HYBRID: Jimin ✔️

Kitten

Yawning, you peeled your eyes open a tiny bit and winced when a beam of sunlight pierced your pupil. You were warm and toasty, snuggled up next to a human space heater.
Next to you, Jimin yawned widely, releasing your waist to roll onto his other side.
You think back to last night, not entirely surprised to wake up in the same bed as him. It had happened before when one of you was just too lazy or tired to return to your own room, and you're sure this won't be the last time.
After the awkward encounter you had turned on a movie to distract yourself while Jimin, refusing to leave your lap, fell back to sleep. You must have drifted off too, considering the fact that you weren't under the blankets but curled up at the foot of your bed with Jimin, perpendicular to your usually sleeping position. At some point the blankets had migrated (you moved a lot in your sleep, and Jimin tended to cling which made your habit even worse) to bunch up around the two of you, keeping you warm.
You relaxed back into the bed, refusing to acknowledge last night. Nothing had happened. You two were fine. He was your best friend and nothing more. Forever.
But it was hot.
You were beginning to sweat from the intense heat radiating off of Jimin's skin and surrounding you. He was always warm, but this heat was three times more intense than normal. His tail was twitching against your side, tickling your bare skin where your sleep shirt had ridden up a little.
It was way too hot.
You tried to move the blankets away from you, but then the cold air congregated around you and you began to shiver. Quickly returning to the blankets, you glanced over at the real problem.
You weren't sure if Jimin's new body heat was a side effect of his animalism, but he was going to cause you heat stroke. So you turned yourself to where your feet were facing Jimin's exposed back, and pushed hard. Jimin's slumbering body, heavy with limp muscles, rolled and made a loud thump when it hit the carpeted floor of your room.
You ignored his grunt of pain and wrapped yourself like a happy little burrito in the now reasonably-warm blankets.
Jimin's head popped up over the edge of the bed. "Yah!"
Your  ignored him again.
Until you felt his weight dip the mattress beside you for a moment before he collapsed directly on top of you.
"Too hot," you whined to him, squirming. He stared down into your face, eyes wide with irritation. When most people got angry their eyes narrowed down to tiny slits and their teeth gritted, but not Jimin.  His entire body got bigger, eyes widening and chest puffing out as his shoulders went back. His mouth usually opened with his jaw set and his sharp brows raised, resulting in an expression that seemed to dare you to piss him off to find out what happens. His voice always seemed to drop several octaves and the Busan satoori he had inherited from his parents thickened until his Seoul Standard accent disappeared. Luckily, he was only annoyed at that moment.
When Jimin was truly angry, he was terrifying. 
He shoved his wrist in your face. "Look what you did to me."
You reluctantly observed his skin, seeing a little bit of a rug burn on top of a newly-formed bruise. Psh, what a wimp.
You rolled your eyes up at him. "Poor baby. Do you need me to call an ambulance? I heard rug burns are deadly." Your sarcasm wasn't lost on him. His lower lip began to turn out, trembling a tiny bit in front of you.
Oh no.
You considered yourself mostly immune to the majority of your friend's charms but that tiny pout combined with his sad eyes was your weakness and the boy knew it.
Your heart melted when he even began to use a baby voice, whimpering, "But it hurts!"
Stay strong, Y/N. Those big yellow eyes are playing you.
"Why are you so hot anyways?" you growled, shoving him off of you. He simply rolled to lay beside you, closing his eyes again.
"I'm always this hot, Y/N. That's why all the girls want me."
"Mhm. Do you have a fever?" You actually were a little concerned, placing a hand on his forehead to check. On a regular basis his current temperature would have alarmed you, but you had a feeling that he wasn't sick.
"No, but I'm hungry. Cook me breakfast," he demanded.
You raised an eyebrow in exasperation but got up from your burrito of blankets and started down the stairs. You felt bad, that's the only reason you didn't smack him and go back to sleep. He'd been through a lot over the last few days and you want to help all that you can.
Breakfast would be your first act to help.
Your mother still worked on the weekends for her catering business, so she was already gone from the house. You looked in the refrigerator to see what food you had and decided to make omelets with some peppers and mushrooms, and pancakes because you had all of the ingredients. You felt like spoiling your unfortunate friend today.
You started to cook the omelets while you mixed the pancake batter; your phone alerted you to a new message.