#re: viviana and oscar

[wiinestories]

closed starter for @isles-of-man 💕

Paris, 1942. The city was shrouded in tension, a beautiful place turned into a battlefield of secrecy and betrayal. Europe was in the throes of war, and every corner of Paris felt the weight of conflict. Viviana Coppola, a woman of many faces and even more secrets, now moved as Dominique Delacroix, a fabricated identity that had allowed her to infiltrate the elite circles of Paris. Under the guise of a glamorous French actress, Viviana mingled with the wealthy and powerful, slipping unnoticed into the lives of Nazi officers, her true purpose hidden behind her charm. Her French accent was flawless, her elegance unmatched, and no one suspected that beneath her refined exterior was a mind calculating every move. She had mastered the art of illusion—her smile disarming, her wit sharp, but her mission unwavering: to gather critical intelligence for the Allied forces, risking her life at every turn.

The phone call was brief but essential. On the other end, a German officer, none the wiser to her true allegiance, provided her with a crucial piece of information. She listened intently, her heart steady, even as her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle that could turn the tide of the war. “Danke,” she said softly, her voice smooth and composed as she thanked him in his own language, the German words slipping from her lips with practised ease. She hung up the phone, her expression never betraying the turmoil within. Each conversation, each encounter, was a step closer to her goal—but also a step closer to danger. She knew that one wrong move could lead her to death, and the failure of her goal to set the La Résistance as the winners would be tragic, and even her goal was aligned with setting her homeland, Italy, free from Mussolini.

In the chaos of war, Viviana had found something unexpected. Amidst the layers of deception and the constant danger, she had found him. Oscar, a British Lieutenant Colonel with his own burdens, shared her life of secrecy and duty. He wasn’t just another piece in her elaborate game of survival and espionage—he was the one person she returned to, the one constant in a world that threatened to swallow them both. Oscar, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, was no stranger to the deadly weight of responsibility. They’d met under the most unlikely circumstances, a chance encounter in the dimly lit backrooms of a Parisian café, both of them using false identities to navigate through a web of lies. But from that moment, something unspoken tied them together.

Viviana stepped into her small, unassuming apartment, the dim light casting shadows across the sparse furnishings. It was a hideaway, tucked within the heart of Paris, where she kept her clothes, a few personal belongings, and the tools of her trade. The space was modest, the kind of place that drew no attention—perfect for someone living under an assumed identity. She lit a cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs, savouring the brief moment of solitude as it curled into the air. From where she stood, she could see the lights of the Eiffel Tower, its golden glow piercing through the night like a beacon of defiance amidst the occupied city. The sight of it stirred something in her—a reminder of the world that had existed before the war, of what she was fighting for. Paris, even under the heavy hand of the Germans, still retained its elegance, its heartbeat. Her eyes flickered toward the door at the sound of footsteps. In a world where trust was scarce, every noise could mean danger, but she was always ready. Turning swiftly, her posture relaxed only when she saw him. Oscar’s familiar figure approached, his presence instantly soothing the tension that always lingered at the edges of her nerves.

“Mon amour,” she greeted him softly, her voice carrying the warmth she reserved for him alone. The French rolled off her tongue effortlessly, her lips curving into a smile as she regarded him. He was the one person in her life she could let her guard down with, even if just for a moment. The cigarette between her fingers smouldered as she exhaled the smoke slowly, watching him come closer. “I’ve managed to obtain more information about the Germans and their next movements here,” she continued, switching easily to English, her fluency in both languages a necessity for survival. She leaned against the small wooden table, her smile lingering as her chocolate hues fixed on her beloved. “I think you’ll find it important, especially for your countrymen.”

[damian-fabian-blog]

185

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[wiinestories]

so since yesterday the lovely @isles-of-man was celebrating their birthday, I've thought of making some edits for her and also, cherish our lovely, wonderful ships this way because I adore them. once more, happy birthday my darling! hope you had a blast. we're very lucky to have you here, and I'm enormously grateful to have you as a writing partner! cheers always x

[isles-of-man]

He breathed against her skin, his voice husky with desire as she slipped the latex along his hardened member. "I’ve missed your hands on me." He captured her lips once more in a searing kiss, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body as if memorizing her anew. He knew soon Viviana would arch into his touch, savouring the electric sensation of skin on skin and wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, silently urging him to take her. For as long as he waited to be with her again, he wished to make love to her first.

"I've missed this too," he breathed against her skin, his voice husky with desire. "More than you know." Oscar positioned himself between her thighs, the tip of his arousal brushing against her slick folds.

With agonizing slowness, he entered her, filling her. They both gasped at the exquisite feeling of finally being joined. For a moment, they remained still, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath, revelling in their connection. His lips found hers again, hungry and demanding, as he settled between her thighs and savouring every inch, every sensation as their bodies joined. For a moment, they remained still, basking in the feeling of being one again after so long apart.

