#inglorious basterds gif

[dilfismz]

The Wolf and The Fox

Pairing: Hans Landa x reader, slight Aldo Raine x reader but brief.

Description: As the only female Basterd it's your job to seduce Landa to gain information that may just tip the scales towards the Allies in this war. However, this job may be more mentally and emotionally tolling than expected, leaving you wondering where your true loyalties lie.

Warnings: Manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of Nazism/Nazis (naturally), betrayal, character death (not reader), suggestive but no smut.

Length: 11.7k (ya'll I went crazy)

You stepped into the softly lit dining room of the chateau, each footfall measured, each glance deliberate. Your dress was selected to attract attention but not suspicion—elegant but understated, fitting for your cover as an American socialite stranded in German-occupied France. You were here to gather intel from Hans Landa, the notorious “Jew Hunter.” Your mission was to gain his trust, charm him, and extract the secrets buried in his cunning mind.

Landa rose as you entered, his wolfish smile already in place. “Ah, Fräulein,” he said in a tone dripping with feigned warmth. “I must say, you bring an unexpected brightness to this dreary war.”

“Colonel Landa,” you replied, offering a polite smile. You extended your hand, and he took it, his grip firm but not oppressive. His lips brushed the back of your hand, his eyes locking onto yours as though daring you to look away.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the small, candlelit table set for two.

You obeyed, smoothing your dress as you sat. The air between you felt charged, like a taut wire. Landa’s reputation preceded him; you’d been briefed extensively on his charm, his ruthlessness, and his unsettling ability to peel back people’s layers with terrifying ease.

“Wine?” he offered, already pouring without waiting for an answer.

“Thank you,” you said, accepting the glass.

He sat across from you, folding his hands on the table and leaning forward slightly. His eyes never left you, scrutinizing every movement, every breath. “So, Fräulein, tell me—what brings an American woman to our humble corner of the world?”

You sipped your wine, using the moment to gather your thoughts. “I was visiting Europe when the war began. Circumstances have kept me here longer than I intended.”

“Ah,” Landa said, his voice light, but his smile betrayed a deeper curiosity. “And yet, you seem remarkably at ease in occupied France. One might even say… comfortable.”

You tilted your head, mirroring his playful tone. “I’ve learned that survival often depends on adapting to one’s circumstances, Colonel.”

Landa’s eyes glinted with amusement. “How pragmatic. I find that adaptability is a trait I greatly admire in others.” He took a sip of his own wine, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you feel his scrutiny. “And how, may I ask, have you adapted to the company of German officers?”

You met his gaze, allowing a hint of a smile to play at your lips. “By keeping them entertained, of course.”

Landa chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “A sharp tongue, an even sharper wit. I do enjoy clever company.”

You leaned forward slightly, careful to keep your movements subtle and deliberate. “And I enjoy men who appreciate a woman’s intelligence.”

Landa’s smile widened, his predatory nature slipping through for just a moment. “Then we are well-matched, Fräulein.”

The conversation continued, a delicate dance of words and glances. You allowed yourself to flirt just enough to keep his interest piqued, to keep him guessing about your intentions. Beneath the surface, you were cataloging every detail of the room, every piece of information he let slip, no matter how trivial it seemed.

But Hans Landa was not a man to be underestimated. He leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to one of casual curiosity. “You are quite skilled at this, you know.”

“At what, Colonel?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“At making people believe exactly what you want them to,” he said, his smile sharp as a knife.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you raised your glass to him. “Then perhaps we’re more alike than you think.”

Landa laughed again, genuine this time. “Touché, Fräulein. Touché.”

As the evening wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a razor’s edge. Landa was too clever, too perceptive. But you also knew that his ego was his greatest weakness. And if you played your cards right, you might just come out of this alive—with the information the Basterds so desperately needed.

For now, the game continued, with each move being more dangerous than the last.

The dinner wore on, the two of you circling each other like predators testing the boundaries of their territories. You leaned into the role you were assigned, allowing Hans to feel that he was the one leading the conversation, the dance. But with every veiled compliment you offered, every calculated sip of wine, you knew you were feeding his ego—your most valuable tool.

“Tell me, Fräulein,” he began, setting his glass down with deliberate care. “Do you enjoy the theater?”

“The theater?” you repeated, tilting your head in mock consideration. “I suppose it depends on the performance.”

He smiled, pleased by your response. “And how would you describe tonight’s performance?”

You felt the trap hidden beneath his words, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you allowed a soft, amused smile to curve your lips. “I’d say it’s riveting. A masterclass in… subtlety.”

Landa chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. “Flattery will get you far, my dear. But I must confess, you are far more engaging than most of the company I’m accustomed to.”

“And you are far more charming than I anticipated, Colonel,” you replied, leaning forward slightly, your voice dropping just enough to hint at something more. “I imagine you don’t often hear that.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he said, his smile widening into something sharper. “I hear it often. But sincerity… that is rare. And I do believe you are sincere.”

He was testing you now, watching your every reaction, waiting for a crack in your facade. You forced a laugh, light and melodic, as if his comment were nothing more than a clever jest. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of lying to you, Colonel. That would be terribly unwise.”

“Indeed, it would,” he said, his tone dipping into something darker. “But you don’t strike me as someone who shies away from taking risks.”

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. His words felt like a challenge, a thinly veiled acknowledgment that he suspected there was more to you than met the eye. But you couldn’t afford to falter now.

“Life is full of risks, Colonel,” you said, your voice steady. “The key is knowing which ones are worth taking.”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite place—amusement? Suspicion? Admiration? Perhaps all three. “Wise words. Tell me, Fräulein, what risks have you deemed worth taking recently?”

