#Hugo Stiglitz x y/n

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Can You Keep Up? 🔪 | Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz Imagine

Takes place during the events of Inglorious Basterds

Inglorious Basterds Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz x female basterd!reader (romantic), the Basterds (platonic)

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, war, murder, blood, violence, n*zis, hate crimes | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 2.7k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Sgt Hugo Stiglitz had a reputation long before becoming a member The Basterds. Killing Nazis and ending the war were the only thinks he cared about….until a new basterd entered the picture. One who had her own reputation in America that rivaled even some its most notorious gangsters.

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“You should tell her,” Wicki mumbled in German, which would do nothing to hide their conversation since the person they were referring to spoke German. Had she been closer to the pair they surely would’ve been found out.

Hugo groaned, pitting a glare to the Austrian, “No.” Wicki rolled his eyes.

“One of these days the others are going to notice how you’ve changed in the last few weeks.”

“I have not changed!” The German defends, whisper-shouting while checking to make sure she wasn’t in their proximity. Eyes locking on her figure, he found Y/n scalping her latest kill. Quickly he turned away, the image of her tackling the Nazi down from a tree branch appearing in his mind, the stoic expression he wore faltering. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen a person do and boy did it make him feel things.

But then again, Y/n L/n was not an ordinary soldier. Hell, she wasn’t even a soldier.

A native of the city that never sleeps, the cards of a promising life were not in place for Y/n. At a young age petty crime was her ticket to surviving. Pickpocketing off of unsuspecting tourists, stealing cars from junkyards, and making quick cash by taking whatever opportunity presented itself. That was her life from childhood to the end of adolescence.

Right around the age of 21 in 1930, the midst of prohibition, Y/n found herself at the bar of a speakeasy owned by one of the most notorious mob bosses in the city. Now when one thinks of organized crime and all its associates, women never have a place amongst the ranks. It’s just how things worked—patriarchy and sexism in all.

Y/n had already garnered herself a reputation in the underground world of New York. Known by only the name, The Rose, due to the red inked rose tattoo on her neck, Y/n was listed on the top ten most wanted in the city. Doing jobs ranging from burglaries to ‘get rid of them, leave nothing behind’ as they came to her as long as they paid well. And by well, we’re talking Y/n couldn’t have a bank account open for they would be suspicious of the depositing amounts.

No eye witness had ever been able to give a detailed description for the NYPD to develop a composite drawing. Y/n was a ghost among the living. Making her dangerous and a myth to many who refused to believe a woman could be capable of the crimes she committed. A lot of the hits she was responsible for had the police believing it was rival gangs. Nothing was traced back to her save for burglaries where a witness reported, “whoever it was, I think it was a woman. There was something about their physique and voice in the few words they spoke that had me thinking it wasn’t a man.”

So yeah, Y/n was a professional criminal at the ripe age of 21. A literally hit woman who was damn good at making things appear as an accident. Becoming an associate of a mob boss was not what she envisioned, but leave it to a man who’s also a ghost to the public eye able to uncover a fellow one.

“How’d you know who I was?” The vodka from her martini hit her tongue as she took a sip. Eyebrows raised at the man beside her, dressed in an expensive pinstriped suit, she noted the two men in suits flanking him. That in itself was enough to piece together he was someone important. Then he got to talking and before long Y/n formally introduced herself knowing the jig was up.

“A man like me has his ways.”

“And I’m assuming a man like you is someone who likes to keep his presence quiet. Yet, you took a risk by approaching me. Why is that, Mr. Falcone?”

“I’ve got a job for you.” This has her tilt her head, intrigued by the proposal.

“What kind of job?”

“I’m aware one-and-done is your style,” he starts, removing his glasses and placing them in his pocket only to remove a Manila colored envelope. “But I’m willing to offer you something more permanent. It means you’ll have to stop any and all business with competing employers,” he was referring to rival gangs and families. Basically Y/n would be an associate in his ranks. “But I can assure you,” the envelope slides over to her, Y/n immediately taking it into her hands to peek inside. “any and all needs would be provided. I’m sure you’ll find the pay more than sufficient than what you’re normally accustomed to.” Inside was at least $20,000. Twenty wads of ten $100 bills stacked together. The man was right in his assumption of money Y/n obtained on a job—ranging between $3-7k depending on what needed to be done.

Y/n was quiet for a moment, finishing her martini before turning back to Falcone. “Forgive me for being so blunt, Mr. Falcone. Your offer is gracious and tempting, but I thought women have no place in the mob. Why would you want to work with me?”

“Because you’re good at what you do,” he stated the obvious, motioning for the bartender for two glasses of whiskey. “You’ve managed at such a young age to turn the boys in blue upside down over your looming presence. And they still have yet to uncover how deep your ledger bleeds in this city. They only believe you’re responsible for all those bank heists and the last person the mayor’s God awful son was seen with.” Y/n withheld the smirk threatening to form.

“But I know from whispers in the dark the number of people you’ve successfully indisposed. And I know you’ve managed to accumulate that many because you know how to work with men’s weaknesses. How they are so captivated by the rose before them, they fail to see the thorns. Why wouldn’t I want to work with someone of such talents?” Passing over one of the whiskeys, Falcone lifted his own. “What do you say, Miss. L/n? Do we have a deal?”

The clinking of glass signaled the signing of the unwritten contract penned beneath the dim lights of Falcone’s speakeasy. From that moment on Y/n was an official member of the Falcone crime family. Their hitwoman to be exact where she maintained her double life for nearly twelve years. Bathing in the riches, living the high life. All while keeping a low profile where Falcone’s dirty work was never traced back to her and vice versa.

Unfortunately, mistakes happen. Costly ones where everything crumbles in the blink of an eye.

Well it didn’t all crumble. Technically the FBI was only able to prove Y/n was responsible for one count of federal racketeering. Any other crimes—nearly 50 to be exact—they believed she did had no hard evidence.

Let’s face it, they damn well knew it was her. But Y/n was really good at her job. Only reason she got caught was her getaway driver fucked up by turning left instead of right where a squadron was waiting for them. One look at her tattoo and the feds were busting down the doors of the police department.

But dragging her ass to Alcatraz to become the first female prisoner was not the plan the feds had for Y/n. At the turn of the new year in 1942, America had entered World War II following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Troops were sent off to Europe each week, nurses deployed, and supplies to aid the allies.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Y/n choked on the smoke from cigarette, handcuffed by the wrists and staring at the agent like he was insane.

“Not in the slightest,” he blew out his own smoke. Placing his bud in the tray, the agent leaned his elbows on the table, “listen, Miss. L/n, it’s either this or prison. As much as my colleagues hate to admit it, you’d make a great spy. We’re offering your freedom—full pardon and all—in exchange for your cooperation with the OSS for however long it will take for us to win this war. The Army already agreed.”

Y/n stayed silent, deep in thought while finishing her cigarette. Go to war, become a spy for America, and try to not to die before it ends. Or waste away in a prison located on an island with no chances of escaping and remain there until she dies. “Fuck it, guess I’m going to Europe.”

Touching down in France Y/n was hauled to the OSS base camp, still chained by the wrists and ankles, where she was introduced to the General. From there the rules and regulations of her position were relayed on top of being assigned to the squadron deep behind enemy lines known as The Basterds.

One could imagine the reaction the squad had when their newest comrade was revealed to them. The only warning they got was, “bring her in,” before a smirking chained Y/n waltzed in with two soldiers flanked beside her.

“Hello, boys.”

Donny just about swallowed the toothpick in his mouth. The younger basterds wide eyed and mouths agape while Hugo and Wicki appeared confused. Then there was Aldo who was visibly flabbergasted, “What the hell is this?” It wasn’t everyday one saw a woman in handcuffs guarded by armed escorts. But despite her innocent demeanor, there was something sinister lying behind her gaze. “Who is she?”

“Your new mercenary,” the general plainly states.

“This pretty little thang?” Donny wants to laugh, earning an amused smirk from Y/n. Aldo shushes him a glare at the same moment the general does.

“This pretty little thing could make your death look like an accident, Donowitz.” The comment had Y/n roll her eyes. Now that has the Basterds intrigued…and a little concerned. Their reaction made her chuckle.

“Believe me gentlemen, it wasn’t my idea to join you on the front lines. But, the FBI said it was either this or Alcatraz.”

“Alcatraz?!” Smitty gasps. Off to the side Hugo leans closer to Wicki, whispering in German, “What is Alcatraz?”

“It’s a federal prison in California located on an island where they send the worst of the worst criminals. They say no one can escape once they’re locked within its walls.”

So, from what Hugo observes, this woman happens to be one of the worst criminals in America.

Aldo, just as appalled, follows up with, “Now what on earth did you do that would have the feds sending you to the Rock?”

“My job,” she shrugs in response.

“Which was?” There were dozens of ‘jobs’ with a one way ticket to Alcatraz. Mostly gang members and mafia bosses. Serial killers and bank robbers. Its most famous residents being Al Capone, George Kelly Barnes, Robert Stroud, and Alvin Karpavivz.

The general slaps down the file in front of Aldo, “killing people for money, money laundering, blackmail and extortion of politicians on behalf of the New York’s mob, robbing almost every bank in the city, and bombing the Wall Street Journal.”

“Now general,” Y/n tsks, receiving horrified expressions from everyone in the room. The metal from her handcuffs clanked as she held palms up, “That’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think? After all those are only accusations. None of which can be proven,” her nonchalant tone combined with the not-so-innocent smile gave indication the general spoke the truth. “Except for the blackmail one. That I did do.”

The Basterds were pretty much hesitant of Y/n up until the first time they saw her in action. Not only did she lure a patrol of Nazis to them, but she took down six of the ten with. One for each bullet in her pistol. All the Basterds were beyond amazed, but none more than Hugo.

It was like he was seeing the female version of himself when Y/n invoked her talents with a blade on a Nazi. Effortless when sneaking up behind or jumping from a branch onto their shoulders. Never missing her target when firing her pistol. The fear she produced when a Nazi recognized the tattoo on her neck. Word got around quickly among the German army of the female basterd who looked as delicate as a rose but possessed thorns unlike any other.

Hugo, a man of few words, couldn’t help but be curious of the American. Y/n noticed it too with how many times she caught him staring at her. Finally she had enough of his staring and confronted him one night when they were on watch, “Penny for your thoughts, Stiglitz.”

“You speak German?” His tone was of surprise, making her smirk.

“I speak many languages. German, Italian, Spanish, French, even Gaelic. It’s sorta a necessity for the job I do—interacting with people from all parts of the world.”

“Job….” Hugo repeated under his breath, “you are a professional criminal? That is what Donowitz was saying.”

“Oh so you believe gossip now?” She teased, though making no motion to deny the accusation. “Good to know you boys talk about me in your free time.”

“Is it true?” Hugo persisted, making Y/n straighten her posture, no longer finding humor in the conversation. The tone had shifted to a serious one.

“Will you look at me differently than you already do if it is?” Was her challenge. Not waiting for his answer she continued, “I’m only guaranteed my freedom once this war ends for the things they caught me for, Hugo. Confessing to you the ones they didn’t…..well why would I admit guilt? A smart criminal would never.”

To be honest Y/n technically confessed to Hugo she was in fact responsible for all the crimes the general had informed them of. Though vague with her words, Y/n spoke with her eyes. Showing Hugo her true nature without voicing the truth.

From that moment on there was an unspoken connection between the two. A mutual respect and understanding for each other that was different from the other Basterds. Hugo could rely on Y/n to have his back and vice versa. Never did they question the other’s decision or actions even if the Basterds disagreed. While it took a few months, they eventually considered them friends instead of mere comrades.

He didn’t know when he started to see Y/n in a different light. Maybe it was when he watched her dance in a tavern with Omar and Aldo. Or maybe it was when she shot at the nazi sneaking up behind him from her sniper's den. He found peace in the moments they would sit by the fire and not say a single word. Admiration in the way she didn’t give a fuck about what people thought of her. Held her ground and owned her mistakes. Maybe it wasn’t full blown love Hugo felt for Y/n, but there was a deep fondness for her.

Whatever it was, Wicki seemed to catch on.

Like right now when he spotted the blonde observing Y/n scalping her latest kill. Trying to get Hugo to man up and confess his feelings to their fellow Basterd was like teaching a toddler simple manners. “I don’t see what you are so afraid of, Hugo. You two are friends. And from what I’ve seen when you’re not looking, I think she feels the same.”

Hugo couldn’t ignore the slight skip in his heart at the assumption. Still stoic, the German shrugged his shoulders, “We’ve got a job to do, Wilhelm. There’s no time for—.”

“No time for what?” The two men jump at the sound of Y/n joining their conversation. Neither noticed she had moved from her spot.

“Nothing,” Hugo sputters out, placing his knife back in its holster. In his head he was hoping to whatever God she didn’t hear what they were saying. So much as catching the word ‘she’ Y/n would know it was her given she was the only woman in miles.

Tilting her head, Y/n keeps her expression neutral. “Wicki, can you give Hugo and I a moment alone.”

“Of course,” the man excuses himself, bidding a glance to Hugo on the way out. Once he was a good distance away and none of the other Basterds were in sight Y/n approached Hugo. He waited for her to speak, but instead was left stunned at the feeling of her lips pressing to his cheek.

“Wh-what was that for?” A smirk is her response.

“I think you know,” she throws a wink. “You and Wicki’s forget your voices carry.” Red flares on Hugo’s cheeks, but he manages to calm it down. Y/n only widens her smile, “Don’t worry about saying what you feel,” she gives another kiss, though this time on the corner of his lips. “I can see it in your actions.”

Spinning on her heel, Y/n starts making her way back to the others when Hugo calls out to her, still shocked by what had taken place, “What does this mean then? For us?”

“Whatever you desire, darling,” Peering over her shoulder the woman gives a cheeky smirk, “think you can keep up?”

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Invitations (Hugo x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

A/N: Ok so it's technically Reader x Hugo, BUT there's a lot of focus on Hirschberg :')

_____________ It was 1942. You were flying over the English Channel, through the night, through a storm, through gunfire, all while listening to the southern absurdities of your lieutenant, and what sounded like every bolt and screw in the plane rattling. You looked around at your brand new team, who in a matter of days would make a name for themselves as the Basterds. The soldier next to you was visibly scared, unable to even catch his breath. His name was Gerold Hirschberg, he was mean with a knife, and he was terrified of heights. "Hey kid," You nudged him, though you weren't much older than him, if at all. He looked to you with wide, terrified eyes. "Stay cool," you smiled, trying to give him some courage, though you hadn't been this nervous in your life. "Y..yeah..." He smiled and nodded, drawing a breath in. It wasn't long before you'd reached your destination. "WE'RE BEHIND ENEMY LINES. THEY KNOW WE'RE FUCKING HERE. THIS DUMP IS FALLING APART. AND ON TOP OF THAT, IT'S FUCKING RAINING." Donny marched to the exit, pulling open the rusty door,  "HARNESSES TIGHT, DON'T BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS. MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" Your sergeant called out, directing each of you as you put on your parachutes and formed a line. You and Hirschberg were the last two basterds on board. You called out over the roaring engine, winds, and war, "YOU COMING OR WHAT?" "HELL YEAH." He jumped out with you entangled in parachutes, with rain dripping over you, lightning and signals all around you. You didn’t know  that Hirschberg from then on would have followed you to the ends of the earth and back. But he never told you that.

"Hey." You looked over him, as he struggled against the parachute after falling into a patch of mud. "Come on," you held your hand out, pulling him up, and guided him to the rest of the basterds. It wasn't long before he realized you were just that kind with all of them, not just him. After some time, he knew you'd never love him the way he loved you. As time went on, he only wondered what could have been from a distance. *********** After some time, new basterd had joined the team. And, he'd had more luck than Hirschberg ever would. Much like with Hirschberg, you coaxed Hugo out of his shell. You were the only one who could keep him talking, and make him smile and laugh on the spot. The happier you seemed with Hugo, the more withdrawn Hirschberg became, which was odd, considering he rivaled Donny for the 'loudest basterd' title. It was 1944, Aldo, Wicki, Omar, Donny, and Hirschberg went to the nearest town to split up and gatehr supplies. Food, bandages, maybe some alcohol to mae nights warmer. You, Hugo, and Smitty stayed behind, catching up on your debts to Aldo. Three minutes into the two day journey, Donny asked, "Fuck a duck, kid. What's the matter?" Hirschberg shrugged him off, "What the hell are you talkin' about?" "Well, normally, you'd be complaining by now." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "Would not." Omar smirked a little, "Would too." Hirschberg sighed, "Man I just....Y/n and Hugo are-" Aldo chuckled, "I knew it, boy. I damn sure knew it. Di'n't I tell ya, Wicki?" Wicki laughed with a nod, "Yup." "What?! How?!" Donny shrugged, "Why else would you try to fight Hugo Stiglitz?" "I was drunk, ok?!" Omar nodded, "Uh huh, and why else would you try to drunk-fight Hugo Stiglitz?" "I just..." Hirschberg muttered as he kicked some dirt, and pushed his hands into his pockets, "What the hell's that guy got that I don't got?!" "Bout five fucken feet taller than you," Donny shrugged and Hirschberg glared at him. Wicki laughed a little, shaking his head. "So you got a broken heart? That it?" Hirschberg didn't say anything, and Aldo sighed, "Oh boy. Look here, son. This aint what'cha want. You're too damn young." "Have you seen Hirschberg? He ain't got many options, sir" Omar laughed and took a bite of a sandwhich. Aldo chuckled a little and went on, "Well... You's just in the thrill of the war 'n all, think you love y/n cause you think you'll die without her. Wait till you get home, get a little older." Donny grinned a little, "Sure, kid. Once you go to a USO dance with all the medals and ribbons, they'll forget about...that," he signaled at Hirschberg's stature. Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "Oh very fucken funny, sarge." Wicki sighed, though he was a little amused. "She's a basterd, kid. Can't let what you feel change anything. It's dangerous out here enough. The only thing more dangerous than going after a woman who loves someone else, is doing it in the middle of a war." Hirschberg only nodded slightly, and followed quietly. He heard them. He understood every word. He listened, he really did. They were his closest friends, after all. But he loved you. No amount of words could change that. ***** Days passed. Winter was coming. Exhausted, blistered feet, freezing fingers, and hazy minds, they came back to camp, expecting a warm fire. Instead they found a raging firefight. It was you, Hugo, and Smitty, and you were outnumbered. Hirschberg wasn't thinking straight. His heart dropped, seeing you dash across the forest floor, searching for cover, almost reaching Smitty. "Y/N!" Hirschberg called out so loudly, he gave away your position. Smitty, who was his best friend, was shot on sight. Hugo dove in front of both you and Smitty, trying to save you both from any more harm. Hugo was shot right in front of your eyes. Hugo was shot in his left arm, and stood strong, covering Smitty. It took nearly an hour to get rid of all the nazis, and get Smitty a clear path to safety. Hirschberg's conscience was heavy with guilt, as he helped you pick up Smitty. He spotted a battered, scratched up band around your left ring finger. He'd seen that ring before. It was Hugo's. He often wore it around his pinky. "Y/n..." Hirschberg's heart sank. Somehow, he missed you, though you were right in front of his eyes. You'd never know how much he loved you, and it broke his heart.  As you both set Smitty down, you pushed him out of the tent, rolling up your sleeves, as Wicki pushed past Hirschberg with some medical supplies. Hugo lowered himself into a chair, having lost more than enough blood, though not willing to show any signs of it around anyone but you. Hirschberg wanted nothing more but to ask you to forgive him, but there was no time. You and Wicki were the only ones with some medical training, and worked together to save Smitty. You quickly did your best to help Hugo before focusing all your attention on Smitty. You stood at the entrance of the tent taking a breath before diving into what would inevitably be an endless night. Hugo stood by you, with a smile of gratitude, and in a rare moment, he showed his love for you in front of all the basterds. He rested his right hand against your left cheek, softly and briefly pressed his lips against your right cheek, whispering something to make you both sigh, and hope Wicki was not close enough to understand. Seeing your reaction, he whispered "Ich liebe dich." You smiled softly, and responded in your own language, making Hugo forget you were all far from home, beneath an unknown sky, surrounded by the enemy. Hugo reluctantly left you, after you insisted he rest and promised you and Wicki would be fine. He joined the basterds around the fire, who dared not comment on his rare PDA, though they did smile a little. You looked at them, and spotted Hirschberg, who looked at you blankly, half guilty, half ashamed,  "Y/n." You shook your head a little. You were expressionless, far from the comforting grin that he met years before. You hadn't said  anything to him, and that was what was worst of all to him. It broke his heart. You turned away, and went into the tent to help Smitty. When it was all said and done, Smitty would be ok. You left the makeshift medical tent. It was the middle of the night, around 2 or 3 AM.

Hirschberg was leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. "Y/n..." "Not now, Gerold." "Y/n, come on." He caught your arm, "I'm sorry." You sighed, taking what felt as your first breath all night. "Smitty's your best friend. Go sit with him for a while, would ya?" You stuck a cigarette between your lips, and clicked your lighter on. "Y/n, I just..." You sighed, "What, Gerold?" You looked at him, finally, and even that was a relief to him. "I just...I saw the ring, and I...." He was upset, knowing he really never would have a chance. But, he saw just how happy you were with Hugo in that one single moment outside of the tent. Anyone could see it. And, maybe, the boys were right. You sighed with a little smirk, "So you wanted to get rid of him?" He just had to laugh a little, "No, I just..." realizing it all with a shrug and a resigned sigh. "Mazel tov," he smiled. By the dim glow of your cigarettes and the distant moon, you could see his sincerity. "Thank you," you smiled with a nod, though you were not inviting any more conversation. You could have lost Hugo and Smitty over Hirschberg's emotions, and he knew though you were wearing a kind smile, you were not quick to forgive. Hirschberg hugged you for a moment, in a way saying goodbye without saying a word. You didn't hug him back. He just wished you the best, with or without him. "I ain't expecting an invitation to the wedding after this," He cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck, "But...I just hope we all make it to then, huh?" When you and Wicki were in the tent with Smitty, the rest of the basterds were informed of a new mission they'd have to prepare for. They had a few months, but they were going to need them. The mission would be known as Operation Kino. From what Hirschberg could tell, it was unlikely everyone would make it to the end of the war. He only hoped now to make it to see the day you forgave him. ***** Months passed. Operation Kino came and went. The basterds all went home. The war was over at last. Gerold Hirschberg had been home for a while, now. He loved it. He loved his family his old friends, his neighborhood, the city. But he missed the basterds. He missed Wicki's advice, Aldo's southern puzzles of words, Donny's distinct Bostonian way of cursing. Sometimes, he even missed Hugo's silence. But most of all, he missed you. It wasn't all bad. Smitty lived just on the other side of town. Omar lived about an hour away or so. All of you had agreed to meet at least once or twice a year after you got your medals of honor. But...that was easier said than done. Hugo hadn't shown up to a single thing after the medal of honor ceremony. He was in Switzerland, last Hirschberg heard, trying to figure out where to move to in America. He was even contemplating Canada. Aldo was all the way down south in Maynardville, Tennessee. Sometimes he couldn't make it because he was coaching his newly-adopted son’s football team. Donny was of course in Boston, and now engaged, and date night was of the essence. Wicki's wife was expecting, and had a two year old running around, so he couldn't get out very often to begin with, let alone travel.   When the basterds did manage to pick a time and place, quite a few still couldn't make it. He was looking out the window, due east, wondering how to leave behind the adventure, the echoes of the war planes, and the memory of you. "GEROLD!" He poked his head out the door of his bedroom, "Yeah ma?!" "Mail!" He trotted down the stairs, spotting his mother at the table going through a stack of envelopes. She held one out for him, saying "Postage's from Connecticut." "Connecticut?" He furrowed his brows, digging through his memory, not recalling who he knew from there. He took the envelope. It was creme colored, with a gold seal. Perplexed, he flipped it around, and saw handwriting he recognized, and immediately opened it. It was an invitation to a wedding. Y/N L/N & Hugo Stiglitz January 20th, 1947. You weren't from Connecticut...but he figured that's where Hugo moved to after the war. It was quiet, and calm, and suited you and Hugo. Hirschberg smiled with a sigh as he read it. He questioned himself, wondering if you'd only invited him because it was only fair to invite all of the basterds. Maybe Hugo was the one in charge of the invitations? Maybe...you didn't really want him there... Maybe... He put the invitation back in the envelope, spotting another slip of paper. He recognized your handwriting again. "Hey kid, stay cool!" He smiled, putting the paper in his pocket, as he found a pen. Maybe things really were alright. "What is it, Gerold?" "An old friend from the army's gettin' married, ma." He smiled, flipping a few months ahead in his calendar, and marking down the date. "My friends," He sighed softly, somehow finally at peace with that. He straightened out  a few medals on his lapel, on his way out for a dance, and a drink or two. Smitty and Omar would be there, as would other former soldiers, looking for someone to share it all with.   The piece of paper with a simple message and memory in his pocket was an invitation to leave behind the things he carried in his mind. And for the first time in years, he danced, and smiled, and lived without missing something that never could have been.

[angelaiswriting]

Closer | Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: stranded in a spooky village, Stiglitz confesses his feelings, but she’s caught off-guard and panics. Back at the base, though, she’d like to see where the future takes them. (Requested by my new and unexpected love for this man)

✏️ Prompts by peaskyblonders (link below): # 4, 5, 7, 19, 20

✏️ A/N: the truth is, I should write more blowjobs instead of fearing new fandoms. HAHA. Italics are supposed to be German (unless it’s for emphasis). Prompts used are in bold. Kudos to @kind-wolf​ for throwing this new obsession at me without warning 💛 Also, please, for the love of all that is holy, listen to Closer by Kings of Leon (it probably has close to nothing to do with this story, but I had it on loop as I wrote and it’s absolutely stunning  – and it did give me a title in a time of need).