His motions were with a slow, deliberate thrust that made them both moan in unison. Still, soon, he thrust with a firmer strength that pushed her up along her bed, together in perfect synchronicity, finding a rhythm that spoke of familiarity and passion. A perfect blend of tenderness and raw desire. “Let me hear you, love. Show me how much you’ve missed me,” uncaring what her neighbours may think as he spoke aloud. "Look at me," he commanded softly, eyes boring into hers. “I have waited too long to hear your voice in such sweet rapture for me. Don’t be shy now”

His lips trailed fire down her neck, across her collarbone, hoping to elicit soft moans and whimpers from her. Oscar’s movements became more urgent, hips rutting harder and faster after some minutes of slow build-up. With a particularly deep thrust, he buried deep to feel his tip pushing at her cervix. “My love,” he murmured, head buried in the crook of her neck. The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking - soft moans, whispered endearments, skin against skin.

Viviana’s heart fluttered as Oscar's words wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Every inch of her body responded to his touch, the heat between them electric, intoxicating. She arched her back, her body naturally moulding into his as his lips moved over her neck, sending shivers racing down her spine. His hands, his voice—everything about him felt so familiar, yet so exhilarating, as if every moment with him was new and filled with uncharted passion. "Oscar," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper as she gazed up at him, her fingers tangled in his hair. The weeks apart had felt unbearable, but now, in his arms, she felt whole again. His presence, his touch, reignited that fiery connection they shared, one that had been simmering under the surface for far too long.

The intensity of his kiss left her breathless, her body yielding to him, craving more of the heat and closeness that only he could give. She let her hands roam over his lean, muscular form, feeling the strength in his body, the tension in his movements. His desire for her was palpable, and it mirrored the same hunger she felt for him. When he finally rid her of her remaining clothes, Viviana gasped, feeling both vulnerable and powerful under his gaze. His words of admiration, the way he looked at her as if she were a masterpiece, made her pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the physical connection that overwhelmed her—it was the emotion behind it, the unspoken bond that kept them tethered to one another despite the time and distance that often separated them.

"You’re everything to me too," she murmured, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of love and desire. She could feel his body pressed against hers, his heat, his need, and it only fueled the fire burning inside her. When he asked if they had protection, Viviana chuckled softly, her lips curving into a playful smile as she gently pulled him closer. "I’ve got us covered, mon cher," she whispered teasingly, her fingers tracing light circles on his chest before reaching for the nightstand nearby. The teasing touch of his mouth on her hardened nipple sent another wave of pleasure through her, making her gasp softly, deft fingers reaching for the condom they were seeking for. Her body trembled with anticipation, every fibre of her being aching to feel him inside her, to be connected to him in the deepest way possible. Her hand slid down between their warm bodies, carefully sllipping the latex onto his hardened member, a smirk painting upon her plump lips. "I've been needing this. I've missed this."

[wiinestories]

Viviana’s heart fluttered as Oscar's words wrapped around her like a warm embrace. Every inch of her body responded to his touch, the heat between them electric, intoxicating. She arched her back, her body naturally moulding into his as his lips moved over her neck, sending shivers racing down her spine. His hands, his voice—everything about him felt so familiar, yet so exhilarating, as if every moment with him was new and filled with uncharted passion. "Oscar," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper as she gazed up at him, her fingers tangled in his hair. The weeks apart had felt unbearable, but now, in his arms, she felt whole again. His presence, his touch, reignited that fiery connection they shared, one that had been simmering under the surface for far too long.

The intensity of his kiss left her breathless, her body yielding to him, craving more of the heat and closeness that only he could give. She let her hands roam over his lean, muscular form, feeling the strength in his body, the tension in his movements. His desire for her was palpable, and it mirrored the same hunger she felt for him. When he finally rid her of her remaining clothes, Viviana gasped, feeling both vulnerable and powerful under his gaze. His words of admiration, the way he looked at her as if she were a masterpiece, made her pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the physical connection that overwhelmed her—it was the emotion behind it, the unspoken bond that kept them tethered to one another despite the time and distance that often separated them.

"You’re everything to me too," she murmured, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of love and desire. She could feel his body pressed against hers, his heat, his need, and it only fueled the fire burning inside her. When he asked if they had protection, Viviana chuckled softly, her lips curving into a playful smile as she gently pulled him closer. "I’ve got us covered, mon cher," she whispered teasingly, her fingers tracing light circles on his chest before reaching for the nightstand nearby. The teasing touch of his mouth on her hardened nipple sent another wave of pleasure through her, making her gasp softly, deft fingers reaching for the condom they were seeking for. Her body trembled with anticipation, every fibre of her being aching to feel him inside her, to be connected to him in the deepest way possible. Her hand slid down between their warm bodies, carefully sllipping the latex onto his hardened member, a smirk painting upon her plump lips. "I've been needing this. I've missed this."