You hesitated just long enough to make it seem as though you were considering your answer carefully. “Sitting across from you tonight,” you said finally, allowing a playful smirk to tug at your lips.

Hans laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the room. “Oh, you are delightful,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been far too long since I’ve encountered someone with your… talents.”

You smiled demurely, but your mind was racing. Every word, every glance, was part of a game you couldn’t afford to lose. Hans Landa was far too intelligent, far too dangerous, to underestimate. And yet, you could feel that he was intrigued by you, perhaps even a little disarmed.

But then, just as you began to feel the faintest sense of control, he leaned forward, his expression shifting to something colder, sharper. “Tell me, my dear,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “what really brought you to occupied France?”

Your blood ran cold, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you let out a soft laugh, meeting his gaze with a steady calm you didn’t entirely feel. “I already told you, Colonel. Circumstance.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “Circumstance can be such a convenient excuse, don’t you think?”

The game had changed. Landa wasn’t just toying with you anymore; he was hunting.

And you were the prey.

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly. Landa’s eyes were locked onto yours, sharp and predatory, and yet there was something else there—a flicker of amusement, of genuine curiosity. He was testing you, yes, but you couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull of his presence.

There was a strange allure to him, something that both repelled and intrigued you. You weren’t blind to his cruelty, to the blood on his hands, but the way he carried himself—his charm, his intelligence—made it impossible not to feel drawn in, even against your better judgment.

You smiled, letting your lashes flutter slightly as you tilted your head. “Convenient, perhaps,” you said, your voice soft and measured. “But sometimes convenience is all we have in times like these.”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent an unexpected warmth through you. “You’re quite adept at turning a phrase, my dear. It’s refreshing.”

The conversation had shifted again, the tension between you no longer just a game of wits. It was something deeper, more dangerous. You could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on you, in the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“I imagine you don’t often find yourself in refreshing company, Colonel,” you said, leaning forward just enough to blur the line between formality and intimacy.

“Indeed,” he said, his voice low. “Most people I encounter are far less… stimulating.”

Your pulse quickened as his words settled between you. The way he looked at you now wasn’t just calculating; it was hungry. And to your own surprise, you didn’t hate it.

Landa rose suddenly, his movements graceful and deliberate, and made his way around the table. He stopped beside you, his presence overwhelming. You turned to look up at him, your breath catching as he leaned down, his face inches from yours.

“Do you enjoy dancing, Fräulein?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

“I do,” you managed to reply, your voice quieter than you intended.

He extended a hand, his smile deepening. “Then allow me.”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, and he pulled you to your feet with an ease that sent a shiver through you. The room was silent save for the soft crackle of the fire, but Landa began to hum a quiet melody as he guided you into a slow waltz.

His hand rested at your waist, his other holding yours as he led you in a steady rhythm across the room. You tried to focus, to remind yourself why you were here, but the way he looked at you—the intensity, the confidence—made it impossible to think clearly.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice almost teasing.

“It’s the wine,” you said quickly, though you both knew it wasn’t true.

He smiled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he pulled you closer. “I find that hard to believe.”

The proximity was intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the faint scent of cologne and tobacco that clung to him. His gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Tell me,” he said softly, his voice like a velvet caress. “What is it you’re truly afraid of, my dear?”

Your throat tightened. He was too close, too perceptive. And yet, a part of you didn’t want to pull away. “I’m not afraid,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

His smile widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. “Lying doesn’t suit you.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your resolve slipping. You should have pushed him away, should have refocused on the mission, but the way his voice curled around you, the way his hand pressed against your back—it was dizzying.

“I wonder,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your skin, “if the risks you take are worth the reward.”

“And what reward might that be, Colonel?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression a mix of amusement and something darker. “That depends on you.”

The air between you was electric, the lines between duty and desire blurring with every passing second. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but for the first time, you weren’t sure you wanted to win.

The room felt smaller now, the air between you charged with an energy that was equal parts danger and allure. Hans Landa’s hand remained firmly at your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress in a way that felt far too intimate. You told yourself this was all part of the mission, part of the game you were playing, but the pounding of your heart betrayed you.

“Perhaps it’s my turn to ask a question,” Landa said, his voice smooth as silk. He stopped your movement abruptly, keeping you close as his dark eyes searched yours.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. “What do you want to know, Colonel?”

His smile deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, as if considering his next move. “Why is it that you tremble when I touch you, but you don’t pull away?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. How could you admit, even to yourself, that his presence unsettled you in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying?

“I’m not trembling,” you said finally, your voice steadier than you expected.

Landa raised an eyebrow, his smile turning almost predatory. “Are you sure?”

Before you could respond, he released your hand, only to raise it to your face, his fingers brushing the line of your jaw. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it set your nerves alight.

“Tell me, Fräulein,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the corner of your lips, “do you always lie so beautifully?”

You stepped back instinctively, but he followed, closing the distance between you in a single, fluid motion. “You seem nervous,” he said, his tone soft, but his eyes were alight with amusement. “Do I frighten you?”

Yes. He did. Not because of his reputation, though that alone was reason enough, but because of the way he made you feel. The pull toward him was undeniable, and that terrified you more than anything else.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said, his hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your neck. “Because I would hate to think you didn’t trust me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You were acutely aware of how close he was, of the heat radiating from him, of the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

“This isn’t appropriate,” you managed to say, your voice faltering.

“Appropriate?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “We are at war, my dear. The concept of appropriateness is as fragile as peace itself.”

His fingers pressed gently against the nape of your neck, tilting your head slightly. You knew you should push him away, create distance, regain control. But the intensity of his gaze rooted you in place, your body betraying your mind.

“You don’t need to be afraid of what you feel,” he murmured, his lips so close to yours now that you could feel his breath.