✏️ Warnings: 18+ ONLY (oral m/r, sex... haha + mentions of a bullet wound and of someone who’s not a pro poking around in it + plot... eh, kinda there, kinda a decoration lol)

✏️ Word-count: 4,785

“Stop whining, it’s just a bullet!”

The voices in the room gradually quiet down to a churchyard silence when Y/N groans, surgical pliers still poking around in the hole in Smithson Utivich’s leg and face set into a frown. English sounds weird on her tongue, almost cut down with the wrong kind of knife, and there’s no safe hiding place for her German origins.

‘It’s just a bullet’ in my fucking leg – they all know those are the words Utivich was about to spit out like burning venom before he opts for the safest solution, the one that lies in silence. There’s a reason if her German accent keeps on being so prominent when she speaks English and that’s because she just does not speak English unless she absolutely has to. She’s more similar to Stiglitz in this than anyone would ever dare express out loud – she either speaks German or French, or she doesn’t speak at all.

“I should leave it in here,” she mutters again when Utivich’s leg jolts up and someone – Andy – has to step forward and keep it pushed down on the table. “You’d deserve it, stupid idiot.”

“It was an accident,” Smithson mumbles, voice low and full of embarrassment. Just half an hour ago he had been outside by a fire, drinking with the guys, until Donny convinced him to play some trick with what should have been an unloaded gun. “And you don’t have to take it out, we can wait for Wicki.”

When the door opens, everybody turns into its direction holding their breath, but it’s not Wicki.

“What happened here?” Aldo asks, brows set into an unconvinced frown as his gaze lands on Utivich first and then Y/N.

“Stupid Americans, that’s what happened.” But then she sighs, shrugs her shoulders, and pulls the bullet out of the man’s wound. “Children shouldn’t play with guns,” she glares. “Someone get off their ass and go call a fucking nurse.”

When half the men in the room scramble out, almost stepping on each other’s feet, Aldo Raine steps forward. He’s expression is set and unreadable as he examines Smith’s leg and a couple of minutes go by before he speaks again. “I need you and Stiglitz on a mission. I have an informer down south that says there’s a couple of Nazis you two might have the pleasure to take out.”

*

“How’s our exit?” Stiglitz asks, crouching down next to Y/N and taking the binoculars she’s passing him. She’s tense and he can see right through her façade, right through that ‘I don’t fear this has all gone to shit’ mask she’s been wearing for the past few days.

“Still no sign of our guy,” comes her whisper when he finally brings the field glasses to his face and stares off into the distance. “I’m scared, Stiglitz,” she confesses right after, before that temporary bravery stops her from opening up like that. “I have a bad feeling about this. It’s the same I had the day we got arrested.”

He says nothing to that, just stares at the horizon for another minute before he hands her back the binoculars and moves to sit down, his back against the wall of the abandoned house. It’s a spooky village, the one they’re using as their hideout, and the temperature during the day has already started to scratch like an angry cat. Winter is approaching quickly and right there, in the skeleton of what was once somebody’s home, there’s no running away from it.

“I should have gone myself,” she goes on as she scoots closer to him in search of some warmth. “Raine doesn’t know how these people work. You just can’t trust them. He thinks he can, but…” Her rambling dies down and he knows she’s thinking back to that night she’s had to take a bullet out of Utivich’s leg. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. He’s worked with her long enough to just be able to understand how her mind works.

“We’ll get back.” It sounds like a promise on his lips and whether he means it as such or not, it’s met with a soft sigh as she relaxes against his side, her head falling back in surrender against the wall. We’ll get back, the words echo in his mind and he does his best to believe them like she at least pretends to.

Neither of them says it out loud, but that’s why they’ve always worked solo – or just with each other after they met back in Bavaria. They’re good at this, good at driving Nazis out, and even better at taking them out. Not as good as the Basterds consider them, but they get the job done and move on to the next name on the list. They jump from name to name and never collab with anyone – or so it used to be before their arrest. Now they’re made to trust other people and that’s just not what they’re used to. You don’t go trust the next person; you don’t lay your life in their hands if you don’t know who they are and what they’ve done to survive.

“You should try and get some sleep,” he says when her stomach complains. Had they known how things would go, they would have packed more food. But they’ve had to ration what little they managed to stash into their backpacks before fleeing the town Raine had sent them to, and now they have to face the consequences. “I’ll keep watch, wake you up in a few hours.”

The old boards of the parquet creak under his boots when he stands up but it almost feels like those are his bones, turned cold and brittle by the still young winter. It’s surely not that long, but the last time he’s laid down feels like it belongs to a past life. A split second before he takes the first step forward, toward one of the rifles they left in a corner of the room with their stuff, her fingers wrap around his wrist and he’s rooted to the spot.

“How long has it been since you slept?” She tugs his arm when she stands up, inhaling sharply when half of her weight comes to rest on the foot she sprained the day before. And even though she’s been trying to shrug it off – because that’s what she does: she clenches her jaw and moves forward, that’s how it’s always been and probably how it always will be – he knows it’s been bothering her every time they move.

And much like her, he shrugs his shoulders once, frees his hand from her gentle grasp, and moves to pick his rifle up. It’s always a comforting weight in his arms but as he peeks from the empty hole that had once been a window, the heavy clouds in the sky make it feel like some sick kind of doom.

“Don’t do this, Stiglitz. Don’t close me off again.”

He doesn’t turn around when he corrects her – Hugo, not Stiglitz.

You never let anyone call you that – that’s what the look in her eyes tells when he eventually turns around and finds her staring at him. He’s been with her long enough and after a while, you just start reading people. All the unspoken words are paint strokes on a face that’s better than an open book; on a face that’s more like a canvas.

“Hugo.” The smile that stretches her lips is the tired shadow of what he knows could fool Nazis before he stepped in, his weapon of choice in his hands. “You go to sleep. I’m fine, really. By the looks of it,” she continues, hinting at the sky with a movement of her head as she stretches her arm out for him to hand her the rifle, “no one will come: it’s going to start snowing soon.”

*

He wakes up to a snow-clad scenery outside the open window – and to snowflakes dancing in the chilly air a few meters from him, in that opening (one of many) nobody’s stuck around long enough to fix. The snowflakes flutter as they fall, and it almost looks like white flour. It’s been a while since he last saw flour with his own eyes and that’s what tears him from the cozy embrace of slumber and brings him back to reality.

The smoky tendrils of a past life still alive in his dreams are still caressing the edges of his mind, though, faint echoes that mix together into unintelligible whispers. They stuff him with cotton and he needs a few minutes to feel the hard floor underneath his back, the chilly air biting at his cheekbones and nose.

There’s enough light for it to be day already and as that realization dawns down on him, wrapped as he is in his cold blanket, he jolts up to sitting.

“No one came, I told you.”

His head turns to the side so quickly he gets whiplash.

“And it snowed all night.” Her eyes are sunken in, her eyelids heavy with missed sleep and the constant worries that are gnawing at her from the inside and from which he still hasn’t managed to distract her. Shoulders weighed down by an invisible weight, she looks smaller and less dangerous than she really is.

“You didn’t wake me up.” His voice is still drowsy; the words don’t roll as freely on his tongue, so the accusation comes out as a simple observation.

She smiles. I never said I would, the faint twinkle in her eyes seems to say. “We’re waiting one more day,” she decides as she comes to a stand, stiffened hands still holding onto the rifle she’s hugged to her chest like a child the whole night. “But tomorrow at dawn we’re leaving, I don’t care about Raine’s spy.”

Silence settles again between them when she sits down next to him, in the corner further away from the chilly winds outside. They share her last chocolate bar, something she’s clung on to ever since she won it at poker more than two weeks ago. He stares at her as she eats, her head resting against the wall and her eyes closed. There’s a tear trickling down her cheek and it takes the dust that has settled on her skin away.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” His confession hangs in the air, in the closed space between them. And all he can do is stare as that tear slowly rolls down her cheekbone. He can’t even remember when the last time he ate chocolate was and now that he has a piece in his hands, he can’t even chew on it.

Her eyes open slowly and she looks at him almost from underneath her lashes, her head still tilted back and at an angle. For the first time, he can’t read them as they focus on him, bore right into him.

He’s a man of few words. He opens up, but only with the right people and only so much. And he knows she’s just the same – bad at opening up, but not at talking – she talks maybe too much at times and while it would annoy him if it were someone else, he’s alright with her babbling on and on. About the weather, about the next target, about how stupid people are, how hungry she is, but never about before. Who she was, what she did, where she lived, whom she loved – those are still well-guarded secrets, and Stiglitz is not one to pry.

“Don’t.” She swallows hard eventually, almost as though she’s trying to swallow down her voice – or his confession. “There’s a war out there.” Her eyes move to his right, to the blown-open window behind him on the opposite side of the room. “People are dying.” Her jaw clenches and as she swallows, he sees her struggle, her attempt at not crying. “If something happens…”

He sits in silence, eyes set on her as hers try to avoid him. They do their best but ‘their best’ doesn’t seem to cut it, not this time.

“We fuck, that’s it. Just… fuck, from time to time.” It’s a whisper and her lower lip quivers as his words still shake her bones. When did war stop being scary? When did love become something to fear? Neither of them knows. Was it the first time they killed? The first time they enjoyed it? The moment they understood they had to keep on doing it in order to survive?

When she turns to look at him, it’s a desperate animal the one sitting in front of him. Her eyes beg him to stop, to take it all back, because they both know where that if something happens is bound to end. And it’s not six feet under, but rather, somewhere up there, on the surface; face up or face down into the mud, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe that’s what brought her to murder, he reasons for a second; maybe she’s lost someone she loved and that turned her into a spy and a murderer that knows no mercy.

Her hand is trembling as it digs into the pocket of his jacket, the one where she keeps cigarettes – they’re usually for him, but she never turns down a smoke, either. He knows it’s empty, for they smoked their last one two days ago, a crumpled up cigarette that seemed to last less than a minute that day.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” he eventually says, laying the last of his chocolate bar in her hands. He doesn’t meet her eyes, doesn’t utter another word as he takes the revolver from his pallet and leaves the room.

*

Three days later they’re both back at the camp base – no resentment between them, just the usual, content silence of two people that don’t always need to talk to work just fine. But while everything seems normal on the surface and they both enjoy the welcome-back celebrations at the tavern, they’re both lost in their own thoughts.

Hugo has stopped thinking about the fact that maybe he made a mistake when he confessed his feelings to her.  Because she was right – there is a war out there, and it’s not even that far away, no matter how distracting the passing of shots of alcohol might now be. He stopped being a sentimentalist years ago, but if there’s a conclusion he’s come to, it’s that it’s better to spend your last days next to the people you love than running away from them.

There’s a couple of occasions in which he almost told her that.

The first was when they found a working telephone. Clothes soaked by snow and weapons now heavier than their backpacks, they sat in that empty house for hours, after calling one of Raine’s safe numbers, some French family collaborating with the Allies on the other end of the line. He had fixed the makeshift splint keeping her ankle in place and had reasoned, for the first time, that she shouldn’t have come, not this time.

The second was when they got back and the nurse managed to take her in only after the debriefing. She had smiled a I’ll find you later as Wicki dragged him away and the first thought his mind could form had been that he was glad that she seemed to always be able to find him anywhere.

But even though they’re sitting right next to each other now, shoulder pressed against shoulder as everyone seems like they want to sit at the same table, he can’t turn around and shake her awake. Why would he, though?

“We thought we’d never see the two of you again!” Donowitz is tipsy already and he doesn’t seem to notice how his drink sloshes out of his glass every time he moves his arm to gesticulate as he speaks. “Fucking bastards! You have nine lives, just like cats!”

Wicki’s laughter seems to drown out the roaring of the celebrations when he laughs. “I told them you’d both come back on your legs, still breathing,” he chuckles in German.

Y/N joins Wilhelm’s burst of laughter and then turns to her left and smiles up at him. It’s a weird thing, it reaches her eyes more than it does her lips and she seems on the verge of saying something before she shakes her head once and finishes her beer.

*

It’s midnight when she knocks at his door. Her knocking seems to echo through the whole once-abandoned house the Basterds converted into a place to stay, at least temporarily, for everyone’s still out drinking the winter away.

“I didn’t mean to turn you down,” are the words that greet him when he opens the door. He’s still only half-dressed after the bath he’s finally managed to take. “Back in that house. I got scared at the idea of something that might not even happen and I’ve spent the past few days thinking about what a gigantic fool I’ve been when I said those things. You took me off-guard because I thought I’d never love again, but…” She breathes in sharply and looks up at him, stares right into his eyes for the first time as she realizes she’s been rambling again. “Can I come in?”

Hugo nods and takes a step to the side before closing the door behind her. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

“Oh, you and Wicki have a heater.” It’s soft and he almost misses it, but it’s gone before he can reply and she’s already back on the topic she’s most likely come to discuss. “I don’t know what I feel for you.” She doesn’t turn around when she speaks. Instead, she holds her hands close to the stove and sighs under her breath before she squares her shoulders again. “But I would like to find out, when we win this war. A while after you left, Raine started talking about how we’re all going to America when we take out the High Command and I realized that I could leave all of them behind but I couldn’t leave you.”

“I never considered the idea of leaving before.” He moves to stand next to her and hangs the towel he’s used on one of the hangers above the heater. “But we could,” he nods, turning towards her.

She’s looking at him this time, tired eyes staring at him from an even more tired face. But before she can add anything, he pulls her in and kisses her. He’s always preferred actions over words – words can be misinterpreted, but some actions…

Her hands are trembling when they move over his hips and then up his back, over the scars ridging his skin. She’s one of the few who’ve seen them – he’s not ashamed of them, but he does feel weird at the idea of showing them to others. It felt natural with her, though, almost as though they weren’t even there to begin with, the first time they slept together fully naked. It just, happened, it fell into place like anything else about her. She just fits in his arms, to his side, and when he’s inside her, his hips grinding against hers as they both lose themselves into each other and forget for a few precious moments what their survival revolves around.

“How’s your foot?” he asks in between kisses when he picks her up to lay her down onto his bed.

“Foot’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she laughs, her tone getting louder when he just drops her onto the mattress. Her laughter dies down when he settles between her legs, props himself up above her, his nose barely brushing hers. She smiles as he observes her, swipes his gaze across her features and breathes her in.

He contemplates saying something, but whatever innocence he had left at the beginning of his story has been swept away with his words by the things he’s done. He only moves when she speaks again – Kiss me, Hugo. That he does; he leans down and presses his lips against hers for a moment before his tongue comes out to swipe along her lower lip.

Her knuckles brush against his chest every time her hands move as they unbutton her shirt, a too-big garment she’s been given by God knows who. By the time she’s reached the last button and his mouth has moved down along her jaw and her neck to kiss her chest, she’s panting lightly, her hands wrapped around his biceps as he smiles against her skin.

She’s warm and smooth, even though there are irregular scars marking her skin. Just like his, they never matter, and even less when they get into bed together. His fingers just caress her and she this close to him is the only thing that truly matters in this moment. He kisses her collarbones, nudges his nose against the side of a breast before he allows himself to close his eyes and take a nipple into his mouth.

He feels the moan more than he hears it, it vibrates deep into her chest and almost buzzes against his lips as her fingers rake upward through his short hair. There’s a breathy moan of his name before his kisses and licks move lower down.

“I know for sure that I’m falling in love with you.” He’s serious when he says it, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of her pants. Then, as he drags them down her legs with her underwear, he smiles at her. Sometimes he thinks that he only remembers how to smile when she’s around, almost as though she’s always able to swap his grimace with an actual sign of happiness.

She smiles back at him – at his words, at how caringly he removes her left boot, almost as though his only priority is not to revive the dull pain in her ankle. And then at how he covers her body once again, at how he looks down at her with that unreadable expression of his that just makes her fall for him a bit more every time.

It’s not love – she doesn’t want to call it love, but it sure does make her feel all warm inside as it tugs at the corners of her mouth even now, with her fingertips lightly tracing the lines of his face. Forehead, cheekbones, jaws, and then his lips, and he smirks when she outlines them.

When she pushes him onto his back and she moves over him, straddles his thighs, it’s sudden and unexpected, but surely not unwelcome, and he lets her do. His hands move up her thighs and hold onto her hips, and her bare body above him somehow makes his heart swell with pride. A thought crosses his mind, but it lasts only for a fraction of second before she leans down and pecks his lips once, and then once more – yeah, he could do this all day every day, even in America, if it means staying by her side.

Her lips trail down the column of his throat, then, before moving to the crook of his neck. She kisses and suckles as she grinds down against him, and he doesn’t care if he’ll have marks tomorrow – he won’t, because they’re both careful, but one day he’s sure he will – and she will as well.

She says something then, something he doesn’t catch, before she takes his hands in hers and moves further down his body, leaves kisses all over his chest and belly. For a moment, they both giggle, and she looks up at him with those eyes of hers that just, make him forget about the war and the Basterds and anything in-between.

She’s quick at unbuttoning his pants, but not so much at taking them off his body. She takes her time, and the lower she pulls them, the more kisses she leaves on his navel and then thighs. It’s funny and sexy at the same time, and when he’s fully naked and she’s kneeling between his legs again, that’s truly all he craves for at the moment.

“Come here,” he says, but she shakes her head, a smirk tugging at her lips, and bends down towards him.

He’s hard in her hands and when her lips press a kiss to the underside of his dick, he groans in the back of his throat. The muscles in his thighs tense when she takes him in her mouth, and his exhale is shaky as he does his best not to move his hands over her head.

It’s slow and slippery as she focuses on the head of his dick – suckles and kisses and licks, before taking him deeper every now and then, her hand slowly working the rest of his erection. Hugo Stiglitz is rarely ever vocal in the bedroom, but when someone – when she – is going down on him…

“Fuck.” Quick and breathy, almost like a half-formed word, that ‘fuck’ leaves his lips when she moans around him.

His breath almost hitches in his throat when she pulls up and smiles at him while repositioning to straddle his thighs again. He’s still in her hand and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring himself to look away from that sight. It lasts less than he thinks it does, though, because before he has the time to move his hands over her hips again, she’s sinking down on him.

She’s warm, and wet, and when she rests her left hand on his chest to balance herself as she takes all of him into her, her hands are wet.

His hips thrust up at the mental picture of her fingering herself and as he does so, she almost loses her balance. They both giggle, but when he moves to sit up, she pushes him back down and grinds her hips against his.

“Stay down,” she whispers against his skin, lips brushing right next to his left nipple before she leaves a kiss there.

The rhythm she sets is slow and sensual, something neither of them is used to – or has been used to for a while, now. It’s a nice change compared to the usual, almost-too-quick routine that’s just hunger and desperate, desperate need. It’s good, and Hugo Stiglitz finds himself relaxing underneath her, for once, hands moving from her hips to her back when she presses herself down against him. His hips start thrusting up into her, and he does his utmost best to keep it just as slow, but the feel of her around him just drives him delirious. 

Her lips latch onto his pulse point again and when she starts licking and sucking, he swears his temperature spikes up. His head leans back into the pillows, neck almost arching, and his thrusts get quicker and snappier the tighter he holds her against himself. Her breathing grows shorter and every time he thrusts up, he can hear as her moans get stuck in her throat.

It’s a while later that the door creaks open and Wicki slurs Stiglitz’s name in his drunken, post-celebratory state. Hugo hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed and there’s still a smile on his lips.

“Hugo,” Y/N whispers against the side of his neck, still naked and still laying between his arms, one leg thrown over his hips as his own leg rests between hers.

He nods his head against hers, but she knows he’s already falling asleep. They went at it again as soon as he flipped their positions over, and she should have known better than to agree on spending the night.

She whispers his name again when Wicki starts fumbling over the words of a song she doesn’t recognize, too distorted by his drunkenness. “Please, Hugo, you know he can’t hold his liquor!”

“Y/N!” Wicki almost yells her name when he finally switches on the light and finds her in his friend’s bed. “‘S good to see you again.”

She’s quick at turning back around, pulling the blanket over herself to cover her body from the other man’s eyes. “Stiglitz, come on! You need to wake up. I can’t do this without you.” But when she tilts her head up on the pillow and her eyes land on Hugo and that faint smile of his still plastered to his lips, she knows there’s no way in hell he’s waking up again soon.

Feel free to leave feedback xo I hope Stiglitz wasn’t too OOC but the truth is, idgaf, I just had to write about the man of my dreams haha

Links: prompts by peaskyblonders https://peaskyblonders.tumblr.com/post/622451655662845952/random-prompt-list // photo used for the banner https://www.pexels.com/it-it/foto/albero-freddo-ghiacciato-innevato-909016/

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Hugo Stiglitz

 NSFW ALPHABET  DONT LIKE DONT READ  WARNING: FIRST POST EVER BEAR WITH ME DARLINGS

I found that there was almost zero Hugo Stiglitz material and since I think he’s the bomb i thought a contibute. 

WARNING: FIRST POST EVER BEAR WITH ME DARLINGS I found that there was almost zero Hugo Stiglitz material and since I think he’s the bomb i thought a contibute. 

GIFS are NOT mine, credit goes to original owners/makers. If you see one of yours and would like it credited please Message me. Thanks! <3

Also the idea of an nsfw alphabet is not mine either but idk where it started so same goes for this.

A= Aftercare

Aftercare with Hugo can vary quite a bit.

For example, when a particular lovemaking session was rougher, at first he’d plop down next to you panting. After this he’d pull you to him, making you feel safe as you feel asleep in his strong arms.

But when sex was slower and more sensual, he’d pepper kisses along your jaw and cheek, showing you rather than telling you about his appreciation.

 B= Body part.

When it comes to your body, he finds picking difficult. He likes your hands, because they’re much smaller and delicate compared to his big and calloused ones. They make him feel loved when you touch him. Speaking more sexually he totally has a thing for your ass. Hold it, squeeze it, slap it, he doesn’t know exactly why, but your ass always releases a primal side of him.

 C= Cum

Hugo always prefers to come inside of you, whether it be your mouth, cunt or ass. Its practical, so clean up won’t be much trouble. It also makes him feel like he’s marked you as his own. He doesn’t dislike cumming elsewhere he just don’t bother much, so if you request him to, he’ll happily do so.

 D = Dirty Secret

Even though he would never admit it, he loves seeing you hold your own. Whether you’d be telling another bastard like Aldo to fuck off when they’re teasing you or on the battlefield. When he sees you knocking down, stabbing, shooting or basically being a badass he always has to fight his hard on.

 E= Experience

Sure, Hugo didn’t go off to war a virgin, but to say he has a load of experience would be wrong. He is naturally shy and usually doesn’t show interest in women. He knows the basics but has lots to learn and you’ll be damned if you didn’t enjoy teaching him. After all, he does learn quick and is a very passionate lover.

 F = Favourite position

He does likes missionary because of the contact and closeness it provides, but his true favourite would be the reverse cowgirl. It gives him an opportunity to sit back and let you dominate him and an amazing view of your jiggling ass and wet pussy bouncing on his cock.

G = Goofy

Hugo is not a goofy person. He simply doesn’t see it ; why people should laugh over the most mundane things so it would take quite something to get him to laugh during sex. It did happen once, when you were in a particularly rough session and tumbled right outta bed together and you both broke into a fit of laughter. Apparently it got the attention cause all of the other basterds barged in thinking he’d gone insane. You Still cringe at the memory. Thus, doing the do is usually more serious than goofy, but he can’t help but smirk whenever something takes a pleasant turn.

 H = Hair

Being the military and disciplined man he is, he keeps himself well groomed when possible. Just like his hair, short and dark.

 I= Intimacy

At the start of your relationship, Hugo was far from ‘intimate’. The shy baby was scared you wouldn’t think of him as good enough and didn’t really dare be so vulnerable. Though, when he started to realize you weren’t ever going to abandon him and how much you enjoyed being with him, he started opening up more and more. Hugo prefers to ‘make love’ actually, thus is all being more intimate. Unless he needs to let off some steam, then prepare for a good ‘ol fuck.

 J= Jack Off

Hugo prefers not to, afraid of being caught in a time where privacy is scarce. So he doesn’t do it often. Only when its really necessary he uses it as stress relief. When he does, he pictures your body, your voice and your soft touch.

He’s very shy about it though. He’d much rather get rid of his frustrations by making love to you.

 K = kink

He definitely has Some kinky streaks . When things get rough after a difficult mission and you tease him he loves yanking on your hair and spanning your ass. He definitely gets dominant from time to time. Asking you who can only give you pleasure. In these moments he often switches to his mother language. Speaking of, he adores it when you do this, speaking german, especially if its dirty. Not to speak of his earlier mentioned instant boners when you get all badass and got your enemies blood all over you. That is when he gets more submissive and just Lets you take him however you want.

 L = Location

Hugo is very picky when it comes to this and always goes for the place with the most privacy and least risks. Except for that one time where your team was staying at in a big barn and he took you behind it outside standing between stacks of hay.

 M= Motivation

Now, there’s actually a lot that can turn him on. He has a naturally high sex drive and a lot of kinks, though something not previously mentioned is how he loves how you are and look when you wake up next to him. Disheveled and with a tired grin on your face. Trusting, loving and innocent, when only he knows how much of a little minx you actually are. He Also loves it when these mornings turn into Some cuddlefucking. He likes how close you are to him then.

 N = No

Anything humiliating or hurtful either on the giving or receiving end. He would never hurt the one he loves.

Also nothing to do with bodily fluids other than your wetness or his cum.

 O = Oral

Though he loves being on the receiving end and enjoying your rather talented skills, he thinks nothing beats watching his lady coming apart at his touch. This and he just loves the way your wet pussy tastes and pulsates against his mouth when he’s doing well.

When he is the one receiving he’s a bit afraid he’ll hurt you though you’ve told him plenty he wont.