Viviana arched into his touch, savoring every caress, every kiss. Her hands trailing along his torso;  as waves of pleasure washed over her."Viviana," Oscar breathed against her neck, his voice rough with desire. "God, I've missed you." Capturing her lips in another searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up love and passion he held for weeks into it. They had been apart for too long, duty and circumstance keeping them from each other. But now, in this moment, there was nothing between them.Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them, filled with promises and unspoken desires. “I do love how you speak french to me, love” the englishman teased, playful as he pressed his forehead against her own

Oscar's breath hitched as Viviana's fingers brushed against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He helped her remove his trousers, kicking them off impatiently and groaned as his erection sprung free. Now they were both nearly bare, skin against skin, hearts racing in tandem. Their bodies moved as one, finding a rhythm that spoke of familiarity and longing.  Her hands touching the lean muscles on him. His hand slid down her side, tracing the curve of her hip before gripping her thigh and pulling her closer. He could feel the heat of her skin, almost hearing the rapid beating of her heart against her chest being so close to her again."Always," he breathed in response to her words, his voice rough with desire. "I've always been yours, Viviana”

He answered her plea with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands continued their sensual journey across her body. With deft hands he undressed her, watching her face as reached underneath her arching body and unhooked her bra. “you are a beautiful sight, as always” Oscar admired her, each and every time it almost felt new to him. Whenever he came back to her it had always felt as if he were experiencing it for the first time. It was a thankful blessing that he could touch, taste and feel her again.

"You're everything," he whispered, his voice crooning in her ear as he leaned down to kiss along her neck. "Everything, I've ever wanted and I’m very glad you're mine." Oscar groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "my love," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. His desire coursing through his veins like liquid fire as he rid her of her panties before standing and pulling off his boxers and exposed to her. His hardened member, standing to attention and smiled.

“Do we have protection?” Oscar had to ask, laying with her again and kissed her collar before he lent downwards to take a hardened nipple in his mouth.

[wiinestories]

Viviana’s pulse quickened as Oscar’s hands moved over her skin, each touch igniting a fire deep within her. His whispered promises lingered in the air between them, heavy with the weight of what they both longed for—time to be together without the world intruding, to forget the chaos that defined their lives. The urgency in his kiss, the way his fingers trembled slightly as they undid the buttons of her blouse, told her just how much he needed this too. When he laid her on the bed, her eyes followed him, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his muscles tensed as he rid himself of the last pieces of his uniform. The heat between them was palpable, an electric current that seemed to hum in the air, drawing them closer with every breath.

His teasing remark pulled a breathy laugh from her lips, and she met his gaze, her own filled with a mix of playfulness and desire. “Shy?” she echoed, her voice low and sultry as her hands deftly unfastened his trousers. She let her fingers linger at his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. “I’ve never been shy with you, mon cher,” Her hands slid up his chest, her fingertips grazing over the smooth planes of his muscles, savouring the sensation of him, all of him. She pulled him down to her, feeling his weight press into her as their lips met once more. The kiss was deeper this time, hungrier. She could taste the faint hint of smoke still on his lips, and it only made her want him more.

As he pulled her closer, his breath hot against her neck, Viviana’s hands roamed over his body, memorizing every inch of him as if it were the first time. “For the next two days,” she whispered, her voice hushed but filled with promise, “you’re mine, Oscar. Just us. No work, no war. Only us.” Her words hung between them as he cupped her face, their eyes locking in a shared understanding. The world outside didn’t exist, not when they had this, had each other. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, their bodies moving in sync as though they had always known this rhythm.

As he kissed her again, deeper this time, Viviana felt herself melting into him, the softness of the bed beneath them a stark contrast to the raw, consuming passion that filled the room. Every touch, every whisper was a silent agreement, a vow that they would steal these moments, these days, and make them theirs. Her breath caught as his lips trailed down her neck, his hands moving with practised ease as he undressed her completely. She lay beneath him, half-naked and exposed, but it wasn’t vulnerability she felt—it was strength, a deep connection that ran far deeper than mere physical desire.

When his eyes met hers again, full of need, she smirked, her hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his trousers. “Let’s not pretend,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. “You’re as much mine as I am yours.” Her slim, manicured fingers worked expertly on getting rid of those trousers of his by unbuckling his leather belt and hooking her thumbs beneath it to push them down.

Oscar Leon felt the warmth of Viviana’s touch seep into his skin, igniting a spark that spread through him like wildfire. Her words wrapped around him, each syllable weaving into the very fabric of his being. He had always admired her strength, but in this moment, it was her vulnerability that left him breathless. The way she looked at him—like he was the answer to every question she dared to ask—made his heart race. As she pressed her forehead against his, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect that spark of hope she carried. “Viviana,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, “you give me purpose.” The truth settled between them, heavy yet light, as he reached up to cradle her face in his hands.

He searched her eyes, wanting to imprint the determination and love he saw there into his memory. When she spoke of a future together, a world without battles, his chest tightened with a mixture of longing and fear. He wanted to believe in that vision, to step away from the chaos that defined their lives��but her belief fueled him, and he could feel the tether of their connection pulling tighter. Oscar nodded, allowing her to guide him. The urgency of her grip on his uniform sent a rush of adrenaline through him, and he deepened the kiss, pouring every unsaid promise and unyielding devotion into it. It was a silent vow—one he hoped she could feel as fiercely as he did.

His hands went to work at the buttons of his uniform and tossed the jacket on the floor of her bedroom without interrupting their kiss before he took hold of her hips and lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist. It had been countless times that he had spent his time in this very apartment with her, cramped as it was it was the only other home that he had. If she offered he would not waste her attention for him; comfort and love drawn from each other. Oscar had never been able to deny her request for him. “Let me make love to you. These next two days are ours - no talk of work,” he asked of her. They had committed enough time to their jobs and deserved more in their own lives. To see a future they both wanted together.