The words sent a surge of panic through you. Did he know? Could he see the war waging within you—the fight between duty and desire, between logic and the inexplicable pull toward him?

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

He silenced you with a quiet hum, his hand sliding from your neck to your cheek. His touch was impossibly gentle, a stark contrast to the sharp edge of his words. “You are an enigma, Fräulein,” he said softly. “And I find myself quite unable to resist unraveling you.”

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against yours—not a kiss, not yet, but a deliberate test, a dare. You froze, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and filled with a dangerous kind of tenderness.

You couldn’t speak. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to remember the mission, the stakes, the lives that depended on your success. But your body betrayed you, leaning ever so slightly into his touch.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your cheek as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You seem conflicted, my dear. Care to share your thoughts?”

You stared at him, your pulse racing. “I think…” you began, your voice trembling. “I think this is dangerous.”

Landa’s smile returned, slow and deliberate. “Ah, but isn’t danger what makes life exciting?”

You hated how much you wanted to agree with him. Hated how much you wanted him to close the distance between you, to give in to the tension that had been building all evening. But you also knew that giving in would mean losing control—not just of the situation, but of yourself.

And in Hans Landa’s world, losing control could be fatal.

______________________________________________________________

The barn was quiet save for the faint rustling of hay underfoot as you stepped inside, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night’s chill. The weight of the evening still pressed against your chest, the memory of Hans Landa’s hands on your waist, his voice curling around your thoughts like smoke. You wanted to shake it off, to bury it beneath the mission, but it clung to you stubbornly.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Raine drawled from the shadows, stepping forward with his usual swagger. His sharp eyes swept over you, narrowing slightly. “Took ya long enough. Thought maybe the big bad wolf gotcha.”

“I had to make it convincing,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you crossed the room. You’d rehearsed your explanation on the way here, but now, under Aldo’s scrutiny, the words felt thin.

“You get anything useful?” he asked, leaning casually against a post, though there was nothing casual about the way he was watching you.

You nodded, recounting what you’d learned—snippets of troop movements, subtle hints about upcoming plans, just enough to prove you’d been paying attention without betraying the full scope of the evening. But even as you spoke, Raine’s gaze never left you, his expression unreadable.

“And that’s all he gave ya?” he asked when you finished, his tone flat.

“For now,” you said. “He’s careful. But he’s intrigued, and that’s something we can use.”

Raine didn’t respond right away, his dark eyes boring into yours. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low. “You sure you ain’t the one who’s intrigued?”

The question hit harder than you expected, and you stiffened, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I know what I’m doing,” you said, a little too sharply.

“Do ya?” he shot back, his tone calm but cutting. “’Cause somethin’ tells me you ain’t as steady as you’re lettin’ on.”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped when he stepped even closer, his voice dropping further. “Look, I ain’t gonna pretend this is easy. Landa’s a sly bastard, and I’ve seen plenty of people underestimate him. But you—you’re actin’ like you don’t know which way’s up anymore. And that’s dangerous, darlin’.”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react. “I told you, I’ve got it under control.”

Raine studied you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe you do. But lemme tell ya somethin’—that snake don’t charm folks for fun. He does it ‘cause it gets him what he wants. You start thinkin’ he’s more man than monster, you’re gonna lose. And when you lose, we all lose.”

His words cut deep, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know what’s at stake,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “And I know what he is.”

“Good,” Raine said, his tone softer but no less firm. “Just make sure you remember that next time you’re lookin’ into those snake eyes of his.”

He turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the barn. The silence felt heavier now, oppressive. You sank onto a bale of hay, pressing your palms against your temples as the weight of your own thoughts threatened to crush you.

You’d told Raine the truth—at least, part of it. You did know what Hans Landa was. But knowing didn’t make you immune to the pull of him, the way he seemed to peel back your defenses with nothing more than a glance, a word, a touch.

You told yourself it was all part of the mission, part of the role you had to play. But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the fear creeping into your chest—not fear of Landa, but fear of what he was beginning to awaken in you.

And worse, the fear that he already knew.

___________

The barn wasn’t just quiet—it was tense. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air as the rest of the Basterds lingered in various states of disinterest or curiosity. Most of them didn’t even look up when you walked in. You’d been part of the team long enough to earn your place, but tonight, the stakes were higher, and so was the scrutiny.

You caught Donny’s eye first. He was sitting on an overturned crate, absently fiddling with his bat. His brow furrowed slightly when he saw you, but he didn’t say anything right away. Beside him, Wicki glanced up from cleaning his weapon and offered you a faint nod—a small but genuine gesture.

“Finally back, huh?” Donny said, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “Thought maybe you decided to stay and dance the night away with Herr Colonel.”

You sighed, tugging your coat tighter around you. “Funny, Donowitz. Very funny.”

“You’re a regular comedian, Donny,” Wicki muttered without looking up.

“Just sayin’,” Donny continued, ignoring him. “You go toe-to-toe with the Jew Hunter himself, and all you got to show for it is a couple crumbs about troop movements? Doesn’t exactly scream success to me.”

You bristled, but before you could respond, Wicki cut in. “Don’t listen to him. He wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit him in the head.”

“Subtlety doesn’t get results,” Donny shot back, turning his attention to you. “So? Did he spill his guts, or was he too busy trying to charm you?”

“Enough,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. The barn fell silent, and you felt their eyes on you—curious, skeptical, and in some cases, accusatory.

It was Omar who broke the tension, stepping forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and calm. “You okay?”

You blinked at the question, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his eyes. Omar wasn’t one to speak up much, but when he did, it was always sincere.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

Omar studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. Just… don’t let Donny get in your head.”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’,” Donny said, throwing up his hands. “You spend too much time cozying up to a guy like Landa, you’re gonna forget whose side you’re on.”

