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[killianford]

GINGER SNAPS 2000, dir. John Fawcett

[killianford]

@killianford: You’re fit.

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Fit check?

[killianford]

@killianford: @prblake Forgive me if I am suddenly less free than usual. I have lots of catching up to do.

@killianford: Heard Mira giggling in the next room before I even saw her Instagram post. That’s my girl.

[killianford]

@killianford: @paranormaljoey Complete lack of charm and inability to flirt will get you everywhere, it seems.

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Have I introduced you to my boyfriend?

[killianford]

@killianford: Heard Mira giggling in the next room before I even saw her Instagram post. That’s my girl.

[killianford]

@killianford: Is this what’s commonly referred to as a hard launch?

@killianford: 🖤

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Have I introduced you to my boyfriend?

[killianford]

BILL SKARSGÅRD. Photographed by Johan Bergmark, 2022

[killianford]

It wasn't often Killian was unlucky enough to be rota'd the daytime shift at Prince's Pizzeria. After all, the interview process had been just as seedy and underhanded as the job itself. They seemed utterly unperturbed by the lack of steady work on the resume Persephone had helped him tack together (she'd also been his listed as his last employer, should they wish to check up on him. According to Sephy, they never had) and even less concerned by Killian's rather unusual request. He would take whatever night shifts they could offer him, with as much zeal and enthusiasm as the unethusiastic Killian Ford could muster.

He preferred the night shift. Killian's sleep pattern was... nonexistent. Even if he had been sleeping better now that Amira crawled into his bed night after night, plagued by bad dreams, or loneliness, or sometimes, he feared, because she knew how much he needed her there. With Amira's ear against his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart, her lithe limbs pressed against his own, Killian allowed his eyelids to grow heavy. It had become such a habit between the two, this... bed sharing, that sometimes, when Killian returned from his night at the pizzeria, tripping over Wraith in the hallway as the early morning light bled through their thin curtains, his first instinct was to practically sleepwalk his way to her. He'd collapse atop her bedspread as she opened her arms to him, her mumbling incoherently, sleepily in a way that Killian found, well, pretty cute.

The day shift was another beast. Killian had to abandon his post at the security cameras, instead standing sentry at the doorway as children with greasy fingers and shrill voices ran around, footsteps muffled by the gaudily patterned carpet. Thankfully, the children were far more interested in one another than they were him. Occasionally, they took turns approaching him, Grandmother's Footsteps-ing their way toward the hulking, brooding figure in the doorway. They would squeal when Killian turned his eyes on them, lose their nerve, and go running in the other direction, giggling and tripping over one another.

Sometimes, when Killian let his mind wander, he found himself watching the harried parents, on the verge of tears and arguments with one another as they attempted to corrall their children, hopped up on sugar and pizza. He wondered, if in another world, he might have been one of those Fathers. He could picture it with a clarity that was incredibly alarming. He could be at that table, uprighting a cup of syrupy, spilled cola, arguing with Saskia as their child, red in the face, howled and hollered and begged to play in the ball pit. Killian would have no patience for this kind of childish tantrum, he knew as much. If he and Saskia had had children, he might have tried. He hoped he would've tried. But that was another time, another place, one that didn't bear thinking about, because in this perverse timeline, Amira wasn't his.

He'd left work that day in a sulk, the ghost of his phantom family hanging over his head. He'd washed his hands three times over in the staff toilets, before slipping on his leather gloves, despite the fact the heat of the day had him tugging at his collar. He forced himself to banish all thoughts of his bad day, the pounding of his feet against the pavement taking him closer and closer to Amira.

The atmosphere of the park wasn't entirely unlike the pizzeria. Loud, cloying children, the smell of sugar and grease clinging to everything, but at least here, Killian could take in lungfuls of fresh air. He hadn't been sure of Amira's new job at first. He hadn't wanted her at work, not if she wasn't ready. The woman knew all too well Killian would happily break his back to keep a roof over their heads, and he supposed that was the thing that had clinched the deal. She simply didn't want him to.

The man pushed through the turnstill that granted him entry to the park, giving a stiff nod at Chuck, the teenager who was charging entry fees. He nodded back. The first few times he'd seen Killian, he'd been escorting Amira through the gates and into the park, happy to hang around on his day off and bother her or Cassie on their lunch breaks. The first time he'd shown up alone, Chuck had smiled, showing him a mouthful of braces as he greeted him, "Amira's boyfriend, right?". Killian had not bothered to correct him.

He had thought himself early. He knew Amira still had a quarter of an hour left of her shift, and even then, sometimes it took her a little longer to get out of her funhouse make-up, so he was pleasantly surprised to hear the light cadence of Amira calling out to him, a flirtation on her lips, her ponytail bobbing as she moved towards him with bright enthusiasm.

