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The city was unnaturally still for 2:13 a.m.
Jin walked alone beneath the obsidian sky, boots nearly soundless against the smooth pavement of an upscale neighborhood. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking—an hour, maybe two. Time had stopped meaning anything to him around century four. Now, at a ripe and jaded 734 years old, Kim Seokjin found the weight of immortality exhausting.
He hadn't meant to wander so far.
The elegant streets of crystal-lit manors had given way to cracked sidewalks, then to gravel, then to dirt and gnarled roots as the last of the streetlamps flickered out behind him. Now, moonlight filtered through a heavy canopy of branches, casting fractured silver over his pale skin.
His insomnia had led him here again. Restless. Bored. Empty.
A dead man trying to outrun a still heart.
He sighed, dragging in the scent of damp moss, wild things, and rotting leaves. His senses, even dulled from disinterest, sharpened a fraction as he realized something was wrong.
A cry. Faint. Wet. Desperate.
Jin stopped mid-step.
His eyes slid closed as he inhaled deeper. One second. Two.
Then he snarled.
“Werewolves.”
Three. Definitely three. Young. Too young.
He curled his upper lip instinctively. Their scent was fresh, warm, earthy—alive. An affront to everything that made him what he was. Vampires and werewolves didn’t coexist. They couldn’t. They were born into an ancestral blood feud that didn’t bother with explanations.
And yet…
That second scent—metallic, sharp, chemical, and cruel—cut through the air like a scalpel to skin.
Hunters.
His shoulders tensed.
No vampire needed a history book to know what hunters did to werewolf pups. They were prized trophies. Not for the kill, but for the harvest. Their blood was still blooming with latent power, their minds still uncluttered with adult resistance. Pup blood sold for fortunes—aphrodisiacal, medicinal, addictive.
It wasn’t a hunt. It was a harvest.
Jin swore under his breath, voice as quiet as the cold breeze threading through the trees. “Fucking savages.”
He should’ve turned around.
He had no business getting involved. He didn’t even like werewolves. They were all claws, sweat, and temper. But those cries…
There was fear in them.
Not the kind of fear grown creatures try to hide. But the raw, bone-deep sob of something young and helpless. Something trapped. Something trying to be brave, but failing.
His hand twitched at his side.
"Don't get involved," he muttered aloud. It sounded stupid in the silence.
The hunters couldn’t touch him even if they tried. Humans feared vampires more than death itself. His presence alone would have them running—or pretending they never saw him at all. Not many had the guts to stare down a creature that could peel your skin off in one motion and not blink.
But curiosity was a curse. Especially for someone who hadn’t felt anything real in decades.
And this made his cold chest twitch. Just slightly.
Jin stepped deeper into the forest.
Each movement was fluid, nearly silent. The only sound was the whisper of leaves and the distant panicked breathing—quick, shallow. The pups were close now. He could hear one trying not to cry, another whimpering softly, and a third barely breathing at all.
He stopped at the edge of a low ravine, hidden behind a wall of brush.
And there they were.
Three tiny wolves, barely old enough to shift fully. Their eyes glowed softly in the dark—two amber, one icy blue—and their fur was matted with dirt and sweat. They were huddled together beneath a net laced with iron. Iron. Jin’s hands clenched at the sight. Even he flinched near it.
Two hunters moved beyond them, speaking low and fast.
“We'll wait till dawn. Don’t wanna damage the bodies during extraction.”
“Sick bastards’ll pay more if it’s fresh,” the other muttered, lighting a cigarette. “The blue-eyed one’s rare. Might even get a private auction.”
Jin’s pupils dilated.
He didn’t move yet, but the air around him thickened. The kind of stillness that made birds take flight before a storm. The older pup—amber-eyed and shaking—looked up suddenly, ears twitching.
It looked right at him.
No sound. No growl. Just a silent look that screamed help me.
Jin exhaled through his nose.
“I’m too old for this shit.”
