#inglorious basterds fanfic

[allloudontheeasternfront]

Everything at Once part 3

Dieter Hellstrom x Original Fem Character

(I apologize if this fanfic is dumb, I've wanted to make one for a while but never gotten around to it. Again, English is not my first language, so I apologize for the grammatical errors and the some parts that make no sense. Also thank you for the support! ♡♡)

Warnings: cursing, N*zis, discrimination, dieter is smittennnn, flirting, smut in the future, violence and angst in the future. I do not support N*zis in any shape or form!

I'm sick of translating so everything is in English now. 😘

(not my gif)

.

A week later, Dieter found himself thinking of the French baker. He can still taste her coffee on his tounge and feel her fingers accidentally touching his. He wondered how those fingers would feel on other parts of his skin. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

He felt absolutely horrible about snapping at her for no reason. Her startled expression made his heart sink more and more.

BRRRRRIIIIIIING

His alarm clock buzzed. 5 o'clock.

"Shut up" he grumbled trying to turn off the damn thing.

BRRRIIIIIIING

He fumbled it in his hands for a minutes, eventually throwing across the room, hitting the wall. It broke.

"Shit." Dieter mumbled.

He looked over at the calendar. Sunday. Rest day... finally.

After getting ready for the day, he decided the walk around the city.

There was no one out, due to church goers and the ungodly hour.

There was something peaceful about walking the streets of Paris alone, but also strange

Isnt Paris the City of Love? Where is his love?

He made it to Camille's bakery and stopped the entrance. The door was blue and the windows blue floral drapes were closed.

He looked up at the apartment above the establishment and saw the window was open and the white lace drapes were softly blowing in the wind. Suddenly, a young woman appeared in a cream colored nightdress and leaned over the black metal balcony.

Dieter panicked slightly, and hid in the small alleyway around the corner; he could still see the woman.

It was the waitress.

The stupid waitress....

He watched her for a moment, basking in her beauty and she smoked her cigarette on the balcony.

The sight was almost too perfect.

Her golden curls were loose around her shoulders and her nightdress had the perfect sheerness that he could almost see her silhouette.

Dieter realized he was watching her for too long when that beautiful face saw his...

Shit

Camille gasped so hard she nearly choked on the cigarette smoke. She ran back inside clutching her chest, hoping he didnt see anything. Oh, but he did and he will never forget.

Dieter mentally kicked himself for being a peeping tom.

"Now my reputation is even worse now." He thought to himself as he trudged back to his flat.

When back home, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat on the sofa.

He drank his sorrows and embarrassment that night never not thinking of that stupid waitress.

.

The next evening, Camille was cleaning up the cafe, wiping down the counter, cleaning the dishes, and now he least favourite...mopping the floor.

Some idiot German officer's wife let her child throw a God awful fit and tossed a perfectly made hot chocolate to the ground.

Camille groaned and cringed when realizing the floor has been stained.

Small tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. That morning, she got a letter from the landowner stating if she doesnt make anymore money in the following week, her cafe will be shut down.

Out of a fit of rage and exhaustion, she threw her favourite vase full of flowers to the ground.

I'll never make as much as they want....I'll never make the bare minimum anyways...

Without notice, a pair of black leather boots came into view as she looked up from her fit on the ground.

Her eyes traveled upwards the black clad legs, to a long thick leather jacket and a swastika on a red cuff.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sir. What would you like?" Camille panicked, not meeting the eyes of the officer.

"Nothing miss..." the voice spoke. She looked up and saw the face of the pale man...

She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

"Your flowers are on the ground." Dieter said plainly.

Camille giggled softly.

He cracked a small smile. "Need new ones?"

She looked up at him again in confusion. Then, he moved his hands behind his back and presented the bouquet. It was multicolored with different roses, lilacs, and baby's breath. It was beautiful.

She smiled and took the bouquet from him.

"I dont know your favourite colour, so I got all of them." He said proudly. Camille laughed and took a smell of the flowers.

"Merci... but why did you get me flowers?"

Dieter's face went red as a tomato.

"I felt sorry for bring rude the other day and spying on you. Trust me, it was not my intention. "

Camille rolled her eyes playfully and looked directly into his eyes. "Isnt that your job, to spy?"

He chuckled softly and shrugged his shoulders.

They shared this peaceful beautiful moment together a little longer. He plucked a small flower from the bouquet and but it behind Camilles ear.

"Would you like some help with cleaning?" He asked without taking his eyes off of her.

She felt droopy, relaxed finally.

"Oh...the mess..." she replied quietly looking up at him. His features more visable to her. She felt herself closer to him and slowly close her eyes.

Dieter panicked.

"Mademoiselle... the mess."

Camille immediately snapped out of her love bitten stupor and got right back to cleaning.

Dieter helped out on what he could with picking up the broken glass. As he leaned to pick the glass up, Camille was already on her knees trying to scrub the stain off the floor. They were inches part. Dieters heart raced.

She looked over at him and smiled.

He got up quickly before anything tempting would happen.

What is wrong with me...