 P= pace

He always starts of slow. Making sure you’re wet enough and Well prepared to take his cock.

However, when he thinks youve become adjusted to his size he quickly speeds up

 Q = quickie

He prefers a proper love making session over a quickie. Sure, they’re fine and convenient, certainly because you don’t get much alone time.

But he prefers to spend more time with you. Dragging out foreplay and teasing, making you feel loved at uncertain times.

 R = Risks

He thinks he takes plenty risks when ‘in the job’ and therefore thinks he doesn’t need to when in private. He isn’t keen on getting caught and others seeing you in a compromising position. He wouldn’t affect your honour negatively.

 S = Stamina

Though he hasnt been with many women many times he does have decent stamina.

He usually doesn’t come before you do (and always try to have you come first) like a true gentleman unless you got him really worked up. He usually manages more than one round depending on how tiring his day was.

 T = toys

Neither of you owns any or thinks they’re needed. If you do feel like needing something to spice things up a cloth or rope for binding arent that hard to come by.

 U = Unfair

He doesn’t really care much for teasing you, only if its to build a bit suspense and doesn’t take long.

He doesn’t mind being teased, At times it calms him actually. When he’s annoyed or angry and you start teasing him, secretly or not, he cant really stay mad. It takes the edge of. Also it makes it al all the more rewarding when the teasing turns into action.

 V = Volume

Hugo isn’t a particularly Loud man in general and this is Also the case in the bedroom. He usually makes soft grunts, moans and other sounds of appreciation. Hed rather concentrate on the lovely sounds you make. The only times hes Loud is when he really loses control.

For example when you use your tongue on him in unspeakable ways his almost pornographic sounds can easily be heard through the walls.

 W = Wildcard

What sometimes really surprises you is how sudden he can become either dominant or submissive. Usually its when you’re in the middle of foreplay and you say something or a certain action spurs him on to take on a role. Then he can suddenly become the most dominant ‘sir’ youve ever encountered ordening you around and all or become a sub that loves being called a good boy and get ordered around.

 X = X-Ray

He’s average in length but a little thicker.

You like to joke that he’s custom made for you since his cock fits perfectly, as it has a a bit of a curve to it that makes it hit a spot in you that makes you see stars.

 Y = Yearning

You two don’t always get to chance for Some alone time but when it does happen, he’s always ready to go. His sex drive is higher than average and he’ll always give you what you want.

 Z = ZZZ

He usually falls asleep quickly after sex, but never after making sure you’re comfy and safe in his arms.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Simple Things: Donny x Fem!Reader

Requested by @aurelie34-43

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

______________

The basterds were dressed as civilians, wandering around Paris, looking for you. You were their brand new contact. They couldn't really ask for directions because...well...they couldn't speak French. Not a word between all ten of them. How they made it this long, this far behind enemy lines, was a mystery to everyone. Aldo reiterated, for the thousandth time, "Now, 'member. Yellow dress. She'll be in a yellow dress." Wicki muttered in exasperation, "It's spring, Aldo. Practically every girl in Paris is wearing a yellow dress."

Hirschberg murmured through a smile and a sigh, "And pink...and....Hey! Back off Omar." Omar rolled his eyes, "You'd never have a chance with a broad like that anyway." "Listen here, you son of a bitch, I-" Hugo muttered something under his breath, and Wicki shrugged. "Couldn't even count all the girls in yellow I've seen today." Hirschberg chuckled, scanning the street, "Well, I'll do my best to." Utivich rolled his eyes, "Damn it, Hirschberg." "Is that her?" Donny asked with a bit of hope, spotting you from across the square. You were leaning against a shop wall, in a yellow dress, with sunglasses on, and a newspaper between your hands. "I don't know, that looks more like orange-ish yellow than yellow." Aldo muttered, starving and tired. "For fuck's sake!" Smitty shook his head, "Well we can't just go over to her." Hirschberg shrugged, "Well if it was her, she'd come over to us." Wicki shook his head, "Unless we were being watched." Omar rolled his eyes, "Oh sure, you've been doin' all the watchin' for this damn city." Hirschberg chuckled, "Alright, alright. Let's keep looking." "Uh huh." The basterds turned into a quiet alley, and turned a corner, right into the path of a nazi. He cursed, his eyes went wide, and he fumbled for his gun, having recognized Hugo. There was a struggle, and a single gunshot. The nazi fell to the ground. The basterds all turned, spotting you. You were at the end of the alley, the newspaper at your feet, replaced with with a revolver in your hands. "You really are in deeper shit than I thought," you chuckled as you walked over to them. Donny smiled, "Told you it was her!" Donny, did a double-take as you approached, immediatley tongue-tied, he asked under his breath "Wh-Who is...her?" "Y'mean she?" Aldo chuckled, aready recognizing that look of young love. "My name's Y/n," you saluted your new lieutenant. You hadn't had to do that in a while since you'd been working alone, deep undercover for Canadian intelligence, deep behind enemy lines in Germany, since 1940. He chuckled, knowing the basterds were definitely in for a ride after that impressive first impression. "At ease, soldier, at ease." Omar, a forward kind of guy, asked "Hey what's that accent? Kinda french, but, kinda not." "I'm from Quebec," you smiled with a shrug, though naming it alone made you wonder when you'd see your home again. "I was told that if you were going to survive, you needed someone with you who actually speaks French." Aldo laughed, "Well, guess they was right." From that moment on, Hugo was fairly protective of you. He was not only in debt to Aldo, but now he owed you his own life. And he wouldn't have it any other way. As time went on though, Donny got a little jealous. He'd never quite felt this way about anyone before. Maybe it was the war, the danger, the uncertainty. Maybe it was your accent. Either way, Donny was crazy about you. And it drove him even crazier when he realized you were Hugo's best friend. You noticed. You were a bit amused by it all. Donny was a smart guy...sometimes...and you wondered how he couldn't have realized you loved him back. You and Hugo always had a little laugh about it. Months passed. You had a choice between staying on with the basterds, or taking a mission of your own, and going back east. You spent quite some time at a bar where you all felt as safe as you could be, this far behind enemy lines. Honestly, the way these boys carried on, it was astounding they'd made it this far without you. "Ben voyons donc," you sighed and rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh. You and Hugo had a lot to talk about. He never had a friend quite like you before. A long, long time later, maybe in the 60s or 70s, he'd admit you were one of his first friends ever. But, that's beside the point. Donny couldn't believe this may just be the last night he ever saw you, and he just didn't know how to say goodbye. How could he, if you spent all that time with Hugo? Donny just crossed his arms, and sat at the corner of the bar, thinking, it was just as well. Donny was so upset, he wasn't even drinking much. He had an old fashioned, just sitting on the counter top. The ice had melted already. Hugo slipped into the seat beside him. "You got some nerve, Stiglitz. Gotta respect that." Donny reluctanty, lifted his drink with a sigh, "May the best man win, huh." "Take it easy, sarge," Hugo chuckled, and Donny sighed, "How can I, when_" "Donny." "What?!" Hugo rolled his eyes, muttering low enough so none of the other basterds would hear, "I'm married." "You're fuckin' what?!" Hugo grinned a little, remembering the face of the one he loved, though he quickly turned to Donny, smugly remarking, "Tell anyone, and I'll-" "Uh huh. So you and Y/n aren't-" "No." "And Y/n..." "She loves you," Hugo spoke nonchalantly, with a shrug, as if he hadn't just said three words that could change Donny's life. Donny looked out to the crowd, spotting you and a few of the basterds dancing, as he murmured, "Well whaddya know...she fucken loves me..." He cut in to dance with you. He talked your ear off like only Donny could. He swept you off your feet and stole your heart more times than you cared to admit. By the end of the night, you'd all danced, drank, and paid off a little more of your debts to Aldo. You looked at the basterds, and you looked at your basterd. He held his baseball bat, wore a smug grin, the stars in his eyes, and a slight hint of whiskey on his breath. You stood at a crossroad. "C'est malade," you half yawned, half sighed, and chuckled through it all. You couldn't very well leave now. Just look at that basterd. Aldo opened his tin of snuff, playing it cool, but hoping he wouldn't lose a good basterd. "So what's it gon' be, kid? You in or you out?" Donny looked at you, all the hope in the world shining through that basterd's face. The mission would go on, with or without you. But Donny's heart? That was a different story. "How can I say no to that face?" You laughed and Donny smiled, wrapping his arms around you. "You mean it?" He murmured in your ear, and you whispered, "Every word, mon ours." You could've stayed for the adventure of a lifetime. You could've stayed simply because you still owed Aldo quite a few nazi scalps. But in the end, you couldn't lie to him. You couldn't even lie to yourself. You knew you'd stay from the moment you met him all those months before. Some things in life were just that simple.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Forbidden Notes: Hugo x Fem!Jewish!Reader

TW: Gestapo/holocaust

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)  

Requested by @kabutosfatcock ____________ You and Hugo were married, and since he was not Jewish, your marriage would have been considered 'privileged,' but, you did not go down without a fight. You were marked as a political criminal instead, associated with rebels since 1933. You'd been outspoken. You'd been loud. If you hadn't been, you might have been safe now, on account of being married to one Hugo Stiglitz. But you couldn't abide by that silence. Silence, you knew, could kill just as much as loose lips could. And for the lives you'd saved, you were targeted. You were on wanted lists. And, you had been, for quite a long time. 

1943

You’d ‘disappeared’ some time ago. Only two people knew where you really were. Hugo was one, of course. The other was a close friend of his named Matz. Hugo had been arrested for killing 13 gestapo officers. Your home was raided. Only Hugo's knives and guns were found. In such an event, Matz was supposed to make sure you got away in case things went wrong for Hugo. Whether Matz got there in time, Hugo didn't know. He could only hope you found a safe place to hide. No matter what they did to Hugo as they interrogated and tortured him, he never said a word that would hint anything about your whereabouts. He gasped for air, watching through weary eyes as his blood spilled onto the floor, and orders and questions were drilled into his ringing ears. None of that mattered. Not a lash, not a drop of his own blood mattered to him. He took every beating, every scream, and every moment of torture, without saying a word that could be used against you. You were his wife, and he loved you with all his heart.

A file was thrown at Hugo, as another gestapo officer walked in, "You sent a few boxes to America, two years ago, Hugo. Any particular reason?" He lied again, and said something about an aunt who'd moved to Chicago about 20 years earlier, being down on her luck. All he'd sent were some spare clothes, things she might need. He was beaten again, and left face down, on a red splattered concrete floor. The truth was this: Two years earlier, you and Hugo saw where things were heading. Germany was no longer safe, and Hugo wasn't willing to wait. He'd sent a trunk of the bare essentials. Photographs, documents, mementos...things any young, newly wed couple would wish to keep. He sent these things away to his aunt, who really had been living in Chicago for 20 years or so...but Hugo had planned to sneak you out of Germany, after hiding for a year. Time had not been kind, and fate had been cruel. You had to go into hiding in your own home, and Hugo had to build a whole charade around your disappearance over two year's time, making it seem as you'd really gone away. The officer kicked Hugo over. He lay there, his eyes heavy, sleep deprivation and pain turning his vision hazy as he looked up at the bright lamps. The officer grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up, muttering, "Tell us what we want to know, and we'll go easy on you. We send you off to Berlin, and it'll all be over, like this-" He snapped his fingers, signaling a path to a quick, relatively less painful way to die. Hugo grew enraged at the very idea: Getting an easy way out in exchange for your life? Never. He spat blood into the nazi's eye. The nazi dropped Hugo in disdain, cursing, as he wiped blood away from his eyes. "If you do, Y/n will be spared." "Y/n goes free..." Hugo had lost so much blood and so much hope, he believed them for a moment. But he saw the scowls and heard the cackles. He went numb, realizing he'd just blown your cover. He'd just confirmed you never left Germany at all. The officer  turned to the guards, with a pleased smirk, "Search the house again." "We haven't found anything." "Then burn it down." Hugo scraped together what little strength he had left, and lashed out, taking down two of the guards. But it wasn't enough. They already had what they wanted: a death sentence for Hugo in Berlin, and confirmation that you were still somewhere in your home. Hugo was taken to a cell, and would be moved to Berlin in the morning.

Hugo knew even if he escaped, he would quickly be caught again. Even so, he couldn't get far. His only hope was that his friend, Matz, would get to you in time. Even then, Hugo blamed himself for it all. He knew he was nothing without you by his side. The worst part was he had no answers, and he'd die not knowing if you got away in time. But, one answer came up, moments later as shots were fired down the prison halls. He initially didn't care to glance up. Whatever was coming didn't concern him, he was sure. But he was wrong. Nine basterds stood before his cells. One stepped forward, asking if he wanted to go pro in the nazi killing business. His mind was on one thing, and one thing only: You. He could do more for the world by hunting nazis than he could as a dead man...and if he could do it all for you, he would. A simple, silent nod sealed Hugo's fate. Another year passed since then.

The basterds were deep behind enemy lines, somewhere in the  French wilderness at the moment, tracking and hunting down every nazi patrol that they could. One patrol in particular that they caught caused Hugo to snap. He recognized one of the faces. "You." Hugo marched over to the man he'd known all his life: Matz. Matz, a childhood friend. Matz, the closest thing Hugo had to a brother most of his life. Matz, the only one who knew Hugo's secrets: He wasn't a real nazi. And you had never left home. There he was, an enlisted officer now. Matz, now a nazi. Blood on his hands. Matz knew there was no saving himself, because he knew Hugo. And he knew Hugo loved you more than life itself. So he admitted all he had to: "It was her life or mine." Matz seethed, not an ounce of regret in his eyes, as Hugo approached with a bloodthirsty glare. Hugo beat him relentlessly, demanding answers. Demanding to know where you were, what exactly happened that night. Matz' nose was broken, his eyes were black and swollen, and some of his teeth were littered on the ground. Blood poured from his nose and mouth as he sobbed, "ICH WEISS ES NICHT." "I DON'T KNOW" Hugo didn't believe a word Matz said. None of the other basterds asked any questions. They didn't even ask Wicki to translate. They just watched in awe, realizing Hugo was only beginning. He took out his knives, searching for the answers he couldn't get from Matz. But, by the time Hugo was done, the knives were drenched, and blunt, and Matz was no more. Aldo left no survivors that night. Hugo didn't ask for that, but Aldo was sure it was for the best. Whatever had happened, Aldo did it out of respect.

Hugo sat off on his own that night, quietly, as though nothing had happened, as he sharpened his knives. He lit a cigarette, and glanced at the sky. No one ever knew quite what he was thinking, and though sometimes it was an advantage for him...sometimes it was quite lonely. Especially when he remembered the only one who could tell what he was thinking all the time was you. He felt alone. Angry. Resenting himself, he again ran through all the things he could have done to save you, and inevitably tormented himself with the ceaseless thoughts of what could have happened to you, wondering if he'd ever really know. It was all too much, as he struck down his knife, lodging it into the tree stump he was sitting on.

The rest of the basterds were far enough in the distance where he couldn't hear them, and they couldn't see he was a little more wired than usual. "So....what was that about..." Smitty took a  piece of chocolate before passing the bar down to Omar. Hirschberg shrugged as he then took the chocolate from Omar, "I don't speak German or nothin'...but I'm pretty sure I heard them both sayin' "Y/n" about a thousand times. It's a name, ain't it?" WIcki sighed, having heard the story from Hugo himself, months ago. "His wife." "Hugo's married?" "How does a man with the conversational skills of a rock get that far with a woman?" "You're serious, Wicki?" Wicki nodded, "Her name was Y/n. She was Jewish." Donny noted Wicki said 'was.' Past tense... Donny glanced briefly at Hugo, who was but a shadowy figure in the distance. He turned back, and looked down with a shade of empathy, though his grip around his bat tightened as he glanced at the names on the bat, murmuring, "Y/n...Hugo's wife..." Wicki didn't say anything else. Frankly, that was all he had to say for the basterds to understand a whole new side of Hugo. Well... to understand the side of Hugo they knew. No one ever asked any question about it again. How could they? How could they blame him? They didn't know anything other than your name, but were certain he loved you. And...not a moment went by in his days that he didn't think of you. This day especially. He sat there, on the tree stump, burning through his cigarette, he lit another one, without a sound aside from the clink from the lighter. As he put it back into his chest pocket, his thumb brushed against a small scrap of paper. He sighed with a heavy heart, knowing that paper by memory. Every crease, every tear, every single word, and a tiny blot from a stray raindrop. He could remember the phone number written on the back of the sub. Every curve and line of every number permanently etched into his memory, He knew every last detail by heart. And yet, he looked at it every time he felt furthest from you, because that tiny scrap of paper was the closest thing he had to you. It was a ticket stub to an underground club. Secret, hidden, and forbidden. It's only form of entertainment was swing music, which had been banned. That was where he met you... and that was your very first date. He smiled for a brief, infinitesimal moment, which pained him beyond belief, as he set his eyes on the ticket stub. He slipped it back into his pocket, though even when he shut his eyes, he could still see it. He could see the line of young people ahead of him, eager to get into the forbidden club. He could see the moment he first spotted you, just ahead, when you smiled at him. He could see the moment you approached him, and took his hand for the very first time, leading him to a dance.  The moment he saw your eyes light up with those forbidden notes and songs. The moment you convinced him to dance... The moment his life became yours, and yours became his. ***Months Later*** Hicox blew his German act. "Say auf wiedersehen to your nazi balls." With that, the tavern was sprayed red in blood. The gunshots alerted not only the basterds, but a team of agents working with the MI6 that the British had sent to assist the lone OSS operative, last minute. So last minute, that Bridget, Wicki, Hugo, and Archie were unaware of the extra unit's assistance. That unit, unknown to the basterds trapped in the tavern, legally did not exist. Legally, some of the members of your team were dead, including you.  All documents and messages regarding the team, The Resurgent,  were kept in a vault, somewhere underground, some place in England. Each and every document was classified, and most of the documents detailing their work had been mostly redacted. The Resurgent: This was your team. This was a band of double agents, soldiers, and talents who were either left behind, fell off the grid, or thought to be dead. This was the team that you called family from the moment you left Frankfurt, believing Hugo to be dead. This was the team who you faced certain death with. A hideout nestled in the most populated, busiest side of Paris...so obvious no one would think to look. That was the place you and your team called home. Only recently had you heard of this American outfit called the basterds. So recently, you only arrived to the village of Nadine, a moment or two before hearing shots fired in the tavern. Your team moved toward the tavern, along with the basterds in what you would later realize was a turning point not only in history, but in your story. **** Among all the ringing in his ears and the shots and the screams and the shattering glass, Hugo heard something else. He heard the bells from the door upstairs ringing. But, he was too tired and weak to look to the stairs. He slumped down  in a corner, bleeding through a stolen uniform, shakily raising his gun to fire one last shot. You were the third or fourth Resurgent to make it into the tavern, and you scanned the area. In a moment, your heart dropped, and you couldn't seem to breathe. You saw a familiar face in a stolen uniform. "Hugo..." You knelt by him, seeing his bloody fist clenched around something, resting over his heart. You held his hand, and found something you never imagined. It was a ticket stub, from your very first date, with your old phone number on it. A forbidden note for a forbidden love. You took a breath, both heart broken, and filled with hope all at once. You put it back in his pocket, "Oh Hugo..." He managed to open his eyes, and saw you hovering over him. Startled, his eyes went wide. In his mind, it was the ghost of you, taking his hand through a gentle death, But you wouldn't let him off so easily. You looked at him, tears welling in your eyes, though you clenched your jaw, and quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. There'd be time enough for that later. You pulled Hugo up, and draped his arm over your shoulders. It was then that Hugo realized you were as real as the bullet in his side. He smiled again, though his arm instinctively pressed against his wound, his other arm wrapped around you tightly, as he gave it his all to walk with you, and walk away from the grip of death. He saw you every night in his dreams. But this was clearer than anything he'd ever seen in his mind, either in a nightmare or his most carefree daydream... This was the dream that couldn't be. Your smile was brighter than it had been in any memory, your hands softer than they could be in any dream, and your voice clearer than it could be in any hallucination. "It's you..." He stood still for a moment, looking at you, though he seemed as though he would collapse.  Not because of the blood... but because it was because it was you. It was really you. You set him down gently, outside of the tavern, while other agents helped Bridget, Wicki, and Archie out. You crouched by Hugo, your hands resting against his face. He whispered, with gentle eyes, and a subtle grin, "Du bist lebendig." 'You're alive.' You nodded, as you started to tend to his wound, 'So are you...' "It was Matz. He betrayed us. He-" Hugo started to get worked up, breathing heavily, until you pulled him back down before he could hurt himself. "They couldn't take me away from you. This bullet won't take you from me." As the basterds scrambled to get everyone out and away from the tavern before more nazis arrived, Wicki laughed through the pain, "Told you Hugo was really married." If Hugo hadn't been wounded, he would've laughed. But he didn't. He smiled softly, though, as he reached his hand up to your face, and nodded once to himself, as if confirming it was really you. Your eyes were the very same eyes he saw on that first date. Your kind (worried) smile was the same as it was every time Hugo clumsily hurt himself (which was surprisingly often, though he never let on around the basterds.) Your nose was the same nose he used to peck softly each morning before work. Now, as Operation Kino carried on, you and your team watched over the wounded basterds. You stayed by his side. Who better than you? You were by Hugo's side the day the world fell apart. You were there when the world went to war. And now that time seemed to slow down once again, you were still there. And you were there when Hugo, and every other basterd, got the medal of honor.

"Think your aunt will be upset that we're a little late?" "We're only..." he shrugged, as he looked down at his watch, "Three years late." "Oh, is that all?" You laughed, as you wrapped your arms around him. Hugo was quieter than he used to be. He had scars you didn't recognize, and stories he might not tell you for a few years. But, he held you tightly, as he always had before. And when Hugo looked down at you with the same old smile that kept your hope alive in your dreams, he still had that love in his eyes. The same love as the day he first danced with you. If he had to do it all again, just to be with you, he would. You looked around at the sea of reporters, families, and basterds. You watched as balloons floated to the sky, camera flashes went off, and confetti and fallen streamers adorned the ground. A band began to play notes that weren't so forbidden here You kissed Hugo, and he kissed you. You'd never have to go through it again. You'd never have to be apart either. Some things wouldn't be the same. But, as long as you had Hugo, there would come a day when the world seemed to be pieced back together. Until then, you both held on to each other, knowing no one could ever take you away from each other again.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Dreams Like These (Hugo Stiglitz x Reader)

Requested by @mbluxaeterna

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

__________ You'd been a basterd for about a week now. For being in a war and being surrounded by people you didn't know...things were pretty normal. Most of the time. The only thing that was different was in your heart. Every time you saw Hugo, you had to look away, or you'd start to stutter, and sometimes even trip yourself up a bit. Everyone noticed, except for Hugo, of course. He just wasn't good at that sort of thing. He never really knew how to read people. Honestly, he was kind of dense when it came to these things. Someone could flirt with him, to his face, and he'd still have no idea. Or, he made it seem that way, at least. 

He never really had anyone to be close to, so he made it seem as though he liked being on his own all his life. He did it so much that he even convinced himself of that. It wasn't until he met you, one rainy, cool, Parisian night...in the middle of a mission...in the middle of a war...in the middle of a bloody mess... There...for a flicker of a moment, the moment he saw a glimmer in your tense, determined eyes...there he wondered if there was a place for him in someone's dreams. Maybe in yours... If he could only see his reflection in your eyes, he'd have a chance at wondering. But you never really looked right at him, and he slowly stopped wishing you would. That was only a week ago. You'd all just had a particularly grueling mission...and quite a few more scalps to pay off all your debts to Aldo. You were all back in your hideout,  a hidden, abandoned cabin somewhere in the woods. As the crickets chirped endlessly, you fell asleep right away. The rest of the basterds followed suit... All of them, except for Hugo. He stayed in the front room, sitting on a ledge by the window, watching shadows of the trees sway. He had his knife in his hand, as always, just in case. He sat back, resting his back against the wall, watching the seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours. His eyes never felt heavy. Hugo was an insomniac, long before the war. He'd learned to live with it. He used to work the night shift as a clerk, but that was quite some time ago. Now, he just sat, wondering what the world had in store for him. He'd seen the worst it had to offer, but he knew there had to be some good, somewhere, waiting for him. There just had to be... He heard a loud crash. Hugo jumped up, his knife still in hand, as he looked intently into the dark hallway. A dark figure slowly emerged. He narrowed his eyes, and as the figure passed by a half-opened, cracked, dusty window, he watched the distant, orange moonlight fall over you, "Y/n?" He lowered his knife, with a sigh. You didn't answer. He tilted his head, wondering if you hadn't heard him. He also wondered where you were going. "Y/n?!" He called out a little louder, but you still didn't hear...or stop walking. You walked right into him, "Sie da!" He was taken aback, not sure what to make of it, "Y/n." He practically shook you a little, and it was then that he realized you were sleep walking. His eyes widened, as he wondered "Was ist das Sprichwort? Ist es gefährlich, sie zu wecken oder nicht?! Ist es-" 'What's the saying!? Is it dangerous to wake them or not?! Is it-' "Hugo?" Your voice was hoarse with sleepiness, and you rubbed your eyes, "What the fuck, man? What are y-" You looked around, and sighed, "Fuck..." "You were...um...It's not what it looks like," He smiled a little. He smiled... You'd only ever seen him do that when no one else was around. You smiled back, though you were embarrassed"I know. I was sleepwalking, wasn't I?" "So you know?" You sighed and nodded, "All my life." He felt as though he'd smiled a little too long. He wasn't used to it. After a moment, he said, "You should go back to sleep." You yawned quietly, and nodded, turning back, "Good night..." "Good night." He turned back, until he heard your voice again. "What are you doing up?" He turned back to look at you, and shrugged, "I'm always up." "You've got insomnia?" "You could say that." You nodded. You always wondered why he tended to take short naps, none of the other basterds seemed to. "What are you doing?" He asked, raising his eyebrow when you followed him. "Gonna get you to fall asleep." He tilted his head to the side, wondering what you meant, "How?" "By boring you to sleep," you chuckled a little as you walked up to the window he'd been sitting by, and pointed out at the sky as he sat. "You see that?" "What? The stars?" He almost chuckled. "That one, the real bright one." "Ja..." He followed your eyes, and saw a galaxy reflecting in them.

