Love Maze | JJK | Chapter 8
Pair: Hybrid Bunny Hybrid x F Reader
Summary: Y/N is someone who never planned to adopt a hybrid—until she meets Jungkook, a withdrawn rabbit hybrid feared by everyone at the shelter. She brings him home thinking it’ll be a quiet fresh start, but strange signs soon appear: a scar on his neck, panic around cars, and someone suddenly digging into his records.
When threats begin to surface, Y/N realises Jungkook wasn’t simply abandoned—he was taken, tracked, and never meant to stay free. With no power or connections, she’s forced to fight in the only way she can: by refusing to give him back, and protecting him with everything she has.
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid
Warnings: angst, abuse, smut (I'll add on more when I write more!)
Tags: @esposadomd @faelvz @svnk1ssd @toskaesuriennt @somehowukook @fluffysheepmaster @svnbangtansworld @teardoong @wonznme @smoljimjim @ttipa @untitled37315 @forevermoon1306
WC: 4133
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The silence rang in your ears, sharp and waiting.
Dr. Min didn’t answer immediately. On the other end of the line, you could hear faint movement, muffled voices, the hum of systems rerouting. Whatever you had just stepped into, it was already in motion.
“Alright,” she said finally. Her voice was different now—less cautious, more focused. “If you’re stepping up, then we do this properly.”
You tightened your grip around Jungkook, who was still pressed to your chest in rabbit form, shaking faintly from the adrenaline crash. His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t pull away.
“I’m listening,” you said.
“First,” Dr. Min continued, “you need to get off the street. I’m sending you a location—temporary, legally it is registered under the Association but it’s hidden under encrypted files. You’ll have one hour before anyone even suspects you.”
Your phone buzzed with an incoming pin.
“Second,” she said, “you stop thinking like someone who stumbled into this by accident.”
You swallowed. “I didn’t.”
“I know,” she replied. “That’s why you’re dangerous to them.”
You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t feel dangerous.”
“You don’t have to,” Dr. Min said calmly. “You just have to be stubborn enough not to give him back.”
You looked down at Jungkook.
He lifted his head slightly, dark eyes meeting yours, searching your face like he was checking whether the ground beneath him was still solid.
“I can do stubborn,” you said quietly.
“Good,” Dr. Min replied. “Because what comes next is pressure from them at all sides. The field team is already working their way.”
The call ended before you could ask more.
You stayed crouched behind the dumpster for a few seconds longer, listening—waiting for footsteps, for shouts, for anything that would signal you’d been followed.
Nothing.
“Okay,” you murmured, shifting Jungkook’s rabbit form carefully in your arms. “We’re moving again.”
He made a small sound—uncertain, but not resisting.
You wrapped him tighter in the blanket and forced yourself to stand, legs wobbling from the sudden effort. The location Dr. Min sent wasn’t far, but every step felt like you were walking through glass.
You kept to side streets, ducked under flickering streetlights, and checked reflections in windows like you’d seen characters do in movies—except this wasn’t scripted, and you couldn’t afford to miss anything.
When you finally reached the building, it looked forgettable in the best way possible. Old. Slightly rundown. The kind of place people passed every day without noticing.
You slipped inside and climbed the stairs instead of taking the lift, heart pounding with each creak of concrete. The door to the unit Dr. Min had sent opened with a keyless code.
Inside was dim and sparse. A couch. A small table. One bedroom. No decorations. No personality.
Safe.
You locked the door behind you and sagged against it, knees nearly giving out.
Jungkook shifted, then slowly wriggled free from the blanket, hopping down to the floor. He didn’t run this time. He didn’t hide.
Instead, he sat there, small and trembling, watching you with wide eyes.
“We’re okay,” you said, though your voice shook. “Just for tonight.”
He stared at you for a long moment.
Then, to your surprise, he shifted.
The air changed again—gentler this time, less violent than before. You watched, frozen, as his rabbit form gave way to human once more, movements awkward but controlled. He ended up sitting on the floor, wrapped hastily in the blanket you threw over him, shoulders hunched.
He looked… exhausted.
“I didn’t mean to do that again,” he said quietly, voice hoarse. “I just—when I saw him—”
“I know,” you said, dropping down in front of him. “You don’t have to explain.”
He hesitated. “You’re not scared of me?”
The question cut deeper than you expected.
You shook your head. “I’m scared for you.”
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he wasn’t used to having them. “They used to say… prey hybrids shouldn’t shift unless ordered.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“No one gets to order you anymore,” you said firmly. “Not them. Not anyone.”
He looked up at you, something fragile and hopeful flickering across his face.
“Even if I cause trouble?” he asked.