His heart caught in his throat at the sight of her (she tended to have that effect on him), catching himself as his eyes slid down to the low cut of her top. He swallowed dryly, forcing his eyes back up before he could be caught, hoping the high red spots in his cheek could be put down to the dry heat.

"Hello, love." he greeted her, affection flooding his tone. She kept her distance, the only contact the light press of her hand against his arm, and he loved her all the more for it. Slinging an arm around her neck, he drew her in for a hug, the fabric of his white henley pressed against the sweat-soaked nape of her neck, still-smiling as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I missed you." he found himself saying, his thoughts drawing back dangerously to the pizzeria, the children, Saskia. It was moments like this he was thankful for her, her presence, when he missed her most.

He raised an eyebrow, however, at her plan. Truthfully, an amusement park was the last place Killian wanted to spend his free time. He had no love for the dizzying rides, the face paint. The one thing he did rather like was the games - all rigged, of course, but Killian appreciated their little con. It wasn't unlike his own slight of hand, just another form of pickpocketing.

But he could almost see the point of it, with Amira here, batting her lashes at him adorably.

"Here is the part of the night, where, if I were a different man, I would make a sordid little joke about having checked out the best attraction the park has to offer." he smirked, voice low and tawdry, as he relinquished Amira from his old. "But instead, I'm going to beg you not to make me go on the bumper cars."

Hope was dangerous. That's what Killian had always told her, but Amira had never fully bought into his pessimistic worldview. After she'd left him, there had been days where she thought maybe he was right, that maybe things weren't going to get better and that she should simply give up. Of course, the irony was that despite his grumblings, despite his petty gripes, Killian had been her hope. Every day, she'd clung onto the thought of him out there, waiting for her to come home, and that had kept her going. It had kept her alive. 

As she slipped into a pair of black shorts – far more comfortable than the costume she'd been assigned – she smiled at her reflection. Her chest didn't ache, her fingers didn't tremble, and the bags under her eyes had faded substantially. Her skin was clear, unblemished, as she washed away the remnants of her face paint. Ripley had been kind enough to show her some new tricks on how to really amp up the fear factor when applying cuts and scars to the lines of her face. While Amira had always been a dab hand with face paint, the stuff Ripley messed around with was of far higher quality, and the other woman had been all too excited to experiment with her upon Amira's request. 

While Persephone and Amira had sat obediently for the other woman, Killian had simply scowled in the corner, muttering God-knows-what into his cup of coffee. In his defence, he'd told Amira later that evening that he'd seen her covered in enough cuts and bruises to last him a lifetime, and did she really have to stray from the ever loyal and altogether tacky paint set that her employer had gifted her? 

Amira’s shift had let up early, with Killian’s friend – if you could call her that – Cassie coming in to take her spot. The pretty blonde hated working the funhouse and Amira had even suggested that she stick around for another few hours, just to help her settle in, but her supervisor had shut that down with a hard no. Instead, Amira had decided that it was high time she go out and enjoy herself. As much as she adored working at the funfair, she so rarely got to actually enjoy its attractions. She knew that Killian would be meeting her soon – should their shift pattern align, he was always waiting patiently for her when she finished up for the night – and she thought it might be fun to surprise him with an evening out. They so rarely strayed away from the comfort of their flat, so maybe tonight could be the exception? 

Leather jacket firmly in hand – it was far too hot to even consider the extra layer – Amira blew a kiss in Mary-Kate's direction as she passed the other girl before veering towards the entrance of the park. Upon seeing Killian, she lit up. He was exactly where she knew expected, looking as tall and gorgeous as ever. 

“Hey, handsome. You waiting around for anyone in particular?” she called out, her tone playful as she beamed across at him. 

Her hair was pulled up into a rare ponytail, tresses hanging in a curtain to frame her face. The low cut of her lace cami was bliss under the summer sun, hair tickling her neck as it got swept up in the gentle breeze. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself up into Killian’s arms in that moment, to feel the weight of him pressed against her tiny frame, but she understood that her current outfit might overwhelm him. It was a line of thought that some people might think of as conceited, no doubt putting it down to her having a giant ego, but she knew that a certain level of exposed skin might prove uncomfortable for him. If he couldn’t find a safe and comfortable place to press his gloved hands – even in the July heat – then she wouldn’t put him on the spot. 

Instead, she settled for gently squeezing his arm, careful to only find purchase against the sleeve of his shirt.  

“How do you feel about staying out for the night? I was thinking maybe we could stick around here for a little while, check out some of the attractions...” she smiled up at him, fluttering her lashes for extra measure. 

[killianford]

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1. wraith

2. whisk and wonder

3. clocked in

4. happy

5. blackmail

6. mira.

[killianford]

@killianford: Days with you, Mira? My favorite kind.

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Baby 🖤

[killianford]

I um... I didn't say it like that. In... you're doing a... tone, that you should probably only do in our apartment.