“Let’s give ourselves that” Oscar encouraged, walking her to her bed and laying her down on the bed and began to undress her from her clothes before he cupped her cheek and kissed her again, moaning with pleasure and tangled his tongue with hers to taste the cigarette on her. He kneeled, pulling up his undershirt and looked down at her half naked before reaching for her hands to the top of his trousers.

“You haven’t grown shy with me, have you?”

[wiinestories]

Viviana’s heart fluttered at Oscar’s words, each one laced with a tenderness that threatened to unravel her carefully held composure. She had been strong for so long—too long, perhaps—but in moments like this, with him, she allowed herself the vulnerability she denied the world. His touch, his voice, his presence—all of it reminded her why she kept fighting, why she hadn’t given up. He was her anchor in a storm of chaos. As his lips left hers, Viviana found herself momentarily breathless, her pulse quickening in response to the raw emotion that passed between them. His vow—I’m yours—settled into her chest, a promise that felt as solid as the ground beneath her feet despite the uncertainty of the world outside these walls.

She traced her fingers along his jaw, her touch soft but purposeful. “You never let me down, Oscar,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions surging inside her. Her gaze searched his face, memorizing every line, every feature, as though afraid this moment would slip through her fingers. “You’ve been my strength in ways you don’t even realize.” She stepped closer, pressing her forehead to his, her breath mingling with his. “I want to believe in that future,” she admitted, her voice just above a whisper. “Where it’s just you and me, where we don’t have to fight anymore, where stolen nights aren’t all we have. But even if that future is uncertain… what I feel for you isn’t.” Her hand moved to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she continued, her eyes glistening with the weight of everything unsaid. “I’ll never grow bored of you. It’s not possible. You make me feel alive, Oscar. You make me believe that there’s still something worth living for, even in the darkest times.”

The weight of the world still hung over them, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. She smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth. “So no, you haven’t let me down—and you never will. As long as you keep coming back to me, I’ll be here, waiting.” Her words hung in the air between them, as real and tangible as the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. But this wasn’t desperation. It wasn’t fear. It was love—fierce, unwavering, and all-consuming. Viviana leaned in again, capturing Oscar’s lips in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, the weight of her emotions spilling over into every movement. Her hands found their way to the fabric of his uniform, fingers gripping it with a quiet urgency. She tugged gently, as if trying to pull him closer—closer to her, closer to the fleeting safety they found in each other’s arms.

As Oscar stepped into the warm embrace of the apartment, he felt the familiar pull of comfort that only Viviana could provide. The war, with its relentless grip, momentarily faded into the background, overshadowed by the warmth radiating from her presence. He watched her as she moved about the room, her demeanor both inviting and powerful, embodying the resilience that had drawn him to her from the start.

“Home,” he echoed softly, a smile creeping onto his lips as he soaked in her words. In that moment, her apartment felt more like a refuge than a mere meeting place. It was a reminder that amidst the upheaval of their lives, they had carved out a space for each other—a sanctuary where they could exist, however briefly, away from the clamor of gunfire and the shadow of fear.

“Two days,” he said, his voice laced with bittersweet affection as he glanced around the room, absorbing every detail that made it uniquely hers—the delicate lace curtains fluttering with the evening breeze, the vibrant paintings that adorned the walls, each telling a story he longed to know. “We’ll make every moment count. Won’t we?”

As she guided him toward the bedroom, he could feel the tension in the air shifting, replaced by a current of anticipation. Her hand intertwined with his was both a promise and a plea, a silent agreement to embrace the fleeting hours they had. Oscar’s heart raced, not merely from the desire that simmered beneath the surface, but from the overwhelming sense of connection that filled the space between them.

Oscars gaze locked onto hers as they crossed the threshold. In the dim light, her features softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and vulnerability that stirred something deep within him. He wanted to shield her from the chaos, to give her this moment of peace. As they stepped into the bedroom, he felt the weight of their situation pressing down once more, a reminder that even in their stolen sanctuary, the war loomed ever closer.

The walls of the room had witnessed their laughter and shared secrets, the passionate exchanges that felt as real as the looming uncertainty of tomorrow. Oscar reached out, brushing his fingers gently along her arm, a gesture meant to reassure. “We’ll find a way,” he murmured, the conviction in his voice ringing clear. “After all this is over, there will be more than just stolen nights.”

Viviana’s smile ignited a spark within him, a reminder of why they fought so fiercely in their own ways. He wanted to believe in a future where the war was nothing more than a memory, where they could walk freely under the sun, unburdened by duty. “We’ll be together” he added, his voice thick with emotion. “Just you and me for as long as you wish for me to be around or grow bored of me.” he jested.

The intimacy of the moment deepened as he closed the distance between them, his lips seeking hers again, this time with a hunger that had been stifled by weeks of separation. The kiss was everything he had missed—filled with longing, hope, and the unyielding love that had grown between them amidst the ashes of war. Oscar’s hands cradled her face, fingers tangling in her hair as he lost himself in her warmth, feeling her heartbeat echoing his own.

