#Shosanna Dreyfus/Dieter Hellstrom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laiwalane · 7 months

Text

Too early

requested from @racheljo47

Pair: Shosanna Dreyfus x Dieter Hellstrom

Warnings: none (?)

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War is bad.

And it's interesting how it turns out, it seems like it has more than a direct relationship to you, but on the other hand, somewhere far away. France is generally a romantic country, but that's not what this is about.

Now Dieter and Shosanna are sitting in a seedy bar, where quiet music is playing, and there are practically no visitors. Normal people don't drink in the middle of the working day.

– I don't need an escort anymore. What are you doing here? – She turns to him.

– I'm just curious, how did your alliance with Zoller form in this way? Madame Mimier? He calls her a second time, realizing that her attention is focused on anything but him. It's annoying.

– There's nothing between us, how many times can I repeat it?

– I don't believe it. –His tone is defiant, it makes her wince.

– Do I understand correctly that you consider all French women to be easily accessible?– She asks, trying to imitate the tone. But in fact, she sounds doomed.

– Except for you, of course. – He smiles falsely. Sarcasm continued to trickle out of his mouth. But it seems that's what he really thought. In any case, it's nothing serious.

–Shall I walk you out?

– I don't think it's it is necessary. – she says, surprisingly politely, but just as coldly.

And he didn't listen, he escorted her and followed her on her heels to her cinema.

There was no conversations between them right now, and there was nothing to talk about. And she didn't want it either, he himself agreed to follow her as a silent guard. He was smoking a tasteless cigarette and Shoshanna was walking completely lost in her thoughts. Probably the person right behind her will soon die at her hands. The thought was intoxicating, but at the same time repulsive.

Killing for a good cause is not murder.

– Would you like me to come in? –He teases.

And the door slams in his face.

She just thinks that this is another officer whose position still had to be pronounced, an officer who uses his powers to his own interests. There are a lot of them in France now. Nobody knows how long it will last. However, there is a glimmer of hope in her soul that this will end soon. The sooner the better.

She torments herself with speculation and worries, but at the same time she is absolutely confident in herself. Or not so confident? She doesn't know. Let what is supposed to happen happen.

To get close, to ingratiate oneself, to kill, all this is easy to pull off with Zoller, certainly not with Hellstrom. But she didn't want it to be easy either.

She lets him into her life and everything turns too fast.

Here he is mocking her fake nationality. But now he is already very courteous, polite.

He looks in on her in the evenings. Probably, as it often happens, they were connected not only by short small talk over a glass of wine or something similar. As it usually happens, they had sex.

And Dieter was more than happy with that, and probably... she was too.

Of course, everything did not happen immediately, but still it was quite fast, in less than a month, from bar dates, useless walks and casual meetings, they moved on to more serious things.

One weekend evening, when their next date ended in bed, she refused to smoke. Instead, Shosanna let her emotions run wild. Not joyful emotions, no.

– Terrible. – The woman said.

– Is it that bad? – He quips.

– It's just terrible.– And she didn't say it because she felt bad, on the contrary. She seemed to be having a good time. That was the worst part. She shouldn't have fallen into her own trap herself.

He gets up slowly and pours whiskey into dusty glasses that stand on a small table.

– And you are as taciturn as usual, Emmanuel. Am I a bad company?– He makes a theatrical face, and takes a big sip, which makes his throat boil with alcoholic fumes.

– Do you want to talk? Then I'll ask you a question. Why are you doing this?

– Doing what?

– Don't be stupid.

His gaze is carefree, which makes it disgusting. Perhaps it's all about her perception.She was disgusted by a lot of things in her life.

It's cloudy outside, but it's not raining, unfortunately, the rain could wash away all the dirt . The atmosphere in her room is not oppressive, but very quiet, like at a funeral.

– I like you. So I'm coming, isn't it clear?–

She secretly hopes that he will not ask a counter question, so that he will not finally force her to say out loud all the things that she does not want to say.

He will leave soon and it will all be over. He always leaves.

– I have a question for you.

– Again? – He narrows his eyes.

– Are you afraid of death?

–No. – He cut her off quickly and looked directly at her, waiting for a reaction.

He doesn't hesitate, because there's nothing to think about. He is ready to die at any moment, with the only difference being the preference of how he wants to leave. And she's not afraid either. Life had already put her in a situation once where she had to fight for her life, and she survived. She deceived- no, she ran away from death once, so she will run away again.

– That's right. You–she pauses for a second, changing her previous thought–We're all dead here. I will not say "sooner or later" because I feel that it will happen sooner. I don't see the point in wasting my life being afraid to die.

–And you won't even be upset if I die? – He's making his face again, and she's not even looking at him.

– It's better to die than live like this.

– Well, then go ahead. – She just clicks her tongue, turning her head in his direction.