His heart stopped for a moment. You looked him in the eyes. You looked back at the sky, "That line connects there. It's a constellation called Cassiopeia." "Cassiopeia?" He was just as intrigued in the stars as he was in the wonder in your dreamy, sleepy eyes, and the curiosity in your smile as you explained all you knew about the stars and the sky. He listened every word of it. He loved every moment of it.

And he smiled through all of it. At some point, you both went outside, and leaned against the old abandoned cabin you'd called home for a week, as you looked out at the sky. Hugo watched the stars so long, he wondered why he'd never really done it before. "What about that one?" You didn't answer. You leaned your head on his shoulder, and you closed your eyes. Hugo smiled a little, as he sighed softly, thinking that this was just perfect. An insomniac and a somnambulant? Two perfect pieces to the same puzzle. But now, he closed his eyes. They were beginning to feel a little heavy.

The stars would always be there after all, even if the sun was out. You'd reminded him, the sun was a star too. Hugo smiled softly as he felt the sands of sleep begin to pull him. You were a dream to him. And...dreams like these? They only happen once in a lifetime.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Remembering You (Hugo Stiglitz x Reader)

Requested by @mbluxaeterna

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :) _______________________

Normally....you would have been thrilled to meet the basterds. Hell, you could have made an unstoppable team, had they encountered you at any other possible moment in time. But of course, it's now. Now, when you are a lone, rogue soldier. Now, after you've lost your team. Now, when everything around you is oh-so-incriminating.

Naturally, they took you in for interrogating, and cuffed you. "You gon' tell us who you are, or you gon' keep on lying?" You rolled your eyes, "I've told you a million times. I am not a nazi." The fact that you'd been accused of it was enough to make your skin crawl. "Then what are you doing out here, alone?" Donny prodded at you with his bat, which was meant to be threatening given its fame...but it really just annoyed you. "Same as you. Killing nazis." "Got a pretty lil German accent there," Aldo snorted some tobacco, and went on matter of factly, "So-" You rolled your eyes, "I'm sorry, really. But you have a German right there, and an Austrian. How is an accent indicative of anything?  Especially now?" You looked around. Surely, they knew all about double agents, especially those like you. "So you're trying to say you're just some kid wandering around with all these guns and knives," Omar held up your pack with all the evidence, "And you expect us to believe you?" "Pretty much." You shifted a little to sit with your legs crossed beneath you, though your hands were still cuffed. You understood their lack of trust...but also...you were a bit more than annoyed now. "I wasn't alone the whole time." You relented. They were with the OSS, and definitely not traitors. What harm would it do to tell them? It may just save your life, after all. "I was part of a team. We were called the Double Eight." Aldo didn't hesitate, "Never heard of it." He turned, almost smirking, "You boys heard of it?" A chorus of 'no sirs' and laughs rang out, and you rolled your eyes, "Of course not. Some of us are better at being undercover than others." An uncomfortable silence blanketed them, and you sighed and went on, "There were eight of us. All of us double agents, double crossers," you smiled fondly remembering your teammates, "Double trouble... Best of the best in what we did, worst of the worst to the nazis, recruited by an American officer working for the OSS." Aldo narrowed his eyes. "Oh really?" "Really." You held your ground, and held your head up high. You heard one of the boys, Smitty, ask Donny, "You think it's true?" Donny then turned to you, "Who was in your team?" He often prided himself for knowing things about agents stationed around Europe, people in resistances, and allies. He was a bit of a networking king...so if any of the basterds could tell, it was him. "A Jewish girl from Poland. Halina..." You smiled softly, though your heart broke for her. You were the one who helped her family escape...but you couldn't help her in your last mission. "She could make and break any code." "And there was Andrej. Big, tough Andrej," You shook your head remembering his loud, bellowing laugh, "Jewish kid, no older than you." You gestured to Hirschberg, "He was Serbian. He was a good strategist." The mission to recruit him was one of the earliest, (and toughest) because he was so damn stubborn. "Ruslo..." You sighed a little, remembering his kind eyes, "Romani guy. Recruited when we passed through Croatia. Didn't need a map when that boy was around." You shook your head with a gentle smile, "Then there was Konstantin. Writer and intellectual, defected from the Soviet Union. Good spy." You glanced up at, and almost imperceptibly whispered, "Good man." Omar looked around, "Kid's gotta be telling the truth." WIcki frowned a little, "How do you know?" Omar shrugged, "Konstantin is the most soviet-spy sounding name I've ever heard." Donny narrowed his eyes and nodded, "Right. Almost too perfect." Aldo rolled his eyes, "Go on." You smiled a little, remembering the unbreakable bond your team had. One even stronger within it, "We had an Italian rebel, he was an escaped political prisoner. His wife was a Spanish anti-fascist rebel. Marzio and Carmina..." Names that axis troops in the mediterranean were terrified off. You took a breath, "Our leader was an American...if you would believe that." You smirked a little, "Shelby Hellberg. Shell-Hell, we called him." You glanced off into the distance. Toward the east, where your last mission together had been. You sighed, knowing you'd never see them again, no matter how many times you passed through there. "And you." Aldo remarked, hardly believing a word you'd said. "And me." You nodded with a smile. What more could you do? Hirschberg shifted a little, rifle still in hand, "And who's you?" "Y/n L/n." You spoke with a sly shadow of pride in your lips, "After all, every team needs some muscle." Donny looked you over incredulously, "You were the muscle?" You challenged him with a simple smirk, "Why? You wanna test that theory, big guy?" You meant it,  Donny was quite a bit taller than you, but you could definitely take him down. You'd taken people bigger than him down before, after all. The basterds didn't realize that just yet. But, Hugo kept his eye on you the entire time, thinking about every word you'd said, and the way you'd said them. He'd run with spies before, he knew their ways and webs. You were unlike any of the agents he'd known before. And still, he thought he'd seen your face somewhere before. And he said so, abruptly, without any explanation. "You look familiar." The way he said it...the way he looked at you was not in an accusing manner. He meant it. You went with your default response. You smiled suavely, thumb and finger sitting square beneath your chin as you remarked, "I just have that kind of face." Hugo nodded, and looked away, though he still kept trying to remember. "So, will you let me go? I do have a mission, you know. I'll be terribly late. Madrid is a long way from here, after all." Donny spoofed, "Nice try, a real agent wouldn't have told us all that." "You asked." You reminded Donny with an eye roll. Donny retorted, "So if a nazi asked, you'd tell 'em too." "No, because THEN IT'S A NAZI." Hirschberg piped up then, "How do you know we're not nazis," as if he really got you. Even Hugo and Wicki rolled their eyes. You rolled your eyes, "Because you're basterds." Aldo seemed amused, and humored the boys, "Says who?" "Says that accent. Sorry, but it's not one many people would strive to imitate." The basterds laughed. It had been so long since someone had gotten away with making fun of his accent. "Besides, everyone knows the Bear Jew. And, everyone knows about Hugo Stiglitz...And the Little Man." Donny chuckled, "Wait, who's the Little Man." "Oh, it's-" Before you answered, Utivich stepped closer to you, "Is that...blood?" "...Oh right..." You glanced at your side, with a slowly growing red stain. "When did that happen!?" "Just before you happened." you shrugged. Hugo crouched by you, "Were you stabbed?" "Oh... most definitely." You were somehow so blunt, and so stoic. Shock is one hell of a drug. Donny, who was slowly being convinced that you were telling the truth, quickly looked around for a cue, "Why DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?!" Before you could answer, Hugo practically flung toward you with a medic kit in his hands. He didn't say a word, but he kept looking up at you. He looked you in the eyes, and it wasn't something he normally did with anyone. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to see into your eyes...almost as though he was trying to dig up a memory that was not his own. The basterds went about with their day. Aldo sent a few of the boys along with a message asking the general if the OSS could confirm or deny your claims. In the meantime, the rest of the basterds scattered around. A few went to get supplies and food, some of the others went out to gather a few scalps here and there to pay off their debt to Aldo. Only Hugo remained, of course 'to keep watch.' But he was busy disinfecting and stitching your wound. "Wer hat dir das angetan?" 'Who did this to you?' "Würden Sie mir glauben, wenn ich es Ihnen sagen würde?" 'Would you believe me if I told you?' He smiled a little, which you heard never happened. You raised your eyebrow, 'Why are you helping me, Hugo?' 'If you're not who you say you are, then we need answers. But if you are you, then...' He trailed off into what was barely a whisper, and glanced up at you. By now, he hardly thought you were a nazi... But that still left him with a thousand questions. Number one being...Who were you, really? The basterds came back, slept in their tents. You were still handcuffed, left outside. In the middle of the night, Hugo's eyes shot wide. He had been dreaming, which was relatively rare for him, even before the war. But this dream was much more of a memory. He'd never been much of a sports fan, but there was one night, just before the start of the war his friend Klaus had recently become a manager and promoter in boxing, and invited Hugo to a match. Your match. He made his way outside, and found you, with your cuffed hands behind your head as you laid on your back, and looked up to the sky. You glanced over at the approaching figure, then back at the sky. He stopped a few feet away from you, "Du warst ein Boxer." 'You were a boxer.' You dismisively hummed. He was silent for a moment, then stepped a little closer, tilting his head, 'I remember you. You used to-' You shook your head.

He crouched by you, and took your hands abruptly. You looked at him, confused though....you certainly didn't mind.  Still, he wasn't holding your hands for the hell of it. He was studying the discolored memories of a glorious past in every scar from every victory, loss, and draw. 'It was you.' 'Was.' You conceded with a sigh, 'A long time ago.' 'Do you remember a promoter named Klaus?' He sat down, and wondered aloud, 'I wonder where he is these days...' You cleared your throat, ' Oh...you know....we...um...' 'Had a falling out?' He raised his eyebrow and chuckled a little. It was his way of asking if you'd had a falling in. You blushed a little with a smile, 'Well, yes...but it was so long ago.' Hugo was silent for a while, then asked, 'Is he...' 'Dead, deadweight, or a nazi?' He nodded once, again raising his eyebrow. He wanted the answer to all three. 'No, no, and definitely not. He's a spy for the OSS, too.' You smiled at Hugo, who seemed relieved. He didn't have many friends to begin with before the war. He always wondered what he'd do if he made it to the end. 'I'd like to see him again. I owe him something.' Hugo said with a chuckle. He'd bet Klaus that you'd lose your match...and you didn't. 'After the war, perhaps.' You chuckled and Hugo nodded, 'Perhaps...' You were quiet again, then he commented, 'I saw you sparring, once.' 'Congratulations,' you stopped smiling suddenly, and turned away from him as much as you could, 'good night.'

'Wait.' He shifted to sit directly in front of you. 'What?' 'You...disappeated.' 'They used footage from my matches as propaganda against my will. I left the ring, I left my family, I left Klaus, I ditched my contract, and I lost everything.' 'Where did you go?' 'Doesn't matter.' 'What did you do?' 'What are you, the gestapo?' You rolled your eyes at his sudden interrogation, and he grunted at himself and mumbled, 'Sorry..' He started getting up, thinking perhaps he had crossed a line. You sighed, cursed at yourself wordlessly, and then called out 'I worked as a bouncer in a club in Munich. Nice place. Nicer when we started hiding people where no one would think to look. I got rid of nazis that were too close.' 'Not bad,' He smirked a little. You didn't. 'It wasn't enough.' 'So what did you do? You were recruited, weren't you?' 'Same as you.' You smiled a little then, and he did too. For once in his life, Hugo's hands felt warm... He looked down, and saw he was still holding your hands. You didn't seem to mind. He let go suddenly, and uncuffed you. 'You're not a nazi.' 'Oh gee thanks,' You chuckled a little as you crossed your legs beneath you. He mumbled again, 'Sorry...' You smiled and shook your head, reaching for his hand, 'We can never be too careful, I suppose.' 'I suppose not,' He sighed, and his eyes wandered as he sat back against a tree. 'You're not going to sleep?' You smirked, and again said, 'We can never be too careful...' Of course, you meant you didn't want the other basterds to catch you without your handcuffs, and for Hugo to be in some trouble, Hugo thought you meant the fact that you were deep in enemy territory that was the trouble, 'It's safe here,' He promised you with his eyes, a slight nod, and a squeeze of his hand. 'We thought that not too many years ago, Hugo...' You sighed, remembering the day before the world turned upside down in 1933...you were just a kid then. Hugo turned to you, 'You're hurt.' 'You knew that already.' 'But you're hurting...' 'Who isn't, these days?' You laughed a little,  but he didn't. 'Let me see.' 'Fine.' He shook his head as he let go of your hand, and went for the medic kit again. As he took care of you and your wound again, he asked 'What happened to your team?' The sky was a cool dark blue, with a tinge of orange in the horizon. It would be sunrise soon... 'It was just before dawn, about a year ago. We were ambushed. From then on, I've been on my own.' 'I'm sorry.'

You didn't tell Hugo that the nazis weren't looking for your team. They were looking for the Basterds, who had just broken Hugo out of prison. 'Don't be...' You looked up at him, and for a moment, you realized you'd had enough talk of the past. 'Where will you go?' 'What do you mean?' 'After this. After the war.' He smiled, 'I don't know...The world is a big place.' He smiled and looked at you, and you understood he didn't want to go back to Germany either. 'Where will you go?' You shrugged, 'Wherever I'm needed, as always.' For reasons neither you or HUgo could comprehend, he murmured, 'What if I needed you?' You kissed him softly, 'Then I'll be there.' **** "Well....that checks out." Aldo held up a letter from the general, demanding they let you go immediately, while also chewing Aldo out. Donny shrugged, "Well, we're sorry kid..."

You laughed, "I know, I know." You glanced over at Hugo, "Can't be too careful these days." Hugo smiled, though the basterds didn't see. You turned, and started walking west, deeper into the forest. "You're leaving? Just like that?" Omar was asking what half the basterds were wondering. "I told you, I have a mission in Madrid...and I've been set back a few days." Hugo shook his head, "But you're hurt!"

You smiled softly, as you stepped back toward him. "I'll be fine," your hand grazed over his for a moment, "You'll see." He smiled quietly as he watched you go, then Hirschberg gasped, "Is Hugo smiling?!" "No." Omar rolled his eyes, "Great you ruined it." Smitty shook his head, "I didn't even get to see." Wicki asked, "Did Y/n ever say who the nazis call the Little Man?" Smitty shrugged, "Huh...guess we'll never know."

***Months Later Aldo was pacing around. They'd recently lost Andy, Simon, and Michael. Now, the basterds needed some extra firepower, and had nowhere to turn to. At dawn, they'd be moving toward a nearby village for their mission. Hugo was looking east, as the first splash of red and orange began to glow in the distant horizon. "What are you lookin' for, Hugo?" Aldo turned, taking a sip of watered down, stale, coffee. They then all heard footsteps. Boots over fallen leaves. A face peered through some low hanging branches, glad to have stumbled upon them. "Y/n!" The basterds had never seen Hugo run so fast. And they were even more shocked when they saw him wrap his hands around yours. "Klaus lässt grüßen, mein Lieber." 'Klaus sends his regards, my dear.'

Hugo smiled, and held you. You'd heard quite a few rumors in the past few months about the basterds. And seeing their faces now... Seeing Hugo... You knew where you were needed.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Three’s a Crowd (Donny x Latina!Reader)

A/N: You don't have to be Latina to read :)

Requested by @golddustwomann18

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

________________ The basterds had just broken into a prison halfway between Paris and Berlin to rescue Hugo Stiglitz, and offered him a chance to go pro in the nazi killing business. Of course, Hugo agreed. The thing was, Hugo wasn't the only new basterd joining the team that night. In their plans, they managed to inform the OSS. Their general was not particularly pleased with the improvisation, but he couldn't change Aldo's mind. So he did the next best thing. He sent you.

You were outside the prison, just in time, with a jeep parked just out of the remaining guards' sight. Once you heard alarms, dogs snarling, nazis barking orders, and approaching voices shouting in English, you turned the jeep on. "I told you we had a get away car," the kid you'd come to call Smitty jumped in first, and pulled his two best friends, Omar and Hirschberg, up after him. You turned around, and looked at the faces of the men piling into your jeep. One of the last ones had a scar across his neck, and smiled warmly when he saw you up front. "That everyone?" He nodded, and you immediately stepped on the gas, driving away as gun shots fired behind you. As you passed under a flickering street lamp, Hugo looked ahead, and saw you for the first time. You were the first thing he saw in his freedom, and it was almost like seeing a vision. The broken haze that fell over you for the moment that you drove under that street lamp made him question reality... "What's your name, private?" Aldo sighed as he cracked his neck and took out his snuff. "Corporal  Y/n L/n." You glanced up at the rearview mirror for a moment, then looked back at the dark and dangerous road ahead. The basterds looked around at each other. Hirschberg raised his eyebrow, "L/n, huh..." You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, already knowing what he was going to ask. You exhaled steadily, waiting for the same old back and forth. "Where are you from?" You didn't even blink, "Arkansas." You were born there, after all. "But where are you fro-" Aldo stepped in, knowing he'd save that boy from a whole lot of embarassment, "No kiddin'! I'm from Tennesse, but I gotta friend out in Arkansas. We used to go huntin' every year, 'fore all this ya know? He's in the air force now. His family used to make us a mean possum pie." Donny, who had been trying to get another look at you, and trying not to blush whenever you glared at Hirschberg, suddenly turned his attention to Aldo, as did the rest of the basterds, "What the fuck is possum pie?!" You chuckled a little, "Not what it sounds like, I'll tell you that much." You suddenly swerved, and went over something...which was not exactly just a bump in the road. "Did you just run over a nazi?" Donny sounded shocked and ecstatic, as he peeked over the seats with a wide grin, and hovered by you. "I couldn't get my gun fast enough." You smirked a little, and somehow, that mountain of a man managed to slip from the backseat to the passenger seat, while Omar grumbled, "Get your ass out of my face, Donowitz." Donny ignored that remark, and as he sat in the front seat, he smiled at you. His voice was a little softer than it usually was, and he glanced at you, "My name's Donny." Aldo rolled his eyes, noticing Donny's sudden shift, and knew why. "Sergeant Donny Donowitz," he sighed, reminding Donny of his rank and responsibility, then said, "Well since we got us two new basterds, maybe Donny's got the right idea." So, each of the basterds introduced themselves to you, and to Hugo. "Are we still not going to talk about what the fuck possum pie is?" Smitty looked around, genuinely concerned. You laughed, "Alright, alright. It's just a pie that's got cream, chocolate, and lots of pecans. No actual possum." Donny smiled, his eyes gleaming as he looked at you, Hugo scowled a little, though no one seemed to notice. You glanced at Aldo, and playfully remarked, "Only if you get it in Arkansas. Tennessee's got some catching up to do, sarge." Aldo chuckled, "That's how it's gon' be, huh L/n?" Suddenly, there were lights behind you. Nazis were tailing you, and you sighed, and shook your head muttering things you'd never say in front of your mother. The basterds, on the other hand, were scrambling for their guns, and swearing as you swerved trying to lose the nazis.

A nazi swerved in front of you and blocked off the road. You hit the breaks, and steered off the road, and shouted, "Puchica!"  as you aimed your gun out the window, and shot the nazi through the head, then kept driving west. You chuckled, "Got 'em..." The jeep was pretty silent after that, which was rare for the basterds, as you'd soon learn. You glanced up at the rear view mirror and noted the basterds all looking at you, "What now?" "What's that thing you yelled at 'em nazis?" Aldo chuckled.  You laughed a little yourself, as you shook your head once with a nostalgic grin as you looked out west, "It's a Salvadoran thing." "But you're-" You sighed, "From Arkansas, but my parents are from El Salvador. Clear enough for ya, Hirschberg?" He chuckled, seeing you were gonna be one hell of a basterd, and saluted you, "Yes ma'am." You grinned slyly as you drove. One by one, as the threats seemed to dissipate, the basterds began to drift off to sleep. Only Donny stayed awake. In his words, he wanted to 'keep ya company.' By that, he meant talk...and that man could talk. He could make you blush, too, even if he couldn't see it in the darkness of the night.   But, you could make him laugh. By the time it was dawn, he didn't realize so much time had gone by. You'd later realize time didn't seem to mean a thing to him when you were there.

You stopped the car at the edge of a field. "We gotta go on foot from here." "We're in France already?" Omar asked mid-yawn, as he stretched out, accidentaly (or not) slapping Hirschberg and Utivich in the face. You slammed the door shut after you stepped out into the feel, waking the others. "Yup," you started heading down the field, commenting under a sigh, "Nazi occuppied France." Hugo smiled a little as he walked by you, "How could we forget?" You were a little stunned in hearing him actually speak, but... you smiled and talked with him for a while... Which made Donny mutter things under his breath which only someone from Boston could ever dream of repeating. ***** As time went on, Hugo kept to himself for the most part, unless you were around. Then, he'd speak softly enough so only you'd hear, but enough for the other basterds to know that he was speaking to you. Particularly, so Donny would know. Donny confronted him once, but Hugo kept him at bay, saying all you and Hugo talked about were 'things 27 year olds could understand.' By that he meant to say Donny was old. (He was only a little older than you, but still, Hugo loved to point it out every single chance he got). He and Donny would often lock eyes, and glare at each other when either of them began to approach you. Frankly, you were sick of it. You pretended to not know what was going on to avoid any fights, but..things weren't going your way. You kept it to yourself, until Donny brought it up. You and Donny were beginning to get a little more serious. Still, one day, he hesitated to reach for your hand when you knew he'd wanted to for a long time. "What's wrong, Donny?" "Hugo." He didn't even hesitate. That was all he needed to say. You knew this was coming. You sighed, "He's had  a rough time. He's got no one else to talk to." "There are eleven of us. You think he only talks to you because he's-" "Hey." You looked at him with warning eyes, "Don't be a dick." "I'm not! I'm just! I just..." He sighed, and looked at you as you raised your eye brow, and smiled smugly, with your arms crossed, "Yeah?" "I'm being a dick." he sighed. "Huge." "Well..." He chuckled and you rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully, "Don't say it." He laughed, "Fine, fine..." But he was still a little worried, and said "Y/n...You know how I feel about you. I can't just stand by watching all that, knowing he feels that same way about you too and..." "And you know how I feel about you. That should be enough, right?" "Well yeah but..." "You trust me, right?" He sighed, and nodded. You knew he meant it, though he was speaking in a low tone, "Yeah, I do." "Good, then go shake hands and make up." "You want me to what?" He looked up at you, jaw dropped in disbelief, and eyes wide. You sighed, "I've talked to Hugo about it already. I don't want this team to fall apart because of me. So...go." He huffed and practically pouted, "Fine," as he marched off. "Hey..." He turned around, and his stern expression immediately melted when he saw you smiling, with a finger at your lips, as you smirked, “Y mi besito...” ‘And my kiss...’  He sighed with a sly grin, and trotted back quickly so the other basterds wouldn't see, and planted a kiss, then left with a cheeky grin, knowing you were right. He didn't have a damn thing to worry about. Hugo was sitting somewhere in the distance, though, Donny knew he had a good sense of hearing, and no doubt heard all of that. "Hugo." Hugo didn't move for a second, but then he slowly rose to his feet, and turned to face Donny, looking defeated. You really had talked to him already. You were his closest friend, and he'd never really had a friend before the basterds. He'd get over it though. Things like that faded eventually. Donny reached his hand out, and Hugo shook his hand. But the second he was sure you weren't looking, Hugo pulled Donny close, and muttered "If you hurt Y/n,  I will hurt you." Anyone else on Earth who'd heard so much as a rumor about Hugo Stiglitz would have been scared out of his mind... But Donny smiled, because he knew he was never going to hurt you.  He remarked, "Don't worry about it, pal," as he walked off, back over to you. It was obvious to anyone, even Hugo, from the way you and Donny looked at each other. In a way, it kind of broke Hugo's heart. He knew he didn't have  a chance, but still, he smiled. He knew you'd be happy with Donny. The way you giggled when Donny wrapped his arms around you. The way Donny's cheeks turned red seeing that light in your eyes, well, it made Hugo smile. For once in his entire life, he trusted someone. And he'd be damned if he trusted anyone else with you. So, with a sigh, he turned away, and went back to work, sharpening his knives for the next mission, while  Donny talked your ear off, and you made his ribs hurt from laughing, just like you had the night you met, and would every night after that. 

