𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧'

smiles ,  touched at her efforts to include him .   he’s never tried climbing as a sport ,  much better accustomed to parkour as a means of escape .   she leans against him and he accommodates ,  resting his head atop hers ,  arm around her waist .         ❝      I don’t have a chalk bag .     I can use flour ,  though ,  right    ?      ❞

silence stretches between them as they continue to observe the city ,  watching it hum pleasantly under the evening sky .     eventually ,  though   :       ❝      you know where else has a sick view     ?    New York .    would love to see it someday .      ❞

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇, and make her laugh he does. Isla scrunches up her nose in amusement. “That you make the hand holds all cakey!” she says, nudging his leg. “Besides, I’d lend you one. Safety first. You can have the monster.” She means her chalk bag that looks like a furry marshmallow with arms and a funny face. It was a goofy gift but its sentimental value outweighed any desire for personal aesthetics. Besides it always gets fun comments. 

she’s considerably better at climbing than he is   ———   which is saying a lot ,  given Eggsy’s wealth of talent in this regard .   he watches on with admiration as Isla reaches the long - awaited destination ,  the roof that ain’t their’s to accommodate ,  but offers a hell of a view worth commandeering .

watching her makes it easier for Eggsy to follow suit   ;   would’ve adopted a different strategy but she’s marked out a path .   mimicking her actions ,  he too catches up ,  returning the grin .      ❝      yeah ,  sounds sick .      ❞        can’t be arsed to mention how he’s skint ,  most days ,  and most likely won’t be able to pay for such luxuries   (   breaking in is a different ballgame entirely ,  one he’d be comfortable with   )

Eggsy’s quick to select a spot ,  seating himself on the cool brick wall and marveling at the London cityscape   ;   the mismatched trophy collection of buildings ,  the car headlights over Waterloo Bridge   …    gestures for Isla to join him .

❝      tell me this view ain’t worth it ,  I dare you .      ❞

𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋. Getting to the roof for their remarkable view is easy from here, and she follows Eggsy’s lead this time. For a few long seconds she doesn’t even sit or look at the view, caught up in looking at his sweet awe of the city. With a quiet laughs, cheeks turning red (though oblivious as to whether he’d even noticed her watching him with such affection) when he beckons her over, she goes over and joins him. 

XAN & ISLA.

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Her head felt too light, her shoulders bare and exposed, despite the heavy leather jacket that she wore; Xan hadn’t done more than trim her hair since she was six years old, and now it was all gone. Well, almost all gone, anyway. Cut to just below her chin, she could still run her fingers through it, but there was a sick, swooping sensation in her stomach every time they fell through, met with thin air where ( up until this morning ) there had always been a thick mess of hair. 

The producer had told her it was ESSENTIAL, and it hadn’t even been as awful as she had feared ( in fact, it hadn’t been awful at all; they’d been very gentle, brushed out all of the knots without tugging once at her scalp, washed it with lavender scented shampoo and conditioner, and chopped it off fast, got it over with as quickly as possible ), but she was still a little shaky. In need of something to settle her nerves. Her uncle, who’d sat with her the entire time, had a few errands to run while he was in the city, so she slipped off the street and into a nearby coffee shop to wait for him.

When she reached the counter, she pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and, managing a small smile, ordered herself a pot of peppermint tea. It was brought ( teapot, cup and saucer, a little shortbread biscuit ) and she took the tray, turned to look for a seat—and walked right smack into another customer. Tea splashed out of the spout, but—thankfully—didn’t make too much of a mess. The same couldn’t be said for the other woman’s milkshake, though, which had splattered all over her and all over the floor. 

“I- Oh, gosh, I’m- I’m so- I’m so, so sorry!” Mortified, Xan looked up, lower lip caught between her teeth. “I was miles away, I- Here.” She grabbed a handful of napkins and held them out to Isla, still apologising profusely. “I’m really- I’m so sorry about your shirt, is there anything I can do? I mean, can I at least buy you another drink to make up for it?”

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. For instance, it’s a good thing she had a backpack purse and not an over the shoulder one, because then she’d probably have her weird milkshake smoothie thing ALL over her belongings, and not just her face and shirt. Isla lets out a little moan of alarm at the sudden chill spilling between her boobs and takes a deep breath. In the span of a few seconds she’d emotionally prepared herself to receive a barrage of verbal abuse from the woman she’d collided with, but the apologies spilling from her mouth relieve her. 

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” she says reassuringly, making a face at the sticky drink all over herself, she accepts the napkins and absorbs most of the wet, but she’d need a lot more help to get this off. “That’s really sweet of you, I’d appreciate it,” Isla laughs, glancing over at the barista behind the counter who is awkwardly hovering by the mess. “Could I use a clean rag and get the bathroom key, please?” she asks, and is quickly presented with both. Isla looks at the other woman. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I have no problem spending money on lingerie for you,” Ryan was quick to promise, the thoughts of what else he could outfit her in running quickly through his mind. He expects her answer with a grin, chuckling. “Well I do aim to please and if you want both, both you can get.” The way she feels up her body is entrancing, Ryan’s eyes following their every move. As much as he’d like to just take her right there in his dining room, he much preferred a bed and he was quick to stand. “Come on, let’s head upstairs so I have more room to work.” Giving her hip a squeeze, he lead them up to the master bedroom. With a king sized bed to lay out on, he knew they could get up to much more than possibly breaking a chair with how hard he wanted to fuck her. Turning towards Isla, Ryan cupped the side of her neck and pulled her close. “Can’t wait to stretch you out with my fat cock,” he groaned against her cheek. 

As Isla moved to stand between his legs, Ryan reaches out to grab her hips. His long fingers almost span the width of her and he tightens his grip, watching her every move. “Flimsy enough for me to tear, which I can assure you I have the strength to do.” As her hands move to her back pockets, Ryan pulls her forward so he can look up the length of her torso. The confession of her fantasy makes him grin and he moves his hands from around her hips down to the button and zipper of her jeans. “I’m sure we could work something out to make that happen, sweetheart.” Thumbing at the button tot he denim, he glances at her with a question in his eyes. “I’ve got a few ideas for right now though. Not sure what I want first. Maybe you could help? I’m debating between having you ride me right here or taking you up to my room and eating you out. Any opinions?”