The Fluffy Problem (still one of my all-time faves!) + 1 (for the fic ask)
Thanks so much, hun! Forever one of the most fun (and easy!) things I’ve written :))
1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
I really can’t take all the credit for kitty!Killian because I was inspired by a couple of fics I’ve read in which Spike from BtVS was a cat.
From there on placing it after Tallahassee was the obvious choice ‘cause I always thought Cora would’ve been harder on Hook and he would’ve been more likely to still seek an alliance with the hero team. And I generally like writing from within character’s heads, so to say, thus kitty!Killian’s thoughts were a must-have and his almost telepathic connection with Emma was both fun, useful and a TL hint. :D
Author Appreciation Week: I will always treasure The Fluffly Problem in a very special place in my heart. I go back and read it every time I need to cheer up. Kitty!Killian is just a precious thing. And the scene when the curse breaks, how vulnerable he is… it gets me every single time. I miss your writing… I hope you start back soon!
Oh, boy!
Thank you so much! I’m so happy that I have written something that makes you feel good and gives you a pick-me-up when you need it. Means the world to me!!
I’m gonna try to finish No Way In Hell this summer so there’s that and I’m tempted by all those fabulous AU lists floating around so I think I’m gonna reblog one tonight and see if I get any requests ‘cause this message just made me feel kinda awesome! xD *hugs* THANK YOU!
(+ it mean a lot coming from someone whose writing I love!! :))
So I promised to bring you more of these from time to time and this is me delivering. *g* Hope you enjoy a little post-Christmasy kitty!killian.
The Fluffy Problem; ~ 1, 300; also on ff.net
The one thing he’s grateful for is that it doesn’t happen on Christmas Eve while he is assisting David in carving the turkey, or on Christmas Day when Henry is trusting a festively wrapped box at him with the biggest red ribbon he has ever seen (until later that night when Emma comes out of their bathroom in nothing but an over-sized silky blood-red ribbon that only emphasizes her slim waist and barely reaches up to cover her nipples and hell, he loves this Christmas holiday), or on New Year’s Eve when everybody is counting like school children around him and Emma is grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down and closer and bloody hell is he glad it didn’t happen then.
It happens on the 2nd day of the new year.
He has been tasked with taking down the Christmas lights and he is all but completely forgotten about the queen’s warning and his ‘kitty residue’ or whatever and why wouldn’t he? He’s still uncharacteristically relaxed and mellow from the overdose of food and drink and gift-giving and ridiculous songs and warm embraces and open-mouthed kisses that Emma bestowed on him any chance she got and skies above, he is the luckiest man alive.
Only in the next second he’s no longer a man.
The line of lights he was holding drops to the ground, dragging an unfortunately placed porcelain snowman with them, the crash ringing loud and clear and dangerously close to his pointy fluffy ears.
“Killian?” Emma’s voice drifts from the kitchen where she was preparing a light lunch to go with their 3rd Home Alone movie.
(‘I know Christmas is over but you need to see them all! Except the 4th one, the 4th one is crap, you are not allowed to see that. Trust me, I’m protecting you.’)
“Killian, what hap-“ her eyes go wide as she enters the living room, immediately going to the black and white kitten tangled in a string of Christmas light, the other end of which is still attached to their Christmas tree.
“Shit! Are you, alright?” she drops to her knees, brushing away the broken snowman pieces and sweeping him into her arms, checking his paws for any embedded pieces.
I can already feel the bloody hairballs congesting in my throat. Other than that – splendid!
To her credit Emma seems more sympathetic than amused this time as her fingers run gently down his back. He really cannot be held responsible for the purr that he emits when she bends her head to nuzzle her nose into his neck.
“Look on the bright side, at least it didn’t hit on Christmas.”
He huffs a little but knows he’s been thinking the same thing. If there was a right time for one to turn into a bloody feline, it was probably after the holidays, when you no longer had to meet and greet family and friends but were still lazing around on the couch, finishing up the Christmas marathon your girlfriend forced on you.
///
“That tickles!” screeches Emma, removing the hand that was leisurely stroking his chin a minute ago (and it’s not that he isn’t happy with that but he had slightly different plans for the afternoon, plans that his kitty parts don’t really coincide with), the hand he starts licking excitedly, exploring all the sensitive spots on her palm.
Swan, I need entertainment!
“Just watch the damn movie!” she exclaims exasperatedly, nudging his head back around toward the TV screen.
I would apologize for finding you more entertaining than a little boy fighting criminals with the help of a bloody parrot and his toy vehicle but I think that’s to be expected.
“Ugh, for fuck’s sake!” Emma groans in exasperation but turns off the TV anyway, throwing the remote on the coffee table with a pointed look. “There. What do you wanna do, your Fluffiness?”
