#using you

i never feel ashamed of

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.