As he threw out the glass he saw the small peice of paper containing the for closure of the bakery. His throat felt dry and his hands got clammy.

No...dont leave me just yet...

"I think I got most of it." Camille admitted as she got up from the floor.

Dieter looked her in the eyes.. she cant leave me yet...

"What is your name, Mademoiselle?" He asked her.

"Camille Robichaux." she answered. "Yours?"

"Major Dieter Hellstrom."

She giggled playfully and took his hat off his head and put it on hers. He laughed and tried to take it back, but she was too quick and ran away from him. He followed her, lagging behind on purpose. He watched her legs as they ran away from him. I wonder how those legs feel around my...

She turned a sharp corner and up a flight of steep stone stairs. The stairs to her flat. Should I? Dieter thought.

He heard her giggling and her feat running upstairs.

Fuck it. He ran after her, following her laughter.

@whore4waltz @rurivu @xoxocillian @fridaycanbesadsometimes @racheljo47 @whitechoc135 @officerh4t @blueberrypancakesworld @hanslandasstrudel

To be continued...😘😘

[theverystrangegirl27]

⋆⭒˚.Be My Once In A Lifetime ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: You're a young actress with a supporting role in Inglorious Basterds. You and co-star Christoph Waltz grow closer under the pretense of practicing a scene together.

Warnings: smut, older man younger woman, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms

"You're kidding, right?”

The camera pans up your bare leg, revealing the tight black dress you'd been hassled into by Quentin and the costume designer.

Quentin paces back and forth in front of you, eyes squinted.

“No! I think this is perfect, maybe shorter heels, though.” He says, gesturing to the costume designer, who comes back with some tasteful kitten heels.

You've known Quentin for most of your life, having worked at the video store together and collaborated on many of your own short films.

It only seemed right for him to cast you in his latest project, though you don't understand why he'd want you, an amateur actress, working alongside legends like Brad Pitt and the talented Christoph Waltz.

The cameraman stops on your face, which you can see in the monitor, and you try to school it into a more pleasant expression but it's hopeless- you've never acted in a scene like this before.

“Quentin, are you sure I'm the right fit for this?” You ask, carefully walking down the short staircase.

He shoots you a look.

“Of course, I wouldn't have cast you if you weren't.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Besides, I think it'll be good for you to branch out and play a little dangerous, if you know what I mean.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as he raises his brows, obviously intending to cheer you up.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping off the stilettos and replacing them with the kitten heels. “Let's do it.”

That's how you end up beneath Christoph Waltz, or rather, Hans Landa.

The camera is zoomed in on both of your faces, Christoph tracing the line of your lips with his eyes as he recites the lines.

“The Basterds must know that I am not a stupid man.” He says, low and condescending. “To send a seductress after me, how infantile.”

Yet his lips draw nearer, his grip on your waist harsh and unforgiving. You look into his eyes, gaze cold as he looks back into yours. You arch, trying to get away, but he holds you tighter.

You gasp as he fingers dig into the dress, sharp blooms of pain growing from the skin there.

“However,” He begins, the corners of his mouth pulling into a horrible smile. “I would be more of an imbecile not to take this angelic little gift that was practically served to me on a silver platter.”

You feel yourself getting wet at the lilt in his voice, how hot his thigh feels pressed between your legs. You want him so bad.

He pulls you in, big hand spanning across your arched back, pressing you to him.

When his lips meet yours, you go a little weak in the knees.

You fight it at first, hands curling into fists against his chest, trying to turn your head away, but you can't fight the desire any longer.

You give in.

“And cut!”

Christoph pulls away, panting. Your chest heaves a little as you shakily pull air into your lungs, looking at the way your hand is still pressed against his chest.

“That was perfect,” Quentin praises, a wide smile taking up his face. “One more take, and I think we've got it.”

He comes up to the both of you, Christoph still holding you, albeit softer.

“Now, Y/N, the struggling was great, but maybe kick your feet out just a little. Really try to get away from this guy, but then, after a few seconds, sink into it like you did just then.” Quentin directs, and you nod, pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

“Christoph, don't be afraid to just-” Quentin makes a quick grabbing motion with his hands. “Latch onto her, really grab her.”

Christoph runs his hand down your back, and you can't tell whether it's intentional or not, but it makes you shiver anyway.

As Quentin walks away, Christoph turns his attention to you.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

You give him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“No, I'm okay.” You say, and he smiles down at you.

“Tough girl,” He says, and you fight the urge to bite your lip. His gaze turns serious, business like. “You can really push back for me, I can handle it.”

You nod, blushing a little at the double meaning his words conjur. Soon enough, Quentin is calling action, and the two of you are back at it.

After the last take, Christoph and you are left on set together while the crew packs up, Quentin looking over the footage a few feet away.

Christoph slicks back his hair, watching you lean against the desk, kicking your shoes off idlily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this evening, Y/N?”

The question is sudden, out of the blue. You look up quickly, and your suprise must show on your face because Christoph begins to explain himself.

