Chapter Text
“Hot damn, hyung! Good score,” Taehyung cheered the moment he laid eyes on the statue, which was sitting on the couch and rubbing the bump on his head with a pout.
“Yah! Brat, don’t you see what’s wrong here?” Yoongi demanded, shaking him by the arm.
“Um… he’s not wearing any pants?” Taehyung ventured a guess. He frowned. “No, that’s the opposite of wrong.”
The sculpture piped up, “I wasn’t created with any pants.”
“That’s right, baby, you were born naked and you should feel free to not wear pants like… all the time,” Taehyung assured him. “Hyung, did you bring me here for a threesome? Because if you did, the answer is yes.”
“Stop perving on him,” Yoongi ordered. “Focus. That’s my statue.”
Taehyung frowned. “Oh. Oh! You didn’t tell me you were working with a model.” His eyes drifted down to the sculpture’s lap. “And you got everything true to size too, hyung. Daaaaaamn.”
“No, Taehyung, that’s my actual statue,” Yoongi snarled. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why, but there was one thing he was certain of: this was somehow Taehyung’s fault.
Taehyung blinked. “That’s… what?”
“My statue came to life last night.”
Taehyung stared at him before pulling out his phone. “Jiminnie? Yoongi-hyung is having a nervous breakdown. Can you come here—“
The statue tugged at Yoongi’s arm. “C-creator? I’m… making weird noises…” He bit his lip, squirming. Yoongi’s brain nearly short-circuited because holy fuck what weird noises can this naked pretty boy make until he heard his sculpture’s stomach growl.
Yoongi sighed, facepalming. “Okay, kid. Let’s feed you, and then figure out what the hell is going on.” He paused at the way his sculpture was pouting up at him, still completely nude. “But first, pants.”
***
“Creator?”
Yoongi glanced up and nearly swallowed his tongue. He’d given his statue a loose pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts, along with a set of instructions on how to put them on, because he wasn’t feeling up to getting up close and personal with him (and there was no way in hell he was letting Taehyung get his hands on him). The sweatpants were fine, though a little short in the ankle. If he had known that his sculpture was going to come to life, he definitely wouldn’t have made it taller than him.
However.
The shirt.
“Tag your porn,” Taehyung choked out, slack-jawed, as he stared at the way the thin white cotton molded itself to his statue’s chest, a sliver of skin peeking out between the shirt’s hem and his waistband.
Yoongi cleared his throat. “That… can’t be comfortable.” Those muscles were practically screaming to be liberated. Also his brain was very loudly screaming NIPPLES NIPPLES NIPPLES on loop. “Maybe we need to get you another—“
“It feels… feels good,” the statue said, a slight blush dusting across his cheeks. He petted at the fabric stretched along his tummy, hand trailing along his chest. He flashed his adorable bunny teeth in a sweet smile as he stroked his stomach, drawing attention to his slim waist where Yoongi’s hands would fit perfectly. “Soft.” He giggled and drew Yoongi’s hands to run along his abs. “Here, touch.”
“Uh,” Yoongi said, half-strangled. These were literal rock-hard abs.
“Yeah, you’re going to keep wearing that, sweetheart,” Taehyung told the statue with a knowing grin.
***
Things progressed rapidly after that. Or deteriorated, depending on your point of view.
Jimin burst into the room, eyes wild. “MIN YOONGI. Taetae said you went crazy, and you can’t go crazy until the exhibit is over!”
“Did you just call my name without honorifics, brat? I am not fucking crazy.” Yoongi cursed as he hammered away at a block of marble, not even looking up at Jimin. “Taehyung, you explain it to him,” he yelled over the sound of the chisel striking stone.
“Yoongi-hyung had some kind of psychotic break last night,” Taehyung informed him, wrapping an arm around the statue and pulling him close. “He keeps insisting that the hot guy he drunkenly hooked up with is his statue, and hot guy is apparently into the weird roleplay because he keeps humoring hyung and calling him ‘creator’, which is kind of a lame kink, but eh. Who am I to judge? Artists, you know? Eccentric.”
