with Minji. A sitcom played on the TV, but you couldn’t care less about it. All you could think about was Yoongi. “I’m so ready to go back home,” Minji said suddenly, cutting through the canned laughter. You glanced over at her. “Yeah, me too.” It was a lie. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for the possibility that when you were back in Seoul, what had happened with Yoongi would become nothing more than a night in a motel room. Then again, you didn’t know. You didn’t know if he’d text you. You didn’t know if he’d call and tell you to meet him somewhere. You didn’t even know if he would. 

“Maybe I’ll finally meet someone when we get back,” Minji said absentmindedly. Your stomach sank. If someone asked whether you were seeing someone… what would you say? You’re seeing someone, aren't you?

No. You weren’t.

── ⟢ ·⸝⸝

The next morning, everyone was rushing to pack, check out, and get to the airport on time. The members were exhausted, their conversations a low murmur as the managers counted luggage and passports. You stayed close to Minji, trying to listen earnestly whenever she spoke, but your attention kept drifting to Yoongi. He barely looked at you. 

The airport smelled faintly of coffee and jet fuel, and there was never a moment when the two of you were alone. The staff surrounded the boys, fans gathered outside the terminal, and everyone seemed to be moving in different directions at once. You caught Yoongi looking at you across the gate, but only once. The second your eyes met, he looked away.

The flight back to Seoul felt like an eternity. You sat beside Minji while Yoongi sat several rows ahead with the others. Whenever anyone walked down the aisle, your head lifted before you could stop yourself. But it was never him. By the time the plane landed, you’d almost managed to convince yourself that the motel had been nothing more than one reckless night. Outside the airport, staff began separating into different vans. Minji hugged you goodbye before climbing into hers. You watched Yoongi disappear into another van without so much as looking back. Your stomach sank again.

Then your phone vibrated. 

Tomorrow, 8 p.m. My apartment.

You stared at the message until the van carrying him pulled away.

pairing ⟢ makeup artist!reader x idol!yoongi

genre ⟢ angst, slow burn, fwb, eventual smut, pining, forbidden romance

summary ⟢ y/n has been min yoongi’s makeup artist for over a year. every day, she tells herself the same thing: he's her client, nothing more. she almost believes it until one night yoongi asks her to meet him alone.

warnings ⟢ swearing (more warnings will be added as the story progresses)

word count ⟢ 1.5k

masterlist | playlist ♫ | next →

“I’ll never feel ashamed of using you for pleasure.”

The hour before every show was always the same. Seven boys, seven makeup artists. Bright vanity lights flooded the room, and the hum of fans outside seeped through the cracks in the door. You’d gotten the job as Min Yoongi’s makeup artist through a friend of yours who used to help manage the group. “I think you’d be perfect for the job, Y/N. I’ve seen your skills, and I know you’d do well.” You accepted with no hesitation, as the invitation to do makeup for one of the most famous groups in the world was far more alluring than the work you were doing at your old cosmetology school. As a makeup artist for BTS, you went almost everywhere with them. Every interview, you and the six other girls sat behind the cameras, waiting to be called on to touch up one of the boys’ makeup. Every concert, you were there. You’d sit in the dressing room with your bag of palettes and a small smile on your face, ready to work. 

What developed between you and Min Yoongi was purely physical. Or at least, that was what you would later call it.

The other members would almost always arrive early, settling into their chairs and chatting with their artists before their makeup was done. Yoongi always arrived last. He smelled of black coffee and cigarette smoke. Slow, deliberate steps carried him toward your station. He didn’t believe in the small talk that the rest of the boys would engage in. He’d sit quietly, looking somewhere else in the room as you touched up his makeup. He stayed quiet as your thumb grazed his jaw, blending concealer beneath his cheekbone. Over time, despite all of your efforts to fight it, you’d developed a crush. A bad one. You didn’t let it interfere with your work, not wanting to let a silly feeling get in the way of the amazing opportunity you’d been given. But three days into their latest tour, everything had changed. 

You added the final touches of Yoongi’s makeup and looked at him with a satisfied smile, spinning his chair so he faced the mirror. “All done,” you said, looking proudly at his reflection. “Thanks,” he muttered quietly, standing up from his chair to walk over to the rest of the group, still waiting in the dressing room. You nodded, moving out of his path before turning back to your station. You quickly packed your makeup back into your bag before walking over to the other artists who were chatting in a separate corner of the room. 

“Hey,” you said, offering them a smile. “Hey, Y/N!” Jimin’s makeup artist, Minji, said before she beckoned you over to her side. You and Minji had gotten along since the moment you’d met. Minji was in the same boat that you were. After only a few days of working with the boys, she’d also developed a major crush. 