“To discuss the scene, if you'd like.” He says, looking a little sheepish. It's so uncharacteristic of him that you don't think twice before saying yes.

“I'd love to.” You say, beaming at him.

The smile he gifts you with makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

That night, you meet at Christoph's hotel room. The suite is huge, yet not overly extravagant. It suits him well, you think, as he lets you in.

“You'll have to forgive me for running a little behind.” He apologizes as he fixes his jacket.

“That's alright.” You tell him, sending him a small smile.

He's wearing a simple black blazer over a white linen shirt, black slacks to match. Christoph is clean-shaven, and his hair is immaculate as always.

It takes everything in you not to drool.

He seems to be thinking the same thing because he's stuck staring at you, lips slightly parted.

“You look lovely.” He breathes.

It takes you by suprise, pink dusting your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, cheeky.

Christoph smiles, lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth.

“You flatter me.” He jokes, moving towards the door.

“This hotel has a wonderful restaurant at ground level, I think you'll enjoy it.”

You do, as a matter of fact. The red wine Christoph order's is delicious, paired with some kind of salmon dish you can't pronounce.

The whole dinner is spent laughing, bantering back and forth, and listening to Christoph’s many stories.

“I really can't remember why I did that particular film,” He's explaining, setting his empty wine glass down. “To tell you the truth, I was probably hard pressed for money at the time.”

He had shed his blazer twenty minutes ago, left in the white linen shirt that looked so, so good on him.

You press the tips of your fingers to your lips, giggling a little. The wine has begun to go to your head, making you feel light and airy.

“Well, we've all made desperate acting decisions.” You joke, your foot accidentally nudging his under the table.

Christoph looks at you, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable glint in his eye.

“Have we?” He asks, raising a brow.

You blush, sitting back in your chair and sipping the last of your wine.

“I mean, I was in these terrible short films during college, I'm sure Quentin can tell you all about them.”

Christoph surprises you by leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Tell me about these short films.” The way he enunciates the last two words makes you shiver a little, and you hope he doesn't notice. “Been in anything I would have seen?”

That startles a laugh from you, and deciding to match his energy, you too lean forward, propping your chin in your hand.

“I hope not.” You say, smiling wide as you look into his eyes.

They're so pretty. Christoph has this warm, comforting aura to him that you can't really explain.

You've seen him in American interviews, how he's often described as cold- his dry wit lost on the likes of Jimmy Fallon and Kimmel- but you can't imagine those people are describing the man currently sitting in front of you.

He laughs.

“Come on, I've told you about that embarrassing German television spot I did. You owe me.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the tablecloth before deciding on a story.

“You want to hear about my very first on-screen kiss?”

You wiggle your brows, watching as Christoph nods.

“I was twenty-two, and it was some student film Quentin had roped me into.” You sigh, thinking back on the film.

It wasn't very good - shakily filmed, poorly acted, and the worst part was the kiss.

You shudder at the thought.

“I don't think this guy had ever even touched a woman, let alone kiss one.” You say, Christoph huffing a laugh as you continue. “I swear to you, he leaned in, misjudged how close my lips were, and licked my chin!”

Christoph laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“God, what a nightmare.” He says, and you feel him gently tap your heeled foot. You furrow your brow, still smiling.

“You know, Y/N, you're an excellent kisser.”

Christoph catches you off guard, and you find yourself a little breathless.

“And you blush so prettily, my God.”

Now you're really looking at him, at the way his eyes are fixed on your parted lips, how his left hand is lying face up and empty on the table.

Is this really happening? You think.

With only a slight bit of hesitance, you reach forward, the tips of your fingers grazing his.

It's all the permission he needs.

Christoph takes your hand in his, turning it so he can trace your palm with his thumb. His hand is warm, strong against your smaller, softer palm.

You bite your lip, looking at him through your lashes.

“You know, when we first met, I felt like a dirty old man.” Christoph says, tone soft yet playful.

“Here's this beautiful woman, half my age, and I get to ravish her for the camera.”

He lifts your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You don't know how many times I've thought about that kiss.”

It's a confession, something that makes your breath hitch and your eyes lock onto his.

“Christoph,” You begin, shocked.

Christoph is looking at you, so sincerely, your heart aches.

“If I'm misreading this, please, tell me now.”

Christoph has been the object of your desire for weeks now, working with him day in and out a specific sort of torture you can't begin to explain.

Of course you want him.

You squeeze his hand.

“Will you take me back to your room?”

Christoph grins, something salacious in it that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

He takes the hand he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Lead the way, liebling.”

*

*

*

Christoph has you up against the hotel room door, your dress pushed up over your thighs as he kisses you deeply.

You've never been with a man who kisses like Christoph does - with complete, sure confidence and finesse. It makes your insides hot and melt-y feeling, leaving you desperate for more.

Your hands clench into his white shirt, desperation filling all of your senses.

You want him so bad.

He pulls away slightly, eyes dark as he looks at the mess he's made of you.

“You'll let me have you, angel?” He asks, and you nod, eyes big as they take in the sight of him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He kisses you once, twice, three times before turning your body from the door, backing you up towards the bed.

