#Internship Begets Rivalry

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Nine: Hook, Line, & Sink Her

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 2,277 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

The next morning, I was met with an ambush. Amber plopped into the seat beside me, Krystal slid into the one across from me, and Luna leaned in over my shoulder—all three of them looking far too eager for my comfort.

I groaned. "What now?"

Amber grinned. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering where you disappeared to last night."

"Nowhere."

Krystal scoffed. "Liar. You were acting weird all day, and then, poof—mysteriously gone."

"And we know you weren’t home because we checked," Luna added smugly.

I blinked. "You what?"

Amber shrugged. "We called, you didn’t answer, so we took matters into our own hands."

"By breaking and entering?"

"By opening your unlocked door," Krystal corrected. "Seriously, you should be more careful."

I dropped my head onto the table. "Dear Lord. Please send help."

Amber ignored that. "So... you gonna tell us who he is?"

"There is no ‘he.’"

Luna hummed, clearly not convinced. "You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot. And disappearing. And the other day, you sighed in the middle of class like a woman whose lover has just gone off to war."

Amber pointed a finger at me. "That part. Heavy on the lover."

I groaned again. "I sighed because I was tired. A man can’t be tired anymore?"

Krystal waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. But we’re gonna find out eventually."

I lifted my head just enough to glare at them. "You all deserve the gas chamber."

"Aww," Amber put a hand to her chest. "You and your lover will be right there with us, Sweaty."

Krystal and Luna made little hearts with their fingers and blew kisses at me. I dropped my back onto the table. Hard. A few times.

I could feel my sanity slipping.

—

I finished my classes for the day and—after barely surviving another round of my friends’ relentless interrogations—I texted Yoongi.

Me: My friends are stalking me T-T Yoongi: Sounds like a you problem. Me: I’m serious. They’re obsessed. I think they’re tailing me. Yoongi: So? Let them. Me: YOU let them. Yoongi: …I have a better idea. Me: Should I be worried? Yoongi: Probably.

I sighed. I didn’t like that answer at all.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

Yoongi: Meet me at 8.

I groaned. Why was it always at 8?

—

Later that evening, I found myself once again regretting every life choice that led me here. I had barely stepped onto campus when my phone buzzed.

Yoongi: Look to your left.

I frowned but did as he said. Across the courtyard, Amber, Krystal, and Luna were not so discreetly lurking behind a vending machine. I swore under my breath. They were actually tailing me.

Me: This is a nightmare. Yoongi: Relax. I told you, I have a plan. Me: I’m actually scared. Yoongi: Good. Now be a good girl and stay put. Me: Excuse you?

Before I could fire off a well-deserved insult, I felt someone grab my wrist and yank me into a secluded hallway. I barely had time to yelp before I was met with a very smug-looking Min Yoongi.

"What the hell—"

"Shh." He pressed a single finger to my lips, looking way too entertained. "You’re gonna ruin the show."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then I saw them. Amber, Krystal, and Luna had left their hiding spot and were frantically scanning the area where I’d just been standing.

Yoongi grinned. "They lost you."

I scowled. "Great. Now what? We hide in this dank little hallway forever?"

"Nope." He tugged me closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now comes the fun part."

Yoongi slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Then, before I could even process what was happening, he had crouched down and hoisted my legs up and around his waist. My hands braced against his chest and my brain short-circuited.

"WHAT ARE YOU—"

"Shhh," he drawled, "just trust me."

My heart was beating out of my chest. "This feels a helluva lot like something I should not trust." I whisper-yelled.

He smirked. “Exactly. Now, hold still, cowgirl.” He emphasized the word "cowgirl" by giving my ass a playful slap.

With that, he took a step back into the open—still holding me up firmly by the thighs—and started walking.

Right toward my friends.

Oh.

My.

God.

Amber, Krystal, and Luna froze mid-conversation. I watched the moment their brains broke. Amber’s mouth literally fell open. Krystal choked on her drink. Luna’s eyes went so wide I thought they’d pop out of her skull. I could see the gears struggling to turn in their heads.

Yoongi, the absolute menace that he was, only tightened his grip and smirked at them like he was enjoying this.

"Evening, ladies."

And then he kept walking.

Just like that. No explanation. No nothing. Just me, bopping along in his arms while my friends stared after us like we had just set their entire reality on fire. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, pure embarrassment burning through my entire body like gasoline on a blazing fire.

"Yoongi," I hissed as soon as we turned the corner, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

He laughed, setting me down. "Problem solved."

I gaped at him. "HOW? How is that a solution?!"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased. "Well, now they don’t have to wonder anymore."

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Amber: CAFE IN 10 MINUTES! Krystal: And don’t be late, you whore!

"Oh my God, they’re gonna KILL ME!"

He snorted. "You’ll live."

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "You are the actual devil."

Yoongi grinned. "Thank you."

—

I took a deep breath before pushing open the door to the café where Amber, Krystal, and Luna were waiting. I tried to act as if nothing had happened earlier with Yoongi. My heart raced at the memory, but I forced a casual demeanor as I slid into the chair across from them.

“You’re late!” Amber exclaimed, her eyes narrowing. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just hanging out with Yoongi. No big deal.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on her face. “No big deal? You mean the guy who just carried you across the courtyard like a giant sack of laundry? That’s definitely a big deal.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off. “He does that all the time. It's just a little fun, nothing serious.”

Amber leaned forward, unconvinced. “Really? Because that’s not something people who aren’t dating do.”

“Please,” I said, trying to sound aloof. “I’ve seen him do worse.”

“Worse?” Amber exclaimed. “Like what? Eat your ass platonically?”

“Okay you’re being dramatic,” I laughed, trying to sound casual. “But it’s nothing. Just weirdo Yoongi being weirdo Yoongi.”

Amber exchanged a knowing look with Luna, clearly not buying my act. “You sure you’re not secretly dating him?” she teased, a smirk creeping across her face.

“Please,” I scoffed. “We’re just friends now. Barely.”

“Right,” Luna said, crossing her arms. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Okay, maybe he’s a little fun to be around,” I admitted, shrugging. “But it’s not like we’re head over heels for each other or anything.”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

The conversation drifted after that, the topic of Yoongi slipping away into the usual mix of gossip and casual banter. By the time we left the café it was well after dark and we decided to chill out at Amber’s place. We were comfortably sprawled on her couch, a movie playing in the background when the topic of Yoongi resurfaced. I thought I’d finally escaped the topic, but I should’ve known better. I tried to focus on the movie playing in the background, but Amber and Luna wouldn’t let it go.

“Seriously, though,” Amber said, leaning forward. “You’re not dating him, right?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No! It was just a silly stunt. You guys are making way too big of a deal out of it.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Not buying it. That was way too flirty to just be ‘friends.’”

Krystal chimed in, clearly convinced. “I dunno, I think it was real. Although you two are definitely still hiding something.”

I shook my head. “It was just a joke, I promise!”

Amber and Luna exchanged glances, still unconvinced. “Okay, let’s make a bet,” Amber suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “If we catch you two together on an actual date, you owe us dinner at that new place downtown.”

Krystal smirked and then quickly added, “And if we can’t catch you by the end of the week, we’ll leave you and Yoongi alone.”

I opened my mouth to protest but realized I didn’t want to get caught in a lie. “You guys are ridiculous! You’re not going to catch anything because there's nothing to catch!”

“Challenge accepted!” Luna exclaimed, her competitive spirit ignited. “I’ll be your shadow!”

Amber grinned. “And I’ll be her shadow!”

“Fine!” I threw my hands up in mock defeat, knowing full well I’d have to navigate this chaotic situation. “But just know, if you lose, you’re buying all my snacks for a week.”

“Deal!” Amber and Luna said in unison, sealing the bet with a high five.

As they giggled about their plan, I felt a mix of anxiety and excitement. This was going to be a mess, and deep down, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

—

The next week started off as normal as ever. Classes dragged, internship meetings were tedious, and I kept my head down, focusing on my work. Or at least, I tried to. It was nearly impossible to ignore the three pairs of eyes constantly glued to me from every direction. Amber, Krystal, and Luna watched me like I might suddenly sprout wings and fly off if they blinked.

It was cute at first—the way they'd lean in and exchange smirks whenever Yoongi and I so much as made eye contact. How they'd giggle like schoolgirls whenever we passed each other in the hall or agreed with each other during project meetings. But by Wednesday, the novelty had worn off. Now, it was just plain annoying.

Every time I met up with Yoongi, it felt like I was being watched, even though I knew my friends weren’t actually following me around. Still, the occasional text from Luna or Amber would pop up, asking where I was, who I was with, what I was doing. I’d roll my eyes at each one, but I couldn’t exactly tell them to lay off. They weren’t wrong—I was keeping something from them.

And Yoongi? He seemed completely unphased by all of this. He still hadn’t found out about the bet, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or terrified. It was only a matter of time before he caught on, but for now, he was blissfully ignorant, going about his day as if everything between us was as casual as ever.

Thursday evening we met up at the usual campus diner. I’d been avoiding the place all week, not wanting to risk running into my friends, but Yoongi had insisted, and I didn’t have a good excuse not to go. We slipped into a corner booth, and I was about to take a sip of my water when he casually dropped a bomb.

“So, your friends are being weird. Anything you wanna tell me?” he asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

My hand froze mid-air, the glass barely inches from my lips. Okay, so maybe Yoongi wasn’t as oblivious as I thought. I set the glass down slowly, meeting his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, his usual lazy grin on his face. “I mean, they’ve been following us around, asking if we’re ‘just friends,’ or if there’s something more going on. It’s like they’re pretending to be little detectives.”

My stomach dropped. I knew they were being dramatic, but I hadn’t realized they were being so obvious. I thought I was doing a good job keeping things low-key, keeping them from raising his suspicions.

“Oh, you know them,” I said quickly, trying to deflect. “They’re just being nosy. It’s not everyday bad boy Yoongi leaves his crew to mingle with the enemy, ya know.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Maybe. But I get the feeling they know you well enough to see that there is something more between us.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Just a thought.”

I sighed, feeling both embarrassed and a little annoyed. “It’s not like I made a bet that they would catch us on a date or anything. I didn’t even want them to know about my—” I stopped myself before I could say anything more revealing about my feelings for him—not that I even knew what those feelings were yet.

Yoongi’s smirk softened into something a little more genuine, like he understood exactly how I felt. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure we don’t give them more fuel to work with.”

I appreciated the sentiment, but the way he said it made my stomach flip. What kind of game was he playing, exactly?

We spent the next half hour talking about everything else, but my mind kept drifting back to the bet. There was no way they’d let it go. I just needed to get through the next three days without the girls catching us alone or Yoongi doing anything else crazy for attention.

----------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Eight | Nine, Pt 2

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Eight: Terms & Conditions

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 2,340 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

“This is blackmail.”

Yoongi tilted his head. “It's a negotiation.”

I glared. “It’s manipulation.”

“It’s effective.” He looked far too pleased with himself.

I crossed my arms. “So let me get this straight. You’re forcing me to spend time with you—alone—just so you won’t run your mouth?”

Yoongi gave a lazy shrug. “Forcing is a strong word. I’d say incentivizing.”

I huffed. “And if I tell you to shove your ‘incentives’ up your ass.”