As they pulled apart, breathless and alive, he searched her eyes, wanting her to know that even in their darkest moments, she was his guiding light. “No matter what happens, Viviana, I’m yours,” he vowed softly, the weight of his words heavy yet freeing. “And I’ll always return to you. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”

[isles-of-man]

As Oscar stepped into the warm embrace of the apartment, he felt the familiar pull of comfort that only Viviana could provide. The war, with its relentless grip, momentarily faded into the background, overshadowed by the warmth radiating from her presence. He watched her as she moved about the room, her demeanor both inviting and powerful, embodying the resilience that had drawn him to her from the start.

“Home,” he echoed softly, a smile creeping onto his lips as he soaked in her words. In that moment, her apartment felt more like a refuge than a mere meeting place. It was a reminder that amidst the upheaval of their lives, they had carved out a space for each other—a sanctuary where they could exist, however briefly, away from the clamor of gunfire and the shadow of fear.

“Two days,” he said, his voice laced with bittersweet affection as he glanced around the room, absorbing every detail that made it uniquely hers—the delicate lace curtains fluttering with the evening breeze, the vibrant paintings that adorned the walls, each telling a story he longed to know. “We’ll make every moment count. Won’t we?”

As she guided him toward the bedroom, he could feel the tension in the air shifting, replaced by a current of anticipation. Her hand intertwined with his was both a promise and a plea, a silent agreement to embrace the fleeting hours they had. Oscar’s heart raced, not merely from the desire that simmered beneath the surface, but from the overwhelming sense of connection that filled the space between them.

Oscars gaze locked onto hers as they crossed the threshold. In the dim light, her features softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and vulnerability that stirred something deep within him. He wanted to shield her from the chaos, to give her this moment of peace. As they stepped into the bedroom, he felt the weight of their situation pressing down once more, a reminder that even in their stolen sanctuary, the war loomed ever closer.

The walls of the room had witnessed their laughter and shared secrets, the passionate exchanges that felt as real as the looming uncertainty of tomorrow. Oscar reached out, brushing his fingers gently along her arm, a gesture meant to reassure. “We’ll find a way,” he murmured, the conviction in his voice ringing clear. “After all this is over, there will be more than just stolen nights.”

Viviana’s smile ignited a spark within him, a reminder of why they fought so fiercely in their own ways. He wanted to believe in a future where the war was nothing more than a memory, where they could walk freely under the sun, unburdened by duty. “We’ll be together” he added, his voice thick with emotion. “Just you and me for as long as you wish for me to be around or grow bored of me.” he jested.

The intimacy of the moment deepened as he closed the distance between them, his lips seeking hers again, this time with a hunger that had been stifled by weeks of separation. The kiss was everything he had missed—filled with longing, hope, and the unyielding love that had grown between them amidst the ashes of war. Oscar’s hands cradled her face, fingers tangling in her hair as he lost himself in her warmth, feeling her heartbeat echoing his own.

As they pulled apart, breathless and alive, he searched her eyes, wanting her to know that even in their darkest moments, she was his guiding light. “No matter what happens, Viviana, I’m yours,” he vowed softly, the weight of his words heavy yet freeing. “And I’ll always return to you. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”

The cigarette in her hand was more than a habit; it was a small escape, a brief moment of control in a world spiralling deeper into chaos. The weight of her responsibilities, the danger she faced every day, and the constant fear of the Germans succeeding pressed heavily on her shoulders. If they won, the world as she knew it would be over. Her mind flickered to the Vichy regime, their submission to the Nazis, and her hometown, which had fallen under the rule of a fascist government. It made her stomach twist in knots, but she pushed it aside. Her work—their work—was the key to the future, to the liberation of France, England, and the rest of Europe. Every piece of information she gathered, every move she made, was crucial to the long-planned liberation.

The sound of footsteps brought her back to the present, her heart quickening as Oscar entered the apartment once more. Seeing him—feeling his presence—gave her the relief she so desperately craved. His tall frame filled the room with a quiet strength, and for a moment, the weight on her chest lifted. As he approached her, Viviana's gaze softened, admiration flickering in her eyes. She longed for him every time they were apart, the ache only growing deeper with each passing day. He took the cigarette from her hand, bringing it to his lips as he inhaled the smoke. The action was simple, but in it, there was something so intimate, a shared moment of solace in the madness. Viviana instinctively wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and a soft smile spread across her lips. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a reassuring rhythm that calmed her own racing thoughts. "I missed you too, mon amour," she whispered, her voice soft, laced with affection and relief.

She let out a soft laugh as she took the cigarette back from him, her fingers brushing his briefly. "Straight to work indeed," she teased, eyes glinting with the same playful energy that had always existed between them. "Though with you here, mon amour, focus can be a little difficult." Her tone was light, but the seriousness of their situation hung in the air, unspoken but understood. As Oscar unfolded the paper and complimented her work, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Grazie, amore," she replied, her voice soft as her native tongue slipped from her lips. "But you know, I’d rather us be anywhere but here, away from all of this." She took a slow drag from the cigarette, her gaze momentarily drifting towards the window, where the city outside flickered in the twilight. "As for your English cigarettes," she glanced around the apartment with mock concern, "I’m afraid the French have claimed this territory entirely. You may need to make do with what we have for now."