“I've wanted to feel you for so long, beautiful girl.”

You pull the straps of your dress down, nipples hard in the cool air.

His eyes are immediately drawn to them, thumbs coming up to stoke at your nipples, the pads of them warm against your skin.

“Christoph,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him again, one hand coming to tangle in his hair.

When you break for air, you move to slide your dress down your body, leaving in the black panties you had picked out for this occasion.

Christoph runs his hands down your body, eyes piercing as they take you in.

“God help me,” He mutters before leaning in, pressing you into the expensive hotel sheets.

You gasp, your naked back hitting the mattress with a surprising amount of force. You look up through your lashes at Christoph, who is leaning above you, undoing his belt hastily. You smirk, your hands sliding up his thighs and helping him with his fly.

“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, breathless.

Christoph swallows, his movement's slowing as he looks down at you.

“Liebling, fucking is for insolent, foolish boys.” He finally gets his pants down, boxers following soon after. Christoph leans down, and you think he's going to kiss you, but instead his lips find your ear.

“I'm going to make love to you, and believe me, you'll be thinking of me for weeks to come after I'm through with you.”

You feel yourself getting wet at his words, the promise of his dick finally getting inside of you, making you easy for it. Your legs fall open, Christoph making a home between them.

His face finds your neck, planting sweet, wet kisses to the skin there.

You want him inside you so badly, and you tell him as much, back arching when his fingers find your cunt.

“So soft, my beautiful girl,” He mutters, breathless as he rubs at your clit.

You close your eyes, hands scrabbling at his back.

“I want you, Christoph, please,” you beg, shameless.

He kisses you, silencing you. You get lost in the feeling of his hand on you, his lips devouring every moan and gasp he draws from you.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs faster and faster on your clit.

“Oh my God-” You manage to gasp out, thighs clenching around his arm as you come.

Christoph works you through it relentlessly.

“There she is, that's my good girl. That's it.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours.

You whine, arching away from his fingers as the stimulation becomes too much.

“Please fuck me, please Christoph.”

He smiles, eyes meeting yours.

“I love the way you say my name.”

The two of you maintain eye contact as he enters you, agonizingly slow. You watch the way his breath catches, how his eyes flutter shut when his hips meet yours. That overwhelming, satisfying fullness makes you moan softly, hands gripping him close.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, all sorts of feelings bubbling up in you.

He rocks forward, hips meeting yours lovingly as he carves a home for himself in You.

Your eyes fall shut, head tilting back, and he sucks wet, lust filled kisses onto your neck.

The pace quickens, the headboard hitting the wall as you both grow frantic.

“You're going to come for me again, my angel, my pretty girl,” He pants, a hand coming up to brush your sweaty hair from your face. His palm is warm, and you tilt your head to kiss it.

“Yes,” your breath, hot, bubbling pleasure threatening to spill over you. “Make me come, please, please, Christoph-"

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your legs around his back, wanting to keep him close, and the pleasure builds higher, higher, then-

“Fuck!”

You throw your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape as your second orgasm of the night overtakes you.

“Jesus, ich sterbe,” He groans, low and heady as he pumps you full of his come.

Christoph's hips stutter as your walls flutter around him, beckoning him further.

You hold him close to you as he rides out his orgasm, kissing his forehead.

Sighing and spent, he rests on top of you. You run your fingers through his hair, legs shaking as they unwrap from around his waist.

“Stay with me?” He asks quietly.

You put a hand under his chin, lifting it so your eye level.

You kiss him gently.

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

💌🤍AverageWriter-InTheDark Masterlists Directory🤍💌

Updated 12 June 24

✈️ Top Gun Maverick ✈️

🦸‍♀️ Marvel 🦸‍♀️

🧛🏻‍♀️ Twilight 🧛🏻‍♀️

✨ Harry Potter ✨

🔍 Doctor Who & Broadchurch 🔍

🐉 Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon 🐉

🐺 Teen Wolf 🐺

🚬 Inglorious Basterds 🚬

🐴 Outer Range 🐴

Other Fandoms (ones that only less than 5 works posted for)

[inferno-sys]

Wrote a little LandaRaine fic because I got into the fandom and have watched the movie almost 3 times now.

[acealpaca]

New fanfic! Once Upon A Time in Hollywood meets Inglorious Basterds character Aldo Raine, who is Cliff Dalton's uncle.

Link here

[ghostlingpupversailles]

I watched it again now I need to go find fanfics 🥲

Ya’ll I’m getting that itch to waTCH IT AGAIN

[elterremotochileno]

Inglorious Rookies

This came to me in a fever dream. It's the crossover one asked for but I needed and so here I proudly present: Naruto x Inglorious Basterds.

AU! Alternative Universe / Cannon Divergence - where Konoha decides to invade the Village of the Sound after Orochimaru's attack and murder of the Third Hokage. The new Hokage assigns Shikamaru Nara a vital mission: gather the rookies of his generation, infiltrate de Country of Rice and kill every soundling they can get their hands on.