“I don’t want to hear that from you, Mr. I-Make-Up-Drama-Monologues-While-Doing-Laundry,” Yoongi snorted. He’d been trying to convince Taehyung that he hadn’t gone nuts, but Taehyung kept covering his ears and singing at the top of his lungs every time he tried to defend himself, insisting that he shut up until Jimin arrived to talk some sense into him.
“Taetae-hyung, it’s so good,” the sculpture mewled, cuddling up to him. “More, please.” Yoongi nearly hit his hand on the next blow, head whipping around to glare at Taehyung.
“Okay, baby, say ahhhhh,” Taehyung cooed, holding up a cookie.
The statue closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide. “Ahhhhh,” he repeated obediently, tongue lolling out. He let Taehyung pop it into his mouth, making a positively obscene noise of delight. Taehyung laughed. “You’re so cute, such an adorable little cookie monster.”
“Hyung,” Jimin said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I’m not crazy, Jimin,” Yoongi snarled, chipping away at the marble block.
“Debatable,” Jimin retorted. “But no, I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you’re trying to weasel out of—“
“If I were going to make up a story to get out of giving you the statue, do you really think that I couldn’t come up with anything better than ‘my statue came to life’? Really? Or that I would go to all the trouble of finding an exact body double of my statue, which mysteriously disappeared overnight even though it would take at least three men, a dolly, and special equipment to get it out of my studio?”
Jimin and Taehyung both paused.
“Also, can I remind you that I made that statue as a big Fuck You to someone and even if you think I’m crazy, do you really think that I would ever, ever pass up the chance to give a big middle finger to a hater?”
Taehyung groaned. “I hate it when the explanation ‘it was magic’ is the one that makes the most sense. Did you do anything weird…” He trailed off, eyes widening. “Did you and Jin-hyung have sex in this room and like, splooge on your statue or something? Hyung! I gave you those condoms for a reason!”
Jimin looked both fascinated and disgusted. “Eew! So he’s like your marble baby or something?” He glanced at Jungkook. “Is Yoongi-hyung your daddy?”
Jungkook blinked at Yoongi before he frowned, brows knitting together in confusion. “Humans… they call their male creator daddy…” He licked his lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Daddy?”
“What the fuck, no!” Yoongi yelled, turning bright red and throwing down the hammer (unfortunately, while his hammer went crashing to the floor, his other “hammer” couldn’t help perking up). “You two, stop teaching him weird shit. Jin-hyung and I didn’t sleep together, we didn’t even kiss…” He trailed off.
He closed his eyes as memories from last night resurfaced. He glared at Taehyung. “Seriously, what’s with you Kims and molesting my statue?” he ground out.
Taehyung gaped at him. “Jin-hyung fucked your statue?”
Yoongi could feel his headache worsening. “Call Jin-hyung. I’ll explain. And you, Taehyung—I’m enforcing a minimum hundred-foot distance between you and the statue at all times. Who knows what kind of perverted magic statute shenanigans your family’s going to pull on my work next.”
***
“I called Jin-hyung and he confirmed that it was him. He’s coming over as soon as he’s done with work. I warned you, hyung!” Taehyung said, shaking his head. “This kind of thing happens around him all the time. I told you that Jin-hyung was some kind of magic fairy prince.”
Yoongi gave him a flat look. “Because that’s the kind of statement a person takes seriously.”
“Come on, you saw his face, do you think actual human beings look that good?”
“No fingerprints,” Jimin interrupted, holding up an ink-stained piece of paper. “I could collect hair samples and run a DNA test, but that would take a while.”
The statue looked at them curiously, rubbing at the black splotches on his fingers. He opened his mouth, bringing his hand up to his lips, and Jimin hastily stopped him. “Ah, no, baby, don’t do that. Ink poisoning is a thing, and also Yoongi-hyung might actually short-circuit if you started sucking on your fingers. Hyung, should we test if he can bleed, or—“
The statue turned big, trusting eyes on Yoongi. “No,” Yoongi said immediately. “He can feel things, no way in hell are we hurting him.”
“Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a monster, I didn’t want to do it either!” Jimin said, raising his hands defensively. “From what I can gather, he remembers a lot of stuff from before, when you were in the process of making him. He knows you and me and Tae, and he knows basic stuff, obviously, because he can speak Korean and he knows the lyrics to the hip-hop playlist you use when you work. He also has a hell of a lot of blackmail material on you, hyung, he told me about last week when you forgot your—“
“Jimin,” Yoongi interrupted. “Continue that sentence and they will never find your body.”