The forest stilled.
The hunters froze mid-conversation the second Kim Seokjin stepped out from the shadowed tree line.
A tall figure in a sleek, black coat that fluttered slightly with the windless air. His skin glowed pale under the fractured moonlight, and his face—beautiful in the most cruel, ageless way—was unreadable.
But his eyes…
Blood red.
The color of death. Of fury. Of a vampire ready to kill.
The first hunter turned pale as his cigarette dropped to the ground, forgotten. The other stood frozen, lips parting in a silent curse.
“...no, no, no—” the first one muttered, shifting slightly and turning his gaze away. “You don’t see him. He’s not here. Don’t acknowledge him, and he’ll walk away.”
“But…” the other whispered, trembling, “He’s not leaving. Look at his eyes, man. He’s not even looking at the mutts. He’s looking straight at us.”
They both turned to fully face him now, barely able to breathe under the pressure radiating from the vampire. There was no mistaking it. Predator mode.
Kim Seokjin’s crimson gaze didn’t flicker.
He didn’t blink.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
He simply tilted his head slightly—like a god inspecting something beneath him—and exhaled the faintest sigh.
The cigarette guy panicked first.
In a split second, he shoved his partner forward like bait and ran.
The other hunter barely had time to curse before he was airborne—both of them suddenly lifted off the ground, feet kicking wildly as invisible hands clutched their throats.
Jin still hadn’t moved from where he stood, just in front of the trembling pups.
The youngest—blue-eyed and small—let out a pitiful squeak, flinching closer to the other two. The eldest pup, golden-eyed and bruised, tried to snarl weakly but couldn’t even bare his teeth fully.
Seokjin didn’t look at the children.
His glowing red eyes stayed locked on the hunters, now dangling in midair, gagging and clawing at their throats as if trying to tear the grip away. It was useless.
Their lungs burned. Their limbs thrashed. Their minds were imploding from within.
Jin was inside their heads now—cooking them from the inside out with sheer telepathic force. Every memory, every guilty thought, every ounce of cruelty they’d ever committed—he was peeling it apart neuron by neuron.
Then silence.
The first hunter went limp, blood dripping from his nose and ears. The second followed a heartbeat later.
Jin exhaled sharply through his nose.
With a twitch of his fingers, their corpses dropped like sandbags, thudding hard against the forest floor.
Dead.
The forest remained still. Not a single breeze stirred the trees. Not a single insect dared to chirp.
Seokjin finally turned around—and for the first time in centuries, he hesitated.
Three tiny wolves lay tangled in iron-laced netting, staring at him with a mix of terror and... something else. Something unreadable. They should’ve been screaming. Running. Shifting and baring teeth.
But instead…
The smallest—blue eyes wide and teary—let out a tiny, warbled whimper. Not aggressive. Not defensive.
Just scared.
Jin’s brows furrowed.
He knelt slowly, eyes fading from red to their usual obsidian black, and reached toward the net. The pups tensed but didn’t move. His fingers brushed the iron and he winced—it hissed softly against his skin.
He didn’t stop.
One by one, he tore through the net, ignoring the burn. The eldest pup made a soft grunt as the binding around his paw snapped. The smallest whimpered again but didn’t move away.
Jin expected resistance when he leaned forward.
He expected growls, scratches, bites.
But instead—
The blue-eyed pup clambered into his arms. Just like that. No hesitation.
The others followed.
The golden-eyed one nuzzled against his neck like he’d found shelter. The youngest dark-haired one buried his face into Jin’s chest, shaking violently.
“…what the fuck,” Jin muttered under his breath, stunned as all three pups clung to him with everything they had.
He blinked, frozen mid-crouch, holding a bundle of trembling fur and warmth against his cold chest.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
This wasn’t normal.
Werewolves—especially pups—were supposed to fear vampires. To snap at them. To avoid even the scent of one.
But these three?
They were holding on like he was safety itself.