Viviana shifted closer to him, her fingers idly tracing patterns along his arm. "But perhaps," she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against his cheek, "when all this is over, we can spend more than just a few stolen nights together." Her breath caught at the warmth of his touch, her heart skipping a beat as the intensity between them flared. She closed her eyes, savouring the kiss that had started so gently but quickly ignited into something deeper. The world outside, with all its dangers, felt distant in that moment. She leaned into his hand, her lips parting slightly as her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if the war and everything else ceased to exist when they were together.

A soft, teasing smile played on her lips. “Ah, amore Oscar, always the charmer.” Her voice was low, almost a purr as she responded to his playful tone. “You’re right, I must’ve forgotten myself in all this chaos. Perhaps I do need reminding.” She brushed her fingertips lightly along his jawline, her thumb tracing the outline of his lips as she leaned closer, her breath mingling with his. “But don’t forget,” she whispered against his lips, “you haven’t greeted me properly either.” Her gaze softened as she leaned in again, her lips pressing against his, this time with no hesitation. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if they were savouring the rare moments they had together, knowing how fleeting they might be. When she pulled back, her fingers remained on his cheek, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Even after all this time, Oscar�� I still smoulder for you.”

Viviana’s heart swelled with warmth as Oscar kissed her again, a slow, tender exchange that lingered with all the emotion they couldn’t put into words. She watched him set his cap down on the table, a simple gesture that spoke volumes—like he was shedding the weight of the world, if only for a little while. Her hand slipped into his instinctively, fingers intertwining as she pulled him closer, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know you never have to ask,” she whispered, her voice gentle yet filled with conviction. “Because this is your home.” There was a bittersweetness to her words, an unspoken ache that came with knowing their time together was fleeting. The thought of him leaving in just two days sent a sharp pang through her chest, but she kept it hidden, not wanting to mar the moment. Instead, she focused on the warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the love they shared.

“I wish you could stay with me,” she admitted, her eyes meeting his, filled with the depth of her longing. “But we’ll make the most of this time, won’t we?” There was a soft plea in her voice, a quiet hope that these hours would be enough to sustain them both through the inevitable separation. Viviana’s grip on his hand tightened slightly as she guided him toward the bedroom, the space that had become a sanctuary for their stolen moments. The world outside was filled with war, chaos, and uncertainty, but here—within these walls—there was only them.

[wiinestories]

The cigarette in her hand was more than a habit; it was a small escape, a brief moment of control in a world spiralling deeper into chaos. The weight of her responsibilities, the danger she faced every day, and the constant fear of the Germans succeeding pressed heavily on her shoulders. If they won, the world as she knew it would be over. Her mind flickered to the Vichy regime, their submission to the Nazis, and her hometown, which had fallen under the rule of a fascist government. It made her stomach twist in knots, but she pushed it aside. Her work—their work—was the key to the future, to the liberation of France, England, and the rest of Europe. Every piece of information she gathered, every move she made, was crucial to the long-planned liberation.

The sound of footsteps brought her back to the present, her heart quickening as Oscar entered the apartment once more. Seeing him—feeling his presence—gave her the relief she so desperately craved. His tall frame filled the room with a quiet strength, and for a moment, the weight on her chest lifted. As he approached her, Viviana's gaze softened, admiration flickering in her eyes. She longed for him every time they were apart, the ache only growing deeper with each passing day. He took the cigarette from her hand, bringing it to his lips as he inhaled the smoke. The action was simple, but in it, there was something so intimate, a shared moment of solace in the madness. Viviana instinctively wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and a soft smile spread across her lips. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a reassuring rhythm that calmed her own racing thoughts. "I missed you too, mon amour," she whispered, her voice soft, laced with affection and relief.

She let out a soft laugh as she took the cigarette back from him, her fingers brushing his briefly. "Straight to work indeed," she teased, eyes glinting with the same playful energy that had always existed between them. "Though with you here, mon amour, focus can be a little difficult." Her tone was light, but the seriousness of their situation hung in the air, unspoken but understood. As Oscar unfolded the paper and complimented her work, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Grazie, amore," she replied, her voice soft as her native tongue slipped from her lips. "But you know, I’d rather us be anywhere but here, away from all of this." She took a slow drag from the cigarette, her gaze momentarily drifting towards the window, where the city outside flickered in the twilight. "As for your English cigarettes," she glanced around the apartment with mock concern, "I’m afraid the French have claimed this territory entirely. You may need to make do with what we have for now."

Viviana shifted closer to him, her fingers idly tracing patterns along his arm. "But perhaps," she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against his cheek, "when all this is over, we can spend more than just a few stolen nights together." Her breath caught at the warmth of his touch, her heart skipping a beat as the intensity between them flared. She closed her eyes, savouring the kiss that had started so gently but quickly ignited into something deeper. The world outside, with all its dangers, felt distant in that moment. She leaned into his hand, her lips parting slightly as her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her, as if the war and everything else ceased to exist when they were together.

A soft, teasing smile played on her lips. “Ah, amore Oscar, always the charmer.” Her voice was low, almost a purr as she responded to his playful tone. “You’re right, I must’ve forgotten myself in all this chaos. Perhaps I do need reminding.” She brushed her fingertips lightly along his jawline, her thumb tracing the outline of his lips as she leaned closer, her breath mingling with his. “But don’t forget,” she whispered against his lips, “you haven’t greeted me properly either.” Her gaze softened as she leaned in again, her lips pressing against his, this time with no hesitation. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if they were savouring the rare moments they had together, knowing how fleeting they might be. When she pulled back, her fingers remained on his cheek, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Even after all this time, Oscar… I still smoulder for you.”