“That’s enough,” Wicki said sharply, his tone cutting through the room. He turned to you, his expression softening. “You did fine. We all know Landa’s not easy to crack. Just don’t let him get too close.”

“He’s not,” you said quickly, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt their weight. Were you trying to convince them, or yourself?

“Good,” Wicki said. “Because the moment he does, it’s game over. For all of us.”

The barn fell quiet again, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of their gazes, of their expectations. You’d been on plenty of missions before, but this felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

As the group began to disperse, you caught sight of Raine lingering by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave you was enough: a silent warning, a reminder of the stakes.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you sank onto a bale of hay. Omar sat down beside you, his presence quiet but reassuring.

“You really okay?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

You hesitated, the weight of the night pressing down on you. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and one wrong step…”

Omar nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Just don’t forget you’ve got a net,” he said. “We’ve got your back. No matter what.”

You managed a faint smile, grateful for the gesture. But as Omar’s words sank in, you couldn’t help but wonder if they’d still hold true if they knew the truth—if they knew how much of you Landa had already unraveled.

And worse, how much you feared you might let him.

_______________

The morning air in the barn was sharp, cutting through the haze of exhaustion that clung to you after last night. The Basterds were already stirring, their voices low but charged with energy. They were preparing, strategizing, and most importantly, waiting for you to play your role.

Raine stood at the center of it all, his arms crossed, radiating his usual mix of authority and impatience. As soon as you stepped inside, his eyes locked onto you.

“You’re late,” he said, though his tone was more matter-of-fact than accusatory.

“Long night,” you replied evenly, though the truth of it weighed heavier than you’d let on.

“Good,” he said, surprising you. “Means we ain’t wastin’ time. You’re meetin’ him again tonight, right?”

You nodded, and he gave a curt nod in return.

“Then we’re gonna make sure you’re ready this time. No surprises, no stumblin’. Landa’s a predator, and you’re the bait—but you’re gonna make him think he’s the one being hunted.”

The group murmured in agreement, though their faces told different stories. Wicki and Omar seemed genuinely invested, their eyes full of quiet concern. Donny, meanwhile, leaned against a post with his bat in hand, his expression skeptical.

“I don’t see why we’re wasting time,” Donny said, breaking the silence. “She already met the guy once. If she couldn’t nail him then, what makes you think she’ll do it now?”

“That’s enough,” Wicki snapped, his voice sharp.

“I’m just sayin’,” Donny continued, throwing his hands up. “She’s walking back into the same den with nothin’ but her charm and a prayer. Sounds like a suicide mission to me.”

“It’s not your call,” Raine cut in, his tone brooking no argument. He turned back to you. “Sit. We’re runnin’ through scenarios.”

You hesitated but obeyed, taking the chair in the middle of the barn as Raine gestured for another. He sat across from you, the air around him shifting as he leaned back and transformed.

In a matter of seconds, he wasn’t Aldo Raine anymore. His posture straightened, his grin turned sly, and his gaze sharpened into something unsettlingly familiar.

“Good evening, Fräulein,” he said, slipping into a near-perfect imitation of Hans Landa’s smooth drawl. “I trust you slept well after our last encounter?”

The room fell silent, all eyes on you.

“I did, thank you,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. “And yourself?”

Raine smirked, the tilt of his head eerily reminiscent of the real Landa. “Oh, I always sleep well, knowing I am surrounded by such… fascinating company.”

You felt your stomach twist, his mimicry cutting a little too close. Still, you straightened your back and met his gaze head-on.

“I’m sure you do,” you said, allowing a hint of playfulness to creep into your tone. “But surely a man of your… intelligence doesn’t trust so easily.”

Raine’s eyes narrowed slightly—he was testing you. “Trust is such a fickle thing, wouldn’t you agree? One must earn it. Or take it.”

“Which do you prefer?” you shot back.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and you could almost see the approval flicker in his eyes. “Ah, Fräulein, I think you’re beginning to understand me.”

“Enough of the games,” Wicki interrupted from the sidelines. “Ask her something real, something he might use to trip her up.”

Raine tilted his head, slipping further into character. “Very well, Herr Wicki. Let us see how the Fräulein fares under pressure.” He turned back to you, his expression unreadable.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice soft but cutting, “why is it that a woman of your beauty and charm would risk her neck for something as messy as war? Surely there are safer, more lucrative pursuits for someone like you.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. The real Landa would never accept a half-baked answer.

“Perhaps I enjoy the challenge,” you said finally, forcing a confident smile. “After all, a little risk keeps life interesting.”

Raine raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “Or perhaps,” he said, his tone turning razor-sharp, “you’re hiding something. A secret, perhaps? Something that would explain why you find yourself in such… dangerous company.”

The tension in the barn was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on you.

“Isn’t everyone hiding something, Colonel?” you replied, leaning forward slightly. “But secrets have a way of revealing themselves to those who look closely enough. Don’t they?”

Raine’s smirk returned, and he leaned back in his chair, breaking character at last. “Not bad,” he said, his drawl slipping back into place. “You’re gettin’ there.”

“She’s better than ‘not bad,’” Omar said from the sidelines, his voice quiet but firm. “She’s ready.”

“Ready or not, she’s got no choice,” Donny muttered.

“Shut it, Donowitz,” Raine snapped, standing up and brushing off his coat. “She’s gonna be fine. But if any of you got doubts, keep ‘em to yourselves. Last thing she needs is a bunch of jackasses second-guessin’ her.”

The group dispersed slowly, the tension lingering in the air. As you stood to leave, Omar caught your arm, his grip gentle.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

He studied you for a moment before nodding. “Just remember—you’ve got backup. No matter what.”