Words: 1.272

It's my first time posting a fic and I'm not a native English speaker, so I'm sorry in advance if some typos eluded me jajaj

It came to me in a flash of shitposting inspiration. If there is interest - or if I'm once again hit with inspiration - I could continue this project.

After the attack on Honoha and the murder of the Third Hokage, a war council was summoned with the heads of Konohagakure’s Clans. They argued for a while before deciding that the best course of action was to unleash a massive shinobi attack on the Hidden Village of the Sound in a combined strike with the forces of the Hidden Village among the Sands - their clan heads were also pissed off by the former’s Kazekage's Souplantation. The objective was to destroy Orochimaru’s labs and headquarters when the former Sannin was still weak from his fight with the Third.

The Jonin forces received orders to begin the preparations for the incoming invasion but, after Konoha’s attack, the village was in need of ninja soldiers. A war - unfortunately - needs soldiers to fight it.

The newly elected Hokage had that in mind when she charged Shikamaru Nara, the only chunin of his generation, with a very delicate mission.

The “Rookie 11”, as one day they will be remembered, gathered a couple of minutes before the break of dawn. Team 10 was the first to arrive, followed closely by Team Guy. Team 8 came almost last, followed by Sakura - the only other member of Team 8 remaining. Kiba and Akamaru were yawning, seemingly having stepped out of his bed not very long ago. Others, meanwhile, looked like they hadn’t slept at all.

They line up in front of Shikamaru, whose flashy new chunin’s flak jacket is only overshadowed by his thousand yards stare. Behind him was the “No. 1 Unpredictable Ninja” himself, Naruto Uzumaki, who appeared weirdly cheered up.

ー I can’t believe I’m actually doing this ー Shikamaru confesses to his unofficial second-in-command.

ー Come on! It’s going to be great. Believe it!

Naruto’s confident smile somehow made Shikamaru feel worst. He knew that the orange ninja wasn’t excited about the message of his speech, but they needed to give it nonetheless. There were tough times ahead.

ー If it makes you feel better… ー Shikamaru sighed before marching towards the line.

He cleared his throat and the little murmur in the crow died. All eyes were on him.

ー My name is Chūnin Nara Shikamaru and I'm putting together a special team ー he began to say loudly. ー And I need me ten shinobi.

» Ten - Hot-Blooded - Leaf - Shinobi!

Among the young genin, Kiba couldn’t hold a laugh.

ー We all know who you are, Shikamaru. You don’t have to…

ー Now y'all might of heard rumors about the attack happening soon ー Nara continued once there was silence once again. ー Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna infiltrate the Country of Rice, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwacking, shinobi army, we’re gonna be doing one thing, and thing only…

A slight jab in his ribs by Shino got his attention. The shinobi of Clan Aburame slowly lift up his finger to his mouth, telling him to shut up. Annoyed at first, he soon looked around an noticed that all his former classmates were dead quiet. Even Naruto, the class clown, couldn’t hide his fear behind his smile.

» Killing Soundlings.

The word made echoes through the formation. ‘Soundlings’ was how the village had begun to call the ninjas of the sound after the battle. A deep hatred had invaded Konoha’s heart, a hatred that filled the war cries.

ー The Village Hidden in the Sound orchestrated an attack on our village and convinced one of our own to leave through murder, torture, intimidation, and terror ー Sakura couldn’t keep his eyes up as Shikamaru’s mentioned Sasuke. He abandoned the village just two days before this gathering and the chances of getting him back were really slim. Shikamaru felt her sadness and caught her gaze. ー And that's exactly why our job is to pay them in kind.

They couldn’t be surprised. This was what they were trained to do after all: fight as ninjas against the enemies of the Village.

ー Now, I don't know about y'all… But I sure as hell didn't survive the goddamn Chunin Exam, cross five thousand miles of deadly forest, fight my way through half the Land of Fire, and then infiltrate the snake’s den to teach the soundlings lessons in humanity.

» Soundlings ain't got no humanity! They’re the foot soldiers of a snake-faced, mass-murdering maniac, and they need to be destroyed.

The way he said it, so matter of fact, startled the genin. But at the same time, he was speaking out loud the feelings most of them kept in their heart.

ー That's why any and every son-of-a-bitch we find wearing a sound headband, they're gonna die. ー The headbands on their foreheads grew heavy. Wearing them was an oath: you became a shinobi of the Leaf; your priorities were placed first in the village, then your Clan, and finally in your friends.

» Now, I’m a member of Clan Nara. It means I have an affinity with shadows. And our battle plan will be that of an unseen shinobi.

Shikamaru’s voice dropped lower, his tone darker.

ー We will be cruel to the Soundlings, and through our cruelty, they will know who we are. They will find the evidence of our cruelty, in the disembowed, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the Soundlings will not be able to help themselves from imagining the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives.

» And the Soundlings will be sickened by us.

» And the Soundlings will talk about us.

» And the Soundlings will fear us.

» And when the Soundlings close their eyes at night, and their subconscious tortures them for the evil they’ve done, it will be with thoughts of us, that it tortures them with.