Like they trusted him.
Jin’s jaw ticked. He looked up at the bodies still lying in the dirt, then back down at the pups huddled into his coat.
“Shit.”
Without another word, he closed his eyes—and with a ripple in the air, the four of them vanished from the forest.
---
Jin’s mansion. 2:42 a.m.
They reappeared in the middle of a massive guest suite—dark oak floors, velvet curtains, moonlight spilling through towering windows. The room was elegant, rich, but cold. Not built for children. Not built for... this.
Jin stood frozen in the center, holding three whimpering pups, unsure what to do.
The blue-eyed one peeked up at him with wide, shining eyes.
The dark-haired one sneezed.
The golden one made a low, soft sound—almost like a protective growl—at the chandelier.
Jin stared at the ceiling for a second, exasperated.
Then he sighed.
A long, ancient, resigned sigh.
“What the hell have I done.”
He glanced down.
The pups were still holding onto him like their lives depended on it.
“I don’t know anything about werewolf children,” he muttered. “I don’t even know how to feed you. Or bathe you. Or... whatever you do. Do you even eat?”
They didn’t answer.
Of course they didn’t.
One of them licked his chin.
“...Great.”
He adjusted his arms to hold them better and turned toward the fireplace. The room was too cold for warm-blooded creatures.
A thought passed through his mind then—uninvited.
“You brought them here. You killed for them. They’re yours now.”
He hated that voice.
He hated how right it was.
Jin didn’t know how long he stood there, arms full of werewolf pups, slowly accepting that he might be entering his villain origin story—but in reverse.
Not an empire. Not bloodthirsty revenge.
Just… small, fluffy burdens clinging to his coat like they’d known him their whole lives.
“Right,” he muttered, staring at Taehyung—the golden-eyed pup who was now enthusiastically licking his chin like Jin was a popsicle. “This is fine. This is perfectly normal.”
He didn’t flinch when Jungkook, the dark-furred one, slowly slid off his arm and curled on top of Jin’s socked feet like a warm, whimpering slipper. Nor did he protest when the smallest one—blue-eyed and far too pretty—yawned audibly against his shoulder, then burrowed into his collarbone and promptly fell asleep.
Jimin.
That name had dropped into Jin’s mind uninvited, like a whisper against the skin. He didn’t even know where it came from.
He hadn’t asked their names.
He hadn’t asked anything.
What he did ask—mentally, loudly—was for the one person who might help him make sense of this.
And less than thirty seconds later—
A black mist swirled to life in the corner of the room. The temperature dropped. Shadows recoiled. A breeze picked up from nowhere.
Then came the sigh.
And then the voice.
“You summoned me out of a perfectly decent boredom spiral for this?”
Min Yoongi emerged from the darkness looking like he’d just left a funeral—or a runway. His long coat swayed behind him, and his silver hair looked like it had been finger-combed once in 1832 and never again.
He surveyed the room slowly.
One second.
Two.
Then—
“The fuck.”
Jin gave him a look.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the scene in front of him:
One golden-eyed pup currently licking Jin’s jaw with the dedication of a dog tasting peanut butter for the first time.
One dark-haired pup sprawled across Jin’s feet like an exhausted space heater.
One tiny, blue-eyed puffball dead asleep against Jin’s shoulder.
Yoongi blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then took one slow, dramatic step forward.
“No. Nope. I don’t wanna know.” He raised a hand. “I’ve lived through plagues, witch trials, three vampire civil wars, and —none of that was as unsettling as what I’m seeing right now.”
“They were being hunted,” Jin said simply, shifting slightly to adjust Jimin, who squeaked softly in his sleep. “Pups. Scared. Chained. Bleeding. I couldn’t leave them.”
Yoongi dragged a hand down his face. “Right. So, your grand plan for spicing up your 734-year-old existential crisis was... adopting werewolf children?”
“I didn’t adopt them,” Jin muttered.