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Choice (Aldo Raine x Reader)

Requested by @inglourious-imagines

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_____________________ Not so long ago, you were stationed in a base that seemed to be millions of miles from home, and what felt like millions more from the end of the war, somewhere in England. You were told that you were being considered for an elite team, but by who? To do what? Nothing else was revealed to you. You shrugged it off, not really thinking there was any substance to it. It was just a rumor, really. In fact, it seemed everyone on that base had been told the same thing. What were the odds they'd take you, you wondered. Normally, you'd be completely absorbed in wondering what the hell was going on, but you had a fun little distraction on base... His name was Donny Donowitz. You two became real close in relatively little time. Honestly, what soldiers then didn't? Time was of the essence, after all. You never knew how much of it anyone had left. He'd flirt with you, and you'd flirt with him. It never meant a thing, honestly. And he knew that. Or...he did at first. Little by little, he wondered what he'd do when one of you shipped out. What would happen if...well...something happened to you? Little by little, the things he said to you started to mean something, at least to him. Every playful wink slowly began to carry some weight. Every smile was brighter than the last. Every silly little line became less silly to him as the days went on... Even then, he knew you would never be his. A general brought him in to a special briefing. He as going to be part of an elite team...and he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to you. To his surprise...he didn’t have to. That became especially clear on the day he first met his new team. At first, he was unbelievably relieved that you were in it... Then it slowly became a tragedy that he dug himself in alone, knowing you truly never would love him the way he loved you. "My name is Lieutenant Aldo Raine," your new lieutenant walked over, taking his damn time. And you were lost, looking at him every single moment. The way he carried himself drew your attention in a way no one else had before.You looked at him the way that Donny looked at you. Donny noticed. And Aldo did too. He smiled subtly at the very end of his speech, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. You glanced around at the basterds, then at Donny and Aldo. Things would work out eventually, right? ****Six Months Later****

You were all in a tavern, 'celebrating'. You'd just completed a particularly important mission. The basterds were sitting around a table, each either drinking beer, scotch, champagne, or wine. ...Except for Smitty, who sipped on some water through a straw, and it made that awkward slurping sound, though no one really noticed. They were all too entertained. Aldo and Donny were fighting, for maybe the thousandth time. And no one was more entertained than the basterd you'd just acquired in your mission: Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz.

Besides watching Donny beat nazis to death, this was one of the basterds' favorite past times. After all, if you pit a man from Tennessee against a man from Boston, you're bound to hear some of the most ....well...interesting strings of words put together. At this point, it was like listening to a radio show, maybe even a soap opera.

You, however, were not so amused. In fact, you were getting real fucking tired of it. You got up without a word, and left. The table grew uncomfortably quiet immediately after that. Donny and Aldo glared each other. "See what'cha did, Donowitz?" Aldo glared at him with narrowed, accusing eyes. "No," Donny sputtered in disbelief, "But I saw what you fucking did." Donny muttered something he was lucky Aldo didn't hear, as he made his way outside. You saw Donny coming your way and you muttered, "God fucking damn it, Donny." "What?!" "What do you mean 'what?!'" You huffed and crossed your arms, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" "Y/n..." His voice grew soft as he approached you, and reached for your hand, but you pulled away from him. "You were my best friend, ok? That was it. You know that's all I've ever seen you as. I know you're a protective guy but this is fucking ridiculous." "I just-" "No. This is getting out of fucking hand. I know you think it's cute, you think you're being protective, but I don't love you Donny." He was silent for a moment, as if your words had stolen every breath and word he had. He shook his head, not wanting to believe what he'd known for as long as he'd known you. "How do you kn-" You looked right at him. You were done with all these games. "Because I love Aldo!" You were exasperated, frustrated, and just absolutely over it. "You've known, Donny. You've always known." He looked down at the ground, wondering where he'd gone wrong. When did fun and games turn into this? If he looked at you in that moment, it would hurt too much. He'd know for sure that he'd lost you. "I didn't care so much at the begining, ok? You were just being assholes to each other. Just being basterds. But this is going too far. It's fucking embarassing, ok? I'm not yours. I'm not even Aldo's! Neither of you get to decide for me. I'm a fucking human being, and I can choose for myself, got it?" He mumbled something that sounded like he agreed. "I didn't choose you, and you know it. You and Aldo keep on like this, you're gonna get someone killed." He was silent for a moment, then nodded softly, "Ok kid," he sighed, "Ok..." He looked at you with a soft smile, and broken-hearted eyes for a moment before he walked away. He'd be fine. He was Donny Donowitz, after all. You sighed, crossed your arms, and rolled your eyes, "He's gone, Aldo." Aldo smiled as he came a little closer, "You still mad?" "You would be too." He sighed, as he slowly reached for your hand, "I'm sorry darlin'...." You sighed, trying not to smile. But then he lifted those goddamn starry eyes to look at yours, and he gave you his signature smirk, "But can ya blame us?" You couldn't help but giggle a little, as you closed your hand around his in defeat. "Alright, alright. Just...no more fighting with Donny, ok?" "But what if-" "No." "Alright, but-" "No." "Wh-" "No." Aldo laughed then, "You sure know what you want, darlin'." You smiled with a loving sigh, as you looked at him, and quietly commented, "I sure do, Aldo. I sure do..."

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Dead or Alive: Donny Donowitz x Latina!Reader

You don't have to be Latina to read (we do be needin the rep though XD)

TRIGGER WARNING: Xenophobia/Racism, Mentions of segregation

Requested by @sansasdove

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

______________ Donny and Utivich were sent out to an isolated town, while the rest of the basterds finished up a mission a miles and miles south of there. They'd meet back up a few nights later, in their hideout in the woods. Meanwhile, Donny and Utivich were tasked with finding a new troop assigned to the basterds by the OSS. The only problem was they didn't know your name, rank, or what you looked like. All they knew was that you were a marine in the Pacific at some point. "You think that's her?" Donny narrowed his eyes, looking in the direction where Utivich had (tried to) discreetly gesture toward. "Are you pointing at the lady with the baby?" "Wh-" Utivich then realized the likelihood of that lady being their contact, and turned red as he stammered, "N-no... They wandered around the town, trying their best not to get any unwanted attention. After a while, Donny started grumbling, "Well no one fucken told us who the hell we're looking for!" "What about her?" 

Donny glanced up, and it took him a moment after he smirked to nod, "Yeah she's cute." "No...I meant...do you think that's her?" "Oh! Well..." His hand rested on the back of his neck, as he cleared his throat, "Sure, sure...uh..." He noted the way you stood by an old tavern, newspaper in hand, appearing innocent to the untrained eye.   "The kid stands like a goddamn marine." "Donny, wait!" Donny walked past you slowly, almost unnoticeably glancing toward you. Your eyes scanned over the newspaper, beneath the brim of your hat. You acknowledged the newcomers with a slight, almost imperceptible nod, and remarked beneath your breath, "I've been compromised. Don't follow." Donny stalled for a moment. "Leave. Now. I'll catch up." You spoke through gritted teeth, hidden behind the newspaper. Donny went ahead without a word, understanding the implications of associating with a compromised spy. He pulled Utivich along without explaining anything. They turned a corner, and Donny glanced back one last time, seeing if he could spot anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a nazi staring at you, and approaching, barking something in broken French and intermittent German. Your stone-cold narrowed eyes, and defiant, fearless face remained unbothered as you slowly lowered your newspaper, seemingly annoyed by the nazi's interruption. That alone told Donny you knew exactly what you were doing. But, night came, and morning passed. There was no sign of you at all. "Donny..." That was the first thing Utivich said since then. Of course, he was usually a quiet, composed kind of guy. Sarcastic and witty whenever needed, but only when he had something to say. He didn't now. He just hated the unsettling silence. Even more so, since Donny hadn't said anything either, which was even  more unsettling. Donny looked up, but what could really be said? If something had happened to you, then...another good, young life was meaninglessly lost in an seemingly endless war. And if something hadn't happened to you, then it was certainly coming, and Donny wasn't prepared to let that happen. Why? Well... in that infinitesimal instant that he glanced at you, he looked into your eyes, and he saw so much life. Something unexplicably cheerful, even in the face of the worst the world had to offer. A smug, determined intent to fight, to love, to go on. Something Donny only saw in the eyes of the innocent, and the brave. Somehow, you seemed to be both, all at once. He turned back, marching  toward the distant village. "Where are you going?" "I'm not goin' back to camp without that troop." "But-" "We're finding her Smitty. Dead or alive." As they'd soon find out, those were the terms and conditions given to the nazis that were hunting you. Donny was so hung up in finding you, he and Smitty were caught. They were tied up, and thrown beside you, in a line on a ledge overlooking a swift, lashing river, facing a nazi patrol in the forest. "I told you not to follow." You sounded more disappointed than angry, which struck Donny, though he didn't dare look at you. Smitty turned, "We didn't." You turned to look at his sergeant, "I could've handled this." "But you didn't," he quipped. "You got a problem with me, sergeant?" You challenged him, with a slight smirk he couldn't really resist. One of the nazis that had captured you had just about enough. The orders on finding the basterds were to keep them alive, and bring them in for interrogations and of course, torture. Orders for finding a common nuisance  believed to be an informant were as follows: dead or alive. So, the nazis had some leeway when it came to your fate...so they thought at first. Though, they did need at least some kind of answers. The nazi  noticed a silver chain around your neck. He reached, and frowned when he realized what he'd pulled out of your shirt was a dog tag.  Seething, he remarked, "Y/n L/n." He narrowed his eyes at your name, then spat at you. In his foul ignorance, he confused you with a Spaniard, he accused you of being a traitor to the axis. He strung together what little Spanish he could from dealings between Germany and Spain, "Traidora. Eres una española," (which was completely wrong) he swung and struck you in the jaw. Donny pulled against the ropes used to tie him and Utivich up, "HEY!" You looked up at the nazi, as two more dragged you back to your feet. Blood dripped down your nose, and out the corner of your mouth. You spat right back at him, staining his face and uniform with your blood. "I am not a Spaniard." You held your head up high, proud of who you were, who your parents were, and their parents. You muttered under your breath, glaring right at him with eyes that would scare just about any nazi, "Hijo de puta."

You stood strong, resilient, looking him in the empty, hateful voids he called eyes. The nazi glared right back, though a shadow of panic and fear loomed behind his shallow blue eyes, as he stammered to find words, and hid his fear in German curses and mumbles. The nazi was ready to attack you again, but Utivich and Donny started to put up a fight. When some of the nazis threatened to kill them, the nazi's colonel finally emerged from his tent, ordering his men to stand down. "Wir sollen die Basterds lebendig machen." 'We're to bring the basterds in alive.' The nazi that had attempted to torment you turned harshly to his colonel, demanding to know "Und das Mädchen?" 'And the girl?' His colonel tossed a gun at him, nonchalantly commenting with a disinterested shrug and sigh,  "Werde sie los." 'Get rid of her.' Donny turned between you and Utivich, "What's happening?! What the fuck's happening?!" You understood what was happening, but telling Donny would only put him in more danger. Besides, you could see the sheer emotion in his eyes. He wasn't scared for himself, he was scared for you, and you knew it. You stood silent, and glared ahead at the mob of nazis, right at your dim fate. Donny could tell from just that look. A resigned, brave soldier? It was something he was all too uncomfortably familiar with. He and Utivich lurched forward, in spite of the ropes,  toward the nazis, "COWARDS! YOU FUCKING COWARDS-"

While everyone was distracted trying to control Donny, they all stopped and turned, hearing the rushing river splash unusually loudly. You were gone.   The nazis rushed to the edge of the ledge, and peered toward the river below. The colonel looked at the other nazis, shouting, "STEHEN SIE NICHT NUR DORT. OFFENES FEUER." 'DON'T JUST STAND THERE. OPEN FIRE.' Each of them rushed over to the end of the ledge, and started to fire into the murky rapids. After a seemingly endless torrent of bullets...there was nothing. No body floating, no cloud of red in the water. The colonel turned, snatched the dog tag from the soil, and read the name. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach,  as his eyes went wide with rage, "IHR IDIOTEN." 'YOU IDIOTS.' Utivich turned to Donny with a bloodied smirk, "Well I understood that." The colonel's commanding officer wanted you brought in for questioning. In fact, so did everyone in the German army who was someone. You were a ghost story in the Matanikau River, when you were still stationed in the Pacific. When you emerged in the European theater...well...all of Berlin was sacked, and all of Paris was turned upside in an effort to find you.

"Find. Her." The nazis wasted no time, they all knew that he'd show them no mercy. The nazi that had been responsible for the confusion...well, he begged, shaking in his boots. One shot to the forehead was all it took to quiet him down. His colonel kicked his body to the side. He stayed behind, sitting by a fire, as the sun set, watching Donny and Utivich intently. Eventually, he began to noticeably shift around, constantly checking his watch. He wasn't used to being kept waiting... None of his men came back. All the while, Donny taunted him, meaning time went by a thousand percent more slowly. He reminded the nazi who the fuck the basterds were, telling him it wouldn't be long before Aldo the Apache was coming down the hills. Donny swore it wouldn't be long before Hugo Stiglitz got his hands on the nazis. It wouldn't be long before... He detailed how he and the basterds had quite literally ripped local nazis to shreds. He even gave names. Names that colonel definitely knew. He screamed for Donny to shut up, barely able to control his murderous impulses, even knowing high command wanted Donny and Utivich, or any basterd for that matter, be taken in alive as a trophy, and for information. He really couldn't do much more than beat Donny up, and Utivich for good measure. But at the end of the day, the only one that was terrified was the nazi, and each second seemed to be slower than the last, while Donny and Utivich looked at him smugly. Eventually, around midnight, after hours and hours, and after Utivich was sure there was no way out, he hung his head down again. Just then he heard an agonizing, almost sobbing, gargling sound coming from the now calmer river. The remaining nazi stood up, his gun trained on the basterds, as he marched cautiously toward the river bank, every few steps, looking back at Donny and Utivich making sure they hadn't moved. "Give it up, kraut. Your boys're no match for ours." Donny taunted him again. The unmistakable sound of a muffled scream, and a knife made both Donny and Utivich turn toward the river. It wasn't exactly who they were expecting. You were standing there, dripping from the river, your clothes soaked in cold water and stained blood. "You're alive?!" Donny's voice was happier and more relieved than he intended to let on, as you cut them free, "Yes, sir." "How'd...how'd you do that?!" Utivich looked at you with star-struck eyes. "I'm a marine," you winked with a smile. "Marine, huh." Donny twisted his hands around his aching wrists, trying to relieve the soreness from being tied up so long. "Lance Corporal Y/n L/n, at your service, sir." You saluted him. "Nice to meet'cha kid," He smiled, genuinely, though his soft glance had to be cut short by the realization that you were all still in the middle of a war, and possibly a man-hunt. "And nice of you to salute and all, but we better get movin'." You nodded, and tossed something at him, catching the light of the moon in a fleeting silver glint. "What's this?"

"Their colonel's dogtag." You eyed the ones that Donny kept around his neck as trophies, "I see you got a collection going there." Donny smiled, as his heart skipped a beat. You'd fit right in with the basterds...

Your first mission with the basterds was not quite what anyone would expect, but then again, neither were you. For an impromptu rescue, it wasn't too bad. ************* All three of you sat kilometers away, a few hours later, still under the guise of the dark night, by a small fire, attempting to remain hidden, though all of you were freezing cold, especially you. Donny gave you his coat, and Utivich gave you his hat, trying to keep you from catching anything. "Heard ya made a mess of Berlin and Paris." You glanced up at him cheekily, "They sent me to you for a reason, sir."

"Call me Donny," he smiled warmly, between the steely moonlight, and the golden embers of the fire. Utivich asked, "So...you heard of us, but how come we ain't heard of you..." "Some of us are good at making things look like an accident," you teased him a little, and Utivich laughed.   Donny turned a little red, and nodded subtly, damning himself for seeing the stars adorning your hair, and the night sky in your eyes. His heart was pounding, and he didn't even try to deny why. Who would, when they saw you the way he did? You were all silent for a few moments, then Donny asked you what he asked any of the other basterds when they first met. "So, uh...why'd ya enlist?" You were quiet for another moment, then looked back at Donny. Your eyes seemed tired. Not from the long day, or even from the impressive tactics... Tired from memories, doomed to be repeated, as you sighed, "You ever see those signs?" "What signs?" He raised his eyebrow, then glanced at Utivich, who seemed equally as puzzled. "The ones in nice stores and parks and schools. Places like that. The signs that go 'no dogs, no black people, no mexicans allowed.' Doesn't even matter if you're Guatemalan, Dominican, Bolivian or Argentine, anything...They don't give a fuck. Those signs." Utivich looked at you, his heart was heavy as he nodded quietly. He was from a particularly open, urban place in the west...and even then he'd seen things like that. Things he didn't want to see when he went back home... He knew what it was like to have people hate you for what you were... Your name, your language, your family. Most of the basterds knew. Aldo and Hugo may not have known first-hand, but they'd be damned if they let anyone get away with that sort of bullshit while they were around. Donny's heart sank a little, as he murmured, "Fuck a duck..." He looked up at you, nodding slowly, "Yeah I've seen those." "Yeah, well I didn't see those in any bases. The one chance I got at being treated like a human,  and it's gotta be when I don't know if there's a tomorrow. Get it?" His heart broke, in a way he didn't see coming. He shook his head, and you sighed as you shifted a little closer to the dying fire, "Anyway, this fucking war's been on for what, three years, now? I wanna end this before my kid brother has to. Guess that's another reason right there." Donny understood that too. He had nothing more to say other than what was on his mind. "You're a good kid, Y/n..." "Thanks," You glanced up at him. And for a moment...a moment he would've missed if he'd blinked...you didn't have that trademark bold, striking look in your eyes. For a moment, you glanced away, shyly, with a small, quiet, innocent smile. Utivich noticed. He looked at Donny with a smirk, but said nothing. He knew to leave well enough alone.... "Ya know, I got a kid brother too. His name's Mikey."

You smiled softly, and pulled out a locket, tightly wrapped around your finger. You didn't open it, but you let it dangle a little, "Carlos." Donny chuckled, "Smitty there is the kid brother. At home, and at camp." "So that's how it's gonna be, Donny?" Utivich tilted his head with a laugh. You chuckled, "And how's that working out for you, Utivich?" He shrugged a little, though he was clearly amused, "Great. So far...I've only gotten one purple heart, which may be the lowest out of all the basterds....But my mom's still going to kill me when I get home." "Why?" "I enlisted, see? Didn't get drafted." He smiled at you. He was, as you'd soon learn, a real sweet, honest guy. Sometimes you wondered how a guy like that even made it into a team like the basterds... But then you'd see him in the battlefield, or getting a few scalps, and you'd remember why.  "My sisters tried to talk me out of it. My older brother couldn't enlist because he's got asthma. He just married too, so it would be real upsetting... Anyway... What can I say...Of course they didn't want me to go, I'm my mom's  youngest kid." "A baby," Donny remarked, which Utivich ignored. "They wanted me to go to college, but honestly? I don't regret a damn thing, Y/n." You smiled, understanding that need to be free to choose. Soon after, you all decided to was best to put the fire out, for fear of the smoke giving away your place. You were sure they were asleep. You shivered, still damp from the river. You were wide awake, your arms wrapped around yourself, watching as your breath turned into a cloud before your eyes. You sneezed softly. "Hey..." You heard a voice, warm, and quiet. Donny wrapped his arms around you, and you instantly sank into his chest. He smiled a little, speaking quietly so Utivich wouldn't wake up. "Can't have ya getting sick on us now, can we, kid?" You didn't protest much, as you couldn't remember the last time you were so tired. So Donny smiled sleepily, and held you tightly as he fell asleep. (He may like being big spoon but who knows ;) ) He couldn't tell you how panicked, and lost he felt when you disappeared on them for those long hours....But he'd tell you that some other day. Some day, when you were far away fom there. When you were safe...

******* You all arrived at the hideout finally, extraordinarily late, even for Donny. After you were introduced to the legendary basterds, Aldo took you aside for a little talk. He asked you what happened out there. You were days late, after all. Being a spy, you naturally spun a tale so convincing, it damn near worked,  as a way to cover for the boys' little mishap, and to save face for them. Frankly, Aldo just nodded, saying it was fair enough, and let you on your way. He then joined Donny and Smitty, who were both looking for something to kill their headaches with (of course after being punched that many times in the face, it was understandable). "I know Y/N's coverin' for you both." Utivich, slightly startled, turned around with a jump and panicked. "What? We didn't tell her to do that, we-"

Aldo didn't care for explanations, "Now, I don't give no goddamns, but if I didn't know any better, I'd think she was tellin' the truth." He chuckled a little, "But, I know you two are some damn trouble makers." Utivich nodded, and sighed, "Ok, you got us." Donny turned slowly to Utivich, and narrowed his eyes, "Snitch." Aldo shrugged, "And anyway...even if her story did check out, it don't explain to me why and how you got yourself a black eye, Donowitz. And why my boy Utivich here's got his lip busted open, does it." "Aldo..." Aldo sighed, "That kid's let the boys in her old teams take all the credit in public. But here, well, she gon' make one hell of a basterd, ain't that right Donny." He winked, and smirked. Donny sighed, "That obvious, huh?" There was no use in denying it anyway. It would only be a matter of time before the basterds started to notice the way Donny looked at you. Aldo shrugged, as he tossed  a bottle of pain killers at Utivich, "Just a lucky guess, son." He started to make his way out, but turned around for another minute, "Oh, and Donny?" "Yeah?" "Go on, you fucken basterd." Aldo shook his head, grinning. Donny smiled, as he walked out, and made his way over to you. Somehow, you made him feel a way he never felt before for anyone. When you were around, Donny was calm. He'd never admit it...but after what happened the day you met...he felt safe when you were near. Maybe your reputation preceded you... Maybe that was all...

But then again, when Donny talked to you, he wasn't as loud as he normally was. When he looked at you, and walked toward you, he didn't try to make himself look and act the like biggest, baddest basterd around. He didn't need to. When you were around, he knew he didn't have to worry. He knew he'd somehow make it home. When you were around, the question was no longer dead or alive... When you were around, and he saw that smile, and those eyes, he knew he'd be alright. Who the hell wouldn't, when they had you?

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Homeward: Wicki x Fem!Reader

Requested by @i-do-not-know-what-my-life-is

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

*Reader is Aldo's daughter

******

The OSS was sending a new member to help the basterds. After losing Andy Kagan, Simon Sakowitz, and Michael Zimmerman...they needed some help. Even if they didn't want to admit it, and even if it was practically a slap in Aldo's face...they did need it. "General says it's a goddamn marine." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, "Who the fuck said we needed a marine?!" Donny muttered, "Ain't they all supposed to be in the Pacific anyway?" Aldo shook his head, "This one's been in an elite team apparently, but the OSS is moving the kid over here." "What's thekid’s name anyway?" Aldo shook his head, "All the general said was we'd know the kid when we saw....aw shit..." He stopped in his tracks, and started running through the trees, to reach the edge of the forest. "Y/N?!" Hugo turned around, and narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Y/n..." He'd heard that name before. They all had, once or twice. "Y/n...ain't that..." Hirschberg trailed off, shaking his head. Donny nodded, "Aldo's kid..." Wicki shook his head, "What? It can't be..." Then, you saw your dad barreling toward you, and you shook your head, and called out in the exact intonation as him, "Aw shit!" Omar raised his hands in exasperation, "Well...it has to be." Aldo was very conflicted and confused. He loved you more than he could ever say, but..."What the hell are you doin' here?! I TOLD YOU TO STAY HOME. YOU LEFT YOUR MOTHER AND JUNIOR ALONE?! WH-" You chuckled and remarked, "Nice to see ya too, pops." As confused and now...scared...as he was, he couldn't help but smile a little when you said that. He sighed, "I...I went to war so you'd be safe, Y/n. I don't understand...I wanted you to stay home..." "Well I didn't." He smiled again, and nodded, "Your ma does say you're too much like me." He shook his head, "How did she take it, by the way?" He smirked, already knowing the answer. "Well she ain't very happy with either of us, pop." "And..." You chuckled, "Junior? That boy can't wait for you to get home. He's gettin’ taller. I figure he be damn near a foot taller than me by the time we get home." "A foot taller than you? He's only twelve!" "Fifteen in a week now, pops." You laughed, and Aldo did too, though his heart sank. As he looked at you, he wondered where the years had gone. Aldo distracted himself by introducing you to your new team, "You heard of Hugo?" You smirked, "Everyone's heard of Hugo Stiglitz. Even in the Pacific. He's like a goddamn ghost story." Hugo smiled slightly for a moment, and Aldo nodded and introduced you to the last basterd, "And this here's Wilhelm Wicki." Wicki reached his hand out to yours. You smiled, and for some reason, you felt the need to hold on to his hand for  a moment longer than needed. When you saw his smile, and the light in his eyes, you knew he didn't mind so much. Not all the basterds were as welcoming. First of all, Aldo was your dad, and like all dads, he was probably going to be overprotective. Then, the basterds had doubts about girls like you being on the front lines. And finally...you were a goddamn marine. But, they masked all these concerns, and voiced them in the oldest basterd tradition: mid combat. "Y/N'S JUST A KID!" Donny called out over the machine guns firing at them as he ran past Aldo, trying to convince him. "Y/n just took down four gunners with one bullet." Wicki grinned smugly, crossing his arms, as silence from the enemy rang in their ears. Aldo turned quickly, and spotted you, as you jumped down from a tree branch, and tucked your rifle away. He looked back at Donny, and every other basterd who had some grievances about their newest teammate. "Yeah, but she's my kid," He chuckled as he wiped blood away from his knife, "And the apple don't fall far from the goddamn tree." "Yeah but..." "Hey Wicki!" You marched over to him, and everyone looked. "Shit, you hurt your hand?" You took his hand, and poured your water over the deep gash. His hand flexed as the cut stung. Aldo looked at the gawking basterds, and rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright. Showtime's over. Get me some goddamn scalps." Chuckling and remarking, they all slipped away. Aldo did too, but...he kept an eye out. Wicki was the only one that never had anything snide to say about you...and that made Aldo a little suspicious.  He watched from (what he called) a distance, as you poured sulfanilamide on his hand to stop the bleeding, and momentarily rushed off to grab something to bandage it up with. Aldo took that as his cue. He didn't waste any time. He knew a lovestruck idiot when he saw one. He was old enough to know. "If you ever so much as touch Y/n, I will kill you, ya hear me, boy?" Wicki gulped, "Come on, Aldo. It's me... You know me, I'd never." "I'm old, Wicki, but I ain't stupid." Aldo sighed, and his voice eased up a little, "She's all I got out here. And if anything ever happened to her," Aldo trailed off, as his voice became soft, like only a father's could. Wicki smiled a little, getting a lock at Aldo's rare soft spot. Rare, and fleeting. Aldo's hand grazed over his knife, and he muttered, "I'd kill whoever was goddamn responsible for hurtin' my kid. Purple heart, or a heartbreak, same in my eyes when it's down to her. So don't go puttin' us all in positions we don't wanna be put in, understand?" Wicki stammered a little, and nodded, "Yes sir." Aldo nodded once with stern eyes. Not like a lieutenant, but like an over protective father who said he'd kill, and meant it. You rolled your eyes when you came back, "Don't listen to him," You muttered something only Aldo could have taught you, as you wrapped Wicki's hand up as best as you could. Wicki's eyes widened, with a slight relieved smile, as he was no longer alone and open for Aldo to attack. "You heard all that?!" "Oh come on now, if there's one thing the old man can't do is whisper." Wicki laughed, though he was unsure, "But, he-" You kissed Wicki right then and there, and smiled softly, "I can keep a secret if you can." You both looked at each other with identical, sly grins, and loving eyes. So, you did keep that secret. For a long time. One day, the basterds had traveled across nazi occupied France for their newest mission: Operation Kino. The next day, they'd be meeting up with a British soldier named Archie Hicox. They were staying in a relatively decent hostel run by the resistance, everyone got their own room. Compliments of the OSS (and the fact that you were all in a suicide mission). Omar and Hirschberg went around to each of the basterds' rooms, asking around for extra cigarettes. But they didn't know how to knock, apparently.