Viviana’s heart swelled with warmth as Oscar kissed her again, a slow, tender exchange that lingered with all the emotion they couldn’t put into words. She watched him set his cap down on the table, a simple gesture that spoke volumes—like he was shedding the weight of the world, if only for a little while. Her hand slipped into his instinctively, fingers intertwining as she pulled him closer, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know you never have to ask,” she whispered, her voice gentle yet filled with conviction. “Because this is your home.” There was a bittersweetness to her words, an unspoken ache that came with knowing their time together was fleeting. The thought of him leaving in just two days sent a sharp pang through her chest, but she kept it hidden, not wanting to mar the moment. Instead, she focused on the warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the love they shared.

“I wish you could stay with me,” she admitted, her eyes meeting his, filled with the depth of her longing. “But we’ll make the most of this time, won’t we?” There was a soft plea in her voice, a quiet hope that these hours would be enough to sustain them both through the inevitable separation. Viviana’s grip on his hand tightened slightly as she guided him toward the bedroom, the space that had become a sanctuary for their stolen moments. The world outside was filled with war, chaos, and uncertainty, but here—within these walls—there was only them.

The evening air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine as Lieutenant Colonel Oscar Leon navigated the narrow, winding streets of a quaint French town. Here, the chaos of World War II felt distant, with cobblestones glistening under the soft glow of streetlamps. Yet the weight of the war lingered like a specter, reminding him of the dangers that lay just beyond the village's borders. Tonight, he would meet Viviana at her apartment. Their meetings, originally intended for gathering intelligence, had evolved into sanctuaries from the harsh realities of their lives. It had been three long weeks since he last saw her, and the ache of her absence gnawed at him with every step.

As he approached her building—a modest structure draped in ivy—he paused to steady his breath. The evening sky turned shades of indigo, and a thrill coursed through him at the prospect of seeing her again. He knocked softly on the door, which swung open to reveal Viviana, framed by the warm light of her apartment. He smiled as her eyes brightened, and she stepped forward to embrace him. The scent of lemons and a hint of lavender enveloped him, momentarily distracting him from the smell of war, mud, and dirt that clung to him. He had managed to avoid traveling to the front lines for now; his duties kept him in London and Paris, and for that, he was grateful—grateful just to be with her again.

“Darling,” he said, stepping toward her slowly as he gently took the cigarette from her fingers and brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply before blowing out a stream of smoke. He held her close, and time seemed to slow as he inhaled her familiar fragrance. “I missed you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he cleared his throat and locked his gaze on hers.

“Straight to work then,” he teased, humouring her for the moment. He knew the critical details she provided, and the danger of extracting them worried him, but he had learned to trust that she could take care of herself. They had promised to always do their best to return to each other. Oscar unfolded the paper, studying the meticulous notes she had gathered. “You’ve done incredible work, Viviana,” he said, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he took a few more puffs before returning it to her. “I still prefer the English variety, but I’ve run out. I don’t suppose I left a pack the last time I was here?” A glint appeared in his eyes at the mention of those few nights they had spent tangled in sheets, simply being together amidst the chaos of the world outside. Here, with her, he felt a profound peace.

Oscar found himself leaning closer, drawn by an irresistible force. He noticed the tension in her shoulders ease as they spoke, and he longed to bridge the gap between them. Without thinking, he closed the distance, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was tentative at first, a question, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the longing that had built over weeks of separation. Oscar sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You haven’t greeted me properly,” he said playfully. “I thought you lived from a place of romance. Should I remind you, Viviana?” He was confident in opening his heart to her, eager to show his love. “You still smolder for me,” he observed, cupping her cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb along her cheekbone before grazing her lower lip.

“And still as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” He took off his cap and set it on her wooden table before kissing her again. “I don’t want to demand anything of you, but may I stay here tonight? I have a few days before I must return to London—two days at most is all I can afford to be away.”

[isles-of-man]

The evening air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine as Lieutenant Colonel Oscar Leon navigated the narrow, winding streets of a quaint French town. Here, the chaos of World War II felt distant, with cobblestones glistening under the soft glow of streetlamps. Yet the weight of the war lingered like a specter, reminding him of the dangers that lay just beyond the village's borders. Tonight, he would meet Viviana at her apartment. Their meetings, originally intended for gathering intelligence, had evolved into sanctuaries from the harsh realities of their lives. It had been three long weeks since he last saw her, and the ache of her absence gnawed at him with every step.

As he approached her building—a modest structure draped in ivy—he paused to steady his breath. The evening sky turned shades of indigo, and a thrill coursed through him at the prospect of seeing her again. He knocked softly on the door, which swung open to reveal Viviana, framed by the warm light of her apartment. He smiled as her eyes brightened, and she stepped forward to embrace him. The scent of lemons and a hint of lavender enveloped him, momentarily distracting him from the smell of war, mud, and dirt that clung to him. He had managed to avoid traveling to the front lines for now; his duties kept him in London and Paris, and for that, he was grateful—grateful just to be with her again.