–I'm sure you'll die faster than I will anyway. So I'll come to your grave and maybe let other spit on it.

He didn't like the topic of conversation, philosophical deep topics were not what he wanted to talk about, but in any case, given her reluctance to talk about herself, especially considering that her entire personality was completely fake, there were such a few ideas. She did not accept many of his beliefs, and he did not accept many of her beliefs. Funny.

He could have left, but for some reason he wanted to stay that evening.

For some reason, a very strange feeling came over Dieter. It's like he wants to be with a person-he really wants to, but he can't. And the reason is not clear. It's all in his head - that's how he thought, because at the moment he didn't see any physical obstacles. And everything that does not leave the limits of consciousness is not important, it's all nonsense and prejudice.

Getting up from the chair, he walked up to her from behind, and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

–I like you, Emmanuel. I really like you. – He said and leaned his lips against hers. Carefully.

Shosanna didn't understand why she didn't resist.

Maybe when it's over, and maybe if they're not dead, she'll tell him all about herself, of course if she's sure it won't be life-threatening.

But it's too early. It's too early.

Let what has to happen happen.

#writers block #inglourious basterds #shosanna dreyfus #dieter hellstrom #august diehl #movies #tags #idk how to tag this

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Hey! So I found your ask box so here's my request again : dieter hellstrom x Shoshanna, where they begin the relationship on a hate basis (I know I'm a very healthy person 😂 lol) so I don't know if this inspires you or not, if it doesn't, feel free to do whatever you like 😊 have a nice day/or night!

Thank you again!

I hope this is kinda what you had in mind, though I think I might've gotten a bit carried away😅

What Do You Want?

Major Dieter Hellstrom (Inglorious Basterds) x Shosanna Dreyfus/Emmanuelle Mimieux

Warnings: slight sexual themes but not much

Masterlist

Those ice blue eyes still hold her captive, still fill her with hatred, even as they bore into her with a new darkness. Their intensity and the piercing nature of the major's stare drives her backwards into the grimy wall behind her, his quietly commanding presence stifling in the cool winter air. Mentally, she tells herself it's the long leather overcoat that gives him this intimidating appearance, that his narrow figure underneath doesn't exude the same silent power, even though she can't help but wonder if it does.

The frigid azure of his eyes had been what Shosanna first took notice of when she met the Sturmbannführer Hellstrom, all those weeks ago when he'd called her down from the safety of her ladder. They had instantly made her uneasy, as disdainful of her as she is of him. "Mademoiselle Mimieux" he'd called her. Not Emmanuelle, as that idiot Zoller and his superior, the cruel Landa, had initially called her. The measure of detached respect, indifferent formality, had never left his tone when he spoke to her in the following weeks, something that only allowed her distaste for him to smoulder and grow. Neither had it left his blue eyes, Hellstrom's gaze almost always remaining impassive of her where others had instantly been overcome with that desire that so quickly comes to some men. It annoyed her that he could be so removed from the cruelty of his kind, that he could just ignore everything wrong with the people he served.

Somehow, that detachedness has now become the very opposite - a territorial coolness now resides in those icy depths.

Shosanna can smell the faint hint of cologne on Hellstrom's collar as he steps far past the boundaries of her personal, and then her intimate, space. It's sharp and biting, like him, not strong and overpowering, following the more subtle power he seems to exert. The light chemical reek of his hair gel also perpetuates the air around him, though it's far outplayed by the crisp, fresh smell of his uniform, which is pristine and meticulously pressed, as always.

She keeps her gaze baleful, somewhat cautious but still portraying the usual dislike she makes sure to keep in every glance she sends his way.

Ever since that first day, Hellstrom had appeared around the cinema multiple times, almost always on work duty. As Goebbels had eventually chosen her cinema as the venue for his latest detestable film, the security measures in place had to be inspected very often, to make sure nothing that needed attending to came up. Unfortunately, Colonel Landa had put Hellstrom to the job, meaning Shosanna has had to see the young major far more times than she'd like. He never spoke to her, not in French anyway. Any interrogative questions he had he'd ask in cruel, sinister-sounding English, never resorting to the language of the country he currently resides in; she'd often wondered if he could even speak it at all. This fact, on top of others, only increased her disgust of the man. Who is he to think he's above speaking the language of his current residence?

The major has always shown a certain hostility to Marcel (for obvious reasons, she knew, though would never understand), his lips turning into a scathing downturn any time he saw her lover with her. Annoyingly, however, Marcel had taken her close attention to the major's actions and whereabouts as a sign of attraction to the man, and so had grown increasingly absent. Shosanna had noticed Hellstrom watching an argument of theirs once, recently. It was the first time she saw his lips twitch into a smirk since that first meeting with Goebbels, when he'd given them all a sickly-sweet falsification of a smile. She had thought at the time that he simply enjoyed seeing her distressed.