You let out a breath that was half laugh, half sigh. “Jungkook, trouble found us. You’re just trying to survive it.”
For a moment, he looked like he might cry.
Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against your shoulder, tentative but desperate. You froze for half a second—then wrapped your arms around him, holding him carefully, grounding both of you.
You stayed like that longer than you meant to.
Eventually, your phone buzzed again.
A new message—this time from an unfamiliar contact name Dr. Min must have added.
Unknown (Secure):This is Park Haneul, Hybrid Advocacy Network. Dr. Min looped me in.
Your stomach twisted. “Another organisation?” you muttered.
Jungkook tensed slightly at your tone.
“It’s okay,” you murmured to him, then typed back.
Y/N:I’m here.
The reply came quickly.
Haneul:We’ve confirmed movement from the same group that breached the safehouse. They’re operating under a shell company again—new name, same methods.
Your chest tightened. Again.
Y/N:What do they want with Jungkook?
You were certain she knew what you were asking. It wasn’t ‘what’ but why him?
There was a pause.
Then:
Haneul:He’s not just a tracker case. He’s part of a discontinued project.
Your breath caught.
You glanced at Jungkook, who was watching your face closely, clearly picking up on the shift.
Y/N:LK107-C? My team is handling that case. We haven’t gotten deep into it.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then:
Haneul:They have now. The recent leak chasing Subject 22, 68, and 107 showcases behavioural compliance trials on prey hybrids. Conditioning, memory suppression, forced obedience responses.
Your hands went cold.
Jungkook swallowed. “What is it?”
You didn’t want to tell him like this. Not all at once. Not when he was already stretched thin.
“They did experiments,” you said carefully. “On hybrids like you.”
His shoulders tensed. “I know.”
The quiet certainty in his voice made you look at him sharply.
“You know?” you asked.
He nodded slowly. “I didn’t always forget. Sometimes… things come back. Sounds. Smells. Commands.”
Anger flared hot in your chest.
“They’re looking for you because you’re proof,” you said. “That it happened. That they didn’t just shut down.”
He looked at you, eyes dark. “So I’m… evidence.”
The word tasted bitter.
“You’re a person,” you said immediately. “They just don’t want the world to see that.”
Your phone buzzed again.
Haneul:If this goes public, they’re finished. That’s why they’re escalating.
You stared at the screen.
Public.
Exposure.
Yes… Of course. But you also knew that purely human evidence is insufficient to stand trial. And right now, you don’t have influence. You don’t have resources. You don’t even know how to begin dismantling something like this in the state you’re in.
And yet—
They had shown up at your door.
They had chased you through a building.
They had threatened you.
Which meant something you had—someone you had—mattered enough to risk it.
You looked at Jungkook again.
At the way he sat curled into himself, trying to be small, trying not to be a burden.
“I don’t want them to use you,” you said quietly. “Even if it brings them down.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to run forever.”
The words were soft—but resolute.
You inhaled sharply. “Jungkook—”
“If me talking means they stop doing this to others,” he said, voice trembling but firm, “then I want to.”
Your heart broke and mended all at once.
“You don’t owe anyone that,” you said.
“I know,” he replied. “I’m choosing it.”
You closed your eyes briefly, then nodded.
“Okay,” you said, opening them again. “Then we do this together. On your terms.”
You typed back to Haneul with shaking fingers.
Y/N:I’m sure Dr. Min informed you of my job, and I am certain you understand my position in the Association. However, provide me with the details. What would stepping forward look like?
The response came almost immediately.
Haneul:It would mean protective custody. Statements. Medical documentation. And people trying very hard to discredit you.
You swallowed.
Haneul:They’ll keep hunting him until they either get him back—or erase him.
Your breath caught painfully as you set the phone down and looked at Jungkook.
“Whatever we choose,” you said, voice steady despite the fear curling in your gut, “it won’t be easy.”
He nodded. “I know.”
You reached out, hesitated, then squeezed his hand gently.
“But you’re not doing it alone,” you added.
His fingers curled around yours, tentative but real. Looking at the man in front of you, fearful of the future but strong enough to live on. You felt something shift—not into confidence, not into certainty, but into resolve.
You weren’t powerful against them.
You weren’t prepared.
But you were done being passive.
And for the first time since all of this began, you understood what stepping up actually meant.
Not charging headfirst into danger.
But staying—standing—when everything told you to run.
You would have to thank the field workers for their hard work after and allow them to complain all they want to you.
Morning came without warning.
Not with sunlight or birdsong, but with the faint vibration of your phone against the bare tabletop and the slow, careful sound of someone breathing nearby.
You opened your eyes to unfamiliar ceilings.