“Hey, can I name him?” Taehyung asked. “It’s getting tiring to keep referring to him as ‘the statue’ or ‘the sculpture’ or even ‘him’, considering there are like three other guys in the room and—“
“No. You’ll name him something stupid like Justin Seagull or Tattoo,” Yoongi said immediately.
“Aw, come on, hyung!”
“Cookie,” the statue piped up. “He named me cookie. Cookie Monster.”
Yoongi glared at Taehyung. “See what I mean? You didn’t even consciously name him and it still sucks.”
He bit his lip. “Taetae-hyung named me ‘baby’ too, but it makes me feel kind of funny when he and Jimin-ssi call me baby…”
“Funny how?” Taehyung cooed.
Pink dusted his cheeks. “It makes me feel all hot and shivery…”
“Okay, no,” Yoongi said, feeling his own face heat. “No, no, no. Statue, stop talking. And you, Kim Taehyung, are absolutely forbidden from naming him. No.”
“I wasn’t going to name him something stupid,” Taehyung sulked. “I was thinking something along the lines of ‘Hobi’ or ‘J-Hope’…”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t those Hoseok-hyung’s pen names? And don’t you coincidentally have a big, fat crush on Hoseok-hyung?”
Yoongi glared at Taehyung. “Seriously?”
Taehyung flung a hand dramatically into the air. “You should be honored, Yoongi-hyung. It would be the highest praise to your super hot statue, to bear the name of my one true love-slash-baby daddy. Hypothetical baby daddy, because m-preg is not a thing here, this is not that kind of story, weird magical hijinks notwithstanding.”
“Combine them,” Jimin said with a sigh. “Take the ‘Jung’ from Jung Hoseok, add the first syllable of ‘cookie’, and you get Jungkook. Like that one idol, you know, from that polyamorous group that’s been breaking all those records recently, Bangtan Sonyeondan? The one where they’re all boyfriends and make the best music in the world?” He squinted. “Your statue even kind of looks like him.”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi repeated, testing the sound of it. “That seems like an extremely forced and convoluted line of reasoning to give the statue that specific name, but fine, whatever, let’s not question it so that we can progress further into this story.” He looked at the statue. “You’re Jungkook from now on, okay?” Jungkook nodded obediently, mouthing the name to himself.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll still call you Kookie,” Taehyung said, pinching Jungkook’s cheek. “You’re our Jungkookie now.”
***
Jin swanned in hours later in a low-necked, billowing white shirt, looking even more ethereal than he had the night before. Yoongi could almost swear that there were sparkles and flowers blooming in the background behind him, and he only barely resisted the urge to bow or something. Maybe curtsy. Jin just gave off that kind of aura.
“Hi,” he greeted them as Taehyung opened the door and let him in.
Jimin stared open-mouthed for a moment.
“Chim, you’re drooling,” Taehyung said. Jin raised an eyebrow, examining Jimin with obvious interest.
“Taetae was right, how did you think he was human?” Jimin burst out at Yoongi, flapping his arms at him. “Look at him! Are you an idiot, hyung?”
“Okay, Chimchim, very true, but you aren’t allowed to hook up with Jin-hyung,” Taehyung warned him. “A fairy prince with a warped sense of humor and whatever wicked changeling child you are? The world won’t be able to handle that much pretty and evil in one couple.”
“I’m an angel,” Jimin said flatly, kicking Taehyung.
“Thing One and Thing Two, please stop talking,” Yoongi deadpanned. “Jin-hyung.”
Jin surveyed the scene before him, Jimin and Taehyung bickering, Jungkook trapped between them, Yoongi giving Jin his best bitch face. He shot Yoongi an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Yoongi, it was a spur of the moment bit of fun.” He reached out a hand to Jungkook, who shied away for a moment, burrowing closer to Taehyung. Jin waited patiently until Jungkook peeked out from behind Taehyung’s shoulders.
“Hello, cherub,” Jin said. “Do you know me?”
“You’re the pretty man from last night. We kissed,” Jungkook said.