“You’re cradling them like a tired kindergarten teacher, Seokjin.”
Jin opened his mouth to argue, then looked down. Jungkook had rolled slightly to his side but was still firmly draped over both feet. Taehyung had stopped licking him but was now curled under his chin. Jimin, as if sensing the attention, let out a soft snore.
Jin sighed.
“They wouldn’t let go,” he said lamely.
Yoongi raised both brows, hands slipping into his coat pockets. “And I suppose they just telepathically begged you to bring them home, hm?”
Jin gave him a look.
Yoongi snorted. “Unbelievable.”
He turned in a lazy circle, taking in the very adult, very sharp-edged guest suite now full of fur, whines, and the faint smell of wet earth. A vase worth more than a castle was already tilted precariously near Taehyung’s tail.
Yoongi squinted. “Did that one just fart?”
“It was probably you.”
“It was probably him,” Yoongi muttered, inching just a little closer to Jimin. He crouched slightly, boots creaking against the wood floor as he peered at the smallest pup, still dead asleep in Jin’s arms.
“He’s got blue eyes,” Yoongi said after a moment. “That’s rare.”
“I noticed.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything else for a while.
Just stared.
Then reached out like he wasn’t even conscious of doing it.
Fingers brushed the soft fur behind Jimin’s ear, stroking gently once, twice.
The pup made a soft noise. Almost a coo.
Yoongi froze.
Cleared his throat.
Backed up half a step.
“I’m not doing this,” he muttered.
Jin raised a brow. “Doing what?”
“This. Fatherhood. Werewolf babysitting. Daycare. Whatever this is. No. I live in a penthouse with a blood bar and a piano made of human bone—”
“You said it was ivory.”
“I lied. And I’m not letting mutts eat my furniture or pee on my rug—”
Jimin sneezed softly.
Yoongi stopped ranting mid-word.
His lips twitched.
Just a little.
Jin smiled—barely.
“...You’re already picking favorites.”
“I am not,” Yoongi snapped, inching closer again. “I’m—look, I don’t even like children. You know this. Remember the Victorian orphan you brought home that one time?”
“He tried to stab me.”
“Exactly. And these? These are werewolf pups, Jin. Do you even know what happens if one of them imprints on you?”
Jin looked down.
Jimin was now gently chewing on the edge of his collar.
Jungkook let out a small bark in his sleep.
Taehyung began to snore, tail thudding against Jin’s ribs.
“…Too late, isn’t it?” Yoongi sighed, already resigned.
Jin just nodded.
Yoongi gave the ceiling a dramatic stare. “Alright, fine. I’ll be the dad.”
Jin blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I’m not being the mother. Look at me. My voice is deeper than yours, and I’m far more emotionally distant. I’m clearly the dad.”
“I didn’t agree to—”
“Shut up. We’re vampire co-parents now.”
Jin opened his mouth to argue. Then closed it.
Jimin made a sleepy hiccup and curled further into his shoulder.
Yoongi groaned, walked over, and plucked Jungkook off Jin’s feet like a lazy cat, holding him under the arms. “Ugh, fine. I’ll take this one. But if he chews on my coat, I’m feeding him to the council.”
Jungkook promptly licked his cheek.
Yoongi scowled.
But didn’t put him down.
“I’m moving in.”
The words dropped like a guillotine blade.
Jin turned his head slowly, raising a single, elegant brow at the vampire currently holding a dark-haired pup under his arm like a loaf of bread.
Min Yoongi stared back, deadpan.
Jungkook—the aforementioned pup—was chewing softly on Yoongi’s sleeve, tail wagging gently as if he’d just been adopted by his favorite chew toy.
“You live in a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows, mood lighting, and a blood cellar,” Jin said dryly. “Moving in here would mean sharing a roof with three puppies and me.”
Yoongi tilted his head. “Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“I’m not letting these mutts piss on my hardwood floors, Jin.” He said it flatly, like this was a perfectly reasonable explanation for relocating centuries of luxury to Jin’s gothic mansion with gargoyle drainpipes.