For half a second, panic surged—until memory rushed back in: the alley, the call, the new apartment, Jungkook’s hand curled in yours like a quiet promise that neither of you had broken overnight.
You turned your head slightly.
Jungkook was asleep on the couch beside you, still in human form, wrapped in the blanket you’d tucked around him hours ago. His hair was a mess, falling into his eyes, his features softer in sleep than you’d seen them yet. One hand was fisted in the fabric of your sleeve, like he’d grabbed on sometime in the night and refused to let go.
Your chest tightened.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there. You’d told yourself you’d stay alert, keep watch, be ready if anything went wrong. But exhaustion had dragged you under anyway, heavy and relentless.
Your phone buzzed again.
You stilled instantly.
Jungkook shifted at the sound, brow furrowing, grip tightening reflexively. You reached out with your free hand and brushed your thumb lightly over his knuckles.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, barely breathing. “Just a sound.”
He didn’t wake, but his breathing evened out again.
Only then did you glance at your phone.
Haneul (Secure):Morning. We didn’t lose signal overnight. That’s a good sign.
You swallowed and typed back.
Y/N:We’re still here.
A pause.
Then:
Haneul:I’m on my way with someone you’ll want to meet. Two hours.
Your stomach knotted.
Y/N:Who?
This time, the pause stretched longer.
Haneul:Someone who understands what they did to him.
You stared at the screen, pulse quickening.
Before you could ask more, Jungkook stirred again—this time properly waking. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as awareness returned.
He froze when he realised where he was.
Then his gaze found you.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” you replied immediately. “I told you I would be.”
He studied your face like he was searching for cracks. When he didn’t find any, his shoulders lowered just a fraction.
“Did anything happen?” he asked.
You shook your head. “Not last night.”
His grip on your sleeve loosened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off one shoulder. He flinched, instinctively pulling it back up.
You pretended not to notice.
“Someone’s coming,” you said gently. “From the network Dr. Min mentioned.”
Jungkook tensed. “Are they… like them?”
“No,” you said firmly. “They’re here to help. But we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then, softly, “I want to hear what they say.”
You nodded. “Okay.”
The knock came exactly two hours later.
You were ready this time.
You checked the peephole, heart hammering, then the secondary camera feed Dr. Min had helped you set up remotely earlier that morning. Two figures stood outside—one you recognised from the messages, Haneul, and another you didn’t.
The second man was older, greying at the temples, posture tired but steady. He stood with his hands visible, deliberately non-threatening.
You unlocked the door and opened it just enough to speak.
“Y/N,” Haneul greeted quietly. “Thank you for trusting us.”
You nodded once and opened the door fully.
The older man stepped inside first, eyes flicking briefly to Jungkook before immediately looking away, giving him space.
“My name is Seo Minjae,” he said calmly. “I used to work where Jungkook was held.”
The words landed like a dropped plate.
Jungkook stiffened instantly, breath hitching.
You moved closer to him without thinking, grounding.
Minjae noticed—and stopped walking altogether.
“I’m not here to excuse anything,” he continued, voice rough but controlled. “And I’m not here to ask for forgiveness. I’m here because I left. And because I know what they’re capable of.”
Jungkook’s voice came out thin. “You hurt people.”
Minjae didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Then Jungkook asked, barely above a whisper, “Why didn’t you stop them?”
Minjae closed his eyes briefly. “Because I was a coward.”
The honesty stunned you.
“I told myself I was protecting the ones I could,” Minjae went on. “That small mercies counted. But the truth is, I stayed too long. And every day I stayed, I became complicit.”
Jungkook’s hands trembled in his lap.
You reached out slowly, letting him decide whether to take your hand.
He did.
Minjae swallowed. “Jungkook, you were part of Project Springlock. A behavioural conditioning program focused on prey hybrids with high adaptability.”
Your stomach twisted.
“They believed fear could be engineered,” Minjae continued. “That obedience could be trained until it became instinct. You were implanted with a tracker not just to locate you—but to monitor stress responses.”
Jungkook looked down. “That’s why it hurts when I panic.”
Minjae nodded. “Yes.”
You felt sick.
“They shut the project down officially after an internal review,” Minjae said. “But unofficially… they moved it elsewhere. Anyone who could identify what was done was either transferred, silenced, or reclassified.”
“Reclassified how?” you asked quietly.
Minjae met your gaze. “As unstable. Unreliable. Dangerous.”
Jungkook flinched.
Your jaw tightened. “So they discredit the victims.”
“Yes.”
Haneul stepped in then. “Which is why they’re panicking now. Jungkook isn’t unstable. He’s functional. He’s aware. And he has someone willing to stand beside him.”