“Then I hope you enjoy Amber’s interrogation methods.”

I shuddered. Amber alone was terrifying. But with Krystal and Luna? I wouldn’t last a day. And Yoongi knew it. He definitely saw my resolve waver because he took a step closer, eyes gleaming with victory. Instinctively, I stepped back, avoiding his gaze.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

Another step forward. Another step back. And then—my legs hit something, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled, landing ungracefully onto the couch behind me. I barely had time to recover before Yoongi closed the distance, hands bracing on either side of me—his left on the back of the couch just above my head, his right settling next to mine on the armrest. I was trapped.

I exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

His lips twitched. “You’re negotiating with me? Bold.”

I ignored him. “One, we only meet up off-campus—”

“Suspicious, but okay.”

I scowled. “Two, we do normal things. No weird Yoongi-style activities.”

He hummed. “Define normal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno like… coffee shops. Movies. Stuff that doesn’t involve me questioning my life choices.”

“Boring, but fine.” He looked entirely unbothered. “Next?”

I hesitated, then pointed at him. “No flirting.”

He outright laughed. “Now that’s really unrealistic.”

“I mean it, Min.”

“Sure, sure.” He was still smirking. “No flirting. Anything else, your highness?”

I pursed my lips, feeling like I’d somehow already lost this battle. “…That’s it.”

Yoongi nodded, straightening up. “Great. First meetup is tomorrow.”

I gaped. “Tomorrow? We just made this deal—”

“And I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” His smirk deepened. “Unless you’d rather I stop by Namjoon’s on my way out?”

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Fine.”

“Smart girl. Pick you up at eight.” He tapped me lightly on the nose before walking out of the studio. 

I turned to argue, but he was already gone, leaving me sitting there with the sinking realization that I’d just walked into a trap. I let out a slow breath, running a hand down my face as the sinking realization settled in.

"Why is it always eight?" I muttered under my breath, scowling at the empty doorway.

—

I was already regretting this.

Yoongi had given me an address, a simple “Meet me here at 8” text, and nothing else. And now, as I stood in front of a tiny, dimly lit bookstore tucked into an alleyway, I wondered if I was about to get lured into some kind of underground crime syndicate.

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me: Are you serious? A bookstore? Yoongi: You said normal. Me: Normal people go to cafes, not creepy side-street bookstores! Yoongi: You’re here, aren’t you?

I clenched my jaw. Smug bastard.

Before I could type out an appropriately scathing reply, the door creaked open. Yoongi leaned against the frame, looking effortlessly cool in his usual black ensemble, one hand shoved into his pocket.

“Coming in, or are you just gonna loiter suspiciously?”

I glared. “Is this where you take all your enemies to bond?”

“Only my favorite ones.” His lips twitched. “Now get inside before you get snatched off the street.”

I grumbled but stepped in, the scent of old paper and ink immediately wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The shop was cozy, with overstuffed chairs and little lamps casting golden pools of light over the shelves. It was quiet, save for the distant rustling of pages and a soft jazz tune playing from a record player in the corner.

Yoongi led me toward the back, where a small, tucked-away reading nook was hidden. A tiny café counter sat nearby, offering tea and pastries.

I folded my arms. “This is your idea of a fun night out?”

Yoongi sat down in an armchair and stretched out lazily. “You’re the one who wanted normal.”

I scoffed. “Most people would pick a movie or dinner, not a library for hipsters.”

“Most people are boring.” He flipped open a book and looked at me expectantly. “Well? Pick something.”

I frowned. “Pick what?”

“A book. That’s what you do in a bookstore.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. “Why do I feel like this is a test?”

Yoongi smirked but didn’t confirm or deny.

I sighed, scanning the shelves before grabbing a book at random. I plopped down across from him and flipped it open. Fine. If this is what he wanted, I’d play along.

Minutes passed.

Then half an hour.

And to my horror… I actually started enjoying myself.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. Every once in a while, I’d glance up and catch Yoongi watching me over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable. The air felt charged, but not in an unbearable way. It was just… there.

Eventually, I cleared my throat. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Didn’t know you wanted me to talk.”

I scowled. “I didn’t say all that.”

“Hm.” He shut his book and leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “You’re having fun.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

I turned back to my book, determined to ignore him.

I wasn’t having fun.

Definitely not.

…Right?

The silence stretched again, but now it felt heavier, like Yoongi was waiting for something. Finally, he spoke, voice quieter than before. “You don’t read often, do you?”

I raised a brow in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

My face heated. “Maybe I’m just really taking it in.”

He chuckled, leaning back again. “Right. Or maybe you’re too busy thinking about me.”

I snapped my book shut. “Wow, someone’s full of himself.”

Yoongi just grinned. “Am I wrong?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He took my silence as victory, his smug expression deepening.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Only to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow from one of the chairs and threw it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing under his breath before going back to his book.

And somehow, despite my better judgment… I stayed.

—

I was not thinking about Yoongi.

I was not replaying the quiet moments in that bookstore, the way he’d smirked when he caught me actually enjoying myself, or the way his voice had softened just the slightest bit when he told me to pick something.

Nope. Not happening.

“Earth to Y/N.”

A hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked back into reality. Amber, Krystal, and Luna were staring at me expectantly from across the cafeteria table, their trays half-empty and their expressions far too amused for my liking.

“What?” I asked defensively.

Amber snorted. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. I asked you if you wanted to come to the new karaoke bar on Saturday, and you just sat there, staring into space like a lovesick fool.”

I choked on my water. “Excuse me?”

Krystal arched her brow. “So, who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy!” I said way too quickly.

Luna gasped. “There’s totally a guy.”

“There is no guy,” I repeated, glaring at them.

Amber tapped a finger against her chin. “You have been acting weird lately…”

“I have not. That is a false accusation.”

Krystal smirked. “You so have. First, you were avoiding Yoongi like he had the plague. Now, you’re spacing out mid-conversation? Highly suspicious.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Luna hummed. “So you wouldn’t mind if we asked Yoongi about it?”

I froze. That was exactly what they wanted—some kind of reaction, some kind of proof that they were onto something. But I refused to give them the satisfaction. I leaned back in my seat, feigning nonchalance.

“Go ahead. He’ll just glare at you until you leave him alone.”

Amber frowned. “That’s true… He is kinda scary.”

Krystal nodded. “Yeah, but only to other people. He’s awfully chatty with you.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it. They had noticed.

Luna’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait—what if Yoongi is the guy?”

The air around the table shifted.

I forced out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re all insane.”

Amber squinted at me. “That wasn’t a denial.”

“It was. And this is stupid!” I gestured vaguely in frustration. “Have you seen me and Yoongi? We argue constantly. We don’t even like each other.”

Krystal pursed her lips. “And yet, you’re being very defensive right now.”

I groaned, grabbing my tray. “I’m leaving.”

Luna gasped dramatically. “She’s running away! That means we’re right!”

I flipped them off over my shoulder. “You guys need hobbies!”

As I stomped away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and nearly tripped over my own feet.

Yoongi: Did you get caught?

My face burned. I spun around, scanning the cafeteria until my eyes landed on him, sitting at a table near the back. His friends were talking around him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was watching me. And smirking. I gritted my teeth and typed furiously.

Me: No. But they’re suspicious. Me: This is your fault. Yoongi: My fault? Me: Yes! You keep looking at me. Stop it! Yoongi: But you’re so fun to mess with.

I nearly screamed.

He was so infuriating.

—

I had made a huge mistake.

A terrible, irreversible mistake.

Because the more time I spent alone with Yoongi, the harder it was to convince myself that I didn’t like it. That I didn’t—shouldn’t—enjoy the way he always leaned in too close just to see me squirm. Or the way his voice fell quiet, deep and rumbling, as he teasing whenever we were alone.

The problem was, avoiding him meant facing my other problem—my friends. And considering they were actively trying to uncover a nonexistent relationship, spending time with Yoongi had become the easier option.

Which was exactly how I ended up here, sitting across from him in the dim corner of a tiny ramen shop just off campus. I poked at my noodles, trying very hard not to look at him.

“You’re quiet today,” Yoongi mused, breaking apart his chopsticks.

I huffed. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

He tilted his head. “That’d be a first.”

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked.

Annoying.

Silence settled between us—comfortable, but charged. It was always like this. Like an invisible thread had tied itself between us, pulling just enough to make its presence known but never enough to snap.

He leaned forward slightly. “They’re still onto you?”

I groaned. “Worse. Amber almost asked you about it today.”

Yoongi arched his brow. “Almost?”

I scowled. “They still think you’re intimidating.”

He hummed like that was amusing to him. “Smart of them.”

I rolled my eyes. “You enjoy this too much.”

“Of course I do,” he said simply, resting his chin in his hand. “Watching you panic is entertaining.”

“I’m not panicking.”

Yoongi snorted. “Right.”

I threw a piece of scallion at him. He dodged it effortlessly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

We ate in relative quiet after that, though I kept sneaking glances at him—not because I wanted to, but because it was weird seeing him like this. No moody scowl, no sharp remarks, just… Yoongi.

At one point, he caught me staring. “What?”

I smirked. “You look really happy right now.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

I leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s just funny. For a guy who tries so hard to be all emo and mysterious, you sure light up over a bowl of ramen.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “I don’t ‘try’ to be anything.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave him a knowing look. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t own at least ten black hoodies.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I know I’m funny.” I grinned. “And you, Min Yoongi, are secretly soft.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “If I’m so soft, then why are you blushing?”

I blinked. “I’m not—”

“You’re 100% blushing.” His smirk deepened. A pause and then— “It’s cute.”

I stammered. “How would you even know I’m blushing?”

He laughed incredulously, “What, you think cause you’re black you don’t blush?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but as usual, I couldn’t think of anything smart to say. Instead I scoffed, shoving a piece of napkin at him, “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

He chuckled but took the napkin anyway, dabbing at his lips with an exaggeratedly polite motion. “Better?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks still felt warm.

When we finished, we stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of streetlights washing over the nearly empty sidewalk. I shoved my hands into my pockets, still feeling the warmth of the ramen in my stomach.

“Amber said I was acting like a lovesick fool today,” I muttered, kicking at a loose pebble.

Yoongi laughed. “Were you?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I glared at him. “Yes.”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Too bad.”

I frowned. “Too bad what?”

Yoongi exhaled, his breath fogging slightly in the cold. “Would’ve been nice if you finally admitted it.”

I just stared at him. I had nothing to say to that.

Nothing at all.

Instead, I turned on my heel and started walking. “I’m going home.”Yoongi’s low chuckle followed me. “See you tomorrow, lovesick fool.”

----------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Seven | Nine

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Five: Disturbance in the Routine

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom, Drama Word Count: 2,381 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

I had a plan.

Step one: Avoid Yoongi.

Step two: Pretend nothing had happened.

Step three: Continue my life as if I hadn’t sat next to him in the quiet hush of the night, heart racing, feeling something I didn’t want to name shift between us.

It was a solid plan. Too bad it lasted all of two days.

"You're acting weird.” Amber narrowed her eyes at me over her coffee, stirring it lazily as we sat in our usual café on campus.

I scoffed, reaching for my own drink. "I am not acting weird."

Krystal raised a brow. "You dropped your fork three times at lunch."