They found the cigarettes alright...but you and Wicki were smoking them, in bed.  "OH SHIT!" Both Hirschberg and Omar broke out in gasps and cackles, taunts, and repeatedly remarked, "ALDO'S GONNA KILL YOU!"

In all the commotion, the basterds started to step into the hall one by one. Aldo went further to invistigate. You could practically see the foam forming at the corners of his mouth. "YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, WICKI, YA HEAR? DEAD! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL Y-" "Dad." You crossed your arms. He went on, of course. "DAD." You matched him in volume, because of course, the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree. He looked at you, his eyes softened a little. You only called him 'dad' when you were mad. You always called him pops, or old man sometimes. But dad? Come on... Then... he glared at Wicki, "Get out." Wicki didn't waste a second, and hurried out. You and Aldo were quiet for a moment, then you muttered, "I'm not your little girl anymore, ok?" "What the hell are you talkin' 'bout?" He got a little defensive. In his eyes, you'd always be a kid. The kid that used to climb trees, fall down and scrape your knees, then climb back up in a second. You'd always be the kid that sat across from him from a low fire, and listened to ghost stories instead of bedtime stories. In his eyes, you'd always be the kid that only let him braid and brush your hair, because her mom was too hasty with the brush. Where had that kid gone? "I ain't no kid, dad. When you left, I took care of Junior. I took care of ma. When I shipped out, I was a fucken automatic rifleman in my fire team. You can't just be a  kid and get out like that. Then, I was a fucking squad leader. There were twelve of us, goddamn it. Out in the pacific, in the fucking storms, in the middle of everything, dad. We got our job done. Some of 'em went home. Some of 'em are still fightin'. Some of 'em ain't ever goin' anywhere again. But we all grew up. We had to. I did. I proved it out there. I proved it here. Why don't you see that?" "I'm pulling you out of operation kino." "You're what?!"

"If you so goddamn grown up, you'd realize you....you an' Wicki, an' all this shit- It's compromising the team! Grow up a little more, and you'll see I ain't just protectin' you. I'm protectin' everyone from this." "Really? Protecting me? How's that gone?" You shook your head, "Right. You ain't lost a damn soul since I got here. Just a coincidence right? Just lucky since I'm the best goddamn marksman you got, ain't it? You need me in that tavern tomorrow. It's not about me and Wil. You've been lookin' for excuses to pull me out of Kino since we got the damn thing. But ya know what, dad? You bein' scared is what's puttin' the team in danger. Not me and Wil. It's you." You pushed past him, and every basterd that lingered around in the hallway. None of them bothered to go after you. **** At dawn, you were sitting at the window of the inn, ready to go. Aldo closed his room door behind him quietly, and stood in the hall for a moment. Your hair was pulled back by a dark olive scrap of cloth. You weren't in pigtails anymore. You were taller than the kid that used to run around the Smoky Mountains with him. You looked out into the pink and red sky with the same eyes that watched the same sun set over the horizon in the pacific. Those were a troop's eyes, if Aldo ever saw them. He never thought about it before, maybe because it hurt him too much.... But he couldn't help it now. He thought about you, alone in firefights somewhere across the seas. He thought about all the things you'd seen. All the things you'd done... You were an unspoken hero, not his little kid.  You had to be, if the OSS took enough notice to send you halfway around the world to the basterds. You never told them a single story about your days before the basterds, but he was sure they'd be in a book some day. You were always ready. Frankly, you were the only basterd that was ever ready for anything. Still, he cleared his throat, and asked, "Ya ready, y/n?" That was his way of apologizing He wasn't very good at it. You had all the years of your short life to learn that. So you smiled a little, though you didn't look away from the red glaze in the sky, and sighed, "Yeah, pop." So it was understood. You were in the tavern. You went down with Hugo, Hicox, and Wicki to meet the contact. You were in that basement, fighting. And if it wasn't for you, none of them would have made it out alive.

The second Hugo pulled the trigger, and Dieter Hellstrom said goodbye to his nazi balls, you did what you had done on your first day as a basterd. You took down four nazis with one bullet. And did it again, with your second gun. Operation Kino would not run smoothly, but it did work out. And the basterds made it, because of you. So you all got the medal of honor when it was all said and done. And...while Wicki was walking to his spot, Aldo tripped him up. You rolled your eyes and glared at Aldo...who smiled as if he'd done nothing. You didn't realize he was smiling because he thought he was sly. He was smiling because he was proud of the boys, and most of all, of you. The basterds were all in their army uniforms, each decorated with different ribbons and medals from their time before and during their assignment to the team. You were in your marine uniform, equally as decorated. And with four purple hearts that Aldo had a million (belated) questions about. Question number one being, "How the hell did you get those?!" But, he shook his head, wondering how many stories his kid had. Aldo looked back at you, and saw that you were focused on the last man in the line.

Wilhelm Wicki. He was looking right back at you, with that same lovestruck idiot look. Aldo sighed in resignation, with a slight smile he'd never admit to. That was the story you wanted. Not a ghost story around a fire, or a war story wrapped up in ribbons and medals. Those were just a few chapters. Aldo looked out into the crowd, as Roosevelt went on and on with kind words about honor and war. Aldo wasn't listening much. He was looking out into the crowd, and spotted his wife and son, the rest of his story. The first page of his epilogue, set in the Smoky Mountains. Your story was different. It was only just beginning. The pen was still in your hand, and it had been, from the moment that Wicki took your hand. And if Wicki was going to be part of your story, well...then Aldo might just have to accept that. There was no more missions, no more war...nothing else he could use as an excuse. But he'd be damned if Wicki was coming over for dinner.... But if he was, you bet Aldo would be tripping Wicki up every chance he had (since killing him was no longer an option.) You and Wicki looked at each other after he got his medal, and smiled. The war might've ended, but what you had together didn't. When it was over, and you stepped down from the stage, he took your hand, and you spotted your mother and brother in the crowd. You could feel the scar on Wicki's palm, and you squeezed his hand.  He smiled softly with an undeniable blush, as you walked through the crowd, on your way home.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Traitor and The Bear Jew (Inglourious Basterds Imagine: Donny Donowitz x Fem!Reader)

 Requested by @svonschroeder! (Thanks for being the first to submit one, it means a lot!)

"TEDDY FUCKING WILLIAMS KNOCKS IT OUT OF THE PARK! FENWAY PARK ON ITS FEET FOR TEDDY FUCKIN' BALLGAME! HE WENT YARD ON THAT ONE, OUT TO FUCKIN' LANSDOWNE STREET..." Donny barely glanced at the remaining enemies. He wasn't wasting time, after all, a basterd’s work was never done. He looked at one of the nazis. He was a man, crying and shaking in the face of the Bear Jew’s justice. "YOU." The Nazi's futile attempt to escape was shot down by Hirschberg's gun.

"Damn it, Hirschberg."

Aldo sighed... He was hoping to get something useful out of their captive audience...and they were running out of them.

He chewed on his sandwich and looked at you, half annoyed, mostly disinterested. "Bring the girl."

Donny glanced to the remaining nazis. You were among them. But you were anything but a nazi.

In fact, you were a traitor.

At least...to the nazi high command.

In the brief instant that Donny looked to the survivors, he saw something he'd never seen before.  He'd heard of laughing in the face of death. In fact, it was one of the Basterds' favorite past times, but no one, not a single soul, living or dead, had ever smiled in the face of the Bear Jew's wrath.

Not like you.

At best, you were a traitor to the nazis,  and you expected that at some point you would be killed for your pursuit of justice and revenge.

At worst, your charade and double life would be too convincing to the basterds, and you'd be seen as just another enemy.

Your truth, your story was nothing but a rumor trickling down the OSS lines.

You were a German, but you were no nazi. You were young, but you remembered a time where the world was a big place. There were no tanks, no raids. Friends, families, cities weren't divided by rallies and hatred... People didn't disappear in the middle of the night. Entire communities weren’t slaughtered... Neighbors didn’t betray each other. They invited each other over for dinner. They went to clubs together. Swing wasn’t outlawed then. Humanity wasn’t seen as a weakness. Schools were full. Shop windows weren’t broken or vandalized. Entire neighborhoods didn’t just disappear... 

You remembered a world where there was justice.

And when that world collapsed, when your best friend was murdered for her faith, when your neighbors vanished, when everything changed, you did too. You became a traitor in a heartbeat. If you had to die a traitor trying to restore that world, you would.

And by the looks of it, you were going to.

And you were going out watching the infamous basterds.

You joined the nazis, but you used their information against them. You tended to have an easier time gaining officers’ trust, and it doomed them. You usually rummaged through their documents as your gun was still smoking, or you rknife still dripping, searching for leads that could save a life. You used them to warn, and save Jews. You'd done it for years. You always anticipated dying before the war’s end, but you pictured it a different way: against a wall, facing a firing squad back in Germany.

This was not it.

No one would ever know your story... just a distant memory of those you saved, and you accepted that.

You could plead. You could tell the basterds the whole story... the truth...but it was far too good to be true.

Who would believe a word from a person a step away death? You wouldn’t lie, that wasn't the problem, it was that they wouldn't believe.

You tested that theory. You made it short and sweet. You told Wicki you were infiltrating Werner’s team, and you were a traitor to the nazis. You’d helped save dozens of Jews in the past year alone.

Unfortunately, your theory was right, as you observed Aldo the Apache sighing in disbelief, and Wicki's amusement in translating what he believed was utter bullshit. 

You glanced at the other basterds, now that a gun wasn't directly trained on you.

You glanced up to a higher ledge...and spotted an old friend. It had been quite some time...

Hugo Stiglitz.

You were friends, once. Long ago, long before the war. You were just teenagers then. You walked to school every day of your lives,  your mothers were best friends. You were there the day he became an orphan. You were always there for each other back then. But, once the nazis took over, you were both older, you'd been distanced for some time because you’d chosen a different university, your jobs never matched up... And then he joined the Gestapo.  You avoided him. You hated him. You could never stand to see him.

 You didn't know he waited in the market every Saturday, just for a chance to tell you the truth. Just for a chance to see his last true friend. He was certain you'd understand...But you never showed up.

Six years had passed. He didn't recognize you. You weren't surprised. He was always a clueless boy...

And...you weren't quite the same either. You had short brown hair when you last saw each other. You  were once a ballerina, you played the violin and dreamed of a quiet life in a small town. You traded your ballet slippers and bow for a sniper and a pack.

You were a little taller, your build was more of a warrior than a ballerina after carrying a pack and a burden for years. You couldn’t simply claim to know him. After all, Werner was right. Everyone in the German army had heard of Hugo Stiglitz. You’d changed your name to cover your tracks after one botched kill, and your dogtag couldn’t prove your true identity.

Still, you were you at heart. No one could deny that. “Ask her about them Germans in the orchard. I needa know ‘bout them snipers. How many there are, what they got on ‘em.” Wicki translated, though you didn’t need it, you thought it might be rude to point it out after all that time. The truth was, you didn’t know about the troops up the road, and you told them so.  Again, it was too good to be true.  Aldo sighed, “God damn it. Donny!” You lowered your head, ready to accept your death as you were thrown to your knees, at the mercy of the one they called Donny.

You bit your bottom lip with a sigh as you looked at the man about to murder you, with nothing but respect and admiration in your eyes as you glanced at the bat with the names.

Donny looked at you. He shifted for a moment. He hesitated. He blinked forcefully, and shook his head once. "Come on, Donny."

Still, he looked back at Aldo.  Donny never thought he'd hesitate  in killing a nazi. He'd never killed a woman before, but...a nazi was a nazi.

He looked you in the eyes. He saw something he didn’t see in Werner’s eyes, or in the eyes of any nazi he'd encountered before: a soul.

He saw humanity. In the depths of your eyes, he saw the mischievous threads of a cunning mind. He saw an honorable acceptance of fate.  It wasn’t a psychotically blood-driven acceptance of death for your country like Werner’s. In his eyes, Donny didn't see "bravery," he saw blankness.

Yours were human.

You didn't glare into Donny's eyes like Werner did. You didn’t look down at the ground and stain it with your tears like Private Butz did.

You looked toward the horizon, west, toward the freedom you have to others, and the freedom you were willing to die for as a traitor.

All you could hear was your own heartbeat, and the slight breeze tussling the leaves.

Then, you heard the lieutenant's voice, "Last chance soldier," followed by Wicki's translation. "Er sagt eine letzte Chance, Soldat."

You were silent for a moment. Your eyes sauntered from the horizon, back to Donny's.

He couldn't help but shift again, changing up his grip on the bat as he awaited Aldo’s instructions.

Donny gulped... something was different about you.

There was not a trace of cruelty in your eyes.

For a moment...he believed you. He believed every word of your story.

It was the truth after all, but...Aldo was older, and wise, and had a habit of reminding his men that if they hear a story too good to be true, ‘it ain’t.’

Donny clenched his teeth... bracing himself as a wave sympathy took him by surprise, something he'd never felt before.

But orders were orders...

He took a breath, and raised his bat as Aldo nodded to him. Your voice was soft, but wasn’t trembling. It was a small, simple request. You wanted to sound polite. You wanted to take that chance. "May I speak to Hugo?"

Your voice wasn't shaking in fear, it didn't reveal a tell in your state of mind, it didn't give way to a hateful rant. Donny froze, bat still in the air, eyes still trained on you. 

The Basterd's stood still, unaware you were able to understand them the entire time.

Wicki was a little annoyed, admittedly.

Donny's arms had been hanging high, ready to swing... He lowered the bat, and stood in confusion.

Aldo raised an eyebrow, and lowered his sandwich for a moment.

Hugo took a step back. He turned to face you, he hadn’t quite been paying attention, being entertained by Donny beating nazis with a baseball bat, after all.

He knew the voice was familiar.

After he squinted, so was your face. Your hair was longer, and... blonde.... He'd never admit he thought it looked better before.

A few steps closer, and he saw a scar on your forearm. It had been there since you were kids, running around Frankfurt. You fell, skinned your knee and your arm that day.

He knew you.

He knew you too well. He knew you were telling the truth.

"Wait."

He slid down the ledge, and set his gun down as the basterds turned to him, "Donny, put the bat down."

"What?" Donny wasn't sure if he was more confused over what he was feeling, or because Hugo was speaking more...

Hugo wasn't playing. "The girl goes free."

The basterds by then knew better than to ever question Hugo Stiglitz.

He stood over you. It was you...it was definitely you, and he smiled. Hugo actually smiled, ashamed he hadn't known before, as he held his hand out, and pulled you to your feet, "Y/n..."

You smiled, "Hugo."

When you heard he was a traitor and what he really did in the gestapo, you cried. You should’ve known better, and you wished you'd spoken to him. You should’ve known he was better than that.

You should've known he was no more of a nazi than you were.

He smiled as you stood face to face, and he hugged you... You were taken aback, for a moment. You slowly reached your arms around him. It just wasn't a very Hugo thing to do. He wasn't much of a hugger, even before the war.

It was nice...

"What are you doing here?!" He gestured to your uniform. You smirked a little, and gestured to his basterd friends. "What are you doing here?" When you looked at the basterds, your gaze wandered over Donny for a moment longer....

Omar shook his head in confusion, "What's going on?!"

Hugo turned to the basterds. "Y/n is telling the truth. She's a friend...an old friend. I know her.” He glanced at you with a sly grin, “I know a traitor anywhere."

Utivich was still suspicious. "A traitor...what exactly did you do?"

Donny turned to look at you, a wave of relief cooling him down as he registered everything. It really was almost too good to be true.

But he was grateful it was true.

He listened to you. He listened to every word.

He loved it.

The way you moved, the way you spoke: the elegance in the words you  chose, the almost shy smirk in the four letter words you knowingly dropped.

He hung on to every word that fell from your lips.

"I had to. I stole the lists, made copies of them. I'd figure out which Jewish families they were looking for next. I would sneak away, warn them, sometimes I'd lead them to German friends who would keep them safe. There were a few I was able to smuggle onto ships that would eventually take them to England. Had to kill a nazi or two along the way. For all intents and purposes, I am a traitor. I'm a fucking traitor, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

The basterds were amazed...

They liked you. You had guts, they had to admit.

Donny liked you... He liked every single thing about you. You had heart, you had guts, you definitely had brains. He liked the way you spoke. He liked the way you stood, brazen, and unmovable, like a rocky cliff facing the endless and brash ocean. He liked the way your eyes revealed your heart, and who you were.  

He hated to admit it....but he might have fallen for you.

He was almost in a daze as you explained yourself.

He snapped back when Aldo rose to his feet, walked over and stood face to face with you. You weren't sure what to expect from the man from Maynardville.

You were surprised, "Well, y/n... seein’ that your old team’s nearly defunct..." Aldo glanced over at the last nazi that was being guarded by Hirschberg, then back at you, "How would you like to be a basterd?"

You raised a mischievous eyebrow, and couldn't help but smile a little as you looked back at Hugo, one of your oldest friends. You looked back at Donny, your almost-killer, and...the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. You gazed at the disfigured body of your former sergeant, Werner. You glanced at the blood of your former team. You watched as the only  other survivor of Rachtman's post: Private Butz, who was shaking in fear as tears streamed down his face. You had no pity on him, or anyone else on that post. "Now, before you say anything, soldier, I got a warnin' for you. You join my team...my team, my men, my command, you take on a debit. A debit you owe me, personally." You smiled, not just because you had admired them, and had desparately wished the rumors about the basterds to be true...but because you would get a chance to patch things up with your old friend... and, as you looked to Donny Donowitz, you blushed. Aside from that, you always thought the accents in American movies were exaggerated...yet there stood Aldo Raine. "You join 'em boys there, and you owe me one hundred nazi scalps, just like 'em. You understand?" You were unbothered, mostly because as of January of that year, your body count could have paid off the debt. But you had no problem with doing it all over again. You gladly would, and you’d double it if it meant justice and freedom for the innocent, for Jews, the roma, any and everyone that was unjustly stripped of everything. "Yes, sir." Your new lieutenant smiled, set down his sandwich, and picked up a rifle that had the term 'inglourious basterds,' carved into it. He tossed it to you, and handed you your  knife. "You’ll be needin’ these, soldier." You nodded, beaming with pride. You  looked down at your knife, realizing it needed sharpening, you intended to look back to Hugo, having heard of his skills with a knife as passing rumors when you heard he was arrested. But instead of Hugo, you nearly ran into your new sergeant. Donny's left hand rested on the back of his neck, his right arm relaxed so the tip of the bat was dragging on the ground. He was embarrassed, and relieved. He didn't know what he'd do if he'd killed someone on their side...and he was embarrased he didn't speak up, especially when he believed you. "I...uh.. How about we start over, kid?" You smiled, of course. It would be nice. It was always nice to start over. "My name's Donny." Your soft chuckle, and smiling eyes captivated him as you responded, "I know." Through the blood, grime, and shadow of war that coated you like any soldier, there was some light behind your eyes, a sheer need for retribution, for freedom, for justice. He could tell. And he loved you for it.  He'd never forgive himself if he'd killed an innocent person, though in the eyes of the nazis you were far from innocent, in his eyes, you were simply trying to make the world a better place.  He respected that. In fact, he respected the hell out of you, and admired the way you faced your fate. But, he was still ashamed... he'd never forgive himself if he had done it. It was at that moment that he swore to himself he'd never hurt you. He'd never let anyone hurt you. He promised himself that if anyone so much as laid a finger on you, he'd kill them. You reached your hand out to shake his, but you both stopped for a moment. The second your fingertips even grazed each other, you took his breath away, and he made your eyes shy away. Soldier to soldier, heart to heart, traitor to basterd, you both understood. You both knew it. Everything was going to change. Everything was going to be alright. You looked into each other's eyes for a moment longer than you should have, and you turned away, your cheeks were burning as he looked up, biting back a nervous laugh. "Donny, bring that other one over here. Alive." Donny didn't hesitate. Not anymore. He took up his bat, and looked at you. Both of you were smirking. It was the beginning of more than just a wartime love story. It was the beginning of something that the nazis would come to fear: You were the one and only person that could handle the Bear Jew. You were the one and only person he would drop everything to protect, (though you didn't need much protecting, after all, Aldo had a habit of calling you 'a regular Annie Oakley.') Still, word did spread that if any nazi so much as aimed in your general direction, they'd have a short, and unnegotiable encounter with the Bear Jew. 

The last thing they'd ever see was his wrath, his wild eyes, and a bloodstained baseball bat. But the first thing you saw each morning after that was a brief, flash of his loving, warm eyes, and a secretive, knowing smile, just before he called the basterds to stand at attention.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Basterds, The Spies, and the Baroness (Archie Hicox x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @mbluxaeterna​

I haven't written for Archie before, but I did my best, sorry luv!

Also sorry this took so long! 

@owba-chan​, @inglourious-imagines​ @war-obsessed​, @tealaquinn​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the basterds of OUATIH taglists! :)

____________________

"Now before we meet your contact, John-"

"Archie." Lieutenant Hicox cleared his throat as he attempted to look disinterested, and straightened out his collar.

Aldo nodded, disinterested himself as he went on, "Yeah. Before we get you to that tavern, there's someone we need to introduce you to."

Hugo smiled...

Which scared not only Archie, but everyone else.

Still, it was warranted.

The basterds rushed back into Paris before making their way to the village of Nadine. In the streets of Paris, there was a common street musician. A woman. Perhaps a lost Greek muse, with a talent belonging to a forgotten ancient world, but a heart that would soon belong to Lieutenant Archie Hicox.

A crowd of Parisians dreaming of freedom wandered by, lulled by your song.

A crowd of nazis circled around you, smoking, listening to you, befriending you. They gathered there often, told you their stories, their names, their secrets. They told you about their ambitions, their friends, their homes. They told you about their wives. Most of all, they told you all about their missions.

In fact... they bragged about them to you.

And you listened, and played on. You played your guitar. You played a character. And you played the nazis.

You were just girl to them, who would listen and entertain. To the nazis, you were just a girl with a song to play and a heart to give.

In reality, you were (technically) a soviet spy. With a freelance mission to complete,  and information to pass on.

Archie didn't know that.

So when the basterds stood across the street, listening to the nazis chattering to you in slurred French, as you played your guitar and looked up at them with a smile, and spoke amicably, he was more than confused.

It must be a joke...

He looked to the basterds. "She's just some French girl. Probably a damned collaborator from the looks of it."

Donny shook his head, and smirked "She's not French, Hicox. Thought you tommy's were smarter than that."

Archie raised his eyebrow. You certainly had the nazis fooled.

And him.

Aldo made eye contact with you, and your false smile for the nazis illuminated like a distant star for the basterds when you caught sight of your old friends.

You tilted your chin up a little, your notes beginning to slow down.

You excused yourself.

You had  an ill aunt to visit.

Perhaps you'd return in a day or two.

And the nazis bought that.

They dispersed, back to their stations, unwittingly as you made your way to their sworn enemies, the basterds.

Archie's question remained unanswered until that moment.

You smiled as you held your arms out, greeting the basterds. "Priviet!"  ‘Hi!’

Archie's question was answered.

What were you?

Perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

Priviet.....

Archie was an expert on German films, and mastered the language. But he knew a word or two thrown around by allies...

That was Russian...

And judging by the way you carried yourself in front of the nazis, despite having what appeared to be a close relationship with the basterds... Archie concluded you must be a spy.

A Soviet spy.

Though, you wore elegant clothes, and long, diamond earrings. Your guitar was brand new. You drew so much attention. By no means were you what he'd expect from a spy.

And maybe that was perfect.

"Y-you were just talking to all those nazis and you-"

You smiled a little as you pulled your hair onto your left shoulder, "Hearsay is valuable. Lose lips sink ships, as you say. Music makes men far from home feel closer. They talk. I listen." You smirked a little as you glanced at the handsome newcomer, "Then I talk," You chuckled and winked at him.

Archie gulped, and stammered.

Something he hadn't done since he was a school boy.

Aldo smirked a little, "You'll have to excuse Lietenant Hicox. He's a lttle nervous with our mission."

You raised your eyebrow as your eyes grazed over the boys. Those familiar faces...

You smirked, "And so are  you."

Donny scoffed, "What? Us?! C'mon!"

You tilted your head, as you looked to the seemingly incredulous sergeant, and Aldo, "No? Then why else would you boys have come to me?"