You nodded, grateful for his quiet support. But as you walked away, preparing yourself for the next meeting with Hans Landa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no amount of preparation would shield you from what was coming.

Because this wasn’t just a game. It was a battle of wits, and you weren’t sure if you’d be the one to win.

__________

The sun was dipping below the horizon as you and Raine arrived at the edge of a quiet, cobblestoned village. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and wood smoke, and the sky was painted in muted shades of orange and purple. You felt a knot tightening in your stomach as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your coat against the chill.

“You sure about this?” Raine asked, his voice low. He leaned against the car, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s never stopped me before.”

Raine smirked faintly, his gaze softening for a brief moment. “Remember what we practiced. Keep him talkin’, stay in control. You feel like it’s slippin’—you signal, and I’ll be there.”

You nodded, clutching the small handbag at your side, its hidden compartment housing a blade and a cyanide pill. “I’ll be fine,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“Damn right you will.” Raine’s expression hardened again as he straightened up, adjusting his jacket. “Now go. And don’t let that bastard rattle you.”

You didn’t respond, instead taking a deep breath and walking toward the small café where Hans Landa waited. The street was quiet, almost eerily so, and the sound of your heels clicking against the stone echoed louder than you would have liked.

When you stepped inside, the café was dimly lit, its warm glow casting long shadows across the wooden tables. And there he was, sitting at a corner table with a glass of red wine in hand, his posture relaxed but commanding.

“Fräulein,” Landa greeted, rising to his feet with a smile that was equal parts charm and menace. “You look stunning this evening.”

“Colonel Landa,” you replied, your voice steady despite the quickening of your pulse. “Always a pleasure.”

He gestured for you to sit, and you did so, carefully draping your coat over the back of the chair. As you settled in, you felt his eyes on you, sharp and calculating.

“I must say,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass, “I was quite pleased when I received your message. It’s not often I have the opportunity to enjoy such delightful company twice in as many days.”

“I suppose I should consider that a compliment,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Indeed, you should,” he replied, his tone light but laced with something darker. “Now, tell me—what brings you back to me so soon? Surely a woman like you has other… engagements.”

You tilted your head slightly, as if considering his question. “Let’s just say I found our last conversation intriguing. And I thought it might be worth continuing.”

Landa’s smile widened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Ah, intrigue. A dangerous game, Fräulein. But then, you do strike me as someone who enjoys a little danger.”

You didn’t flinch, instead leaning forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. “Only when it’s worth the risk.”

He chuckled, a low, almost musical sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Well said. And tell me, what is it about me that you find so… intriguing?”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the challenge in his words. “You’re a man who thrives on control,” you said carefully. “And yet, you’re willing to let your guard down—just enough—to keep things interesting. That’s not something you see every day.”

Landa tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was determined to solve. “And what of you, Fräulein? What secrets do you hide behind that charming smile of yours?”

Before you could answer, the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, interrupting the moment. Landa waved him off with a polite but dismissive gesture, then poured two glasses, sliding one toward you.

“To secrets,” he said, raising his glass. “And the thrill of uncovering them.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment before raising your own glass. “To secrets,” you echoed, clinking your glass against his.

As the evening wore on, the conversation ebbed and flowed, a careful dance of words and veiled intentions. Landa’s charm was disarming, his wit sharp enough to cut through any pretense. And yet, you found yourself holding your own, the hours of preparation with Raine and the Basterds serving you well.

But there were moments—fleeting, dangerous moments—when you felt the lines blurring. When his gaze lingered a little too long, or when your own words came too easily, too naturally.

And then there was the touch. A brief, fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you the wine. It was deliberate, you were sure of it, and it sent a jolt through you that you couldn’t ignore.

“Are you all right, Fräulein?” Landa asked, his voice soft and almost genuine. “You seem… distracted.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile.

His smile returned, slow and knowing. “Good. Because I’d hate to think I was boring you.”

“Far from it,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

The game continued, each move more calculated than the last. But as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder who was truly in control—and whether you were losing yourself in the process.

The space between you and Hans Landa had all but disappeared. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours, and the weight of his gaze made your pulse race. Each word he spoke was calculated to draw you in, to break down the walls you had so carefully built.

Landa’s fingers lightly traced the rim of his wine glass, his lips curling into that infuriating, knowing smile that seemed to suggest he was always one step ahead. “You hide so much, Fräulein,” he murmured, his voice smooth and velvet-soft. “But I can see the flickers beneath your control. The way you hesitate before responding. The way you move closer, even though you tell yourself you shouldn’t.”

You barely breathed as you absorbed his words. The room felt warmer now, despite the cool evening air that slipped through the window. Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat steady but frantic. The magnetic pull between you was undeniable. And yet, you tried to remain grounded, to remember why you were here in the first place.

But his presence was suffocating, and all your defenses, carefully put in place over the years, seemed to be crumbling under the intensity of his stare.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your voice thick with uncertainty.

“Am I?” Landa asked, tilting his head slightly, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He leaned forward just enough to close the gap, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me, Fräulein. What are you really hiding?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you swore you could hear nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat. He was too close now, too close for comfort. His hand, casually resting on the table, was only a few inches from yours, and every inch of your body seemed to ache with the temptation to close that distance.

You tried to speak, to maintain some semblance of composure, but the words refused to form. He was drawing you in, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to resist anymore.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken words and longing. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you saw it—the hunger, the desire, and something deeper—something more dangerous.

“Fräulein,” he said softly, his voice now lower, almost tender. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

His hand moved, slow and deliberate, brushing against yours. You froze for a moment, your pulse skittering at the light contact. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers lingered, just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

Your heart pounded as you realized there was no turning back. The moment had arrived—the one you had feared, and yet somehow longed for.