"Maybe I have weak fingers!"

Luna snorted. "Or maybe you're avoiding Yoongi like the plague."

I nearly choked. "I am not—"

"—avoiding Yoongi?" Amber cut in, unimpressed. "Really? Then why did you literally duck behind a vending machine when he walked into the practice room this morning?"

Damn it. I thought no one had seen that.

I cleared my throat. "It’s called strategic positioning."

Krystal sighed. "Oh my god."

Luna smirked. "Did something happen between you two?"

"NO!"

Three sets of very unconvinced eyes stared back at me. I huffed, shoving a piece of my muffin into my mouth.

What could I say? That I kept thinking about the way his voice had softened when he told me maybe Jae was his problem? That I felt different, even though nothing had actually happened?

Yeah. No thanks.

Amber leaned back in her chair, sighing dramatically. "Well, whatever’s going on, you better figure it out soon. We’ve got a big weekend coming up."

Krystal nodded. "The networking gala is in two days."

Luna wiggled her eyebrows. "And I know you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show up in something slutty and make all those pretentious music industry executives regret underestimating you."

I groaned. "Ugh, I forgot that was this weekend."

Amber shot me a look. "You can’t forget. This is huge—our internship directors will be there, plus a ton of industry pros. You need to be on your A-game."

I sighed, already dreading it. The gala was an annual university event, a formal networking mixer for the entertainment department. Professors, students, and industry insiders all gathered to make connections, show off their progress, and—most importantly—snoop on their competition.

It was important. It was also miserable. Nothing but forced smiles, overenthusiastic schmoozing, and professors subtly dropping hints about who was in the running for top internship rankings. To make matters worse, of course, Yoongi would be there.

Great. Fantastic. Just what I needed.

Luna smirked, nudging my arm. "Maybe this will be good for you. You’ll have no choice but to stop avoiding your favorite rival."

I scowled. "I hate you."

She cackled. "I know."

Amber grinned. "Look at it this way—at least it’ll be entertaining."

I doubted that.

But as I sipped my hot tea, I couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend was about to be anything but routine.

---

The problem with formal events wasn’t the dress code. It wasn’t the over-polished conversations, the way people laughed just a little too loud at mediocre jokes, or even the fact that the entire thing felt like a performance.  

No, the problem was that I had to stand in the same room as Min Yoongi and pretend I wasn’t being weird about it; Which, judging by the way I’d already stumbled over my own words twice and nearly walked into a waiter, was going terribly.

Amber, Krystal, and Luna had taken it upon themselves to make sure I looked, in their words, “so good even the devil will be thirsty.” Which was not the goal by the way. They had shoved me into a sleek, subtly sexy dress before I could argue—A floor-length gown in a rich, lustrous silk satin with a deep V-neckline and a high slit up one leg.

Now, standing in the middle of the ballroom with a flute of champagne in my hand, I was regretting everything. Especially when Yoongi sauntered into the room, every step measured, exuding an effortless charm. I didn’t need to turn to see him arrive. There was something infuriatingly intuitive about Yoongi’s presence, like my body had started tuning itself to his frequency, picking up on him in a crowd without needing to look.  

And when I finally did bring myself to look?  

Yeah. Of course. He looked good.  

His usual casual, effortless style had been swapped for a sharp, tailored black suit—just loose enough to be his version of formal. His expression was calm and unreadable, but I caught the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.  

He didn’t like these events either. That should’ve made me feel better. It didn’t. As soon as our eyes met across the room, a knot twisted in my stomach. He blinked, his head tilting just slightly—like he’d caught the way I tensed.  

When he started making his way over I knew he was about to say something. Probably some teasing remark, something to poke at my awkwardness and make this entire night even more unbearable so I did the only thing I could.  

I turned on my heel and ran away. Okay, fine. Ran might be dramatic. I strategically relocated to the other side of the ballroom, toward the buffet table, where I could at least busy myself with pretending to be interested in overpriced hors d'oeuvres.  

I picked up a tiny, pretentious-looking appetizer, eyeing it with disdain. “Why do rich people make everything bite-sized?”  

"You ran away from me." his deep voice rumbled behind me.

I nearly dropped the caviar-topped pastry. Of course he followed me. I turned slowly, forcing a smirk. 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."  

Yoongi crossed his arms, one brow lifting in lazy amusement. "Uh-huh."  

I popped the appetizer into my mouth to avoid answering, chewing dramatically.  

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You’re acting weird."  

I swallowed. "I am not acting weird."  

Yoongi studied me for a second. Too long. Too carefully. And then, with the most maddening smirk, he leaned in slightly. "Whatever you say."  

I should’ve had a comeback. I always had a comeback. But right now? With him standing just a little too close, smelling warm, earthy and distinctly Yoongi? Yeah, my brain was empty.  

And the worst part? He knew. 

I could see it in the way his smirk deepened, the way his eyes flickered just slightly over my face before he straightened, acting like he hadn’t just completely thrown me off balance.  

Infuriating. Absolutely *infuriating.*  

I cleared my throat, gripping my champagne glass like it would anchor me. "Shouldn’t you be off charming the professors? Making sure they know you’re still competing for the number one spot?"  

Yoongi exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. "You worried about me taking it from you?"  

I scoffed, tossing my curly hair over my shoulder. "Not even a little."  

"Good." He hummed, eyes following my movements.

Then, before I could say anything else, he was gone. He just walked away like he hadn’t been the one messing with me. I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together.  

This was fine. Everything was fine. I could totally survive this night without making a fool of myself. If I could get through the next two hours without embarrassing myself, I’d consider it a personal victory.

Yoongi was somewhere in the ballroom, floating between conversations in that way he always did—half-in, half-out, saying just enough to be polite before making a smooth exit. Meanwhile, I had resorted to sticking with my friends, relying on them to keep the night from becoming a complete disaster. And, to my surprise, I was actually having fun.

Krystal had stolen a bottle of champagne from a distracted waiter, Luna was aggressively flirting with one of the industry reps (“Networking, babe, it’s all about networking”), and Amber had somehow convinced a small group of students to start a low-stakes betting pool on which professor would get drunk first.

We were deep into placing bets when a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Why am I not surprised you’re running a gambling ring at a university-sponsored event?"

I turned to find Yoongi standing there, hands in his pockets, looking far too amused for my liking.

Amber grinned. "Jealous? We could cut you in if you place a good bet."

He snorted. "Not interested in losing my money to her." He jerked his chin toward me.

I smirked, swirling the champagne in my glass. "Smart man."

Luna leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, come on, Yoongi. Live a little."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move away, lingering near our group like he was perfectly comfortable here. And, to my surprise, my friends let him. Maybe they were just tipsy enough to find his presence entertaining rather than antagonistic. Or maybe they’d started seeing what I hadn’t wanted to admit yet—that whatever this thing was between me and Yoongi, it wasn’t going anywhere.

Either way, they welcomed him into the conversation. And somehow, somehow, the night just kept getting more fun.

At one point, Krystal dared Yoongi to steal a napkin from one of the VIP tables (“You think you’re so sneaky? Prove it.”), and the absolute audacity of him to do it without breaking eye contact with me was something I’d be thinking about for days.

Amber turned to the dance floor, hair slightly tousled, cheeks flushed with amusement. “You guys are so boring standing around. You,” she nudged me, “need to have some fun before you explode from overthinking whatever the hell is going on in your head.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, swirling the last of my champagne.

“No, you’re not,” Luna countered, linking her arm through mine. “Which is why we’re going to dance.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Not happening.”

Krystal smirked. “Oh, it’s happening.”

Before I could protest, they dragged me toward the center of the room, where the music had shifted from soft background jazz to something more upbeat, something designed to loosen the stiffness in the crowd.

For a moment, I let them pull me into the moment. The bass thrummed beneath my feet, the warmth of the champagne making my limbs feel lighter, and I allowed myself to laugh when Amber twirled me dramatically before pulling me back in.

It felt good to forget everything, even if only for a song.

But my reprieve didn’t last.

Because the second I glanced up, I met Yoongi’s gaze across the room.

He was leaning casually against a column, drink in hand, intently watching. Not talking to anyone, not joining in the conversations buzzing around him. Just drinking me in with his eyes.

And damn him—he smirked when he caught me looking.

I narrowed my eyes, turning my back on him, but the damage was already done. My pulse had quickened, and I hated how easily he could get to me without even trying.

Amber, following my line of sight, whistled. “You two should just—”

“Shut it.” I cut her off immediately.

She rolled her eyes. “Coward.”

Before I could argue, someone tapped my shoulder.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice murmured, smooth and just a little too knowing.

I turned.

Jae.

Up close, he looked the same as I remembered—too polished, too poised. He was the kind of person who made charm feel like a weapon, and his smile now was razor-sharp.

I stiffened. “Didn’t expect to see you either.”

His smirk widened. “I tend to show up where I’m wanted.”

“Well you picked the wrong place today,” I replied flatly.

Amber glanced between us, sensing the shift in my demeanor. “You want a drink?” she asked, squeezing my hand in silent question. I hesitated. I wanted an excuse to leave, but if I walked away, Jae would think he had won something.

“No, I’m good,” I said instead. Amber lingered for a second before nodding. “I’ll be right over there.”

I appreciated it. But it didn’t change the fact that I was now alone with Jae in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

“So,” he mused, tilting his head, “still playing this little game of yours?”

I frowned. “What game?”

His eyes flickered past me, just briefly, and I knew without turning that he was looking at Yoongi.

“You’ve always had a type, darling,” Jae murmured.

My stomach twisted. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Funny how history repeats itself, isn’t it?” His smirked grew slowly, disgustingly—like he knew everything. 

A cold chill ran down my spine. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Before he could answer a new, familiar presence stepped in. “Is there a problem here?”

Yoongi was standing beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t. They were locked onto Jae, dark and unreadable.

Jae raised a brow. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

“You weren’t,” I said quickly, eyeing Yoongi.

Yoongi didn’t take his eyes off him. “Sure about that?”

I shot him a glare. The last thing I needed was him inserting himself into whatever this was.

Jae chuckled. “Don’t worry. I was just catching up with an old friend.”

“We’re not friends,” I snapped.

“Right,” he said easily, still smiling. “My mistake.”

He gave Yoongi one last slow glance, then me, before stepping away.

I exhaled sharply, turning to Yoongi. “What the hell was that?”

He didn’t answer right away, just watched as Jae disappeared into the crowd. Then, finally, he looked at me.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I scowled. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

His jaw ticked. “I didn’t say you did.”

The air between us was thick. The tension from earlier now mixed with something heavier. I turned to leave but Yoongi caught my wrist—Soft, barely there, but enough to stop me.

“Be careful with him.” His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. I hated that it sent a shiver down my spine.

I pulled my hand away. “I don’t need your concern.”

A look of frustration crossed his eyes for a few seconds. “Fine,” he murmured. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

But the tension?

That was far from over.

------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Four | Six

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Four: Ghosts of the Past

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 2,220 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

The campus was alive with energy that Friday night. A local festival had taken over the streets near the university, filling them with food stalls, live music, and students desperate to escape their academic misery for a few hours. Naturally, Amber, Krystal, and Luna had dragged me out with them.  

