Bangtan's Little Sister (SLOW UPDATES)

New Phone

- Y/n's POV -

It was a Saturday—the blissfully lazy kind where sunlight slips through half-drawn curtains and everyone speaks in low voices so the weekend vibes don't break. Technically I could spend the day however I wanted; realistically, that meant scrolling social media until my thumbs cramped.

I was draped across our well-worn leather couch, one leg dangling over the armrest, when my phone seized up—again. The screen froze mid-reel, my reflection ghosted over a paused cat video. I sighed, half annoyed, half resigned. This phone had survived three school years, two accidental dips in the sink, and one tragic tumble down the stairs. It owed me nothing.

Being the youngest of eight—and the only girl—usually came with fringe benefits. Spare snacks, extra blankets stolen from the linen closet, and, more often than not, a brother swooping in to solve whatever minor crisis I'd created.

"My phone froze... again," I muttered, nudging Jimin Oppa with my elbow. He lounged beside me, knees up, manga balanced on his chest.

"Again?" he echoed, flipping a page without looking up. He'd heard this complaint at least twice this morning.

I held the phone out like evidence. "It hates me."

He offered a sympathetic chuckle. "Did you ask Jin Hyung if he'd get you a new one? Your birthday's coming up."

I shook my head, letting my ponytail swish across the couch cushion. "Our budget's tight," I said, remembering last week's family meeting—Jin Oppa with his Serious Spreadsheet Face, reminding us utility bills had spiked. "Besides, technically it still works. I just need... more patience."

"There's patience, and then there's torture," Jimin teased, finally setting his manga aside. He took the phone, thumb dancing across the screen in one practiced motion. "You know he'd spoil you if you just hinted."

"That's the problem," I said softly. "He already does too much. All of you do." My gaze drifted to the hallway where the faint thump of Yoongi Hyung's bass practice filtered through the door. Somewhere upstairs, Namjoon Oppa was probably surrounded by half-built gadgets, and Hoseok was humming in the kitchen, perfecting breakfast version 2.0. "I can't keep being the black hole that sucks up everyone's generosity."

Jimin snorted. "First of all, you're not a black hole; you're more like... a mildly demanding star. We orbit, but we like it." He shrugged, eyes crinkling. "Second, Jin loves any excuse to bake a cake and go overboard with presents. Let him."

I opened my mouth to argue but the phone buzzed back to life with a stubborn flicker. Jimin handed it over triumphantly. "Cleared thirty-two apps from running in the background. Woman, why do you have six photo editors?"

"They each have a different filter!" I protested.

"Sure, sure." He ruffled my hair. "Listen— if Jin doesn't bring it up by tomorrow, I'll subtly mention the tragic state of your device. Subtly," he repeated when I shot him a look. "Meanwhile, stop doom-scrolling. Come help me convince Hoseok to add chocolate chips to the pancakes."

"Chocolate chips are expensive," I said, standing anyway.

"So we'll ration." His grin widened. "Weekends are for small luxuries. Even budget warriors deserve melted chocolate."

I laughed, phone clutched to my chest like it might stage another rebellion any second. Maybe I did rely on my brothers too much—but moments like this made our crowded house feel warmer than any perfect, glitch-free phone ever could.

- End of Y/n's POV -

- Jimin's POV -

I knocked lightly on Jin Hyung's door before pushing it open. "Jin Hyung?"