Landa leaned in even closer, his lips a breath away from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his body so close now that it felt like an inevitability.

And then, without a single word more, he kissed you.

It was gentle at first, almost tentative, as though he was testing you. His lips brushed against yours in a slow, deliberate motion, and your breath caught in your throat. Your mind screamed at you to pull away, to remember the mission, to hold onto your resolve. But your body—your body betrayed you.

You kissed him back.

The kiss deepened, his hand sliding to your cheek, cupping it as though he were marking his claim. The warmth of his touch spread through your entire body, the sharp, electric feeling of his presence overwhelming your senses. You could taste the wine on his lips, the slight trace of something darker in his flavor, something that sent a shiver of desire down your spine.

You felt yourself leaning into him, unable to stop. Every part of you seemed to crave him, even as your mind screamed in protest. But the kiss was intoxicating, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Landa broke the kiss just long enough to pull back slightly, his breath heavy, his lips mere inches from yours. His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“You don’t have to resist anymore, Fräulein,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with quiet triumph. “I know you feel it. The same thing I do.”

You couldn’t deny it. The desire was there, raw and undeniable. And for the first time since you’d met him, you realized that you wanted him—wanted him more than you cared to admit.

The room was spinning, your heart racing as he moved in once more, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was full of promise and danger, a kiss that you knew would change everything.

There was no turning back now.

________

You entered the room with the others, trying to mask the unease gnawing at your stomach. You had gotten the intel—critical, valuable information—but it wasn’t just the mission that had weighed on your mind all evening. Hans Landa had invaded your thoughts more than you were willing to admit, and you knew you couldn’t stay lost in that dangerous game forever.

You placed the stack of documents on the table, watching as the Basterds gathered around, eager to hear what you had uncovered. Raine’s eyes followed you, calculating, unreadable, but you knew he’d been watching you ever since you left for your meeting with the Colonel. You didn’t dare make eye contact with him, though, afraid he’d see the truth in your gaze before you had the chance to explain.

“Well?” Donny barked, leaning forward with a grin. “What do you got for us, sweetheart?”

You took a steadying breath and forced yourself to focus. “I got everything we need,” you began, pushing the documents toward the group. “Landa’s plans, the key locations, and personnel lists. Even some of his more private dealings that could give us leverage.”

The room buzzed with excitement as the others pored over the papers, murmurs of approval and strategizing filling the air. They hadn’t noticed the tension in your posture yet, but Raine had. His gaze never left you, his expression too calm, too knowing.

As you stood there, watching the team digest the information, a creeping feeling of guilt weighed down on you. You had done your job—but at what cost? The memory of Landa’s touch, his quiet whispers, his deliberate flirty glances… it was all too much to process. You had let him get too close, and you weren’t sure what to do with it. What had started as a simple mission had turned into something far more complicated.

As the others discussed the next move, you stood off to the side, pretending to listen while your thoughts wandered back to the Colonel. You didn’t see Raine approach until he was standing directly in front of you, his presence commanding and intense. He wasn’t smiling—not that he ever did—but there was an unmistakable hardness in his eyes.

The moment the others were occupied with the details of their next plan, Raine spoke. “We need to talk.” His voice was low and clipped, and there was no room for negotiation in his tone.

You stiffened, swallowing the lump in your throat. “It’s been a long night, Raine,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“No,” he said sharply. “Now. In private.”

His gaze was unwavering, and though you knew it wasn’t a request, you couldn’t bring yourself to defy him. You nodded, and he led you out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the halls as you walked silently behind him.

When you finally reached a small, empty room, Raine turned to face you, his eyes cold and assessing. “What happened?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with a tension you could almost touch. “You’ve been back for almost an hour, and you haven’t said a word about what went on. But I know you’re hiding something. The others think you’re a hero—giving us everything we need—but I know better.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words died in your throat. There was no easy way out of this.

“You’re right. I—I got the intel,” you began slowly, your voice shaking despite yourself. “But it’s… it’s not just that, Raine. I… I let him get too close. He—he kissed me.”

Raine didn’t flinch. He didn’t look surprised, but you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. His jaw tightened, and the air between you grew heavy with tension. “Why?” His voice was strained, and for the first time, you saw cracks in his usually unshakable demeanor.

You struggled to find the words. “I didn’t plan it, okay? I wasn’t trying to let it happen—it just did. I… I thought I could keep my distance, keep focused on the mission. But he—he’s manipulative, Raine. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I—” You stopped, unable to finish the sentence. The truth was, you had felt something too. Something you couldn’t deny. And that was the problem.

“You let him kiss you.” Raine’s voice was thick now, the disbelief and frustration slipping through. “You let him use you, play you like a damn fiddle, and for what? Some information? What are you really after?”

The sting of his words hit harder than you expected. “It wasn’t like that,” you shot back, voice wavering. “I didn’t—he didn’t control me. But it… it did become personal. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the truth.”

Raine took a slow breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he processed your words. “You were supposed to be using him. Not the other way around.”

You looked down, guilt rushing through you like a tidal wave. “I know. I failed.”

He shook his head, taking a step closer. His eyes were full of something you couldn’t quite place—anger, sure, but there was something deeper. Something… personal.

“Do you think I don’t know how this works?” Raine asked, voice now quieter, more intense. “You think I haven’t had to walk that line too? To make sure you don’t get caught up in something you shouldn’t?” He stepped forward, his presence so overwhelming it made your knees weak. “You’re not the only one with demons. You’re not the only one who gets tangled in the mess.” His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before he pulled back, raking a hand through his hair. “I just… I thought you were better than this.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching his face, but there was no warmth in his gaze—just an unspoken distance that seemed to grow between you with every word.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, but it sounded hollow even to you. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t mean to let him in.”