"Come on, you need a break," Amber said, practically shoving me out the door.  

"And," Krystal added, "if you just so happen to run into a certain someone and just so happen to rub it in his face that you’re having more fun than him? Even better."  

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t argue. So now, here we were—halfway through the night, weaving through the crowded streets, arms full of street food and overpriced drinks.  

I wasn’t looking for Yoongi. Obviously. But if my eyes scanned the crowd every so often? That was just out of habit.  

"Luna, I swear to God, if you make me go on that ride—"  

"Too late!" she chirped, dragging me toward a spinning monstrosity that looked like it was designed by someone with a personal vendetta against stomachs.  

Krystal cackled. "Oh, this is going to be good."  

I groaned but let myself be pulled along, already resigning myself to my fate. Before they could pull me into the line for the ride, a voice called out.

"Didn’t think this was your scene."  

I knew that voice. I turned, and there he was—Yoongi, standing just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. His black hoodie was loose over his frame, and his usual sharp gaze was softer under the glow of festival lights.  

He wasn’t alone. A few of his friends were nearby—Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon—but they were distracted by something else, leaving Yoongi’s attention entirely on me.  

I smirked. "Didn’t think it was yours either."  

He shrugged. "Hoseok bribed me."  

"With what?"  

"Alcohol."  

"Ah. Makes sense."  

Amber elbowed me, grinning. "So this is why you agreed to come out tonight."  

I shot her a glare, but Yoongi just smirked. "Caught in the act?"  

"Please," I scoffed. "Like I would waste a festival night thinking about you."  

Yoongi hummed, stepping slightly closer. "You sure about that?"  

And suddenly, there was something different about the way he was looking at me.  

Like he was testing me, waiting for me to crack. My pulse jumped, but I forced my expression to stay cool. "One hundred percent."  

Amber and Krystal exchanged a look, but before they could say anything, a new voice cut through the conversation.  

"Y/N?"  

I turned—and froze.  

The person standing in front of me was familiar in a way that made my stomach drop. Tall, well-dressed, with an easy smirk that had once made my heart race for entirely different reasons.  

"Jae," I breathed before I could stop myself.  

His smirk widened. "Wow. Didn’t expect to run into you here."  

I didn’t expect it either.  

I hadn’t seen Jae in over a year.  

Not since things between us ended—abruptly, messily, and with a sting I hadn’t been ready to admit at the time.  

And yet, there he was, standing in front of me like he hadn’t once made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.  Like he hadn’t been the first person to make me feel replaceable.  

"You look good," Jae said, his eyes skimming over me in that way he always did—like he was assessing, taking stock, deciding where I fit into his world.  

I forced a smile. "Didn’t expect to see you ever again."  

"Yeah, I just moved into town." His smirk was easy, practiced. "Figured I’d check out the festival. Who’d have thought I’d run into my favorite person from freshman year."  

Amber and Krystal both stiffened at that. Luna, bless her, had zero filter. "Favorite person my ass. Last I checked, normal people don’t’t treat their favorite person like scum."  

Jae’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened for just a second. "Still protective, huh?" He chuckled, glancing at me. "Guess some things don’t change."  

Before I could reply, another voice cut in.  

"Who’s this?" 

Yoongi’s tone was neutral, but the way he stepped just a little closer to me made my breath hitch. Jae turned, sizing him up. "And you are?"  

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. "Not your concern." No explanation. No pleasantries. Just his retort, delivered flatly.  

Jae tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "You a friend of Y/N’s?"  

I glanced up at Yoongi. He paused, slow and calculated before roughly saying, "Something like that." I swallowed hard, heart slamming against my chest at those words.  

Yoongi didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Jae let out a quiet chuckle, clearly entertained. 

"Well, that’s interesting." He turned back to me, smile still firmly in place. "We should catch up sometime, Y/N. You still have the same number?"  

I hesitated. In that hesitation, Yoongi shifted just slightly closer to me—so subtly I almost missed it, but I felt it. The unspoken tension settled into the space between us.  

I forced a polite nod. "Yeah. Sure."  

Jae winked. "I’ll text you." And with that, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd as if he hadn’t just cracked open a part of my past I’d spent a long time sealing shut.  

"Well," Luna said, "that was disgusting."  

Amber exhaled sharply. "I can’t believe he had the nerve—"  

Krystal cut in, looking me over carefully. "Are you okay?"  

I nodded automatically, even though my chest felt tight. "Yeah. I’m fine."  

But I wasn’t fine. And Yoongi knew it. He hadn’t said a word since Jae left, but he was watching me, studying me, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t have anything sharp or smug to say.  

Instead, after a moment, he murmured, "Let’s go."  

I blinked up at him. "What?"  

Yoongi jerked his head toward the festival. "You came out to have fun, right? Don’t let him ruin it."  

The way he said it—simple, matter-of-fact—made my chest ache. I hesitated then, slowly, I nodded.  

Amber grinned, clearly relieved. "Hell yeah. First round of drinks is on me."  

Luna whooped. "Now that’s what I like to hear!"  

As my friends pulled me forward, I let them. But as I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Yoongi’s presence next to me—steady, solid, and constant.  

—

The festival was a blur of neon lights and buzzing conversation. Somewhere between Luna insisting we try every fried food imaginable and Amber convincing us to take ridiculous group selfies, I found myself actually enjoying the night.  

And part of that, to my surprise, had to do with Yoongi’s friends.  

It had started slowly—little moments of banter slipping into our conversations, a casual ease settling between my and his group that hadn’t been there before.  

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, had started it. "So, you’re the one giving Yoongi gray hairs, huh?"  

I smirked. "You say that like he doesn’t deserve it."  

Namjoon snorted. "Honestly? Fair point."  

Jimin grinned. "Damn. No hesitation. I like her."  

Yoongi just sighed. "You’re all insufferable."  

But he didn’t leave. Didn’t shut me out, didn’t pull back. And that was new.  

As the night wore on, the festival crowd started thinning. Amber, Krystal, and Luna peeled off first, still buzzing but already making plans for a very necessary post-drinking breakfast run.  

Yoongi’s friends left soon after, heading toward a bar down the street, leaving just the two of us in a quieter area of the festival grounds.  

I should have left too but I didn’t. Instead, I found myself walking beside him, neither of us in a rush to break the silence.  

The city hummed around us—soft laughter from distant festival-goers, the occasional car passing by, the warmth of streetlights cutting through the cool night air.  

It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was weird because for once, neither of us were trying to one-up the other. Yoongi sighed, stretching his arms above his head. "I didn’t think you’d actually have fun tonight."  

I scoffed. "I do know how to have fun."  

He hummed like he wasn’t convinced.  

I elbowed him. "Don’t make me fight you in the middle of the street."  

His lips twitched. "I never fight for an audience."  

"Oh, so you would fight me privately?"  

He turned his head slightly, gaze sweeping over me slowly. "Depends on the rules."  

The way he said it—low, amused, like he was actually entertaining the idea—sent an entirely inappropriate heat curling through my stomach. I forced a snort, pretending my pulse wasn’t going crazy.

"Regardless of the rules I’d win. Obviously."  

"I’m sure you will." There it was again. That stupid smirk settled on his face—like he knew something I didn’t. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

We turned a corner, and I realized we were heading toward the quieter part of campus—the small garden area near the music building, where the festival sounds faded into the distance.  

I hesitated. "You trying to kidnap me?"  

Yoongi side-eyed me. "Yeah. That’s exactly it."  

"Damn. At least buy me food first."  

He huffed out a quiet laugh, and something about the sound—genuine, unfiltered—made my breath catch. We walked over and sat on one of the benches, the air settling between us in a way that felt… odd. Not tense and charged. Just quiet…too quiet.

I exhaled, leaning back slightly. "I guess this is the part where you come up with some snarky comment about how I talk too much."  

He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he watched me for a moment before murmuring, "You okay?"  

I blinked up at him in confusion. Of all the things I had expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.  

I swallowed. "Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?"  

Yoongi’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. "Jae."  

My grip tensed around the edge of the bench, a reflex more than anything. I looked away hoping to escape the intensity of his eyes. "I said it’s fine."  

He didn’t push but he didn’t drop it, either.  "Didn’t seem fine."  

I let out a slow breath. "It’s not a big deal."  

Yoongi studied me for another second, then looked away, exhaling through his nose. "I don’t like him."  

A sound left my throat. Not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff. "You just met him."  

"Doesn’t take more than a minute to realize." The way he said it—so flat, so certain—made something in my stomach twist.  

I shifted, trying to keep my voice light. "Jealous?"  

His jaw clenched and his smouldering gaze returned. "Be serious for once."  

The weight of his words settled between us. I looked away, suddenly feeling exposed in a way I hadn’t prepared for. 

"Jae’s… complicated."  

Yoongi didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to. Even without looking at him, I felt his presence beside me—warm, steady, unwavering. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but for the first time, I wondered what it would feel like to lean into him.

I wasn’t sure how long we sat there.  

Minutes? An hour? Time felt strange in that quiet pocket of the night—stretched thin and weightless, settling between me and Yoongi in a way that was… so different from what we were used to. Normally, our conversations were a game—a back-and-forth battle of teasing and taunts, pushing just enough without ever really crossing a line.  

But right now? There was no game. No sharp words, no smug expressions. Just… us. 

Yoongi was watching me, like he was waiting for me to say something I wasn’t sure I was ready to admit.  

I cleared my throat, forcing a small smirk. "So, what, you gonna start screening my texts now? Make sure I don’t reply to Jae?"  

Yoongi’s gaze didn’t waver. "If I have to."  

I snorted. "You’re joking."  

"Am I?"  

The way he said it—so calm, so sure—made my stomach flip.  

I shifted, looking away. "It’s not your problem, Yoongi."  

He was silent for a long moment. And then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it: "Maybe it is."  

My eyes whipped back to him, searching his face for—what? An explanation? A reason for why my heart had suddenly decided to stutter in my chest? But Yoongi, as always, was impossible to read. He just held my gaze, steady and unshaken, like he was waiting for me to push back.  

I should have. I should have scoffed, rolled my eyes, thrown out some flippant remark to brush off whatever this was. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And judging by the way Yoongi’s eyes glimmered—just for a split second—I knew he noticed which meant I needed to leave. Immediately.

I stood abruptly, dusting off my jeans. "I should go."  

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. "You running away?"  

I forced a scoff. "From you? Please."  

He hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew I was lying.  

I pointed a finger at him. "Don’t analyze me, Min."  

He blinked, deadpan. "I didn’t say anything."  

"You were thinking it."  

He shrugged, leaning in towards me. "Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t."  

I groaned, turning on my heel. "I hate you."  

"Sure you do, kid."  

His voice followed me as I walked away, but I didn’t look back.  

I *couldn’t.*  

Because if I did, I was afraid I’d start believing him.

---------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Three | Five

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Six: The Gala Gambit

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Drama Word Count: 3,106 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

The night continued, but the vibe was definitely different—for me at least.

Jae’s words stuck to my skin like smoke, their meaning curling around my thoughts, refusing to fade. I kept trying to shove them aside—history repeats itself—but the weight of them lingered.

And then there was Yoongi.

