Simple (Suga x Reader)

Stylist?

Key: (y/m/n)= your mother's name.

You swing open your closet, the door clattering against the several luggage bags that contained your possessions.

I don't even really know how being a stylist works... You think to yourself. Pick out clothes? Is that it? That's hella easy money, hey?

Pulling out as many things you could hold, you shove them all in your suitcase and wiggle the zipper closed. As you were tackling your suitcase like a football player, your mother walked in.

"Honey, I seriously consider letting you play football-"

"No, eomma."

"You know, you don't have to pack everything, you can get some clothes for free if you're a stylist."

"Eomma, it's a boy  group, like you said."

"Oh. Right. Well, you can work out something."

"Eomma, the phone is ringing." You point.

"Oh, it is!" Your mother rushes to answer it. You listen in on the conversation. (literally me all the time lol)

"Hello? Yes, it's me, (y/l/n) (y/m/n). You want to speak with (y/f/n)? Alright, I'll get her."

You stood up, brushed your hands on your shirt, and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Good day, Miss (y/l/n)." A smooth English voice answers from the other side of the phone, taking you by surprise. In the background, you hear boys laughing.

"Good job, hyung, keep it up!" One voice calls (in Korean).

"Sorry, just one moment please, miss." The man says, then you hear the same voice yell (this time in Korean as well), "Guys, keep it down, I'm trying to have a conversation and I can't even do that? You know I hate making people wait."

You resist the urge to laugh.

"I'm very sorry, miss. How are you?" Back to English.

"Fine, thank you."

"I've called to inform you about your job. I am sure you don't want to be shocked when you come here, and I don't want you to freak out either. So, I will be giving you all the details."

"Alright..." You gulp.

"Yes, we are a boy group run by BigHit Entertainment, we are actually called Bangtan Sonyeondan, maybe you've heard of us?"

"Um..." You internally scream. "Yes, I have."

"Anyways, my name is Kim Namjoon, and I am the leader of BTS. We have 7 members, each with their own *ahem* unique personality. We can provide lodgings in our dorm or our manager can think of something, either or, depending on your choice. You will travel with us when we go on concerts and such, and we can provide food. Our Seokjin is a great cook."

"Damn right!" A voice yells in the background.

"Please ignore them. I will talk to you in person, you do not deserve to listen to these idiots. Good day."

He hung up before you could respond. You blink. What the hell did I just go through?

*****Timeskip brought to you by a very confused reader. A very confused reader indeed*****

After about a half hour of waiting around and eating ice cream and Kookies (lel jkjk), the doorbell rang.

Your bare feet slap against the cold wood of the stairs as you rush downstairs to your front door, afraid yet curious as to what is on the other side.

Peeking out the window, a man with light brown hair and a black tie is standing on your doorstep. Parked on your driveway is a black van, and you catch a glimpse of several faces pressed to the glass.

Composing yourself, you open the door and give a wan smile. 

"Hello sir, how can I help you?"

His voice surprises you, clear and crisp, very... professional. "Hey, can I speak to Miss (Y/l/n) (Y/f/n) please?"

"Um..." You gulp. "You're talking to her."

"Oh." His eyebrows raise in surprise, and he flashes a cheeky smile. "Hello. I'm Kim Taehyung, you can call me Taehyung, or V if you want. I personally prefer Your Majesty."

Stifling a giggle, you extend your hand. "Hi, nice to meet you. PEASANT."

Pretending to be offended, Taehyung placed a hand over his heart. "How DARE you call me, your sovereign, a mere peasant! I am outRAGED!"

The window rolled down and a boy stuck his head out. "Hyung! Hurry up!"

"I was told I'd speak with Kim Namjoon-ssi."

"Oh." Taehyung's mouth opened slightly in surprise. Turning to the car, he yelled. "NAMJOON HYUNG, HELP!"

"I'll do it. Seriously hyung, you can't even handle talking to a girl slightly older than you are?"

"Sorry, Yoongi-ah." Taehyung scuttled back to the car as you stood there in complete confusion.

"Hello, I'm Min Yoongi." Yoongi grinned and extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm (Y/f/n)."

"I understand you're our stylist then?"

"Yes. I am."

"You accept our offer?"

You swallow. "I accept."

"You're sure?"

"I can always quit if I don't like it, right?"

Yoongi smiles. "Sure. If in any way you feel uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to contact manager-nim."

"Yes. I'll make sure to do that." You pray you made a good choice.

"You're sure you don't want any further explanation?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"But..." Yoongi gulps, looking rather nervous (and for good reason) "It's a boy group..."

"As long as I don't sleep in the same place as you do, I'll be fine." Your voice, to your surprise, sounds clear and crisp, almost stern.

"Oh...are you packed, then?"

"Yes..."

Your mother (who has been quietly standing behind you with a proud grin on her face) places her hand on your shoulder. "Don't forget about your old eomma, okay?"

"I'll come visit you." You hug her around the waist, then turn away and wave behind you.

Yoongi stands on your doorstep, looking at your mother in awe. "You're..."

"Yes, young man, I know perfectly well who I am, now please do shut your mouth, you'll swallow a fly by mistake." Your mother smiles and pats you on the back. "Also, yes, I gave her permission, so if any of you try anything (and I mean A N Y T H I N G) to my daughter, I'll come flying in and give all seven of you the old one-two."

"I..." Yoongi seems to be lost for words. "I understand, ma'am."

"Good boy." Your eomma pats Yoongi's head.

"???" Yoongi blinks quickly and nods, hurrying off.

"Well then, my baby girl." Your mother smiles down at you, and her eyes glisten with tears in the bright morning sun. "Go fly away. Don't forget about your home nest, though, because your mama bird will always be waiting for you."

"I love you, eomma. I'm going to make you proud." You say with a determined voice, and wheel your suitcase around sharply. Marching down the steps, your eyes steel over. Just watch, eomma. I'll make you happy.

You too, Amy. Will you be watching?