Shikamaru stopped pacing and looked at everybody. The time of truth came.

ー Sound good?

There was only a brief moment of doubt before the place was filled with a roaring reply;

ー YES, SIR!

The truth was, they had reasons to be angry. Most of them lost people in the invasion or had encounters with them themselves. They saw the destruction, the cruelty of Orochimaru, and the corruption of their friend. It was too much even for a gentle heart.

ー That's what I like to hear ー Nara began to pace again, a small smile curled on his lipsー But I got a word of warning to all would-be shinobi. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debt you owe me, personally.

» Each and every man and woman under my command owes me one hundred soundlings headbands. And I want my headbands. And all y'all will get me one hundred soundlings headbands taken from the heads of one hundred dead soundlings…

Shikamaru stopped and briefly scanned the look of determination on their faces before finally adding;

» Or you will die trying.

Shikamaru finally understood his Sensei’s desire to smoke. It was a real bother to lead. But he was the only one that could. He understood his companions’ anger, maybe better than anyone else. Beyond their specific Team mission, most of them were inexperienced and untested on the battlefield. If they were going to war, they couldn’t view the enemy as a human being, but as less than.

It’s the only way to make sure most of them survive.

[milandsk]

would anyone be interested in inglorious basterds x reader fanfic ?

i want to write but i don't know about who 😭😭

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Not a request, but I had to tell someone about this. I was looking up Ralph Fiennes stuff on here just for the heck of it, and, no joke, I came across a few pieces of fanfic and a video that "shipped" Amon Goeth and Helen Hirsch (his Jewish maid) from Schindler's List. Like...seriously, what the fuck? I mean, I admit Ralph was good-looking in that movie, but...the dude he played was a literal monster. What is wrong with people?

Yeah, I think there's a very definitive line that's crossed there. Like not only are you writing a Nazi/Jewish person romance fanfic but you're actually using a work that involves real life people and their stories. Like I understand Ralph Fiennes is attractive and that people love their enemies to lovers/tortured man who's in love stories but there's a thousand other things you can find and read/write about that don't involve historic figures and their victims.

Like, I'm indecisive about writing for characters in biopics because they're based on real life people: and those characters are perfectly normal and law abiding citizens. It's baffling to me how someone could confidently make content for Amon Goth (and Helen). Zoller and Shoshanna from Inglorious Basterds are bad enough and they're entirely fictional.

It's something that I can only hope has to do with age, ya know? Like they're too young to really think about it and realize how messed up it is.

[annikityk]

I may or may not have an idea on Stiglitz/that British officer Fassbender plays

You know, for a white cishet male movie this one is quite gay

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

I can’t figure out who the man in your blurb could be but Tarantino…you write Quentin Tarantino fanfic?

Only for his films, not the man himself (I'm uncomfortable with Real People Fanfiction these days). The films I usually write for are Inglorious Basterds and Django Unchained.

[userpeggycarter]

Hi! This is your Steggy Secret Santa! I have a few questions for you 👀 What do you think Steve and Peggy’s favourite holiday activities to do together are? What are your three favourite Steggy fanfics? And are there any book/movie/TV show type AUs you’d love to see?

HELLO, FRIEND! 🥺

oooooooh, interesting first question. i don't know! probably snowball fighting? going to Christmas markets together... decorating the house, lounging by the fireplace, wrapping gifts for friends together. i was going to say bake gingerbread cookies, but i think Steve would do all of the work and Peggy would just eat raw cookie dough and watch him bake. 😆

and i like to think they would help the poor? maybe pretend to be Santa and Mrs. Claus and give gifts to little kids! 🥺

about the fanfic question... how dare you. 😆 i mean, i don't know! i'm terrible at picking favorites. i'm gonna say three out of the top of my head: Under the Covers by @capandcarter1918, like the way you burn by @formerlyir and pretty much all of @roboticonography's work.

AUs: good question! i would love a The Americans AU, in which Buckynat are soviet spies pretending to be a normal couple in Cold War's America and they end up living next to SHIELD's Director and her husband Captain America. 👀 maybe a James Bond AU? with our favorite British spy, of course! and an Inglorious Basterds AU! can you tell that i like the historical aspect of the ship? 🙈

you can use these ideas, but Santa, you can also use neither! either way, i'm going to enjoy my gif. 🥺❤️

thank you for making it, in advance!

[ratty9boy]

You know what gives me the ick? Inglorious basterds fanfiction where the author needs to emphasize how the basterds are yes Jewish but don't actually believe in Judaism at all, because isn't that weird? Just having to make sure that the Jewish guy's are not actually religious. Also fanfics where their faith is completely ignored and they celebrate things like Christmas 🤨

.

I mean do what you want for sure but...I don't know it's just icky as hell

[staiyn]

I am currently sick at home, so who knows, maybe my inner writter comes out again 🫶👁👅👁

I’m in love with this photo.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

This was requested by @jokersqueenofchaos, and while this starts off super angsty it will end on a happy note I promise. This was inspired partially by the song Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Miserable, so feel free to listen along while you read this if you want but it’s not required. Either way I hope everyone enjoys it! Gif and characters are not mine.