“We did,” Jin agreed, while Jimin and Taehyung sputtered in disbelief.
“You have very soft lips.” Jungkook reached out his own hand to place it in Jin’s.
“Oh, you are lovely,” he murmured, twining their fingers together. “No need to be afraid, little one.” He glanced over at Yoongi again. “You’re an artist, but you couldn’t even see what you were capable of making.”
Taehyung sucked in a breath. “Hyung, you didn’t.”
“A simple lesson enchantment,” Jin said. “It’ll wear off the moment you learn your lesson, Yoongi.”
“Explain,” Yoongi said flatly.
“How about you say ‘please’ to the pretty fairy prince who could probably strike you down where you stand, hyung,” Jimin muttered sotto voce.
“The concept is straightforward.” Jin closed his eyes for a moment before they opened once more, somehow darker now, the depthless eyes of a creature millennia old. As he spoke, the words seemed to ring with a kind of power. “The spell is laid to make you realize a particular truth, Min Yoongi. Only upon that realization will the enchantment break, and all will be as it ought to be.”
They were all silent for a long moment until the strange energy that had suffused the room slowly dissipated. Jin smiled at Yoongi. “Simple, right?”
Jimin raised a hand. “Um… Your Highness Fairy Prince-ssi…”
Jin preened. “Jin-hyung is fine.”
“Jin-hyung,” Jimin repeated. “Um. So basically we have to wait until Yoongi-hyung… has some kind of fluffy soul-searching epiphany? Probably one that’s going to involve him admitting that he was wrong about something?”
“Well. Yes.”
Jimin gaped at them. “No, no, we’re doomed,” he moaned, yanking at his own hair. “We're on a deadline. Jungkook took hyung months to make. And Yoongi-hyung is freaking slow—“
“Hey!”
“—at anything related to feelings. He’s like, allergic to admitting his emotions.”
Yoongi opened his mouth to argue before closing it, and then opening it again. “That seems like an extremely unfair stereotype perpetuated by a small subset of delusional fans who only see what they want to see from heavily edited media clips and have no idea what kind of person I actually am. What, do you think I'm all about leather jackets and black coffee? My personality could include cats and tangerines, you don't know me or my life.”
Jimin put his hands on his hips. “Hyung, I know you’re a sensitive person with the kindest heart, and you always take care of the people you love. You hate to fight with us, you’ve never seriously raised your voice at us even when you’re mad, you make us hold hands with you when we’re arguing. I have like a hundred videos of you making cute baby noises at your dog to prove how soft you are. But if you’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not an insane perfectionist who harbors a lot of self-doubt about yourself and your work, which includes Jungkook, then you’re a liar. You’re gentle with everyone else, but you can be the meanest person ever to yourself.”
“Why do I have the feeling that that was the lesson, and you should probably just like… internalize it, and all of this can end now,” Taehyung mumbled, which everyone else ignored.
Jimin looked desperately at Jin. “Please, can’t we just reverse the enchantment? Maybe sell hyung’s soul instead to fix everything? Or can we trade sexual favors? Because I volunteer.”
“I’m a fairy, not a demon,” Jin said, amused. “And tempting as your second offer is, I’m afraid that once the enchantment’s been laid, there’s no way to break it except to fulfill the conditions set.”
Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care if a super handsome magic fairy prince brought your statue to life and we named it after baked goods and it’s taller than both of us. You have a show in less than two weeks and so help me God, Min Yoongi—You. Will. Fix. This.”
“I’m trying!” Yoongi defended himself, gesturing towards the much-abused marble block he’d been working on. “Look, we can just display this instead, okay?”
Everyone else turned to look at it.
“Uh. What’s it supposed to be?” Jin asked.
“It’s a… a butterfly, landing on the last flower on earth. It’s supposed to represent the most fleeting moment, the fear that something beautiful will become something that never happened. I call it… the Most Beautiful Moment in Life.”
Jin pursed his lips. “That’s… that’s a really beautiful concept.”
Jimin and Taehyung exchanged glances, well-used to Yoongi’s regular flow of bullshit in explaining his work. “Okay, so what is it really?”
Yoongi covered his face. “I don’t know.”
Jimin groaned. “Oh my god, we’re doomed.”