Killian jumps on his feet, eyes shining with unadulterated glee and the next thing she knows he has dove in, nose and whiskers tickling the sliver of exposed skin between her jeans and sweater.
“Killian!” Emma squeaks out, hands flying towards the wiggling kitten as a high pitched squeal escaped her lips. “What are you doing, you idiot?!”
Of course, shoving his head away only results in him jumping over and landing beside her feet, probably the only more ticklish spot Emma has. Biting down on her woolen snowflakes-embroidered sock, Killian wastes no time tugging the offensive barrier off her foot and flicking his little tongue at the now exposed flesh.
Emma shrieks with laughter, drawing her legs up and trying her damnest to regain some control of her muscles so that she doesn’t kick her boyfriend straight off the couch.
“Oh God, stop! Stop, please,” she begged through her laughter, feeling her eyes begin to sting with tears. “Killian, I can’t- Oh God! Stop iiiit!”
He doesn’t. He doesn’t stop for the next ten minutes and at one point, when her abdomen is past aching and there are tears of laughter rolling freely down her cheeks, she thinks that if she has to go out, this would be a damn good way to do so.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck, Killian,” groans Emma in something close to fatigue as she clutches her stomach, trying to make the best of the little reprieve he has given her.
Suddenly a little black and white face swims back into her sights as the little kitten climbs on top of her and makes his way up to the hands splayed over her heaving breasts. And he looks damn pleased with himself too. Bastard. He is a rotten bastard.
For his part Killian surveys his pawiwork with great satisfaction. Emma’s hair is in complete disarray, blonde curls sticking in every direction, her cheeks are flushed and her lower lip is bright red from where she has bitten into it, trying to keep in her laughter, she is breathing hard, her breasts bouncing a little with every intake of air. Goddess. She is a bloody goddess.
“Smug,” Emma heaves a deep sigh. “Idiot.”
Why, yes. And I have every right to be when I can reduce you to this state even in the form of a cat.
“Shut up,” she grumbles, smiling softly despite herself as he nuzzles the space between her breasts.
She really shouldn’t find a pervert kitten that endearing but the way he wrinkles his little kitty nose is absolute adorable, the proud little glimmer in his eye is addictive and he is purring right above her heart and-
The front door swings open.
“Well, she said they were just gonna be taking down the Christmas decorations and-“
“David, I don’t think-“ Snow White stops dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her.
The flushed look on her daughter’s face, mussed hair peaking over the couch and eyes as wide as saucers, would’ve justified her suspicions and a nice solid I-told-you-so for her husband. That is, if it wasn’t for the kitten on her chest.
“Oh, that’s just-“
“I don’t ever ever,” declares David, arm already raised to cover his eyes even as he turns to go back into the hallway. “Wanna know what was going on in here.”
“Right, I’ll just-“ Snow gestures helplessly towards her husband and follows his lead before sticking her head back inside a second later. “Sorry to see you back on four feet, Killian.”
The door slams shut behind them but Emma is pretty sure they forgot all the awkwardness and embarrassment behind because oh God.
“Oh my God!” her hand flies to her now embarrassment-flushed face, her eyes squeezing tightly shut. “My parents think I just had… something! With a kitten!”
She didn’t think it possible for Killian to look more smug than before. She was wrong.
Can’t say I blame you, lass. It’s understandable that you won’t be able to resist me in any form.
i was wondering, do you accept fic requests based around the world of 'the fluffy problem'?
Totally! First time I wrote in the FP universe after it ended was for holdinghaldavidstarlight, a baby piece here.
So, yeah, I would never say no to any prompt (which is why I’m super ashamed that I have 5 or 6 in my ask that have been sitting there for months but I WILL write them!)
So remeber that kitty!killian I used to write? The Fluffy Problem or something? xD So I kinda thought of that today and how it seemed to amuse people and I thought that with all the angst we could use some? So, yeah, I don't know what this is, I don't know if I'll write any more, I just hope it makes you a little lighter.
First time it happens they are in a rather unfortunate position. Or rather Emma thinks she is in the most fortunate position imaginable until her fingers are no longer grasping her pirate’s dark hair and urging him to go faster and ‘just there’. She thinks she’s in the most fortunate position imaginable until her fingers are grasping at thin air and she hears an absolutely furious hiss. Of the feline variety.
“You gotta be-“ raising herself on her elbows and pushing sweaty locks off her flushed cheeks Emma looks down at the black and white kitten between her legs. “Killian, what the hell?!”
The once-again-quite-fluffy pirate gives her an exasperated look and for all her shock and indignation (she had been so close) Emma has to admit that she has kind of missed the way his whiskers twitch when he is particularly annoyed with her.
Does this look like something I would willingly bring on myself again, Swan?