Summary: Omar helps comfort the reader after they have a nightmare, which leads to some teasing from the other basterds

Warnings: mentions of death and blood during the nightmare sequence (this will be in italics, and you can skip this part if need be and the story will make sense still), suggestive remarks, if I miss something let me know

The landscape was nothing but grey ash as Y/N trudged through what was left of the town they were staying in. An unexpected attack had been launched by the Nazis, but Y/N was in the town over gathering supplies for them and the other Basterds.

Y/N shoved the oak door of the makeshift hideout, and it fell off the hinges with a loud thud, sending more ash into the air. Y/N sputtered as they waved their hand to clear the air. The roof of the hideout had caved in from the blasts, and the morning sun created a hazy glow in the room.

The table that Y/N and the other Basterds had sat at the night before was the only thing left unbroken in the room. The rest of it was in shambles. Y/N ran around frantically trying to find their comrades.

“Guys, is anyone here?! Please answer me!” No reply came, and Y/N ran further into the medium sized building. When they reached the back room where all of the Basterds slept, including Y/N, they almost passed out at the sight.

Every single one of her friends lie dead in front of them. Aldo had been hung from the ceiling, Hugo had his throat slashed in the same fashion he had done to many Nazis before, Donny had the splinters from his bat shoved into his eyes. All of them were gone. Y/N let the contents of their stomach spill onto the floor.

The one that Y/N was most worried about was Omar. He was sweet and yet just as tough as any of the other Basterds. If he was alive the two of them could get revenge against the people who did this. As the first set of tears fell from Y/N’s eyes, they gently climbed past the corpses of their fallen friends. Then they found the one they didn’t want to see.

Omar was sprawled out on the floor, his eyes still open. Blood dripped from the wound at the top of his forehead, where the scalp was no longer in place. Y/N let out a piercing scream as they fell to the floor clutching Omar to their chest.

Omar could hear the screams through the thin walls, and the other Basterds began to stir in their sleep too. “It’s Y/N. Something is wrong,” Omar said as he sprang up from his sleeping bag. The others started to move, but Omar told them to wait.

Omar sprinted into the other room where Y/N was still screaming in their sleep. Omar pulled back the blankets and shook Y/N’s shoulders gently. “Y/N! Please wake up!”

The shouting brought Y/N from their nightmare, but they moved away from Omar to the opposite side of the bed. The tears still fell from their face, and Omar’s heart shattered at the sight. “It should have been me,” Y/N sobbed at the top of their lungs. “You all deserved to live! If I had been there I could have saved you and everyone else!”

Omar wasn’t sure how to approach Y/N, but he went with his gut and placed both hands on their cheeks. “Y/N, look at me. I’m safe, and the other’s are safe too. I’m not going to make you talk about the nightmare, but I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

Y/N lunged forward and wrapped their arms around Omar’s neck, a few more sobs causing their body to shake. Omar placed his arms around Y/N’s waist and pulled them as close as he possible could to his warm body. Omar’s scent started to calm Y/N in an instant. They noted that he smelled like vanilla and gunpowder. Y/N snuggled closer to Omar, and once Omar realized what was happening, he couldn’t help but blush.

“Thank you, Omar. I’m sorry for waking you up,” Y/N mumbled into Omar’s neck.

Omar gently shook his head as his right hand reassuringly squeezed Y/N’s side. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You deserve some comfort.”

The new nickname made Y/N giggle, and they placed a quick but sweet peck on Omar’s cheek. The room felt like a sauna after that to Omar as Y/N drifted off to sleep in Omar’s arms, leaving him a blushing but happy mess. The other Basterds finally started to creep into the room, and they all shared glances once they saw Omar and Y/N.

“Well, looks like you have the magic touch, Omar,” Aldo grinned as he leaned against the door frame.

“Ain’t they cute,” Donny commented. “Imagine the cute kids they’ll have!”

Hugo, who had been very protective of Y/N from the start, sent a somewhat threatening glare towards Omar. “I may be your comrade, but you treat them wrong and I’ll kill you myself.”

Omar swallowed as he nodded his head to show he understood. “I would never hurt Y/N, and I promise to keep her safe.”

Hugo could tell Omar was telling the truth, so he too nodded his head before leaving. The others went to leave as well, but Donny went back just as the other’s were out of ear shot. “Hey, you two had better not make to much noise late at night. I enjoy my beauty sleep ya know.” Donny sent a wink at Omar, who turned the color of an apple as he shifted slightly. Donny laughed as he walked away, leaving Y/N and Omar alone again.

Omar leaned down and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, and their hand clenched slightly on Omar’s shirt. Omar chuckled at them, and he began fo rub small circles on their back. “Sleep well, lovely. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.” Soon Omar too drifted off to sleep, and both of the Nazi hunters stayed cuddled next to each other until the morning sun could be seen.