Raine’s gaze softened for just a brief moment, but then it hardened again, his jaw clenched tightly. “You’re not just playing a part, [Y/N]. You’re putting us all in danger. And I’m not sure I can forgive you for that.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words pressing on you, but you knew you had no choice but to face the consequences. “I understand.”

There was a long silence before Raine spoke again, his voice quieter now. “You’re lucky you brought back something useful. But don’t expect me to forget this. Not yet.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, his steps slow but sure. He didn’t look back, and for a moment, you thought he might not say anything else.

But before he left, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “You should have known better, [Y/N].” And then, without another word, he was gone, leaving you standing in the dim room, haunted by his words and the decisions you had made.

You had no idea how this would end, but one thing was certain—you had just crossed a line you couldn’t uncross.

__________

It had been a few days since you last saw Hans, and though you tried to bury the thoughts of him beneath the weight of the mission, it was no use. His absence gnawed at you like a persistent ache, one you couldn’t ignore. Every attempt to focus on the next steps felt hollow, and the silence between you both felt deafening. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had heard from him.

Raine, meanwhile, still hadn’t said much to you. His cold demeanor was unsettling, the weight of his disappointment hanging over every interaction, but it was Hans that occupied your mind. You told yourself you had to stay strong, that you had a job to do. But the pull toward him, the memory of his touch, his words, was a constant undercurrent that you couldn’t escape.

After a particularly grueling morning spent preparing for the mission, you needed to clear your head. You slipped away unnoticed, deciding a walk in the nearby woods was the best way to silence the thoughts that crowded your mind. The air was crisp, and each step you took felt like it might ground you in something real.

The walk was supposed to offer some clarity, but the longer you walked, the more the tension inside you built. You tried to focus on the sound of your boots crunching the fallen leaves beneath you, but it was impossible to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest.

It was then, as you rounded a corner, that you stopped. That familiar, unnerving feeling washed over you again, and you knew without turning around that someone was there. You didn’t need to hear his voice, though you did, soft and purposeful.

“[Y/N].” His voice, smooth and sharp like a blade, made you tense. You turned slowly to face him.

Hans stood at the edge of the woods, watching you with an expression that was harder to read than usual. His sharp eyes tracked your every move as though trying to figure you out, but there was something more beneath his usual calculating gaze—something raw, something that made your heart race for reasons you weren’t sure you wanted to explore.

For a moment, you said nothing. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, to form the words.

He took a step closer, his usual grace now tinged with a sense of urgency. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice a quiet accusation, though there was no anger in his tone. It was a statement wrapped in vulnerability. “I didn’t think you would leave me hanging like this, [Y/N].”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you struggled to maintain control of the situation. “It’s not that, Hans,” you said, the words almost choking you. “I’ve just… had a lot on my plate.” The lie fell from your lips so easily that it terrified you. But it was the truth, wasn’t it? You were trying to do your job and keep a distance.

His eyes flickered over you, narrowing slightly. He stepped closer, and you instinctively took a step back, feeling the tension between you grow. “Complicated, I’m sure. But don’t pretend it’s just that.” He paused, looking you up and down as if seeing through the barriers you had built. “We both know it’s more.”

You held his gaze, biting your lip. He was right. You were lying to both him and yourself. You couldn’t deny what was there, what had been there between you. But it was dangerous. He was dangerous.

“I thought I could keep my distance,” you murmured, but the admission sounded weak even to your own ears. “But it’s… harder than I expected.”

Hans studied you for a moment, his eyes dark and intense. “Harder than you expected?” he repeated, stepping closer still, the air between you crackling with tension. His gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I think you’ve been running from something far more than just distance.”

Your heart raced as he took another step, his breath almost too close. You tried to hold back, to remind yourself of the lines you shouldn’t cross, but you could feel the pull toward him again, that magnetic force you couldn’t resist. His fingers brushed against your arm as he reached for you, sending a shiver through your body.

Before you could stop yourself, you were stepping into him, drawn toward the heat of his presence. His lips brushed against your ear, and the sensation made you gasp quietly. “I’ve missed you, you know,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You didn’t know how to respond, your mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. You should pull away. You should stop this before it went any further. But every fiber of your being screamed that it was too late, that you already had.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you whispered, barely aware of the words slipping out until it was too late.

His gaze flicked up, a dark smirk curling on his lips. “Then why have you been hiding from me?” he asked, his voice thick with quiet amusement. “I’m not the kind of man you can just ignore. I won’t let you pretend like none of this matters.”

Before you could react, his hand cupped your face, pulling you toward him. There was no hesitation this time. His lips found yours in a kiss that was fierce, hungry, and all-consuming. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim, a challenge, a test.

You gasped as he deepened it, his hands moving to your back, pulling you flush against him. You had no idea how long you stood there, tangled in him, but it felt like time had frozen. The world around you vanished, and all that existed was the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hands, and the wild, uncontrollable pull between you.

When the kiss finally broke, you were breathless, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Hans rested his forehead against yours, his hands still on your back, keeping you close.

“You see now,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You can’t hide from this. Not anymore.”

You closed your eyes, your pulse still racing, and you knew in that moment that you couldn’t deny it any longer. You didn’t want to.

The question was no longer whether you could stay away from him. The question now was whether you would ever be able to walk away at all.

The tension between you and Hans was undeniable, thick enough to choke on. Every moment spent near him, every word exchanged, felt like a tightrope you were walking, straining at the edges of your loyalty to the Basterds and your growing feelings for the man before you.