All the younger basterds turned their attention to their officers.

You were right.

You were an old friend of theirs...

And a last resort.

You knew that, and you went along with them without asking a single detail about this new mission.

Archie didn't know what to make of you. He turned to Aldo, "She hasn't even been briefed... She doesn't know a thing. Why are we bringing her?"

"Because, lieutenant. Y/n is an old soul. She's loyal. She's got a fighter in her. Makes sure everyone we got goin' in, makes it back out.  As a lieutenant, that should mean somethin' to you."

Archie nodded as he glanced at you. You were a little ahead, walking with the rest of the basterds, just out of ear shot. "I see..."

You didn't say much along the way. You, by nature, were more of a listener than a talker. And...Hugo liked that about you. And you liked that about him. As the boys gave up with the years of your cryptic and unsatisying answers about being a Soviet spy, you sat by Hugo.

And he left you alone.

Both you and Hugo were not the loquacious type.

You were all hiding out in a building across the tavern where the boys were meeting with Archie's contact.

You were strumming lost, calming notes on your guitar. Hugo was by you, sharpening his knife.

Everyone was a little shook up because it turned out...the boys would be in a basement.

You abruptly stopped playing when you heard footsteps, out of instinct. It was only Archie, but he still outranked you... technically they all did.

But they respected the hell out of you.

Hugo looked up in annoyance when Archie said, "Stiglitz, right?"

"That's right sir."

Something about all this didn't feel right. Usually you were up for anything...but something was different.

No...it wasn't just that Archie Hicox was there...and handsome...and had a nice accent...

You shook your head subtly as you tuned your guitar, while Archie made sure Hugo kept his head in the tavern.

"I don't look calm to you?"

"Well...now that you put it like that...I guess you do."

Hugo looked at him for a moment in sheer annoyance, and then went back to sharpening his knife.

You kept your smirk hidden as you looked down at your guitar, and started to play again. You felt a presence in front of you, but you didn't stop playing until he spoke.

You heard Hugo mutter in irritation.

If there was once thing the basterds knew for certain about Hugo Stiglitz, it was that he liked good music.

And...there was a rumor once, long ago, that he may have liked you.

But it was only a rumor...one that he silenced with his own hands... But that was a story for another day...

"And you, miss L/n?

"I'm just a musician, sir."

He smiled a little, his cheeks turning  red, "Please, call me Archie."

"Then you must call me Y/n, nothing more." You smiled softly as you looked back down at your guitar.

Hugo smirked, knowing you were once much more.

"Y/n..." Archie couldn't help but smile when he said your name. It just sounded so beautiful to him. "You don't have to come to the tavern. It will be dangerous."

"I'm a Soviet spy, Archie. This is what I do." You smiled reassuringly. 

"But you're not a basterd, you've no idea how dangerous this is, y...y/n..." He looked at you with eyes of concern.

You set your guitar down, and smiled a little. "Archie, dorogoi..." 'Archie, darling'

You gestured to the basterds, "These boys only come to me in the worst of it. You've no idea the things these basterds have dragged me into."

Hugo smirked in reminiscence as he continued to sharpen his knife.

Archie nodded, seeing you were dead set on it. "So you'll be posing as the musician?"

"Posing? It’s what I am. They all know that. Simple. Nothing more."

Archie nodded adn softly repeated, "Nothing more..."

That's what you should've been to him...

Nothing more than a contact. A friend of the basterd's. Nothing more than a street musician...

But to him, you were frighteningly becoming so much more.

As he spoke to Aldo in the other room, and you continued to play a nameless song that would never be played again. Hugo interrupted you this time.

He said nothing.

Not with his lips, anyway.

His smirking eyes and contorted eyebrow said it all.

You had spoken more than usual.

"What, Hugo? He's just...just a lieutenant."

He smirked, quietly understanding Archie was more than that as he turned his attention back to his knife and your song.

**** As Archie feared, the night was far more eventful than it should have been...

You winced when he ordered three glasses.

The wrong way...

Even you knew it was wrong. You'd hoped Hellstrom didn't notice. He glanced at you for a moment, the well known abandoned Russian in Parisian streets...

His eyes once full of admiration were then full of evil and realization.

You knew he had noticed.

Because in his eyes he questioned years of stories and secrets that he'd given to you personally... And there you were, among the impostors.

Bridget began to tense up.

You looked at Hugo...

He seemed calm, but his eyes weren't.

Archie had no idea...

Not until you all heard Dieter's gun click. Archie bought a moment of time with a request to go out speaking the King’s...

He glanced at you in what he thought were his final moments... His eyes full of longing and loss, as if saying, ‘Perhaps in another life...’ You wouldn’t let that happen. You had plans. It all felt  as if it passed in a millisecond and an eternity all at once.

You let your instincts kick in. They never once let you down...

You shot Dieter in the head, flipped the table over, stopping Hellstrom's bullet from hitting Archie, as you pulled Bridget and Wicki down, saving her from harm, and giving Wicki an edge against the nazis.

You threw a knife from the table into a Eric's eye, just before he shot Hugo.  You ran to pick up the dead Hellstrom's gun with your left hand, as you held your own in your right. You stood, out in the open, shooting at the nazis that dared to breathe.

When it was all said and done... You didn't know who was alive and who was hurt...

You took cover behind the overturned table... It wouldn't be long before the rest of the basterds came to help.

All you knew was there was a nazi named Wilhelm attempting to negotiate with Aldo.

You heard Bridget call out, "I'M ALIVE."

Frankly, the rest of the negotiation, and Wilhelm's death were a blur to you. You were more focused trying to figure out what happened to the others...

They weren't in your line of sight, and if you moved too suddenly, that last nazi might shoot you...

It wasn't until you heard unexpected shots being fired that you peered over the table, gun in hand, ready to fire, only to see that Bridget had shot Wilhelm.

You took a breath, as you scurried to the other side of the room. Bridget turned to you, gun aimed at you, but she took a breath as she realized it was you.

You crouched over Hugo and Archie.

You and Bridget heard shuffling behind you.

Wicki was starting to get up... He was limping.

You heard Aldo call down, "VON HAMMERSMARCK? WILHELM? WHAT THE HELL WAS HTAT?! WHERE ARE MY MEN?!"

You called out, as you searched for a pulse in Hugo and Archie. You sighed in relief as you sat back.

Hugo had been shot but was alive...

Archie had only been knocked unconscious.

You called out, “ARCHIE'S OUT COLD, WICKI'S LIMPING, HUGO AND VON HAMMERSMARK ARE HURT."

Archie opened his eyes, "Y/N?"

"Good morning, Spyashaya krasavitsa, [sleeping beauty]" You smiled down at him as you reached your hand out to his, "Time to go. You feel ok?"

He nodded, his hand at the back of his bloody head, "Fine. Fine... The others. What happened to the others?!"

You started pulling Hugo's limp arm around your shoulder. "Help Wicki."

Aldo came down and picked Bridget up. You pulled an injured Hugo along, as Wicki limped, held up by Archie.

You had to make an escape.

Soon.

The nazis would be investigating...

Somehow, through it all, you still gritted a cigarette between your teeth. "Smitty, Omar, hold him  up for a second."

They nodded and you hotwired one of the nazi's cars.

The boys looked to you in astonishment.

As the engine sputtered, you turned to them, "What?"

You puffed at a cigarette as you walked to the next nazi's car, "We're gonna need two. Aldo, Donny, take the hurt ones down to this address. We'll follow." You jotted down a local veterinarian's address on a napkin and handed it to Donny.

You stood at the next car, watching as Aldo and Donny drove off with Wicki, Archie, Hugo, and Bridget...

You puffed unconsciously at your cigarette... watching...

The smoke rising into the dark abyss that dared call itself a starry sky...

You'd never seen a darker one.

"Y/n..."

You looked back at the boys.

Omar, Smitty, and Hirschberg looked to you with wide eyes.

You nodded, and softly murmured under your breath, both to comfort them, and yourself with words you'd said to the younger ones so many times before, "Vse korosho... Vse korosho."  'it's ok, it's ok...'

Hirschberg stepped up, "Whoa, whoa, princess."

"Don't call me that." Your voice turned like a violent tide, harsher than you intended.

You had a history...a story, a home...a life, long before you were a Soviet spy. 'Princess' wasn't exactly what you were, but it was something that you were once poised to be.

Still, the boys didn't know that. Except for Hugo, but he'd never tell a soul.

You sighed, about to apologize, but they didn't mind. Everyone was on edge, and they were worried about you.

You were covered in blood.

Whose blood, was unclear.

Your hands were shaking, and your puffs of smoke were inconsistent.

You managed to get the engine going, and just before you hopped in, Omar said, "I'll drive."

"No."

"Y/n..."

You looked to the other two, then down at your hands.

Whose blood...

Yours...Archie's....Hugo's...Wicki's...Bridget's?

You didn't know...

But you nodded. "Ok. Take a left here."

**** As the basterds figured out a back up plan, you remained in the other room, tending to Wicki and Hugo. All the while, stealing glances at Archie.

Hugo and Wicki wouldn't be able to go on with Operation Kino.

But, aside from a headache, Archie would be fine.

You and Archie walked in, just as the next step to Operation Kino was set in stone.

"I don't speak Italian!"

"Like I said, third best. Just keep your fuckin' mouth shut! Matter of fact, why don't you start practicin' now?"

You smiled a little, though you had  a bit of a development yourself.

"I believe I can get one more of you in."

Aldo raised an eyebrow and turned to you, "You can fuckin' what?!"

You smirked, "It's only right...after all, an exiled Russian duchess, friendly with the local nazis to be invited to the biggest night in Paris."

Omar narrowed his eyes in disbelief as the basterds stared in astonishment and confusion, "You're a what..."

You giggled a little, "Might not be exactly true, but...true enough."

Aldo leaned against the counter, tired of the long day, but intrigued to high hell.

As a matter of fact, they all were. "You wanna run that by me again, your goddamn highness?"

You sighed and tilted your head side to side as you pieced your words together, "At best, I was 19th in line for the throne. I was more of a baroness, really... The youngest. I didn't have a real shot at the throne. I didn't live in the palaces, but I lived well. I was only a child when the tsar's family....my family... was murdered.... That's revolution for you." You sighed and shook your head. "I hardly remember, but that was when we escaped to France. Now it's just me."

"So..." Donny pressed for the answers that everyone had wanted from you for years.

"So I was far enough in line from the throne to be spared, but close enough to claim something the Krauts would believe."

Smitty was utterly shocked, "They bought that?"

You nodded as you reached in your shirt. You pulled a chain over your collar. It was golden, and bloodstained. At the end was an emerald pendant lined with  diamonds.

A piece of a misfortune that was left of the once grand past.

And all that you cared to carry with you of it.

"True enough for them." You winked at Archie.

He didn't know if it was you or the hit to the head that made him dizzy at that point.

Aldo nodded. If you'd kept that a secret from them for so long, he knew you were absolutely the best person he could have turned to for the job.

He was convinced you were the reason any of his men made it out of that tavern, though you'd never admit it personally.

He nodded, trusting you once again. "Alright. You take Archie as your escort. He says he's a kraut captain, just as planned. You're an exiled royal, they like you, they won't question you. Right?"

You nodded, with a slight smirk that somehow always brought the basterds relief. "Verno..." 'Right."

The next night, the basterds were hanging around your apartment. It was in a more expensive, and elegant side of Paris. Of course, you were still am exiled baroness. It was to be expected. Still, the inside was not overly lavish and gaudy, save for a portrait or two that was salvaged from the empire that once was, along with their original frames, older than a monarchy.

You all sat around, getting ready for the long, and perhaps final night ahead of you.

Your dog, a blind samoyed, abandoned by the streets of Paris, played with and comforted the nervous basterds for a while. Donny petted your dog, "What's it's name?"

You smiled and giggled a little, unsure whether or not they'd be able to repeat it, "Solnishko. It means little sun."

Archie narrowed his eyes... "Sol....solkneescoh....So-" Your dog barked happily and followed Archie’s voice, jumped on him and licked his face playfully as he chuckled, "Alright boy, alright."

Some of the younger basterds were standing around one of the portraits. There were nineteen people in it. All around the tsar, all in line for the throne, and all a family.

A family you only had one memory left of: That same portrait.

Omar turned to look at you, "Where are you?"

You smiled softly as you pointed to a woman in a cheery yellow dress, with a green emerald pendant hanging around her neck. Her husband rested a careful arm around her, a general covered in medals, ribbons, and scars from the ongoing war.

In their arms, was a baby, wrapped in royal purple silk.

"That's me."

Smitty cleared his throat, "So...Y/n... this may or may not be the our last chance to ask this...So we know you're a spy...but everyone knows your story now...How does this all work?....is Y/n your real name?"

You'd lost your home, your family, and your history. Your name was all you had left of it. You nodded. You held your name with pride, and used it against the nazis.

Hirschberg was still confused, "Just to clarify...Soviets kicked you out, cause you were royal?"

"Basically."

"And then France took you in?"

"Da." You nodded.

"And the fucken Krauts think you have a grudge against the Soviets, beause of all that, so they tell you anything."

"Yes."

"But you're really helping the allies and soviets all along?"

You nodded again, "That about sums it up, kid."

Omar frowned, "But if the Soviets killed your family...why are you helping them?"

"Ah, Soviets..." You sighed, "It's not the Russia I know."

The boys looked to each other, and then back at you.

"I knew Russia. Not the Soviet Union. Krauts think I hate the motherland. But land is land, the people are still my own. I want to go home. And the Soviets promised me full pardon for the crime of the blood in my veins, if I cooperated with the allies, which I'd already been doing for years."

"So you want to go back to Russia?"

"Russia, yes. Soviet Union, no."

Hirschberg asked "So why would you make the deal?"

You sighed, "Just to see it one last time..."

Then, Archie walked in, wearing a tuxedo, ready for the premiere. "Now, now boys, don't tire out a Russian noble with all the questions."

You laughed and rolled your eyes, "No more a Russian noble now than you are, Archie."

He smiled a little, then gestured down at his suit, "I look alright?"

You clenched your teeth, and turned a bit red. You didn't quite want to look at him, for that exact reason.

He did look alright.

And more than that.

You nodded, "Korosho..."   ‘Good...’   You cleared your throat and moved on, keeping the level headedness of a baroness.

You let the boys wander around your apartment, and play with the dog as you looked over the balcony, smoking one last cigarette, watching the sun set in the west.

You wore a ruby red dress, a stunning evening gown, with the emerald pendant around your neck. A phonograph played a song you'd listened to since you were a child. On the Hills of Manchuria.

Your eyes sauntered to the east. To the hills of Manchuria you vaguely remembered...

Then back over the red horizon...

"Beautiful sunset, isn't it?"

You turned around, and saw Archie standing politely by the door. "May I?"

You nodded and smiled, "Please."

He stepped out, and stood by you, leaning over the balcony where vines were entwined. "I'd no idea you'd lived through the revolution."

"I was about three when it happened. Five when my mother and I escaped. I don't remember much."

"And you're at it again."

You shrugged, "My father was a general in the first war. That was our only saving grace then. This seems to be my own saving grace now. War is  in my blood, apparently."

"You don't have to...." He trailed off.

He'd only known you for a few days, but he couldn't let any harm pass you. Still, it was more of the basterd's mission at that point, and he had to let Aldo handle it.

"Don't have to what?"

"N-nothiing... Just...A-Aldo wanted to speak to you."

You exhaled a puff of smoke into the greying sky, and scoffed a little. "I'm not an infant, lieutenant. This is my war too."

"Please?"

You turned to him with a resilient sigh, but you couldn't say no to his pleading, wide eyes.

You nodded, and walked in, only to chuckle a little when you saw Aldo.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd see Aldo Raine in a smoking white jacket."

Aldo frowned, and muttered, "Yeah, yeah...anyway kid..." He sighed and cleared his thoat as he straightened out his bowtie, "You done me a solid more times than I care to admit, and you uh, you always made sure my men made it out." He glanced back to your livingroom, at the injured Wicki and Hugo, resting and taking shelter on two burgundy divans. "Maybe not always in one piece," you both chuckled a little as Aldo went on, "But you always done looked out for us."

"You're my friends. What else would I do?"

Aldo shook his head, as Archie stood by him. "This time's different."

"I know. This is the end." You nodded.

All you knew was that the basterds were taking down the nazis' high command, but not the means in which it was going to happen.

Archie shook his head. "No, Y/n. This isn't like an ambush. This is..."

Aldo nodded, "It's a suicide mission. And whoever falls behind, stays behind."

You looked at all of them. Donny was taking a shot by the counter. Bridget was adjusting her dress over her cast and softly petting your dog that was laying on her lap. Hugo and Wicki, barely kicking. The youngest basterds, with barely a chance.

"There won't be no gettin' my men out. Not this time... Not again." Aldo sighed, in reminiscence and gratitude at all you'd done for them through the years. "This ain't your mission. You go on, git, after you get us in."

"But-"

Archie didn't let you finish your thought. It was unnegotiable. "Aldo's right. You get me in, then..then you slip away during the beginning of the movie. No one's the wiser."

"But."

Aldo looked at you. Stern, and commanding, "Save yourself. Just this once. Do me this one last favor."

Archie looked to you, his eyes gentle, and his voice lower, "This is not your war to fight, Y/n."

You turned to them, "No? Seems it was my war to fight to every single side of it. It's all I've done for the past nine years. You'd better believe this is my war. They've murdered people all around me. They've taken over the world. Your world. My world. How is this not my war?"

Aldo rebuked you, "This mission wasn't santioned to you."

You scoffed, "And yet you came to me."

They were silent.

It was true.

You weren't a soldier, but this sure as hell was still your war.

"You trusted me before, boys." You looked into a mirror with a golden frame hanging over a fireplace, as you put your earrings in, "Don't stop now."  

***** About an hour later, you were all approaching the line to enter the premier. Aldo muttered, "If you're not outside the theater by 9:45, Smitty and Hirschberg gon' get you, and you'll compromise us."

You didn't know if Aldo was strategizing, or had lost his mind, but he looked serious.

You sighed, and nodded, "Fine."

So you made your way past the guards with your genuine invitations: A German starlet. An Italian stuntman, a camerman, and his assistant, followed by an exiled Russian noble, and her escort, a highly decorate German captain.

Or, quite simply, a few basterds, a couple of spies, and a baroness.

You sat with Archie, just a row behind Donny and Omar.  You could see them starting to leave their seats.

Aldo and Bridget were nowhere in sight.

"It's 9:40, darling."

You looked at Archie, stunned for a moment, then watched as he shrunk down a little, "Sorry, I-"

You shook your head a little, as you smiled at him, "Don't be sorry, darling... Not now..."

He smiled down at you, but caught himself looking into your eyes. He turned away, and whispered, a twinge of somberness and loss in his voice, "You should go..."

You shook your head again, with a soft denial and plea... "Nyet..." You held his cheek gently, and turned his face towards yours, as you whispered, "No regrets...Not tonight. Not for you."

His lips parted, his heart skipped a beat, and you leaned in and kissed him, as the roars of guns and a crowd echoed around you, drowning out the echoes of war and propoganda.

You pulled away from Archie after about a minute...

All of it was ending that night. The war, the salutes, the basterds...it was all going to be nothing more than an ashy memory of that night.

All left behind...

He nodded at you reassuringly, and you left your seat.

Soon, he'd follow suit, and join Donny and Omar...

Your heels echoed down the dark, silent street. The night was damp, the air was heavy. The stars seemed solemn.

Smitty looked down at his watch, with a smirk, "It's 9:44. You just made it."

You sighed, "I see."

Hirschberg, patted your back, "You did the right thing, Y/n."

You nodded, but you began to narrow your eyes as you looked down the dark street.

Smitty squinted, trying to follow your gaze. "What?"

You murmured, as you looked into nothingness. "You see that?"

"See what?" Hirschberg cupped  his hands around his eyes as he squinted.

You started to silently slip off your high heels, leaving them abandoned on the sidewalk.

"Over there! Just after that shop!"

When they were distracted, you slipped away, back into the theater.

"FUCK. Y/N?!" Smitty started running after you, but Hirschberg grabbed onto his shirt, shaking his head, smiling softly, "No..."

"BUT ALDO SAID-"

"Let her go, Uti...Let her go."

Utivich sighed and nodded. He'd noticed it too...

It would've been cruel to keep you from Archie, and make you watch it all burn down and blow away in the wind.

Smitty shook his head and sighed in defeat and admiration, "Basterd..."

You looked for Aldo and Bridget. They should've been there...

You looked through the rooms...and you found Bridget, and broke your heart. You remembered Aldo’s words. Whoever fell behind, stayed behind. You didn’t find a sign of Aldo, but you spotted a broken champagne glass in the middle of the lobby. It was odd that it hadn’t been cleaned... You made your way upstairs, and found Hitler's guards dead.

You could hear the war's chaotic finale just behind the door.

You opened the door and found them pulling off perhaps the most important kill of the war.

"OMAR. DONNY."Omar turned to look at you.Donny kept gunning at Hitler's already unrecognizable face. "DONNY."

He stopped and looked at Omar then you in confusion, fury in his eyes still blurring his future.

You had one mission of your own. Make sure those basterds made it out to see the world they saved. So.... Naturally...

You tackled Donny.

He fell on his back, and you tore off the explosives from his ankle, and threw it down into the fiery sea of nazis.

You looked at Omar.

He held his hands up and stepped back a little.

If you could take down the Bear Jew...there was no telling what you could do to him..

He quickly untied his explosives and threw them down.

"Go. Now."

Omar shook his head, "Aldo?"

You were silent for a moment then said, "Not here."

"And Von Hammersmarck?" You ushered them through the door, "She fell behind."

You turned back and across the theater you saw Archie still unleashing hellfire onto the nazis. You looked to Omar and Donny and said, "I'll meet you outside. Find Aldo. I’ll get Archie."

They nodded, and vanished beyond the smoke.

You turned around, and met Archie's eye as your lungs burned with smoke.

He nodded once... He understood...

He threw his gun down,  onto the opera box, and his explosives over the edge. He started running through the opera boxes to meet you in the middle...

As you both passed each opera box, you looked to each other.

About half way there...he couldn't see you anymore.

There was only smoke.

"Y/N?!"

He ran through the ash and haze, trying to find you.

There you were... sprawled on your back, helplessly under the axphyxiating smoke, like a bloody chalk outline.

"Y/n?!" Archie coughed...the smoke beginning to make him drowsy. He covered his mouth with his arm, trying to hold out for a minute or two longer.

He shook his head in disbelief as he reached for you. He took you in his arms, and made his way through the collapsing theater, and made it out with only seconds to spare.

He walked through the street with you in his arms.

Hirschberg was sitting there, his hand on the back of his head, covered in blood. He'd been knocked down while Smitty and Aldo were taken away.

Omar and Donny were with him, watching the cinema burn down, the rise smoke, and Archie emerge with you in his arms...

Omar murmured "We did it..."

The basterds looked at you with heavy hearts fearing the worst...

Archie set you down on the curb just across the street as the cinema exploded. He held your hand, and waited...

It was all he could do.

He moved some hair away from your face, and tilted your head up, and cradled you in his arms.

Donny asked, "Is she...."

Archie shook his head, "No...not yet..."

You'd run into the depths of hell for an infinitesimal chance to save them. You'd run around so much looking for Aldo and Briget you'd inhaled too much smoke. Staying to pull Omar and Donny out didn’t do you any favors...

His hand rested on your back, and he could feel your ribs moving, a struggle to breathe that you were losing.

Omar spoke up, his voice soft, unsure of where to go, "Hirschberg says  the nazis took Aldo and Smitty that way."

Archie didn't dare tear his eyes away from you. He spoke lowly, almost harshly, "I'm not leaving her. Go."

Donny shook his head, "Look, if nazis come by-"

"Go. Tell them I fell behind." He took a breath, "We both did..."

Donny shook his head. "She didn't leave us behind. She never would have."

"I'm not leaving her behind. You're leaving me behind. Go, now."

Donny sighed, seeing the broken love in Archie's eyes and nodded. He tapped Omar and Hirschberg on the shoulder, beginning one last mission: Find Aldo and Smitty...

"Let's go."

Omar sighed as he looked back at you. It didn't feel right.

But, he knew it was only right to leave Archie alone...

He nodded and pulled Hirschberg up, "Come on, kid... Let's go."

He and Donny held Hirschberg up as they made their way down the street.

Just as they were out of sight, Archie felt you shift a little. He turned to you, as you began to cough a little.

His heart skipped a beat with a twinge of hope.

"Darling, just breathe! That's all, just breathe!" He lifted you  a little higher in his right arm, and held your hand with his left hand.

You opened your eyes, and looked up at him, the red light of the fire raining down on both of you.

Your mind was blank with only the knowledge that you'd done all you set out to do.

You kissed Archie...

He pulled away for a moment, laughing, "What happened to just breathing?"

You laughed and pulled him back.

You kissed.

You kissed through the smoke, through the end of the war, in spite of the inferno just meters away, in favor of the inferno between your hearts.

Just then, you heard ann exapserated bostonian echo from the dark street, "OH. OK. FUCK. FUCK. A. DUCK."

You smiled into each other's lips.

With the end of the war, you had all the time in the world.

Archie picked you up, and held onto you as you walked down the street.

Donny was arguing, "FUCK IF I KNOW HOW!"

Hirschberg was leaning against the hood of a nazi's volkswagen, pressing his hands against his aching head, for obvious reasons.

Omar shook his head "WELL I DONT FUCKING KNOW EITHER. DO I LOOK LIKE Y/N TO YOU?!" His voice was breaking out of desparation, and loss. You had been a good friend to them, from the night they dropped into France.

Donny grunted, "DON'T YOU FUCKIN' DARE! Y/N WAS A FUCKING ANGEL AND..." He trailed off as he squinted into the dark. "YN?!"