I avoided him not just because of Jae, but because of the way he had looked at me. The way his fingers had curled around my wrist, brief and gentle—like he was holding himself back. I didn’t like the way it made my chest feel tight, the way it made something inside me want him. I didn’t—couldn’t let myself think about him a second longer so I threw myself into the distractions around me.

Luna and Krystal had found a new group of interns from another university, and I joined their conversation, laughing too easily, drinking a little too quickly. Amber gave me a look but didn’t call me out on it.

I was fine. Or at least, I was pretending to be until my skin prickled with awareness of him again. I really hated how in tune my body was to his mere presence. I caught him out of the corner of my eye—leaning against the bar, hands tucked into his pockets, his dark gaze glued to me yet again. He was amidst his group of friends but he wasn’t talking to anyone. Just watching me.

It set me on edge because Yoongi wasn’t supposed to look at me like that. Like he was figuring me out. Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight me or—

I stopped that thought dead in its tracks.

I wasn’t going to let him get to me. So, naturally, I did something reckless. I smiled—too wide, too artificial—before reaching for the nearest guy in our group, a classmate I barely knew, and tugging him toward the dance floor. If Yoongi wanted to stare, then fine. I’d give him a show to enjoy.

I let the music swallow me, let the guy’s hands settle at my waist, and tried to lose myself in the moment. But I couldn’t. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes piercing through me. Even through the crowd, even through the haze of champagne and flashing lights, I felt it.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

I didn’t see him move—I only realized it when my partner suddenly stiffened, his grip on my hips loosening. Yoongi stepped in close. Too close.

“Mind if I cut in?” His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an edge beneath it.

The guy hesitated, eyes flickering between us. “Uh…”

Yoongi didn’t wait for an answer. He reached for me, fingers brushing against my wrist—just for a second, just long enough for me to feel the heat of his touch—before I yanked my hand away.

I glared at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Yoongi just tilted his head, completely unfazed. “What are you doing?”

I scoffed. “Having fun?”

He raised a brow. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Why do you care?”

Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dipped slightly, taking me in for just a fraction of a second—enough for my stomach to flip.

I hated him.

I hated that he was looking at me like this. Like I was a problem he needed to solve. Like I was something he wanted to unravel, piece by piece.

“I don’t,” he finally murmured. “Just seems like you’re trying too hard.”

That infuriated me.

I stepped closer, my chest nearly brushing his. I could feel his breath quicken ever so slightly, but I ignored it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smirk deepened, but there was something else in his eyes now—something more intense, more intoxicating. “Sure.” His voice was soft, almost amused. “Keep telling yourself that.”

And then he was gone. Like he hadn’t just unraveled something inside me. Like he hadn’t just made my heart race for all the wrong reasons. I stood there, breath unsteady, fists clenched at my sides.

I hated him. I hated that he could do this to me. And worst of all—I hated that a part of me didn’t want him to stop.

—

I needed air. Or maybe I needed to punch something. Preferably him.

Yoongi had left me standing in the middle of the dance floor like I was some kind of joke. He knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin and enjoyed every second of it. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances from my classmates and the confused look from the guy I’d abandoned.

Luna spotted me as I stormed past and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Amber scoffed. “That didn’t look like nothing. That looked like Yoongi flirting with you again.”

I bit back the urge to snap at them. Because they weren’t wrong. But admitting that would mean acknowledging just how much he was in my head.

Krystal sighed. “You two are exhausting.”

“Tell him that,” I grumbled, snatching a glass of champagne off a passing tray and downing it in one go.

Luna snorted. “Right. Because he’s the one dragging random guys onto the dance floor like he’s filming a bad B-rate romcom.”

I scowled. “Whose side are you on?”

She grinned. “The side of entertainment.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I need a break.”

Amber nudged me toward the balcony doors. “Go breathe before you combust.”

I didn’t argue.

The cool air hit me the second I stepped outside, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the ballroom. The music was muffled here, the city stretching out beneath the terrace like a glittering sea of lights. I leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply. I just needed to calm down. I needed to stop letting Yoongi get to me.

But my body betrayed me, still tense from the way he had looked at me. My mind swam with frustrating thoughts of him—thoughts I kept trying to push down.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, lost in my own spiraling thoughts, but eventually, the night’s chill seeped into my skin, and I found it easier to breathe. I took a few more deep breaths to steady myself, then turned and went back to the gala.

I spotted my friends near the bar, laughing over something Krystal had said, and made a beeline for them. I grabbed a glass of water and desperately downed it, hoping to sober up. Maybe it was all the alcohol in my system that kept drawing my thoughts back to him.

Luna raised an eyebrow as I finished my drink. “That bad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I huffed.

Amber smirked. “Is it about Yoongi?”

I shot her a glare.

Krystal sighed dramatically. “You guys should just kiss already.”

I choked. “What?!”

She shrugged. “I mean, the whole will-they-won’t-they thing is getting exhausting. Just get it over with.”

Luna grinned. “Or fight. Either way, it’d be more entertaining than whatever this is.”

I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples. “You guys are unhinged.”

Amber just clinked her glass against mine. “And yet, we’re not the ones spiraling over Min Yoongi.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, the lights in the ballroom dimmed slightly, signaling the next part of the event.

The awards presentation.

A murmur spread through the room as the hosts stepped onto the stage. This was the highlight of the night—where the top interns would be recognized. I forced myself to focus. This was what mattered, what I had been working so hard for. I refused to let Yoongi distract me from it.

But of course, fate had other plans.

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the highlight of the night we will present the Outstanding Potential Award—an honor reserved for the intern who has demonstrated exceptional talent, dedication, and leadership.”

I straightened, heart pounding. This was it. The award I had set my sights on from the beginning. The one that would cement everything I had worked for, every late night, every extra effort.

“And this year’s recipient is…” The announcer fumbled with the small golden envelope, pulling out the card inside. Their eyes widened, surprise flickering across their face before they cleared their throat. “Oh—actually, it’s split between two candidates!”

A wave of surprise washed through the crowd. My stomach dropped, and my brow furrowed.

“Congratulations to…” 

No, no no. Please no. I chanted silently, dread coiling in my chest. 

“Y/N and Min Yoongi!”

Applause erupted around me, but the rush of blood in my ears drowned most of it out. My fingers clenched around the fabric of my dress. No. No way. I blinked, half-expecting to have misheard, but the host was already gesturing toward the stage, a polite smile on her face.

My body felt frozen in place. I had pushed myself harder than anyone—I deserved this. Not to share it, and especially not with him. But of course it was him. Of course we were being recognized together.

I barely registered walking up the steps, barely processed the weight of the plaque in my hands. I forced a polite smile as a photographer snapped pictures. I knew he was looking at me—could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face but I refused to give him the satisfaction. Yoongi let out a soft chuckle. He leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only me to hear.

“Well, well. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t remind me.”

He hummed, and for a second, I thought he was going to let it go. And he did—at least until we came down from the stage, away from all the lights and attention. Now, We were standing off to the side, shoulder to…chest, in silence. I silently cursed whoever decided it would be a good idea to make him so damn tall.

Out of nowhere, his next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“…What did he mean?”

I stiffened. “What?”

Yoongi’s gaze was unreadable. “Jae. What he said earlier. About us.”

My pulse spiked. I refused to let my expression falter. “I don’t know. He was just being weird.”

Yoongi didn’t look convinced. “That wasn’t just weird. That was deliberate.”

I swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”

Yoongi studied me for a long moment. Then, quietly—“…You won’t tell me, will you?”

I exhaled sharply, gripping the plaque tighter. “It’s none of your business.”

His expression froze, then darkened. And for the first time that night—he looked pissed. It was only for a second before he schooled his features back into the casual, albeit detached look that I was used to. Yoongi inhaled and took a step back, nodding once. “Got it.”

—

The ceremony wrapped up soon after, but the weight of the night didn’t ease. If anything, it felt like the tension had only sharpened, coiling tighter around my ribs. The afterparty portion of the event had officially started, which meant more schmoozing, more networking, and more champagne being poured. My friends had disappeared into the crowd, likely getting into more trouble, but I stayed put, swirling the remnants of my drink and trying to ignore Min Yoongi standing beside me.

It was annoying. Not because I didn’t want him there, but because I didn’t know why I wanted him there.

"Don’t you have people to charm?" I muttered, taking a sip of champagne.

Yoongi exhaled a quiet laugh. "I could say the same to you."

I scoffed, but before I could respond, a voice cut through the chatter.

"Yoongi, Y/N."

Jae.

Of course.

I turned slowly, already bracing for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. Jae was smirking, holding a fresh drink, looking perfectly at ease in his tailored suit.

"That was a cute little moment on stage," he said casually, swirling his glass. "Both of you, side by side. Almost poetic."

I tensed, but Yoongi didn’t react. He just lifted a brow. "Are you always this sentimental?"

Jae chuckled, tilting his head. "Just observant." His gaze switched to me. "You always have had a way of attracting the wrong kind of attention."

My jaw clenched. "And you always had a way of running your mouth without actually saying anything."

Yoongi made a quiet sound beside me, almost like a chuckle. Jae’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, he looked entertained.

"Relax," he said smoothly. "I’m just making conversation. Catching up."

"No need," I said, my voice flatter than I intended.

Jae hummed like he expected that response. "Fair enough. Just funny, isn’t it? You and Yoongi—competing, winning, standing up there together like you’re two halves of the same coin."

My chest tightened uncomfortably but before I could snap back—before I could even process the way his words made me feel—Jae leaned down to my ear, voice lowering so I could just barely hear him over the music.

"Let’s just hope you’re a little smarter this time around, yeah?"

And then, with a casual sip of his drink, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

I stood frozen, my grip tightening around my glass. Yoongi hesitated beside me and for the first time that night, his voice wasn’t teasing.

"Want to tell me what that was about now?"

I exhaled slowly, willing my pulse to steady. "No."

Yoongi didn’t press. But he didn’t walk away, either. And that—that—was somehow worse.

---

I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that clung to me after the awards ceremony. The music and lights of the after party faded into a dull echo, leaving behind only the sting of unsaid words and an unresolved wound between Yoongi and me. That night, the gala had become a pressure cooker of suppressed emotions—and now, outside the gleaming confines of the ballroom, the tension was too thick to ignore.

I found myself wandering into a quiet corridor behind the event hall, away from the prying eyes and hollow chatter. The corridor was dim, lit only by recessed lights that cast long shadows along the polished floor. I leaned against a wall, trying to steady my racing heart and sort through the tangled mess of anger, hurt, and something else I refused to name.

Steady footsteps echoed behind me. I turned sharply. Yoongi stood there, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity. The air between us vibrated with every unspoken word.

“What do you want, Min?” I demanded, voice trembling between fury and desperation. “Why are you still following me?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his mask of cool indifference slipped, revealing something raw and conflicted. “We should talk about whatever the hell that was back there.”

I scoffed, stepping forward so that we were nearly nose-to-nose. “I told you, it’s none of your business.”

His voice hardened, tension rippling through his frame. “I’m making it my business. We’re gonna keep coming back to each other—no matter how much you try to push me away, no matter how hard you pretend not to care. So talk to me.”

Before I could retort, a flare of anger surged within me, and I shoved him lightly. The push wasn’t forceful, barely enough to make him step back, but it was enough to ignite the volatile spark between us. Yoongi reacted instantly. Effortlessly. His hands caught my forearms and forced my body against his. For a heartbeat we stood like that— our faces inches apart.