He shook his head. “I need to know. If I’m going to keep running… I need to know what I’m running from.”
Minjae nodded slowly. “They’ll try to take you back. Not because they need you—but because you’re proof they failed.”
Silence pressed in again.
Then Jungkook asked, “If I talk… will it stop?”
Minjae hesitated.
Haneul answered instead. “Not immediately. But it will start something they can’t control.”
Jungkook looked down at your joined hands.
“And you?” he asked suddenly, looking up at you. “What happens to you?”
Your breath caught.
“They’ll try to scare you,” Haneul said carefully. “Threaten your job. Your reputation. Your safety.”
You exhaled slowly. “They’re already doing that.”
Jungkook’s fingers tightened around yours. “I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.”
You leaned closer, voice firm but gentle. “You are not the reason this is happening.”
Minjae cleared his throat. “If you choose to proceed, there’s a process. Recorded statements. Medical scans. Psychological evaluations.”
Jungkook’s shoulders tensed.
“You won’t be alone,” Haneul added quickly. “And nothing happens without consent.”
A long pause followed.
Finally, Jungkook nodded once.
“I’ll talk,” he said. His voice shook, but it didn’t break. “But not today.”
Haneul smiled softly. “That’s more than enough for now.”
Minjae bowed his head slightly. “Thank you.”
When they left an hour later, the apartment felt quieter—but heavier too.
Jungkook sank back onto the couch, exhaustion catching up to him all at once. He stared at the wall, unfocused.
“I feel like I opened a door,” he murmured.
You sat beside him. “You did.”
“What if I can’t close it again?”
You thought of the night before. Of him clinging to you in fear, then choosing to stay.
“Then we figure out how to live with it open,” you said. “Together.”
He turned to you, eyes dark and tired. “You’re not scared?”
You smiled faintly. “I am. Just not enough to leave.”
He leaned into you, careful and tentative, head resting against your shoulder.
You stayed like that for a long time, listening to the city breathe around you. You knew that with your direct involvement, you will not be able to continue as a part of the project. But you trusted your team enough to know that haywire was the correct word to express the situation. You could just imagine the state of the office when you returned.
But for now, you knew documents were being pulled and names being spoken again after years of silence.
You looked at Jungkook, and for the first time since the chase began, you felt it—quiet, undeniable.
Not victory.
Not certainty - never.
But commitment.
The first sign that everything had gone suddenly wrong was your instinct of fleeing - the kind that presses too hard against your ears, that makes your skin prickle like it knows something you don’t yet. The safehouse had its usual hum: the refrigerator cycling, pipes ticking faintly, the city’s distant murmur filtered through reinforced walls.
You were halfway through reheating soup when the lights flickered once.
Twice.
Jungkook froze mid-step.
You didn’t need to look at him to know his ears had flattened, that his body had gone rigid with the kind of instinct fear no therapy could fully erase.
“Y/N,” he said quietly. “Something’s wrong.”
You were already moving.
You cut the stove, grabbed your phone, and opened the secure channel Haneul had installed. No signal. Not even static—just dead air.
Your stomach dropped.
“Go,” you whispered, already pulling open the hidden compartment beneath the counter. “Bathroom. Second panel. Now.”
Jungkook hesitated for half a second.
Then he nodded.
You’d practised this. Over and over. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He disappeared down the hall just as the low, almost inaudible thrum of machinery vibrated through the floor.
EMP-grade jammer.
Your blood went cold.
The knock came next.
Three sharp raps.
Professional.
Controlled.
You didn’t answer.
The raps repeated—louder this time.
“Y/N L/N,” a voice called from the other side. Calm. Male. “This is a compliance team with the Hybrid Regulation Authority. We’re here to conduct a welfare check.”
Liar.
Your pulse thundered in your ears as you backed toward the hallway, fingers slipping into the pocket of your hoodie where your pepper spray sat uselessly against men with guns and authorisation papers forged better than any courtroom would catch at first glance.
You pressed the panic button hidden beneath the light switch.
Nothing happened.
Of course.
The door exploded inward.
Wood splintered, the frame collapsing as three men in dark uniforms surged into the apartment with military precision. Masks covered their faces, visors opaque, weapons raised but not firing.
“Target present,” one said. “Secure the hybrid.”
Your body moved before your brain did.
“No,” you shouted, stepping into their path. “You don’t have a warrant—!”
A gloved hand shoved you aside with enough force to send you crashing into the wall. Pain exploded through your shoulder, but you stayed upright.
Another man grabbed your arm, wrenching it behind your back.
“Non-lethal restraint,” someone ordered. “She’s not the asset.”