That same gleam of sadistic amusement has crept into the frosty blue of his eyes now, his body crowding her against the wall even further. Glaring at him in badly concealed confusion and repulsion, Shosanna speaks for the first time since he found her in the alley behind the cinema.

"What do you want, Hellstrom? Why are you here?" She asks him in English, knowing her French is futile. She's long since stopped calling him major, unless around others.

Suddenly, those malicious lips twist into a horribly knowing leer.

The expression is unnerving, catching Shosanna off-guard as he stares at her, the smirk not quite reaching his eyes yet. For a moment, she's convinced he's worked out her true identity.

"Emmanuelle, you and I both know what I want." She blinks as he speaks.

So Major Dieter Hellstrom can, indeed, speak French. His voice is still as smooth and controlled as always, German accent only just biting at his fluid intonation, the sound somehow registering deep inside her.

Still, she regains her composure and lifts a single eyebrow.

"I don't believe I do." She replies haughtily.

Shock snaps through her as his large, pale hands suddenly slam into the wall beside her, caging her in. Eyes widening inadvertently, she looks up at him, fearful now, even as hatred courses through her. Another emotion brews inside her, but she tamps it down quickly; she cannot acknowledge that one, it's against all she stands for.

His breath, odourless and warm, blows lightly over her face as Hellstrom leans down close to her, the grin gone from his handsome face: yet another show of falsity.

"Don't play stupid." The major presses himself closer to her, body mere centimetres away from her as he lowers his head to her ear, "I want the same thing you do."

She struggles to keep her disgusted expression on her face as his hot breath ghosts over her ear, unable to stop herself from shuddering under his piercing gaze.

Silently, she curses his observational skills, hating how perceptive he obviously is, yet another reason to despise him add-in itself to her long mental list.

"What, you thought you could hide it? From your "lover"? Me? Yourself?" His tone is mocking, lips curling into a sneer again, "And here Landa said you were clever."

She wants to spit at him. Wants to spit and wipe that cruel smirk from his lips. But she can't bring herself to do so, so she settles for slapping him instead.

His pale skin colours slightly from where her hand has connected with his face, his face jerking to the side. As he slowly turns back to her, her blood goes cold. Those icy blue eyes are dark with fury now.

Quick as a flash, he has her chin in a harsh grip, fingers and thumb pressing hard into her flesh. Pulling her face close to him, he leans in, practically snarling as he speaks.

"Deny it all you want, Hure, but you know I'm right." Hellstrom growls to her, body rigid.

Quickly, he crushes his body against hers and smashes their lips together, holding her face in place as he kisses her, hard. It's with an almost bruising force that he presses her back into the wall, lips moving messily against hers, his free hand pinning her hands to the wall as she tries to fight him off. Disgust and rage fills her, until she finally realises something: a part of her is keeping her from making a real effort against this. If she really didn't want to kiss him, she'd fight back properly...but she's not…

The realisation makes her go slack in his grip, eyes wide.

Hellstrom notices and pulls back, only enough to stare into her eyes, breathing heavily. Looking at him now, she feels herself battling inside, torn between two options.

Finally, her primal urges win and a carnal strength takes over her. Shosanna leans in and kisses the major hard,arching his power as he kisses back, lips and teeth crashing together in a rough, messy mix, hands groping at each other, feeling over previously hostile bodies, which still remain wary of each other. The wall is hard and unforgiving behind her, and so is Hellstrom's body in front of her, his hips now pinning her in place as he kisses her, licking at her lips. Desire and want floods her system, stronger than she'd ever felt it, taking over her very sense, moans and sighs accompanying his grunts and groans as they move together roughly, tension building between them.

"Emmanuelle?" Marcel's voice interrupts her impassioned thoughts, drawing her from the violently pleasant sensations of the major, who pulls back abruptly.

Separating, the two turn to look down the alley, towards the lone figure at the end, who looks rightfully downcast, shocked and horrified at what he's likely experienced.

Guilt floods Shosanna at the sight of him, but the cruel smirk that creeps onto Hellstrom's lips once more only stirs up a stronger need for the intoxicating man. She can only watch helplessly as he adjusts his clothes and strides down the alley towards Marcel, clearly giving him a knowing look as he passes, shooting Shosanna one last glance before he disappears.

It's a glance that promises more.

#break writes #inglorious basterds #shosanna dreyfus #Emmanuelle Mimieux #major dieter hellstrom #dieter Hellstrom x Shosanna Dreyfus #dieter Hellstrom x Emmanuelle Mimieux #dieter Hellstrom imagine #Shosanna Dreyfus imagine #Emmanuelle Mimieux imagine #august diehl

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