She cornered you one day after the boys had gone onstage to perform. “Do you want to go grab dinner somewhere?” she said nervously. You hesitated a second before smiling. “Yeah, I’d like that.” When you got to the diner, the awkward energy vanished quickly. You bonded over many things. Most of all, you bonded over your crushes. You and Minji went back and forth. “Yours is cute,” Minji admitted, stirring her drink with the straw. You laughed. “So is yours.” By the end of dinner, you had both sworn the conversation would never leave the booth.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

It was the night of BTS’s last stop of their United States tour and they’d had an amazing performance. They all walked back into the dressing room, where you and the other girls had stayed to congratulate them before all of you had to travel back to Korea. The room erupted into cheers as soon as they walked through the door. Most of the members smiled, laughed, or pulled their artists into hugs. But Yoongi didn’t seem excited. Instead of celebrating with the others, he caught your eye and motioned you toward a corner of the room. He stood there, jaw clenched, his hands in his pockets, beads of sweat still dripping down his forehead. 

“Meet me here,” he said quietly, and his hand left his pocket to hand you a slip of paper. “Tonight. After midnight.” You were stunned. Before you could even reply, he’d walked past you and back to the rest of the group. You stood there for a moment, clutching the paper. You turned your back to the rest of the room as you carefully unfolded it. Astro Motel. Room 241.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The wind was cold, nipping at your face as you walked. You had a thick coat on, a scarf lazily wrapped around your neck, with your arms wrapped around your sides. The part of town you were in wasn’t the best. The buildings were run down, the roads worn out. Liquor stores on every corner and smoke in the air. You slipped your hand into your pocket, your fingers finding the paper before you pulled it out. As if the words might have changed while in your pocket, you unfolded the note again. Astro Motel. Room 241. The closer you got to the building, the harder your heart pounded. Why? Why would he tell me to meet him? And why at a motel? You walked up to the building, and the dirty automatic doors slid open as you approached. The lobby was dimly lit, looking like it had given up on itself years ago. It smelled of mold, cigarettes, and something close to despair. A vending machine was in the corner of the lobby, but the display screen was black. An ice machine stood opposite it, its bin empty as it hummed to itself.

You weren’t really sure what to do. You had no room key, no reservation, just a note from a man who probably didn’t want anyone else to know that he’d ever been there. You stood only a few steps into the lobby and looked toward the front desk. You could barely see, but a man was sitting behind it, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. His hair was grey, his jaw set tight as he used his free hand to drum his fingers against the wooden desk. He hadn’t noticed you standing in the lobby. You swallowed hard before you slowly made your way up to the front desk. 

Even with your presence looming above the man, he was still oblivious. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing your throat loudly. The man’s head shot up, clearly startled. He looked at you for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “Can I help you?” he asked, glancing irritably between you and his phone. You shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting with the hem of your jacket. “I’m, uh, here to visit…” you paused for a second. “I’m here to visit someone in room 241,” you said, eager to get the words out. The man narrowed his eyes at you again. “241?” he asked, slowly reaching for the hotel telephone. He pressed a few numbers before bringing the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hello. It’s the front desk. There’s some woman down here saying she’s here to visit you?” The man paused as he listened. He looked back up at you, eyebrow raised. “Name?” he grumbled. “What?” “Your name,” he said impatiently, still watching you. “Oh. Uh, it’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” He rolled his eyes, looking away from you again before he repeated your name into the phone. “Alright. Bye,” he said, before he put the phone back on the receiver. He mumbled something to himself as he opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic card, and lazily placed it on the counter of the desk. “Second floor,” he said dismissively, as he pulled his own phone back out. 

You stood there for a second too long before taking the room key, the textured plastic rubbing against your fingertips. You turned, walking towards an elevator behind the front desk. “Second floor,” You mumbled to yourself as you pressed the call button. The elevator doors groaned as they opened, and you stepped inside hesitantly. You scanned the inside of it before pressing the 2 button. The elevator began its slow ascent, shuddering the entire way. After what felt like an eternity, the doors groaned again as they opened. 

You looked out into the hallway before stepping into it. There wasn’t a soul in the hallway. It looked almost abandoned, with the wallpaper peeling off and the only source of light being one small table lamp on a dirty nightstand at the end of the hallway. You looked at the small plaques with door numbers next to the doors. 231. Shit. You looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure out which way to go. Before you could figure anything out, you heard the sound of a door opening to your far right. Your head snapped over, startled. The door opened slowly, before an all-too-familiar face peered from inside the room. 

Yoongi.

One hand wrapped around the doorframe, he watched you from inside room 241.