“Don’t you dare think you can just—” I began, voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion.

He cut me off, his tone rising. “Maybe I can! Maybe you’re so terrified of what we are that you’d rather fight me than admit that you’re drawn to me.”

I clenched my fists, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes that I fought so hard to ignore. “I’m not drawn to you,” I spat. “I’m actually quite tired of this endless charade.”

His eyes flashed with anger and something else—hurt, maybe, or longing. “Then why, Y/N? Why do you keep coming back? Why do you make it impossible for me to stay away?”

The question, heavy and accusing, shattered the last remnants of my defiance. I tried to pull away, but Yoongi’s grip remained firm, steady and unyielding. I struggled against him, pushing, twisting, fighting against a force bigger than just his hold on me. When that failed, my frustration broke loose. I balled my fists and pounded against his chest, a weak, useless attempt to hurt him for not letting me go. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even waver. Instead, he moved. With each hit, he stepped forward, pushing me back, crowding me until my shoulders hit the wall. His grip slid to my wrists, pinning them above my head, trapping me beneath his gaze.

My eyes squeezed shut. “Stop it!” I cried, voice breaking. “You don’t understand—Stop pretending you know me!”

Yoongi’s eyes burned with conflicting emotions. “Maybe I do,” he hissed. “Maybe I’ve been trying to show you that I care—so damn much that I can’t let you push me away.”

And then, in the heat of our argument, when words had already become futile, his hand cupped my cheek. The next moment, before I could process it, his lips crashed into mine. The kiss was sudden and fierce—an explosion of pent-up frustration, longing, and defiance.

Time slowed. The world around us blurred into insignificance. In that charged, desperate moment, every angry word, every hurtful accusation, and every silent plea seemed to converge into a single, incendiary kiss that stole my breath away.

I felt his heart pound against my chest, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. For a long, endless second, the fight we had been having dissolved into raw, undeniable emotion.

My mind screamed for me to break away, but my body betrayed me—responding with a fire I’d been too stubborn to admit existed. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t apologetic. It was a collision of all our unspoken truths, both defiant and tender.

And in that moment, I realized that nothing could ever go back to the way it was. The line between enemy and lover had been blurred irreparably.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were trembling—angry tears glistening in my eyes, his chest heaving with conflicted emotion. I managed to choke out, “What have we done?”

Yoongi’s gaze was pained, uncertain. “I don’t know,” he whispered. 

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The noise of the afterparty, the angry words we’d exchanged, and the chaos of our hearts all receded into a quiet, fragile silence between us.

------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Five | Seven

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Three: The Unspoken Rules of War

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom, College!au Word Count: 1,618 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

By now, I had fully accepted that messing with Yoongi was fun. I liked the challenge, the way he always gave as good as he got, the way I could push and he would push right back. It was our thing, our own personal war, fought in the battlegrounds of our internship projects and casual run-ins across campus.  

It wasn’t until the following week that I realized something strange. Yoongi never talked like this if others were around—he only yapped on and on when we were alone. It hit me during one of our usual back-and-forths, this time in the break room at our internship. I made some snide comment about his latest project being "predictable," and he had fired back with a smirk, calling my presentation "flashy but hollow." It was fun, effortless.  

And then someone else walked in.  

The moment Seojun—a fellow intern—stepped inside, Yoongi’s entire demeanor shifted. His posture straightened, his expression hardened, and whatever sarcastic remark he had been about to say died on his lips. I barely had time to register the change before Seojun spoke up. "Wow, you two are in here alone? That’s surprising. I thought you couldn’t stand each other."  

Yoongi, who just a second ago had been teasing me about my "overuse of dramatic pauses," barely even looked at him. "I can’t," he said flatly. I blinked.  

Seojun laughed like he had expected that answer. "Yeah, makes sense. She’s kind of—"  

"Careful," Yoongi cut in, voice quiet but sharp.  

Seojun hesitated, looking between us before shrugging. "Anyway, just needed some coffee."  

The moment he left, I turned to Yoongi. "What the hell was that?"  

"What was what?" He took a sip of his coffee like nothing had happened.  

I stared at him. "You just shut down like a damn robot. And Seojun thinks you hate me!"  

Yoongi didn’t even blink. "Most people do."  

I gaped. "Excuse me?"  

He finally looked at me, expression unreadable. "You ever notice how people only start talking when we fight?"  

I frowned, thinking back. Now that I really considered it… yeah. Most of our interactions happened when we were alone. But whenever we did argue in front of others, it always became a spectacle—like background entertainment for the other interns. Yoongi never played along when that happened.  

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait. So you—what, refuse to be entertaining for them?"  

Yoongi smirked. "I refuse to give them the wrong idea."  

I crossed my arms. "And what idea would that be?"  

His gaze flickered over me, and for a second—just a second—I thought I saw something unreadable behind his usual indifference. But then he shrugged. "That we’re actually friends."  

I scoffed. "Oh, please. As if I’d ever let anyone think that."  

"Good," he said smoothly, turning to leave.  

But as I stood there, watching him go, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else beneath those words and I hated that I wanted to figure out what it was.

—

I always thought of Yoongi as predictable.  

Annoying? Yes.  

Frustrating? Absolutely.  

Smug beyond reason? Without a doubt.  

But predictable nonetheless. I thought I knew how this worked—how *we* worked. We fought, we competed, we pushed each other’s buttons just enough to stay on the edge of playful without tipping into anything serious. But now, I wasn’t so sure.  

Ever since that conversation in the break room, I started noticing it everywhere. How Yoongi would engage with me, teasing and sharp, but the second someone else joined the conversation, he shut down. How our usual back-and-forth was effortless when we were alone, but in group meetings, he barely acknowledged me. How other interns assumed he hated me—and he never corrected them.  

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So naturally, I did what any sane person would do—I doubled down. The opportunity presented itself at the weekly intern meeting.  

We were assigned a new project—marketing a fictional artist’s debut album—and, because fate was cruel, Yoongi and I were put in the same team.  

Our group sat in a small conference room, brainstorming ideas. Three other interns were with us, but as usual, they mostly bounced ideas off each other, hesitant to say much in front of us.  

And, of course, Yoongi was doing that thing again. Sitting back, arms crossed, speaking only when necessary. No teasing, no pushing, none of the usual Yoongi that I had come to expect so I decided to provoke him.  

"I don’t know," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Yoongi’s usually great at these things. I mean, he wins everything, doesn’t he?"  

I shot him a pointed look. Nothing. One of the other interns, Minji, laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, he’s kind of a legend around here."  

Yoongi barely reacted. "Just good at my job," he said flatly.  

I tried again. "Oh, come on. No speech? No smug remark? No telling me I’ll have to fight to keep up?"  

Still nothing. I frowned. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Do you need me to say something?"  

I blinked. "What?" He tilted his head. "You’re trying pretty hard to get a reaction."  

I felt heat creep up my neck. "I am not."  

"Right." His lips twitched. "Totally natural."  

I clenched my jaw. "You’re impossible."  

One of the other interns cleared their throat. "Uh, should we… get back to the project?"  

Yoongi exhaled, turning his attention back to the group. "We should focus on a digital-first campaign. New artists gain the most traction online."  

And just like that, he was back to business. I should’ve let it go. But something about his complete disinterest in our usual game was driving me insane. I wasn’t sure why.  

But I did know one thing. If Min Yoongi thought he could ignore me, he had another thing coming. 

—

If there was one thing I hated, it was losing. And somehow, without even trying, Yoongi was winning.  

Ever since that meeting, he had been ignoring me. Not completely—not in a way that would make anyone else notice—but I noticed.  

The casual teasing? Gone.  

The smug little remarks? Nowhere to be found.  

The way he used to push back, match my energy, keep me on my toes? Vanished. 

It was infuriating. And the worst part? I couldn’t even call him out on it without sounding completely unhinged. So I did the next best thing—I started showing up everywhere. Not in a stalker way. Obviously.  

If he was at the café, I just happened to need coffee. If he was in the library, I just happened to need a quiet place to work. If he was at an internship event, I made sure to be right in his periphery, just enough to remind him that I wasn’t going anywhere.  

And slowly—slowly—I started chipping away at his walls. It started with a comment in passing.  

"You type like you’re trying to kill the keyboard," Yoongi murmured one evening in the library, not even looking up from his screen.  

I smirked. "Maybe I am."  

A flicker of amusement. "What did the keyboard do to you?"  

I tapped a few more aggressive keystrokes. "Nothing. Yet."  

His lips twitched, just barely, before he went back to his work. But I saw it. Progress.  

Then, at the next internship meeting, I made a subtle jab about his marketing approach being "too predictable."  

Yoongi, who had been stoically ignoring me for days, barely hesitated before replying, "At least I don’t rely on shock value to make up for lack of depth."  

I gasped. "Excuse me?"  

"Did I stutter?"  

The tension between us crackled—just for a second—before one of our teammates cut in awkwardly. "Uh… so, social media strategy?"  

I sat back, smug. More progress. 

And then, finally, the real breakthrough happened.  

---  

It was late. Too late for me to still be at the internship office, but the project deadline was creeping closer, and I refused to fall behind. I had my laptop open, half a dozen tabs flashing between campaign analytics and presentation slides, when I heard the door click open.  

I didn’t even have to look. "You’re late."  

Yoongi exhaled as he set his bag down. "I didn’t know we had a meeting."  

"We don’t," I said easily. "You’re just predictable."  

He snorted, grabbing a chair and sliding into it. "And yet, I am the one being stalked."  

I gasped in mock offense. "Stalked? Please. This is professional dedication."  

"Mhmm." He rubbed his temple, sighing. "You know, if you’re so determined to compete with me, you should at least take breaks. You’re going to burn out before I even get the chance to destroy you."  

I smirked. "Oh? Are you admitting that I’m a worthy opponent?"  

Yoongi glanced at me, something unreadable in his gaze. "You were always a worthy opponent."  

I blinked.  And for some reason, my chest tightened—just a little. I forced a scoff. "That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I almost feel bad about ruining you in this project."  

Yoongi smirked, shaking his head. "Delusional."  

And just like that, the moment passed.  

But as we sat there, laptops open, silent but not uncomfortable, I felt something between us shift. 

I had Yoongi’s attention again, and while he was still frustratingly unreadable, the balance of our little war had been restored. He was pushing back, teasing me again, giving me exactly what I wanted.

Maybe I was losing control of this game.  

And maybe, for the first time, I didn’t mind.  

---  

**Elsewhere in the city…**  

A phone buzzed against a table, the screen illuminating a name.  

"Yeah?" a voice answered lazily.  

"We found her," the person on the other end said.  

The voice on the phone chuckled. "Finally."  

And with that, the game was about to change.

-----------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Two | Four

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Two: The Game Begins

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 1,883 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

I was still scowling when I met up with Amber, Krystal, and Luna later that night.  

"Someone looks like they need a drink," Amber said the moment I sat down.  

Luna grinned. "Or five."  

Krystal took one look at me and smirked. "Let me guess. Min Yoongi?"  

I groaned and slumped forward onto the table. "He’s insufferable."  