“Darling,” he said, stepping toward her slowly as he gently took the cigarette from her fingers and brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply before blowing out a stream of smoke. He held her close, and time seemed to slow as he inhaled her familiar fragrance. “I missed you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he cleared his throat and locked his gaze on hers.

“Straight to work then,” he teased, humouring her for the moment. He knew the critical details she provided, and the danger of extracting them worried him, but he had learned to trust that she could take care of herself. They had promised to always do their best to return to each other. Oscar unfolded the paper, studying the meticulous notes she had gathered. “You’ve done incredible work, Viviana,” he said, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he took a few more puffs before returning it to her. “I still prefer the English variety, but I’ve run out. I don’t suppose I left a pack the last time I was here?” A glint appeared in his eyes at the mention of those few nights they had spent tangled in sheets, simply being together amidst the chaos of the world outside. Here, with her, he felt a profound peace.

Oscar found himself leaning closer, drawn by an irresistible force. He noticed the tension in her shoulders ease as they spoke, and he longed to bridge the gap between them. Without thinking, he closed the distance, brushing his lips against hers. The kiss was tentative at first, a question, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the longing that had built over weeks of separation. Oscar sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You haven’t greeted me properly,” he said playfully. “I thought you lived from a place of romance. Should I remind you, Viviana?” He was confident in opening his heart to her, eager to show his love. “You still smolder for me,” he observed, cupping her cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb along her cheekbone before grazing her lower lip.

“And still as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” He took off his cap and set it on her wooden table before kissing her again. “I don’t want to demand anything of you, but may I stay here tonight? I have a few days before I must return to London—two days at most is all I can afford to be away.”

closed starter for @isles-of-man 💕

Paris, 1942. The city was shrouded in tension, a beautiful place turned into a battlefield of secrecy and betrayal. Europe was in the throes of war, and every corner of Paris felt the weight of conflict. Viviana Coppola, a woman of many faces and even more secrets, now moved as Dominique Delacroix, a fabricated identity that had allowed her to infiltrate the elite circles of Paris. Under the guise of a glamorous French actress, Viviana mingled with the wealthy and powerful, slipping unnoticed into the lives of Nazi officers, her true purpose hidden behind her charm. Her French accent was flawless, her elegance unmatched, and no one suspected that beneath her refined exterior was a mind calculating every move. She had mastered the art of illusion—her smile disarming, her wit sharp, but her mission unwavering: to gather critical intelligence for the Allied forces, risking her life at every turn.

The phone call was brief but essential. On the other end, a German officer, none the wiser to her true allegiance, provided her with a crucial piece of information. She listened intently, her heart steady, even as her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle that could turn the tide of the war. “Danke,” she said softly, her voice smooth and composed as she thanked him in his own language, the German words slipping from her lips with practised ease. She hung up the phone, her expression never betraying the turmoil within. Each conversation, each encounter, was a step closer to her goal—but also a step closer to danger. She knew that one wrong move could lead her to death, and the failure of her goal to set the La Résistance as the winners would be tragic, and even her goal was aligned with setting her homeland, Italy, free from Mussolini.

In the chaos of war, Viviana had found something unexpected. Amidst the layers of deception and the constant danger, she had found him. Oscar, a British Lieutenant Colonel with his own burdens, shared her life of secrecy and duty. He wasn’t just another piece in her elaborate game of survival and espionage—he was the one person she returned to, the one constant in a world that threatened to swallow them both. Oscar, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, was no stranger to the deadly weight of responsibility. They’d met under the most unlikely circumstances, a chance encounter in the dimly lit backrooms of a Parisian café, both of them using false identities to navigate through a web of lies. But from that moment, something unspoken tied them together.

Viviana stepped into her small, unassuming apartment, the dim light casting shadows across the sparse furnishings. It was a hideaway, tucked within the heart of Paris, where she kept her clothes, a few personal belongings, and the tools of her trade. The space was modest, the kind of place that drew no attention—perfect for someone living under an assumed identity. She lit a cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs, savouring the brief moment of solitude as it curled into the air. From where she stood, she could see the lights of the Eiffel Tower, its golden glow piercing through the night like a beacon of defiance amidst the occupied city. The sight of it stirred something in her—a reminder of the world that had existed before the war, of what she was fighting for. Paris, even under the heavy hand of the Germans, still retained its elegance, its heartbeat. Her eyes flickered toward the door at the sound of footsteps. In a world where trust was scarce, every noise could mean danger, but she was always ready. Turning swiftly, her posture relaxed only when she saw him. Oscar’s familiar figure approached, his presence instantly soothing the tension that always lingered at the edges of her nerves.

“Mon amour,” she greeted him softly, her voice carrying the warmth she reserved for him alone. The French rolled off her tongue effortlessly, her lips curving into a smile as she regarded him. He was the one person in her life she could let her guard down with, even if just for a moment. The cigarette between her fingers smouldered as she exhaled the smoke slowly, watching him come closer. “I’ve managed to obtain more information about the Germans and their next movements here,” she continued, switching easily to English, her fluency in both languages a necessity for survival. She leaned against the small wooden table, her smile lingering as her chocolate hues fixed on her beloved. “I think you’ll find it important, especially for your countrymen.”