“Ugh, come here,” Emma rolls her eyes, reaching over to grab the little furball that is her boyfriend and settle him on her naked stomach.
Killian ‘screw the big picture, my Swan is naked’ Jones licks at her bellybutton without missing a beat, making her shriek and wiggle beneath the little pink tongue and tickling whiskers.
“Killian!” she pushes at his face but all that earns her is a nibble on the thumb. “Cut it out, you fluffy bastard!”
Admit it, luv, you were always fond of my whiskers.
“Do you want to keep those whiskers? ‘Cause I can refrain from kissing you for awhile, if it means I’ll get to watch the aftermath of David breaking out the catnip on you,” threatens the blonde with a raised eyebrow.
If cats can pout then Killian Jones has certainly mastered the art of it.
“Now, ready to be defelined?” smirks Emma, leaning towards him and wiggling her eyebrows in a somewhat poor imitation of her boyfriend. “Get it? De-feline?”
She thinks the look on his face is the dirtiest, most non-amused, look a cat has ever given her.
“That was funny and you know it!” she grumbles indignantly. “Your tail is messing with your funny bone… or maybe cats don’t have a funny bone. Maybe they have a funny tail… But your tail-”
An impatient hiss cuts her off.
Swan! Would you remove the damn tail or shall I go look for a new True Love?!
“Okay! Fine! Jeez, a person would think it’s your first time as a cat or something,” Emma rolls her eyes bending down and planting a firm kiss on the kitten’s head.
And then another. And then, with a slightly furrowed brow, one on his nose. And then, slightly more urgent and desperate now, one right on his little mouth, whiskers and all.
Nothing happens.
Emma will deny it till death and beyond (as will and has Killian) but for one brief moment they both feel the panic rise up inside them. And it’s that exact terrible, gut-wrenching, this-cannot-be-happening panic staring back at them from the other’s eyes that calms them down, that tells them they are idiots and this is it this time and they should know better but damn, wounds heal but the scars remain and hell, they’d just have to keep proving their worst fears wrong every day for the rest of their lives.
Today? No one has fallen out of love.
But the fact remains that Killian is still just a few inches tall and standing on four legs.
“Okay. We’re okay,” murmurs Emma, drawing the little furball closer to her chest.
To his credit Killian manages not to get too distracted by her enticing and very bare nipples and instead snuggles into the crook of her neck, nuzzling the soft skin he find there and nodding his head.
Of course, we are, Swan. Right as rain. Just a little on the tail-having, furballs-choking side again.
Emma turns her head and kisses him again, burying her nose in the soft fur, no force or urgency about it now, and there’s something so infinitely better because he knows she is not doing it for any other reason but that she simply wants to.
She pulls back after awhile, bending her bare legs so that she can place him on her knees and keep him on her eye-level.
“Well, that did not go as planned.”
You think?
“Where the hell did you go and get yourself cursed again?”
I beg your pardon? I did no such thing! You are very well-aware of the activities that have been occupying me for the last hour, Swan!
“It’s 2am, I can’t call Regina now,” sighs Emma, eyeing the clock on her nightstand. “Let’s just sleep on it, ok? It might go away.”
Killian gives her a look that says he seriously doubts his luck is that good.
“It might! If not, we’ll get you a magic check-up tomorrow. My magic or whatever is not nearly up to kitty curse standards,” she says before reaching for a t-shirt.
The black and white kitten watches the inches of naked skin disappear beneath the faded fabric with a mournful expression.
“Come on, captain,” laughs Emma. “I’ll let you make it up to me tomorrow. Once you are back to full… length.”
She is not sure whether he groans or growls at her. Probably because he is trying to do both at the same time.
Emma ignores him and tackles him to the mattress, not-all-that-unhappily settling down for the night with a black and white ball of fur snuggled just beneath her collarbone.
///
The next morning a reluctant Regina brings some weirdly coloured stones to their apartment and proceeds to arrange them around the still very much feline Killian and speak in complete gibberish, while rolling her eyes at Emma’s suspicious looks and anxious hovering.
“I don’t eat kittens, Miss Swan.”
The sheriff gives her a look that says that the queen could be a vegetarian for all she cares, she’d just better not even look at Emma’s kitten the wrong way.
As it turns out, there’s not much Regina can do. There’s nothing anyone can do actually.
Magic residue.
“Magic who?”
Yeah, Regina states that she is not on magical call for the rest of the month after that one.
Apparently, some spells, especially ones that involve transformation, tend to linger and the aftershocks break out once or twice a year for a day or two. Regina doesn’t make the effort to look the least bit apologetic or sympathetic when she informs Killian that he might be getting fluffy visits annually for the next decade or two.
Emma says he should be happy they are not monthly visits and don’t last for a week.
Killian’s funny tail refuses to respond to his girlfriend’s probing.