Amber snorted. "Still leading your imaginary rivalry, huh?"  

"It's not imaginary," I huffed. "He’s—ugh. He’s just so—"  

"Better than you?" Krystal teased.  

I shot her a glare. "Absolutely not."  

Luna laughed. "But you have to admit, he’s insanely good."  

"Yeah, and he knows it," I muttered, still bitter about the way he had smirked at me earlier. The way he had just shrugged off my challenge like I was an overexcited puppy yapping at his heels.  

Krystal sipped her cocktail. "Maybe he’s just messing with you."  

"Messing with me?" I scoffed. "No, he doesn’t care enough to mess with me. He doesn’t care about anything. He just does his work, stares at his laptop like it personally offended him, and wins by sheer default."  

Amber smirked. "Sounds like someone else we know."  I kicked her under the table.  

Krystal leaned back with a knowing look. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like having someone to compete with."  

I rolled my eyes. "I don’t need competition to be good. I was doing just fine before he showed up."  

"Yeah, but you weren’t this fun before," Luna pointed out, grinning.  

I opened my mouth to argue, but Amber waved a hand. "Enough about Yoongi. Tonight’s about drinking and bad decisions."  

"Yes, please," I groaned, letting the conversation shift.  

I was not going to spend my night off thinking about Min Yoongi.  

---  

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.  

It was past midnight when we stumbled out of the bar, arms linked, half-laughing and half-tripping over ourselves. The city buzzed around us—neon lights, loud music spilling from doorways, the air thick with the scent of street food and late-night energy.  

And then I saw him.  

Yoongi was leaning against the brick wall outside one of the smaller clubs, hands in his pockets, hoodie pulled up. He looked bored. Or maybe just tired.  

And he wasn’t alone.  

A few feet away, his usual group of friends—Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook—were animatedly arguing over something. Probably music-related, knowing them. But Yoongi? He was just standing there, half-listening, his gaze flickering across the crowd like he was looking for an escape route.  Then his eyes landed on me.  

I froze mid-step.  A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.  

Oh no.  

Amber noticed before I could react. "Well, well, well. Look who it is."  

Krystal raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t you say you weren’t going to spend the night thinking about him?"  

Luna snickered. "Guess fate had other plans."  

I shot them all a warning look before reluctantly turning back to Yoongi. He was still watching me, head tilted slightly like he was amused.  I straightened my shoulders and walked over.

"What, do you just lurk in dark corners waiting to piss me off?"  

Yoongi exhaled a soft chuckle. "I don’t have to wait. You do that all on your own."  

My eye twitched. "You’re hilarious."  

He shrugged, glancing at my friends, then back at me. "Didn’t expect to see you out."  

"What, you think I just sit at home working all the time?"  

He gave me a pointed look. "Yes."  

Amber snorted. "He’s got a point."  

I ignored her. "And what about you? You don’t exactly scream nightlife."  

Yoongi hummed. "Dragged out against my will."  

I glanced at his friends, who were now watching us with interest. Hoseok nudged Namjoon and whispered something, making Namjoon smirk.  

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do they look like that?"  

Yoongi glanced over his shoulder. "Like what?"  

"Like they know something I don’t."  

His smirk widened, but he didn’t answer.  Instead, he shifted closer, just enough to make the space between us feel smaller. "You look different."  

I blinked. "What?"  

His gaze flickered down, slow and deliberate. "The outfit."  

I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I wasn’t in my usual jeans-and-sweater combo. Tonight, my dress was shorter, my makeup a little bolder.  

And Min Yoongi had noticed.  

Luna let out an exaggerated gasp. "Is that a compliment?"  

Amber elbowed me. "You should frame this moment."  

Krystal grinned. "I think he just admitted he looks at you."  

Yoongi sighed like they were the most annoying people on the planet, but I caught the hint of amusement in his expression.  

I crossed my arms. "Careful, Min. People might start thinking you actually have emotions."  

His lips twitched. "Guess I’ll have to be more careful, then."  

The way he said it—low, teasing, like we were in on some inside joke—sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.  

Hoseok, who had been watching the whole exchange, suddenly grinned. "Oh, this is interesting."  

Namjoon smirked. "Very interesting."  

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. "Yoongi-hyung, do you have a favorite intern?"  

Yoongi sighed. "I hate all of you."  

His friends just laughed, and for once, I was too caught off guard to fire back. Because for the first time since I met him, I realized something.  

Yoongi never entertained other people like this.  

Not in the meetings, not in the studio, not even with the other interns.  So why was he doing it with me?

---

I told myself I wouldn’t think about it.  

The way Yoongi’s gaze had swept down my body, slow and assessing. The way his voice had dipped, teasing but not quite mocking. The way his friends had looked at him—at us—like they were onto something I wasn’t.  

I told myself it didn’t matter.  

And yet, I found myself staring at the internship leaderboard the next morning, half-waiting for his name to drop below mine. It hadn’t.  

"Someone’s in deep thought," Luna teased, appearing over my shoulder.  

Amber leaned in next to her. "Or just staring at Yoongi’s name like she could set it on fire with her mind."  

I groaned and shut my laptop. "Can we not?"  

Krystal, sipping her iced coffee like she was enjoying a drama, smirked. "What happened last night really got to you, huh?"  

"Nothing happened," I snapped, maybe a little too quickly. "He was just—"  

"Staring at you?" Luna supplied.  

"Noticing your dress?" Amber added.  

"Flirting with you?" Krystal finished.  

I choked. "He was not—"  

Amber raised an eyebrow. "Oh, honey."  

Luna grinned. "Oh, girl please."  

Krystal smirked. "Uh, girl bye."  

I groaned. "Let the record show I hate all of you."  

Amber ruffled my hair. "No, you don’t. You just hate how right we are."  

I scowled and shoved her hand away, but deep down, their words gnawed at me. Yoongi wasn’t exactly a people person. He didn’t waste words on unnecessary conversations, let alone teasing.  

So why me?  

I didn’t have time to figure it out. Our morning briefing started in ten minutes, and I had work to do—actual work, not whatever mental gymnastics I was performing over Min Yoongi.  

The problem was, he was already there when I arrived.  

---  

The conference room was half-full when I stepped inside, interns setting up their laptops, chatting in hushed tones. But Yoongi? He was exactly where I didn’t want him to be—at the seat next to mine.  

I hesitated for half a second, debating whether to sit elsewhere. But that would be too obvious, and I refused to let him think he had any effect on me. So I dropped into my chair, ignoring the way his gaze darted toward me.  

"Morning," he said casually, fingers tapping on his laptop.  

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you being polite? To me?"  

He smirked. "Don’t get used to it."  

I huffed. "Good."  

Ms. Lee walked in before I could say anything else, and I focused on the meeting. Or at least, I tried to. But I was hyper aware of Yoongi beside me, of the way he occasionally glanced at my screen when I typed, of the faint scent of his cologne—something subtle, a warm earthy musk.  

It was infuriating.  

And when the meeting ended, he leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "Heard you’re leading the next project."  

I lifted my chin. "I am."  

He hummed. "Good."  

I frowned. "Why do you sound surprised?"  

He glanced at me, amused. "I’m not."  

I crossed my arms. "You better not be planning to sabotage me, Min."  

Yoongi snorted. "If I wanted to win, I wouldn’t need sabotage."  

I gaped at him. "You—"  

But he was already pushing his chair back, standing up like the conversation hadn’t just made me want to strangle him. And as he walked away, I realized something even more annoying than his smugness.  

I was starting to enjoy this game.

---

I convinced myself that I just enjoyed messing with Yoongi. It wasn’t about him, specifically. It was about the game—the back-and-forth, the challenge, the way he never let me win but also never made it easy for himself. It was fun, in the same way a perfectly timed snarky comeback was fun, in the same way pushing buttons just to see how far I could go was fun. It wasn’t personal.  

At least, that’s what I told myself as I plopped down across from him at the campus café later that afternoon, stirring my coffee with unnecessary aggression. "You look like you’re plotting something," Yoongi commented without looking up from his laptop.  

I smirked. "Maybe I am."  

He hummed. "Should I be concerned?"  

"Always."  

He finally glanced at me, eyebrow quirked in mild amusement. "You do realize that if you spend this much time thinking about ways to beat me, you’re basically admitting I’m better than you?"  

I scoffed. "Please. I could beat you in my sleep."  

"Sure," he deadpanned.  

I narrowed my eyes. "You doubt me?"  

He took a sip of his iced Americano. "I know you."  

Something about the way he said it made me pause.  

Yoongi wasn’t the kind of person who threw words around carelessly. He was direct, matter-of-fact. And the way he had said that felt deliberate. Like he had been paying attention.  

I straightened my shoulders. "Okay, psychic. What do you know?"  

He tilted his head slightly, considering. "You don’t actually hate losing. You just hate losing to me."  

I scoffed. "I hate losing in general."  

Yoongi shook his head. "Nah. If it were someone else, you’d roll your eyes, regroup, and come back stronger. But with me? You take it personally."  

I opened my mouth to argue but nothing came out. Because… he wasn’t wrong. I hated losing to Yoongi.  

It wasn’t just about the internship ranking or the projects. It was the way he never seemed to care, the way he always acted like winning was just something that happened to him rather than something he fought for.  

It drove me insane. But instead of admitting that, I shrugged. "Maybe you’re just easier to hate."  

Yoongi smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe you just like having someone to fight with."  

I rolled my eyes. "In your dreams, Min."  

Later, when I was alone in my dorm, I found myself thinking about his words.  

Did I like fighting with him?  

And if I did… what did that mean?

----------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Three

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in. It's me!

Here I am 8 years later slinking back with a story like its just another weekday lmao.

Anyway, I've been working with my good buddy Chatai on this college!au Yoongi x Reader story. Set your expectations low 😂

This is an ongoing series. Lots of back and forth, romance, comedy, a bit of angst here and there. Buckle in for chapter 1.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 783 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi.

Chapter One: The Rivalry Begins 

The first time I saw Min Yoongi, I knew he was going to be a problem.  

It wasn’t the way he dressed—dark hoodies, ripped jeans, and the ever-present headphones that screamed, “Leave me alone.” It wasn’t even the way he walked, always a little too relaxed, like he was bored of the entire world. No, it was the fact that he didn’t even look at me when we were introduced.  

I remember the moment clearly. The senior coordinator of the internship program, Ms. Lee, stood at the front of the room, rattling off names of the interns in our cohort. She called out, “Min Yoongi,” and a guy at the back of the room raised a hand lazily. He didn’t even bother to look up from his phone.  

Then she called my name.  

Unlike him, I sat straight, smiled at the room, and gave a small wave. I knew most of the people here already—many were classmates from the university’s music and entertainment program. This internship was the most competitive one offered, a stepping stone into the industry. Only twenty students were accepted, and out of those, only two would be chosen for full-time jobs at the company by the end of the year.  

Two.  

And standing in my way was the human embodiment of indifference.  

I’d heard of Min Yoongi before. His reputation wasn’t loud, but it was undeniable. A producer with an uncanny ear for sound design, a songwriter with a natural knack for melody. Professors spoke highly of him. But students? They mostly complained about his attitude.  