[struggling-bee]

Fine - Hugo Stiglitz x Reader

@redrosewritingsstuff tagging you like you asked >:)

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

Gunshots rang through your ears, and your eyes widened. It wasn’t just one shot either, it was many, lasting too long. You and The Basterds all looked at each other during the following silence. No one was saying anything. Nothing else could be heard from the basement, no more yelling, no shattering…

You bolted for the door but two sets of arms held you back as you struggled

“Let me go Aldo! Donny! Let me go!” Donny’s grip on your arm stayed the same, but Aldo’s only tightened.

“Give ‘em a damn minute!”

You stopped struggling, but quietly counted 60 seconds in your head. Aldo thought you’d calmed down so he let you go and went to talk to Donny, hoping to act quickly.

You knew you needed to be cautious and patient, but when sixty came, you burst out the door with your superiors calling after you. 

Later on, it would come to mind that there were to be serious consequences, but right now all you could think about was Hugo. You whispered his name over and over, trying not to trip down the stairs to the bar.

Once you came to the doorway, you were shot at. Luckily you had fallen (miraculously, actually) and dodged the first bullet. One of your strengths was reaction time, so in only a matter of seconds you had knocked out the kraut who had tried to shoot. With him laying on the bar, unconscious and bleeding, you surveyed the room. You couldn’t hear well as you were still pumping with adrenaline, but your eyesight was fine. You didn’t see any movement at all, besides some smoke still blowing.

“Hugo?” you said, now walking around and looking at bodies “Wicki? Archie?” no answer.

“Hammersmark?”

Her name rolled off your tongue with distaste, and you were glad you didn’t hear a response from her. You didn’t know her and you didn’t trust her, and she was the reason this happened, she was the reason Hugo might be d-

You heard a groan from across the room.

“My god, Wicki?” you dashed towards him, not without trampling some corpses. Wicki was standing up, swaying and groaning. You were by his side, holding him up as best as you could.

“Wicki, what in the hell happened? Where’s Hugo?”

It was hard, not yelling, but Wicki didn’t need to be shouted at right now.

He cleared his throat and tried to talk, but couldn’t. You helped him into a chair and turned to the direction he nodded towards.

Hugo was on the ground, eyes closed, bleeding.

Breathing? Not breathing?

Breathing. Barely.

“My god, no. Hugo.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t die, nor did Wicki or Hammersmark. Archie didn’t die either but he was out of sight out of mind for you. They were all being treated (as best as a vet could) and lying in cots. You weren’t allowed in the room.

Once Aldo and the others had made it down, they were immediately helping Wicki stand up himself and figuring out how to move Hugo safely. It wasn’t until later that you noticed Hammersmark was there, and alive, but as soon as you did you couldn't stop yelling at her. You knew many languages, and she had been cursed at in all of them. Aldo had to detain you for the second time that day.

So you weren’t allowed in the room with them, with Hugo. You felt you were being treated like a child in time-out. In the very back of your head, you understood, but you were not in the mood to be understanding.

Hugo was your best friend. Aldo had sent your best friend into a basement because a German stranger said to. You respected Aldo, but this...you wouldn’t be able to forgive him if it had gone any worse.

Stewing in your thoughts, you didn’t notice footsteps coming towards you. You didn’t even notice anyone else was in the room until you were making eye contact with Aldo, your knife in your hand and ready, gripping his shoulder and keeping him a distance away. Reflexes, he must have tapped you on the shoulder.

He stared at you unblinkingly. You pulled away.

“Sir.”

He sighed.

“You can go in now, but you and me,” he stopped you for a second “We’re gon’ have a talk later.”

You kept walking, trying not to run.

“No we’re not going to talk, you’re just going to yell at me.”

He’d laugh about that later to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you walked in, you saw Wicki laying and staring at the ceiling, Archie, asleep, and Hugo was sitting up. Of course he was sharpening his knife too…That thing was his baby. Nothing could keep him away from it.

“Hey Hugo.” You said softly, walking towards the chair next to his bed.

He looked up at you for a second, then his eyes dropped back down to his work.

“Hello.”

You dragged a chair over to his bed and sat down. “How’re you feeling?”

“Drugged.”

You rolled your eyes and looked behind you.

“How about you Wicki? In a lot of pain?”

“You don’t need to pretend you’re here to see both of us.”

“Thanks.”

You turned back around, your frontside facing the back of your chair, chin resting on your crossed arms.

Hugo opened up best if you mentioned one of his interests…and you wanted him to open up.

“Can you sharpen my knife later, Hugo?”

He looked up at you, his face slightly relaxed.

“Sure.”

You smiled and muttered thanks, but kept watching him.

He glanced up at you, briefly.

“I’m going to be fine.”

You smiled a little, but…

“Hugo, I don’t trust anyone. That guys just a vet, how am I supposed to believe him? And don’t get me started on Hammersmark”

“You trust me.” Hugo said curtly. His eye contact was a bit intense.

You actually smiled this time.

“Yeah, I trust you.” You sighed a little, resigned. “If you say you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine…”

Hugo nodded. “Yeah.”

It only lasted a second, but you saw him smile at you.

He’d be fine.