It takes a lot to charm me, love. So, no. It's not "doing it for me". I wouldn't go so far as to say I love Persephone, at least, not to her face. And I like you much more than anyone, no matter their hair color. You're the... well, I think you're the prettiest woman in the world, as a matter of fact.

Oh, and good girl doesn't? That's it, nice and quiet now, aren't you? Good boy.

I promise no harm will come to me at the hands of Mary-Kate Detamble. He hasn't? Really? Not even by simply standing there all perfect and charming? That's not doing it for you? That's not true! You love Sephy. And you like Cassie well enough. Or is it just pretty blondes and me?

[killianford]

I mean... that has inherently, uh, sexual connotations... I wasn't trying to be... oh, hush.

Well, yes. I suppose I am. As long as she doesn't crush you in a tea cup related malfunction, I could get used to her if you like her. And well, no. But Hunter hasn't given me a reason to trust him. I prefer to keep everyone at an arm's length. Everyone except you.

So, if I called you a good boy you wouldn't think that was me being a little... naughty?

But you are my baby? And I am behaving. Two things can be true at once, love. Mary-Kate is nice! If a little dangerous on wheels. Not at all. It's easy to believe that Matty was nice. It's just the pair of you together. Killer, last week you said you thought something was 'iffy' about Hunter. Hunter. You're not exactly the most... trusting?

[killianford]

No... I don't think I do?

Calling me baby is the absolute antithesis of behaving. I wouldn't trust that woman on a tractor, I don't think I'd trust her on a razor scooter. My ankles would be in peril. And yes, Matthew Parker, extremely sarcastic. Not drunk though, love. Nor anything in my cigarette. You like Matty, is it so hard for you to believe he was nice?

Judging by that smirk on your face, you know fine well.

Sorry, baby. I'll behave. Absolutely, but 'at the wheel'? We're not driving tractors here, love. Sarcastic? Matthew Parker, sarcastic? Whatever do you mean? I'm joking. I'm glad he was kind, and that you could... find a common ground? Whatever that may be. Are you sure you're not drunk? Is there more in that cigarette than you're letting on?

[killianford]

What did I do this time?

Amira, love. Don't start. And besides, I see you working here all hours of the day. You work very hard. Hm? Well, normally someone operates the rides, correct? I know usually it's just a teenager on a power trip, but it's still machinery. And no, my love. Not drunk, just slightly bewildered. Which makes sense. I wouldn't go so far as to say we get along, he just... was kind. Sarcastic, but kind.

First, you were trying to get me fired. Now you're just playing dirty.

Until right now I never would have, but knowing it bothers you is kind of hilarious? And strangely tempting? I do get breaks, yes, but generally it’s nice to actually earn them. Oh, you really have no idea how the teacups work, do you? Right, like…? Sorry, not that it’s any of my business! I just can’t quite work out what you and Matty could have possibly come to an agreement on? Am I drunk right now? Is that it? I’ve relapsed and woken up in the afterlife where you and Matty get along! Saints!

[killianford]

Ah, good girl.

As long as you don't feel compelled to call it a holibobs, as I've often heard Matty do. You're making London sound absolutely enthralling, love. Tell me more. Don't they give you breaks in this place, anyway? I doubt anyone would notice if you snuck off. I walked past the teacups earlier and your friend, the one with all the dark hair that smells like weed, was literally asleep at the wheel. And oh, nothing drastic. Just reminded me to prioritise the important things.

Killer, c'mon. You're literally my best friend and, in the spirit of being dramatic, my whole entire universe revolves around you. So. Yeah.

That was for your benefit, but I hope you know it pained me to say it. England has so much to offer! Shit weather, Golden Carriages roaming around London while people starve in the streets, and tea! So much tea! God, you're actually quite cute, aren't you? Stop being so cute, it's distracting me from my job. Oh? What sort of advice, love? Is everything okay?

[killianford]

I do love you. The most important? Oh, love. Say that again, hm?

A vacation? Not a holiday? What is there to see in England? Bad weather, a dusty monarchy? You're the best thing England has to offer and you're here. And well, nothing much. He gave me some advice.

And yet! You love me. He doesn't, I promise. You're the most important man in my life.

As ridiculously cute as that is, we really do need to visit some day. I think it could be nice! A... vacation, maybe? Wait, really? You? And Matty? Sorry, what miracle occurred to make that happen, exactly?

[killianford]

You're a menace, my love. You're the only one who can coax a smile out of me. I should hope Glenn doesn't have that effect on you.

I met you and decided I'd seen just about enough of the country. I don't hate Matty, not really. We've settled a few of our differences recently.

Hmm. After much consideration... No, I don't think I will! Very pleased, actually. And he smiles! I'm practically swooning. See, Glenn doesn't have that effect on me, does he?

That's because you know barely anybody from England. And you're the only person on planet Earth to hate Matty, so. It doesn't count, love. Sorry!