“Yoongi’s kind of a dick,” my friend Amber had told me once, sipping her iced latte. “Like, he’s insanely talented, but he never sugarcoats anything. You show him a song, and he’ll tell you exactly what’s wrong with it. No hesitation.”  

“That’s not so bad,” I had said.  

“Yeah, except he says it in the most soul-crushing way possible.”  

Now, sitting across from him in the conference room, I watched as he slumped in his chair, barely listening to Ms. Lee. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he tapped his fingers soundlessly on the table, like he was composing a beat in his head.  

He didn’t look like a threat.  

But when the meeting ended, and Ms. Lee announced the ranking system—the system that would determine who got those coveted full-time positions—I felt his presence sharpen.  

Interns would be ranked based on performance, creativity, and overall contributions to projects. The leaderboard would be updated weekly. And at the top, right now, sat two names.  

Min Yoongi.  

And mine.  

Our eyes met for the first time then.  

For a second, I thought he might say something. Instead, he blinked once, then looked away like I wasn’t even worth the effort.  

I bristled. Oh, it was on.  

---  

A week into the internship, and I had learned two things about Yoongi.  

One: He was incredibly good at what he did.  

Two: He was infuriatingly silent about it.  

We were assigned to different teams, but we crossed paths constantly—meetings, brainstorming sessions, late nights in the studio. He rarely spoke unless it was necessary, and when he did, it was in short, clipped sentences. Somehow, though, everything he said carried weight.  

“I’d cut that second verse,” he told one of the other interns during a songwriting session. “It drags.”  

The guy frowned. “But—”  

“It’s killing the momentum.” Yoongi didn’t look up from his laptop. “Just cut it.”  

I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. But did he have to say it like that?  

I watched as the other intern hesitated before sighing and nodding. I bit back a smirk. Not everyone was willing to take criticism from someone so blunt.  

But me? I thrived on competition.  

So when my team was assigned to produce a track for a promotional campaign, I put everything I had into it. I stayed late, tweaked every element until it was flawless. And when we presented it, I could feel the room reacting to it—nodding along, impressed.  

Then Yoongi’s team played their track.  

And I hated how good it was.  

It was different from mine—less polished, more raw. But it had this undeniable pull, this effortless coolness that I couldn’t ignore.  

When the meeting ended, I found myself standing next to him at the coffee machine.  

“Your track was good,” I said, because I could at least admit that.  

He didn’t look up. “I know.”  

I stared at him. “You could say ‘thank you.’”  

“You could say mine was better.”  

I scoffed. “Not a chance.”  

For the first time, a hint of a smirk ghosted across his lips. “Guess we’ll see.”  

And just like that, the battle line was drawn.

---------------------------------------

Masterlist | Two

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Nine, Part Two: Hook, Line, & Sink Her

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 1,832 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

A few days later, Yoongi texted me out of nowhere, asking if I wanted to grab a bite to eat. I wanted to say no, considering I only had one more day to win the bet, but the respite from my friend's torturous stalking was too tempting.

​​The walk to the restaurant was a surprising relief. Away from campus, with nothing but the sound of my footsteps and the gentle rustling of leaves, I felt like I could finally breathe. The cool breeze cut through the warmth of the sun, brushing against my cheeks and tugging at the loose strands of my hair. It had been a while since I’d walked somewhere without the weight of my friends’ scheming or the buzz of Yoongi’s silent expectations hanging over me.

The further I got, the quieter it became. Rows of small shops and hidden alleyways took the place of the bustling campus buildings, and the whole area felt like a secret corner of the city. When I finally reached the restaurant, I almost did a double-take. It was nestled between a bakery and a secondhand bookstore, its exterior a mix of soft wood tones and pastel accents. Small potted plants hung from the awning, and a chalkboard sign out front advertised the daily specials in loopy, cheerful handwriting.

Yoongi was already there, leaning against the doorframe with his phone in hand. He looked up as I approached, slipping his phone into his pocket and giving me a small nod. I couldn’t hide my surprise, and he raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk pulling at his lips.

When we met up, the tension was thick. I could tell he was aware of the bet now, but he wasn’t saying anything directly. He just kept that same teasing grin on his face, like he was enjoying watching me squirm. But instead of asking outright, he started playing the part of someone who had no idea what my friends were up to.

“So,” he said casually, stirring his drink. “You wanna make this official, or are we still pretending?”

I nearly choked on my bite, not sure if I had heard him correctly. “What?”

Yoongi looked completely unfazed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Your friends are determined to see us on an ‘actual date’. I’m available to play along. I’ll even make it look good. You just gotta let me know.”

I stared at him, blinking, the weight of his words sinking in. Was he seriously suggesting we go along with this fake date thing? I opened my mouth to protest, but instead, I found myself agreeing. 

“Fine. But just so you know, you’re going to pay for everything.”

Yoongi grinned. “Deal. You’ll thank me later.”

Hesitantly you asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He took out his phone and opened the camera, angling it so the restaurant’s cozy, date-like atmosphere was on full display. "We could post something, make it look like we’re on a date. Your friends won’t be able to resist showing up."

A grin spread across my face as I caught on. "And we can play dumb, act like it’s a coincidence."

"Exactly." He snapped a quick photo of his plate, a glimpse of my hand just visible reaching for a drink. He uploaded it to his story with a geotag of the restaurant, knowing it was a spot known for being a romantic hideaway. As soon as it was up, I pulled out my own phone, making sure my friends saw it before Yoongi deleted the post with a casual swipe.

We shared a conspiratorial look, and for a moment, the tension between us melted into something lighter—something almost fun.

"Now we wait," he said, popping a fry into his mouth with a smirk.

Within minutes, I spotted them. My friends stumbled through the restaurant door in their terrible “disguises,” eyes darting around the room until they landed on us. It was impressive, really, how they managed to get here so soon. I nudged Yoongi’s foot under the table, and he caught on immediately. It was go time.

Amber, Luna, and Krystal slid into a booth a few tables away, failing miserably at looking inconspicuous. Yoongi reached across the table, taking my hand gently in his. Warmth flooded my cheeks, and I couldn’t help it. I knew this was all a ruse, but the way his eyes held mine—so intently, as if he was trying to tell me something—left me breathless. Something I couldn’t bring myself to understand or accept.

I turned to look out the window, hiding from the weight of his gaze while his fingers played with mine. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the smile I was struggling to keep down.

After a while, our food was gone, and I could feel my friends' gazes burning holes into the back of my head. Yoongi shot me a knowing look, and I nodded. Time to up the ante.

We paid the bill, and I made a show of standing up slowly, pretending not to see the trio hastily hiding behind their menus. Yoongi slipped his arm around my waist as we left, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Outside, he kept up the act, his hand lingering on my hip as we walked away from the restaurant. Once we rounded the corner, I exhaled, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Think they’ll follow us?" he asked.

"Probably," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "Might as well give them a show."

I couldn’t stop feeling ridiculous. We walked around the city, stopping for ice cream, and acted like any normal couple—laughing, chatting about random things, making it look like we were actually together. It wasn’t that hard, honestly. Yoongi was good at making things seem natural, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

It was a weird game we were playing, and I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed or relieved to be doing it. There was a strange comfort in it, in pretending for a little while that the lines between reality and pretense were blurred. Maybe that was the part that scared me—the fact that it didn’t feel as fake as it should have. The more we walked, the more I let myself fall into the act, wondering if he felt the same undercurrents of truth threading through the charade.

The evening was drawing to a close when we stopped at a small park bench near the water. Yoongi leaned against the railing, his arms crossed.

 “Well, that was fun. Should we tell them now?”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Nope. Those idiots will be funding my snack addiction for the next week.”

He smiled, and I caught the flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just teasing. But before I could say anything, he stepped closer to me, his hand brushing against mine. My breath caught in my throat.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he kissed me. It wasn’t passionate or full of meaning, just a quick peck on the lips—so fast I barely had time to process it. But it lingered in the air between us, an echo of something unspoken. His lips were soft, his breath warm against mine, and I could still feel the phantom touch of him even after he pulled away.

Yoongi’s expression remained steady, but the corner of his mouth lifted into that same mischievous grin. “There. Now they’ve got something to work with.”

I could only manage to blink up at him, my ears ringing. What the hell was this? That wasn’t a part of our agreed plan. My mind raced, replaying the moment in slow motion, dissecting every detail, every brush of his skin against mine.

“What…” I started, my voice trailing off. I swallowed, trying to find my footing. “What was that for?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked past me, out over the water, his expression softening just a fraction. When he finally met my gaze, the teasing spark had dulled, replaced by something more vulnerable. "Just making sure it’s believable," he said, but there was a waver in his tone, a slight hesitation that made my pulse quicken.

I wanted to push, to ask him if it was really just for the act. But the words stuck to the roof of my mouth, too heavy, too dangerous. Instead, I forced a laugh, light and airy, like I wasn’t falling apart at the seams. “Well, mission accomplished.”

His thumb grazed my hand one last time before he let go, and the loss of his touch felt sharper than I wanted to admit. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders tensing as if bracing against the wind. And I stood there, staring at him, wondering if I was the only one who felt like the line between act and reality had just shattered.

Yoongi’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out with a sigh. “I’ve got to go. Studio stuff.”

I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on me as if he wanted to say more. But then he just nodded and turned away, walking off into the dimming twilight, leaving me alone with the echo of his kiss and a thousand unanswered questions.

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and turned toward the direction of my friends. They hadn’t been subtle in their stalking, and sure enough, I found them huddled at a nearby bench, each of them wearing their best attempt at nonchalance. Amber's hat was pulled low over her eyes, Luna held a menu up like a makeshift shield, and Krystal pretended to be engrossed in her phone, holding it upside down.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Enjoying the show?”

Amber dropped the act immediately, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “Y/N, you dirty dog! You kissed him! We saw EVERYTHING!”

Luna elbowed her, practically buzzing with excitement. “And don’t even think you can weasel out of it—we’ve got PICTURES. We won! You and Yoongi are totally dating!”

“Yeah, about that…” I crossed my arms, letting a slow smirk crawl onto my face. “The bet ended two hours ago. Ergo, you three are officially my snack ATMs.”

Their jaws hit the floor at the same time. Krystal made a strangled noise, like she couldn’t quite process the words. “Wait—what? No way!”

“Oh yes way,” I said, pulling up the timestamp on my phone. “Seven days, and you didn’t catch us once. This whole fake date today? Total sham. Time to pay up, ladies.”

Amber groaned dramatically, dragging her hands down her face. “I knew we should’ve followed you that night at the library…”

Luna looked like she might cry. “My wallet is already sobbing.”

Krystal slouched against Amber, defeated. “I’m never betting with you again.”

I shrugged, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “A bet’s a bet. Now, who’s buying me ice cream?”

----------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Nine, Part 1 | Ten

[infiredlove]

Updated Masterlist

Updated 2017.11.25 2025.02.13

Drabbles

Long Days

What A Talent

The Cold

What She Wants

Time With You

Just In Time

Too Many Drinks

Bad Girls Need To Be Punished

One-shots

Stay By Me

Birthday Surprise

Our Beginnings

The Monster In My Head

Everything Changed 1 | 2

She Knows

I Cant Believe It

The Second Time | Alt Ending

Long Term Pieces

Here & Now: History 1 | 2

Internship Begets Rivalry (Coming Soon)