Asset.
The word burned.
You struggled, twisting violently as you heard a deafening crash echo from the bathroom.
Then a scream.
Jungkook’s scream.
“LET HIM GO!” you screamed, kicking backward hard. Your heel connected with something solid—a knee, maybe—and the grip on you faltered just enough for you to wrench free.
You ran.
The bathroom door had been ripped off its hinges. Panels torn open. The men hadn’t been gentle.
Jungkook was backed against the far wall, still in human form, eyes wild, blood trickling from a cut at his temple. Two men closed in on him, shock batons crackling with restrained energy.
“No!” you shouted, throwing yourself between them without thinking.
One of the men hesitated.
The other didn’t.
The baton discharged.
Pain like lightning ripped through your body.
You hit the floor hard, vision swimming, muscles locking as electricity tore through you. You bit down on a scream, teeth scraping your tongue raw.
Through the ringing in your ears, you heard Jungkook sob.
“Don’t touch her!” he screamed, voice breaking. “Please—please—!”
Something changed.
The air felt… heavier.
You forced your eyes open just in time to see it.
Jungkook’s pupils blew wide.
His breath hitched once—
And then the world shifted.
The men nearest him staggered back as a shockwave rippled outward, not explosive but forceful enough to knock them off balance. Jungkook doubled over, clutching his chest as fur erupted across his skin in violent waves.
Bones cracked.
Limbs shortened.
In seconds, he was no longer human.
Not fully rabbit either.
He stood somewhere between—taller than before, broader, eyes glowing faintly red with fear and fury. His ears were long and upright, fur bristling along his spine, claws scraping against tile.
The men froze.
“What the hell—” one breathed.
“Full hybrid response,” another snapped. “Sedate—!”
Too late.
Jungkook moved.
He didn’t attack wildly. He dodged. Fast. Faster than you’d ever seen. One man went down with a cry as Jungkook slammed into him shoulder-first, sending him crashing into the sink hard enough to crack porcelain.
Another raised his weapon—
Jungkook kicked off the wall, twisting midair, knocking it out of his hands with brutal precision.
He was crying.
You could hear it—broken, animalistic sounds torn from his throat as he fought.
Not to hurt.
To escape.
“Jungkook!” you shouted hoarsely, pushing yourself up despite your protesting body.
He looked at you and for half a second, the chaos stilled.
Then he ran to you.
You grabbed his wrist—furred, shaking, real—and bolted.
The hallway was chaos. More boots. Shouting. Orders barked through comms you couldn’t hear but could feel in the way the men moved to intercept.
A gunshot cracked.
It hit the wall inches from your head.
Jungkook snarled, spinning instinctively to shield you.
You dragged him forward. “Don’t—just run!”
The emergency stairwell loomed ahead.
Locked.
“Shit—”
Jungkook slammed his shoulder into the door.
Once.
Twice.
The third hit burst the lock clean.
You tumbled down the stairs together, feet pounding concrete as alarms blared overhead. Your lungs burned. Your legs screamed.
Somewhere above, someone shouted, “Do NOT let them exit the building!”
You burst out into the underground garage, cold air slamming into you like a blessing.
A familiar voice cut through the chaos.
“THIS WAY!”
Haneul.
She stood by a battered van with the side door open, weapon raised, eyes sharp.
You didn’t hesitate.
Jungkook scooped you up without warning, strength surging, and sprinted the last stretch in a blur. You barely registered hitting the floor of the van before the door slammed shut and the engine roared to life.
The van screeched out of the garage just as bullets sparked against concrete behind you.
You collapsed against the floor, chest heaving, pain catching up to you all at once.
Jungkook knelt beside you immediately, panic all over his face as his form shifted again—shrinking, fur receding, hands trembling as they pressed against your shoulders.
“Y/N—Y/N—please—are you hurt?” His voice was wrecked.
You laughed weakly, breathless. “You… should see the other guy.”
He let out a broken sound and pulled you into his arms, holding you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he loosened his grip.
Haneul swore softly from the front seat. “They’re not backing off anymore.”
You swallowed, heart pounding.
Jungkook looked at you, eyes dark and shining. “I didn’t want this,” he whispered. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”
You cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “Listen to me. What happened back there? That wasn’t you causing harm.”
“It wasn’t?” His voice cracked.
“No,” you said firmly. “That was you trying to survive. So don’t apologise. I signed up for this the moment I decided to not let you go. It is not your fault.”
The van disappeared into traffic, sirens wailing somewhere far behind.
Your hands shook as the adrenaline finally began to ebb, leaving fear and resolve in its wake.
They had crossed a line and there would be no quiet endings.