Omar rolled his eyes, "Oh very funny, how are you gonna....Y/N?!"

You smiled a little, "Boys..." You nodded slightly, and they stepped aside in shock, unable to distinguish between ghosts of hope and reality.

It also worked so you could hotwire the car while they collected themselves.

And when you did, you all piled into the car, in search of Aldo and Smitty.

As you all cruised down the newly freed France, you looked to your right, due east, to the land you'd always wanted to see once more.

Your eyes focused on something you wanted just a bit more, in the near and distant future.

Archie Hicox...

For nearly ten years, you did and went wherever you were needed.

But now that it was all over, there was one place you needed to be.

In the Soviet Union, or in France, or in England, in war or in peace, you had a place to be...

Right there, by Archie's side.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

One Last Time: Aldo Raine x Fem!Reader

@owba-chan, @war-obsessed, @inglourious-jules 

Let me know if you want to be tagged in these! :)

Requested by @inglourious-jules

------------------------------------------------------------

 Aldo sighed.

He was sitting on the concrete ground, his back against the metal bars separating him from you.

He should've known you couldn't be together... He lost his head over you and Hugo...

Now look where all that got his team.

You had all been captured, and he couldn't help but blame it on himself.

He wondered how he could be so stupid?

He should've known a girl like you could never really fall for a guy like him. You were an educated girl from up north, you spoke any and every useful language to their side of the war... Aside from your ability to scalp a nazi, you were a proper, well-read, intelligent young woman, capable of deciphering intricate codes, from Vermont.

He was a redneck hilllbilly from the deep south. A basterd, through and through.

Even you were surprised at yourself for falling for him...One of many surprises since you became a part of the basterds. 

You never thought you'd be in the war to begin with. As of December, 1941, you thought the most you’d ever have to do with the war would be with war bonds. By mid 1942, you were well within the OSS’ ranks, and dispatched to the basterds.

It was almost imaginable to anyone that you of all people would befriend the short-tempered, quiet, stubborn German basterd, Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz.

In fact, that was part of the problem.

No one else in the world had ever made him smile like you did, let alone laugh. If it had been anyone else, Aldo would have been more than happy with it. 

But it was you.

It had to have been you.

It crushed Aldo to see you with Hugo...to see you talk to Hugo for hours on end. It shocked every single one of the basterds. Hugo barely tolerated anyone to begin with, then you came along.

Aldo fell head over heels with you.

He couldn't bear to see you with anyone...the basterds' joking flirts were of course just jokes, but it drove him crazy.

He especially couldn't stand to see you with Hugo.

The thought of losing you scared him. So much, that he had to ask Wicki what you and Hugo were talking about.

Because of course, all your conversations were in German.

Wicki chuckled. Opera, ballet, concerts, your favorite symphonies, and records Hugo hoped to find after the war.

It terrified Aldo.

He thought he wasn't good enough. He didn't know much about those things, and it broke him to think he'd lose you to Hugo...or anyone, if you ever realized Aldo wasn't enough for you.

Aldo's little bout of jealousy, however, was what distracted the basterds at the worst possible moment.

It was, in fact, the reason you were all currently in cells.

"So...would you be so kind as to tell me what the fuck happened back there, lieutenant?"

It practically sent a shiver down his spine, froze his heart, and crushed him  to hear you talk like that.

You were a basterd, but you were also 'the best goddamn lady' he ever met. It was rare to hear you curse, even rarer to hear you call him 'lieutenant,' and almost unheard of to hear you with a spiteful tone.

Still, he stood his ground.

"I think you owe me a goddamn explanation."

You didn’t hesitate in firing back. You never did. According to Aldo, that was what made you one of the best goddamn basterds. But at the moment, it hurt him... something he never really admitted to anyone. "Owe you? The only thing I ever owed you was one hundred nazi scalps, seventy eight of which have already been accounted for. Try again."

Aldo sighed in defeat and mumbled under his breath. "I just wanna know where the fuck we went wrong..."

He didn’t think you heard him.

“We never went wrong, Aldo." You leaned against the bars dividing you, your back against his.

He was startled for a moment, then managed to get his words together, and retorted, "The fuck you call this then?"

"War." 

He growled, "Then what the fuck do you call that?!" He raised his voice. You could tell he was pointing to the cells down the hall, where Hugo was being held.

You lowered your voice, trying to salvage at least his friendship with Hugo in the darkest moment. "Hush..."

"Don't you tell me to hush. I wanna know what the fuck-"

You understood Aldo had misunderstood it all. "Leave Hugo out of this."

"So you do care for him." Aldo crossed his arms, and shook his head, even if you couldn’t see. 

"He's a basterd. I care about all of you."

Aldo wasn’t budging. "I didn't say about, I said for."

"No."

"Then?"

"I don't care for anyone. I love."

There it was. The decisiveness. The stong cold truth you always seemed to carry on your shoulders.

Aldo knew that. He’d once fallen for that part of you, but he scoffed this time, "Love, huh."

"You know me, Aldo. You know what I feel for you."

"Yeah. But I don't know what you feel for him. I don't know what you and I are gonna be." He looked up at the ceiling of the pitch black cell in exasperation. 

"Nothing."

Your answer was bleaker than the cell itself.

His heart stopped...

It took him a moment to get his words out.  "Nothing to which one?"

"I feel nothing for him, and you and I will be nothing."

No one had ever talked to him like that before. "What?"

"I don't see us getting out of this, lieutenant." You sighed as you watched guards walk down the hall. It was odd to you to call him that...even when you first joined his team, you called him Aldo with a blushing smile or a sly wink. Now you distanced yourself from him, not wanting to die with an aching heart, knowing it all could have been different... As the guards’ footsteps echoed and disappeared, you gave up. "They have it in for us. We're not going to be anything because we are out of time. You know that, and I knoe that."

Aldo was silent. He never heard you talk thay way before. He never heard you give up. He had to pry you away from firefights more times than you cared to admit, You were always the first one in, and last one out. You were always optimistic, always rallying the basterds, even in the worst times. You were like a ray of sunshine to them... that was why not a single nazi could ever get away with so much as a glare at you.

You were known for being blunt and brutally honest, but you were always positive. You never gave anyone false hope, but you gave them hope nonetheless.

You meant so much to the basterds...

And to Aldo, you meant the world.

That was why hearing you being so bleak, and hopeless was heartbreaking to him.

If you gave up, there was nothing left...

"Don't talk like that."

"And why not? You like the truth, don't you?” You looked up, trying to find an ounce of patience, as you muttered, “That's what you wanted to hear."

"Hey..."

You felt him shifting, but you didn't turn around. You couldn't bear to look at him. But you held your ground, "We're not getting out of this one, Aldo...it’s over..."

Hearing you say just his name gave him some hope. He shook his head, "You don't know that. Team full of smart boys, we'll be fine."

"They're lining us up in front of a firing squad at sunrise. It's over."

Aldo nodded slowly at the news... He knew she'd known that for at least a few hours.

 And you chose not to tell him, somethingn that never happened before.

Aldo realized you must have overheard the guards...

It felt like a boulder was pressing over his chest... maybe you were right.

Maybe it really was the end.

"I didn't think it would end like this..."

"What would?"

He sighed, "The war, the team...you and me."

You were both silent for a moment.

You sighed, annoyed at yourself...for such a smart agent, you always seemed to be getting into some unfavorable predicaments.

This one might just be the worst of all.

You were proud, but you knew when you had to back off, and ease the coldness.

You knew Aldo loved you. Hell, you loved him. You didn’t want it to end like that.

"Seeing that these are our last few hours together, I'm going to say this once, and once only. I don't care if you believe me or not. I don't care if you’re still pissed at Hugo, or if you don't care anymore at all. I'm saying it one last time. I love you, Aldo. More than anything or anyone I've ever loved before. "

He stopped frowning. He uncrossed his arms. His heart softened up, and he wanted more than anything to hold you one last time.

After everything, he couldn't lie to you. Not if it was the last thing he’d ever say to you

"I love you too, darlin'." 

He realized it night be the last time he's ever get to say that. It was his last chance to redeem himself to you. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"It's not your fault. That's war...that’s life."

"I'm sorry. I just never thought I'd love anyone as much as I love you."

"Aldo, don't." You sighed. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to hurt him, or anyone... And yet, there you were, waiting to be executed. 

"I have to. I don't want to die knowing the last thing I ever done was make the woman I love angry. This ain't no way to die..."

"I'm not angry."

"Y/n..." Aldo laughs a little at the absurdity of it all... "I imagined a life with you. I thought we'd end the goddamn war together. I dreamed we start a life together. I dreamed we'd end the war together. It was stupid of me to think you'd move down to Maynardville with me after all this."

"What's stupid about it?"

"You and Hugo talk about them operas and ballets, all those paintings and museums you want to to see. You don't belong in Maynardville. You-"

"I belong with you, Aldo. Here, or Antartica, or in Tennessee."

He smiled warmly, appreciating the sentiment, but realizing you were still right. "Come sunrise, that ain’t gon’ matter no more."

"When you love someone, it never stops mattering. Dreams never stop mattering."

Aldo smiled a little.

"Tell me about your dream, Aldo." You needed to hear something to take the edge off it all...even if it was just a dream.

"Damn good one..." He smiled again, "Thought I was gettin' too old... didn’t think I'd meet anyone, then I met you."

You smiled a little. Silent tears streamed down your face as you desparately hoped for a change of fate.

"I thought we'd leave all this behind some day, take you up em Smoky Mountains... maybe some day a little 'un or two runnin' round. I just wanted to make you happy."

"You do."

He muttered, "I got us killed..."

You shook your head, "Not yet."

"There she is..." He smiled. There was the girl he knew. He felt your hand slip throufh the bars and into his hand.

Aldo turned around and faced you.

You wrapped your hands around the bars and pressed your forehead as close to his as possible.

He realized you’d been crying...

He managed to reach through the bars and told the side of your face.

“Don’t you cry now, darlin’...I ain’t leavin’ you.”

He smiled softly as he felt you gently press your hands over his.

Suddenly you heard metal clanging. You both turned around to see a smiling shadowy figure at the entrance of Aldo’s cell.

The door was wide open.

For a moment, you were petrified, your blood ran ice cold, you lost your senses.

You could hear the smirk in his voice, "Hol dir ein Zimmer, ihr zwei."

The old, familiar voice...

'Get a room, you two.'

You smiled and got to your feet, "Hugo?!"

You heard jangling from keys, as you realized that he tossed the keys to Hirschberg. You turned to see the rest of the basterds waiting outside.

Somehow...Donny was already covered in nazis’ blood. Useful...and unsurprising.

You and Aldo looked at each other, then ran out of your cells. He picked you up and spun you around.

It wasn't over.

Hugo chuckled as he watched you and Aldo kiss.

He wanted to you be happy, even if it was with someone else.

"Du brauchst definitiv diesen Raum."

'You definitely need a room.'

You rolled your eyes at him as you smiled, and took your place with the basterds, and cleared your way to freedom.

You were a step closer yo the end of the war. You were a step closer to Maynardville, Tennessee apparently.

It wasn't "ideal" but it was what you wanted.

You looked at your lieutenant, Aldo the Apache.

He was everything you could ever want. And more.

You loved him. You'd follow him to hell. In fact, that was where you met. In the middle of Nazi occupied France, deep behind enemy lines, in direct line of fire.

You would walk to the ends of the earth, if it meant spending the rest of your life with him.

The war went on, and you still had a debt to pay.

But you caught a glimpse of that familiar knowing smile and loving eyes as he glanced at you.

You knew from that moment that you were going to make it to the end.

You looked at the basterds, your brothers.

They all would make it...

You held Aldo's hand as you marched back through nazi-occupied France, to a tavern called La Louisiane in a small town called Nadine.

[knives-out20]

Inglourious Boyfriends - Part 2

Fandom: Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Pairing: Joshua Margolis (OC) x Lt. Aldo Raine

Word Count: 2504

Warnings: Spoilers For Inglourious Basterds,

Note: Here’s Part 2 Of Inglourious Boyfriends, 3.0 UGHHHHH. Josh Is Good At Using Guns And Bombs, And His Nickname Is The Pineapple Bomb. Because He Knows How To Use Bombs/Explosives/Grenades, And Looks Good While Doing It.

Aldo stood with Joshua at his side, the two of them looking over their little army of (some Jewish-)American soldiers scalping the dead Nazis, PFC Hirschberg standing guard behind three survivors."Beautiful bunch, aren't they?" Aldo muttered, glancing at the Basterds who were standing guard on the hills.

"Quite" Joshua nodded, as Aldo planted his ‘INGLORIOUS BASTERDS'-engraved rifle in the ground, walking over to Hirschberg.

"Hey, Hirschberg. Send that Kraut sarge over" he ordered, taking off his satchel and tossing it aside.

"You, go" Hirschberg directed, watching as the Nazi Sergeant slowly walked over to Aldo, who sat down cross-legged.

The Sergeant looked around at all the eyes on him, making his way to stand in front of Aldo. He saluted, "Sergeant Werner Rachtman" the Nazi introduced.

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine, pleased to meet you" Aldo respectfully lied, looking the Sergeant up and down."You know what 'sit down' means, Werner?" He asked, hearing Joshua get on his knees behind him.

Joshua glared daggers up at Werner, somehow intimidatingly starting to massage Aldo's shoulders, who allowed it.

Werner avoided eye contact with Joshua, nodding in reply to Aldo's question."Yes".

"Then sit down." Aldo instructed softly, Werner quickly complying."How's yer English, Werner? Because if need be, we got a couple fellers who can translate. Joshua".

Joshua nodded, continuing to massage Aldo's shoulders."Ah, W-Wicki here, an Austrian-Jew. Got the fuck out of Munich while the gettin' was good. Became American, got drafted, come back to give y'all what for" he started, Aldo silently pointing up at Wicki."Uh, a-another one up there you might be familiar with".

"Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz" Aldo introduced, everyone turning to look up at Hugo."Heard of him?".

"Everybody in the German army has heard of Hugo Stiglitz" Werner scowled, making Joshua and the Basterds laugh, including Hugo himself.

"And?" Aldo asked, looking up at Joshua, a smile gracing his lips every time he did.

"Uh, I- I grew up in a family fortunate enough t'learn any language on the face of the earth. German, Hebrew, French, anythin’ yer pea-sized, smooth brain can think of" Joshua finished, staring into Werner's non-existent soul.

Aldo's smile vanished when he turned back to Werner."Can we assume you know who we are?" Aldo asked.

Werner nodded."You're Aldo the Apache, and Joshua Margolis, the Pineapple Bomb" he answered, Joshua and the Basterds whooping afterwards. Rachtman turned to look up at Joshua."Your family made headlines in the thirties. Shame for you to think anyone would believe your little made up story about what your father's friend did to you" he ridiculed."It made the news, but I doubt it even happened, you-".

"Alright, Werner, enough" Aldo held up a hand, glancing up at Joshua to see if he was okay.

Joshua grit his teeth, taking deep breaths as he stared straight ahead.

Aldo caught the look of pain in Joshua's eyes, nonetheless."Well, Werner, if y’heard of us, you probably heard we ain't in the prisoner-takin’ business. We in the killin’-Nazi business, and cousin, business is a-boomin'" Aldo explained, Hirschberg cackling and adding "oh, yea". He smiled, "that leaves two ways we can play this out; either kill you, or let you go. Whether or not yer goin' to leave this ditch alive depends entirely on you" Aldo told, leaning back and slowly adjusting his position so that he was crouching on his feet, now. He nudged Joshua, who pulled his arms away on cue, automatically. Aldo glanced up at Joshua, then playfully turning back to Werner."Up the road a piece, there's an orchard. And I'd like to safely make it to the orchard so I can reward Joshua 'n' the rest of my men with some freshly-picked apples".

Joshua smiled down at Aldo as he stood at attention; one thing anyone could figure out about Joshua is his love for apples.

"Besides you, we know there's another Kraut patrol fuckin' around here, somewhere. If that patrol were to have any crack pots, that orchard would be a goddamn snipers dee-light" Aldo put into picture, unfolding a map and placing it between the Sergeant and him."So, if ya ever want to eat another sauerkraut sannich again, y'gotta show me on this here map where they are".

Werner leaned in to overlook the map, Joshua tensing and ready to attack.

"You gotta tell me how many there are, and you gotta tell me what kinda artillery they're carryin’ with 'em".

Werner scoffed, meeting Aldo's blue eyes."You can't expect me to divulge information that would put German lives in danger" he told in a raspy voice, going back to sitting up straight.

"Sir?" Joshua asked, ready to blow Werner's sorry little stupid brains out.

Aldo raised a hand, holding Joshua back without even touching him."Negative, Joshy" he shook his head, taking off his flat cap and tossing it over his satchel, followed by running his fingers through his slicked-back hair."Well, now, Werner, that's where yer wrong, because that's exactly what I expect. I need to know about Germans hidin’ in trees, and you need to tell me, and you need to tell me right now. Now, just take that finger of yer's and point out on this here map where this party is bein’ held, how many is comin’, and what they brought to play with".

Werner grinned. He raised a hand, slowly putting it over his chest."I respectfully refuse, sir".

Just then, the echo of a bat tapping some railing could be heard from inside the tunnel behind Joshua and Aldo.

"Oh, I'll respectfully refuse this b-bullet right up your-" Joshua growled, stepping forward. But, he let Aldo hold him back with the light weight of only his hand.

"Hold back, Margolis. I hear 'im comin’" Aldo gleefully told, maintaining eye contact with Werner."Hear that?" He asked, pointing a thumb down to the tunnel, as the bat-tapping continued.

Werner nodded, "Yes."

"That's Sergeant Donny Donowitz" Aldo whispered huskily."You might know ‘im better by his nickname, The Bear Jew. Now, if you've heard of Aldo the Apache and Joshua the Pineapple Bomb, you got to have heard about The Bear Jew".

"I've heard of The Bear Jew" Werner quietly verified, nodding.

"What did’ja hear?" Aldo asked, awaiting an answer.

"Beats German soldiers with a club".

"He bashes their brains in with a baseball bat, that's what he does. And Werner, I'm gonna ask you one last goddamn time, and if you still respectfully refuse, I'm callin’ The Bear Jew over" Aldo explained, as the tapping stopped."He's goin’ to take that big bat of his, and he's gonna beat yer ass to death with it" he explained, pausing for suspense."Now take yer wiener-schnitzel-lickin’ finger, and point out on this map what I wanna know" Aldo pointed down at the map, watching Werner stare at the map in thought.

Werner looked back up at Aldo, who took a deep breath, knowing what that meant."Fuck you. And your Jew dogs".

"Oh, y-you lil' piece of-" Joshua spat, as the Basterds laughed at Werner.

"Hold back, Margolis" Aldo ordered, silencing the Basterds immediately.

"B-But, Aldo-" Joshua complained, blue eyes sparked with the fire of malice on Werner.

"I said hold back!" Aldo barked, looked up at Joshua.

Joshua looked down at Aldo, jaw clenched shut as he then stared straight ahead, nodding strictly."Apologies, Aldo".

"Apologies accepted, Joshua. Anyways," Aldo scoffed, turning back to Werner."Actually, Werner, we're all tickled to hear you say that" he started, folding the map back up."Quite frankly, watchin’ Donny beat Nazis to death is the closest we ever get to goin’ to the movies- Donny!" Aldo called, standing up and pulling Joshua close to his side, grip around his waist tighter than usual.

"Yea?" Donny called back, the dark tunnel echoing his voice.

"Got us a German here who wants to die for country" Aldo sat down by his hat and satchel, Joshua following suit."Oblige him".

Donny started the bat-tapping again, the ringing sound growing louder as he got closer to the entrance, Werner staring straight into the abyss.

"What in the hell were ya thinkin', Margolis?" Aldo whispered, coming out as a grumble into Joshua's ear.

Joshua kissed his teeth, tearing his gaze from the tunnel to Aldo."But he said-".

"I know what he goddamn said, Joshua. Don't make me drag ya in that there deep, dark tunnel after all this 'n' teach y'how t'be quiet, alright?" Aldo growled, making Joshua close his eyes and nod obediently.

"Yes, sir" he whined, leaning into Aldo's touch when he teased his fingers through Josh's brown hair.

Aldo pulled out a sandwich to eat as he looked around, waiting patiently for Donny to come out. He even offered Joshua a piece, who hesitantly accepted it."Sure does like makin’ an entrance, don't he?".

"Ugh, d-don't we all?" Joshua mumbled, delicately holding the sandwich piece in his hands. He scarfed it down quickly, turning back to the tunnel entrance as Aldo put an arm around his shoulders protectively.

Once Donny emerged from the shadows, Joshua and the Basterds all whooped and cheered, clapping as Aldo held his sandwich between his teeth to clap along. Donny used his bat to tap the badge on Werner's chest."Did you get that for killing Jews?" He asked, murder in his big, dark eyes.

"Bravery." Werner responded, riling Donny up.

Donny panted, nodding as he tapped his bat against Werner's temple.

"Oh, g-good fuckin' luck tryin' t'find any brains to bash out, Donny, I don't believe it has any!" Joshua called, getting Aldo and the Basterds to laugh. He grinned triumphantly, the grin growing when Aldo softly kissed his temple.

"Good one, Joshy. I love you".

"I love you too, Aldo".

Donny nodded again, pulling his bat back. In one fair swoop, he knocked the side of Werner's head, sending him to the ground. 

Joshua jumped, huddling closer to Aldo. He leaned onto Aldo and put a hand on his chest, as Josh's best friend did what he does best; mercilessly beat a Nazi to death, and look good while doing it.

Aldo chuckled, glancing down at Joshua and pulling him closer. He fixed his eyes on Josh, sighing quietly.

Once Donny finished, he spread his arms, screeching at his fellow Basterds."Teddy fucking Williams knocks it out of the park!" He pranced around."Fenway Park is on its feet for Teddy fucking Ballgame! He went yard on that one, onto fucking Lansdowne Street! You!" Donny pointed at a blond Nazi in front of Hirschberg, who got up and ran, but Hirschberg shot him, falling to the ground.

"Ugh, d-damn it, Hirschberg!" Joshua cursed, turning to Donny, unaware of Aldo looking at him."Donny, bring that other one over here- alive!". 

"Get the fuck up!" Donny shoved the last Nazi, who got up and ran to Aldo and Joshua."You're on deck! Two hits; I hit you, you hit the ground" he said, the Nazi on his knees across from Aldo, Donny behind him with his bat ready.

"English?" Aldo asked, the Nazi shaking his head."Margolis?".

"Yea, o-on it" Joshua nodded, pulling away from Aldo and scooting closer to the Nazi.

"Ask him if he wants to live" Aldo instructed, taking a sip of water.

Joshua crouched like Aldo had earlier, asking the Nazi in German, if he wanted to live. He watched the Nazi nod, replying with a 'yes' in German.

"Tell him to point out on this map the German position" Aldo told, looking at Joshua with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

Joshua nodded, inspecting the Nazi as he asked. He laughed with the Basterds as the scared Nazi wasted no time following the instruction.

"Ask him how many Germans" Aldo sighed.

Joshua nodded again, gaze fixed on the Nazi as he spoke in German."Uhm, a-around about twelve".

"What kind of artillery?".

Joshua translated to the Nazi, continuing to do so for a couple more questions.

"Good, good job, Joshy" Aldo praised, as he sat the empty space beside himself, Joshua nodding and going back to sit there, but that didn’t make Aldo take his eyes off of him.

"Thank you, Lieutenant".

Aldo turned his gaze to the Nazi, all the love vanishing."Now, when you report what happened here, ya can't tell that you told us what y’told us, they'll shoot ya. They're gonna wanna know why you so special, we let y’live. So tell them, we let you live so you could spread the word through the ranks, whats goin' to happen to every Nazi we find" he explained, Joshua smoothly translating. Aldo folded the map back up again, putting it inside his coat.

"Now that you've survived the war, when you get home, what you gon' do?" He asked, Joshua asking in German.

"He's, uh, g-gonna hug his mother" Joshua answered.

"Well, ain't that nice?" Aldo teased, quickly snuffing some tobacco."Ask him if he's gonna take off his uniform".

Joshua nodded, obliging."He's gonna burn it". He took the box from Aldo, quickly snuffing some tobacco of his own.

"Yea, that's what we thought. We don't like that" Aldo shook his head, tucking the box of tobacco snuff away once Joshua gave it back."See, we like our Nazis in uniforms" he explained, standing up, Joshua doing the same."That way you can spot 'em, just like that" he snapped his fingers, Joshua translating and snapping his fingers as well. Aldo pointed at him, "but if you take off that uniform, ain't nobody gonna know you's a Nazi, and that don't sit well with us, does it, Joshy?". He just caught himself gazing at Joshua again, and hurriedly tore his gaze away, over to the Nazi.

"Uhm, no, n-not at all, sir" Joshua shook his head, translating it all to the Nazi.

"That's right" Aldo sniffed, walking over to the Nazi and pulling it his own, long knife."So I'm gonna give you a lil' somethin' you can't take off" he smirked playfully, pointing the tip of his knife at the Nazi's face, a look in his eyes that sent shivers up Joshua's spine.

Joshua's grip on his gun tightened, jaw clenching as he closed his eyes, quickly calming down. He opened his eyes and caught Aldo glancing at him, so he gave the Lieutenant a sheepish smile.

Aldo quickly looked back to the Nazi, nodding at Donny.

Donny nodded back, harshly pulling the Nazi to lie on his back, holding him down as Aldo efficiently used his knife to carve a swastika into his forehead. Donny looked down at the Nazi, crouching over him with Aldo and Joshua."You know, Lieutenant, you're getting pretty good at that" he complimented, Joshua nodding in agreement.

"You know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don't ya?" Aldo asked in return."Practice".