Jin crossed his arms. “You do know this is a mansion, not a wolf sanctuary.”
“I know. I also know if I go home now, I’ll spend the next four hours wondering if the pretty blue-eyed one is crying because you didn’t pet him enough.”
Jin’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve picked a favorite.”
“I have not.” Yoongi scowled. “Don’t assign feelings to me.”
“You literally just said—”
“Shut up.”
Jin opened his mouth to retort but paused when Yoongi, still standing in the middle of the grand guest suite, took a bold step forward and—without hesitation—reached out and snatched Jimin off his shoulder.
The blue-eyed pup gave a startled yelp but didn’t panic. Instead, he blinked sleepily, nestled into Yoongi’s chest, and gave a tiny, content sigh that should not have been scientifically possible for a creature with fangs.
Yoongi froze for a millisecond like he’d been caught mid-crime.
Then cleared his throat.
“Ah. I lost my balance.”
“You did not.”
“I definitely did. And now, oops—” he adjusted Jimin in his arms, cuddling him securely against his shoulder, “—I’m stuck with this one.”
Jin gave him the slowest blink in vampire history. “You’re embarrassing.”
Yoongi smirked. “And you’re stuck with the golden one and the chewer. Good luck.”
---
The mansion was eerily quiet as Jin walked the length of the marble corridor back to his wing of the house. His bare feet were soundless against the floor, but the soft padding of Taehyung and Jungkook’s tiny paws echoed slightly in the high-ceilinged hallway.
He opened the door to his bedroom with a gentle push.
Inside, the room was as unnecessarily extravagant as ever—black silk curtains, a velvet chaise he’d never used, a fireplace taller than a grown man, and a bed the size of a small country. The kind of room that whispered elegance and death and expensive taste.
The two pups scampered in immediately.
Taehyung did a full circle around the carpet before leaping straight onto the mattress with a grunt, tail swishing as he collapsed near the center. Jungkook followed after sniffing the bedpost, then flopped across the sheets like he owned the place.
Jin sighed.
He closed the door and with a snap of his fingers, changed into loose satin pajama pants and a matching robe—deep plum with silver embroidery.
“I’ve seen battlefields, courtrooms, and royal executions,” he muttered to himself, walking to the bed. “But this is apparently what undoes me. Fluff.”
He climbed onto the mattress carefully, avoiding puppy limbs, and slid under the sheets.
Or tried to.
Jungkook immediately padded over and plopped onto Jin’s chest with an unapologetic thud, curling into a tight ball of warm fur and tiny snores.
Jin stiffened. “You weigh nothing and still somehow crushed one of my ribs.”
Jungkook let out a happy little snort in response.
From the foot of the bed, Taehyung rolled over with a grunt, kicking out with one hind leg until it smacked Jin’s shin.
Then he whined in his sleep.
Jin didn’t move for a while.
Just lay there with a literal wolf on his chest, another one nuzzling around his ankles, and the faint scent of fur and forest replacing the usual clean cedar of his sheets.
He stared at the ceiling.
Let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh in another life.
And with one hand, slowly, tentatively, pet Jungkook’s head.
“You’re lucky I’m a goddamn saint.”
---
Meanwhile, across the mansion, Yoongi was laying flat on the guest bed with Jimin curled against his side, soft fur rising and falling with each tiny breath.
Yoongi reached over lazily to pull a throw blanket over them both.
“Not the dad,” he mumbled to no one. “Just a glorified roommate with a clingy werewolf plushie.”
He looked down.
Jimin’s blue eyes blinked up at him—half-asleep, content, and trusting in a way Yoongi hadn’t seen in centuries.
“…Shit.”
Yoongi sighed, reached out, and pulled the pup closer with a single arm.
“I’m not naming you,” he whispered.
Jimin yawned in response.