The quiet of the night was broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the cool breeze as you stood facing him, your heart racing. You couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. You had already begun to fall for him, and now, you knew there was no going back.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice steady but filled with the weight of the words you were about to speak. “Something important.”

Hans, ever the patient observer, simply nodded, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I’m not just some civilian, Hans. I’m not just… a woman on a mission. I’m part of a group. The Basterds.”

The revelation hung in the air, thick with the consequences of your confession. You could feel Hans’s gaze on you, his sharp eyes searching your face for any sign of deception.

“The Basterds?” he repeated, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You’ve been one of them this whole time?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yes. I’ve been gathering intel, keeping tabs on you, your movements. That’s why I’ve been working with you. To get closer, to learn everything I could.”

A long silence followed, the weight of your words sinking in between you. Hans’s face softened, his expression unreadable. You had expected anger or betrayal, but instead, there was only a calm scrutiny in his eyes.

“You’ve been playing both sides,” he said slowly, his voice cold and distant now. “This whole time, you’ve been working for them.”

You swallowed, the bitterness of your betrayal settling deep in your chest. “I didn’t want it to happen this way. I thought… I thought I could keep it separate, but now I—”

Hans cut you off, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. His eyes searched yours, a small smirk curling his lips. “And now you’re torn. Between duty and desire, between loyalty and… something else.”

You felt the weight of his words. “I don’t know what I feel anymore,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never expected this. I never expected you.”

Hans’s expression softened, and he reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a surprising tenderness. “I can’t say I’m thrilled by your deception,” he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing. “But I can’t say I’m not intrigued by you, [Y/N]. Despite everything, I see something in you. Something that’s… real.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the pull between you growing stronger. “Intrigued?” you echoed, unsure of where he was going with this.

He smiled, a slow, almost dangerous grin. “Yes, intrigued. Because, despite the fact that you’ve been lying to me, I don’t think you’re as loyal to them as you pretend to be.”

His eyes bored into yours, and you felt yourself faltering, unsure of how to respond. The tug of attraction toward him, the pull of everything you had been trying to suppress, grew harder to ignore. He was playing you, yes, but there was also something genuine in the way he spoke to you now, something you had never expected from someone like him.

“You’re not what they think you are,” he continued, his voice quieter now, more coaxing. “And I can offer you more than they ever could. All you need to do is make a choice.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch. The life he was offering seemed tempting—freedom from the war, safety, a place by his side. But the life you had built with the Basterds, with Raine and the others, was all you had known for so long. Could you really walk away from that?

“I… I don’t know if I can make that choice,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’ve been in this fight for so long. I can’t just leave.”

Hans’s gaze hardened slightly, and his grip on your arm tightened just enough to make you feel the intensity of his emotions. “You don’t need to leave the fight, [Y/N]. You just need to leave them.”

Your mind spun at his words. “What do you mean?”

“Leave the Basterds. Come with me,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a sharp edge to it now. “I can give you everything you need. A life where you aren’t just a pawn in their war. You can be with me. You can be free.”

His words hit you harder than anything before, and you could feel yourself wavering. The life you had fought so hard for was beginning to seem insignificant in the face of what he was offering. You wanted to say no, to fight it, but something in you yearned for the freedom he promised.

“You’re asking me to betray them,” you said, your voice shaking, but you couldn’t hide the desire that was creeping into your chest.

“I’m asking you to stop betraying yourself,” Hans said, his voice coaxing, but firm. “You don’t owe them anything. But you owe yourself the chance to choose something real.”

You stood there, torn between the two lives that were pulling you in opposite directions. The Basterds, Raine, everything you had worked for—they were all part of you, part of the fight. But Hans… Hans was offering something new, something intoxicating.

“I… I can’t just walk away,” you whispered, your voice faltering, but even as you said it, you knew you were already considering it.

Hans stepped closer, his eyes dark with desire. “You already have, haven’t you? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know.”

Before you could respond, the sudden crack of a branch broke the moment, and you both turned sharply. Raine stood there, frozen in shock, his gaze flicking between you and Hans, disbelief written across his face.

“[Y/N]?” His voice was a mixture of confusion and betrayal. “What is this? You… you’ve been with him all along?”

You felt your heart sink at the sight of your dear friend, the man who had stood by you, the man who had trusted you. But now, with Hans at your side, offering you everything, how could you turn back?

Raine’s face twisted with pain and anger as he took a step forward, his hand instinctively moving to the pistol at his side. “I should’ve known. I thought we were friends, but this… you’re one of them.”

The words cut through you like a knife, but you didn’t have time to respond before Raine’s hand was on his weapon, the tension crackling between you all.

“I can’t let you betray us, [Y/N],” Raine said, his voice thick with emotion. “I won’t let you.”

You could feel the pull between the two men in your life, each offering you something completely different, and for a moment, you felt paralyzed. But as Raine’s gun moved toward you, your body reacted before your mind could. You pulled your own weapon and aimed it squarely at him.

The pain in his eyes was the last thing you saw before you fired.

Raine collapsed to the ground, his body twitching as life left him. The air around you seemed to freeze, the weight of what you had just done settling heavily in your chest. But Hans’s hand slipped into yours, steady and sure, pulling you away from the scene without a word.

“You made the right choice,” Hans whispered, his voice calm as he led you away.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The loss, the betrayal—it all felt like it was choking you. But as you walked side by side with Hans, leaving everything behind, you knew that there was no going back. The choice had been made.

You had chosen him.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

[gemmaswife]

Mélanie Laurent as Shoshanna in INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS (2009) dir. Quentin Tarantino

[inmymagnetoera]

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

"I'm just a boy, standing in front a girl, asking her to love him."

[pvtjxker]

I made this

[neonpixel-pixie]

3 YEARS LATER SINCE THIS POST…

because some things changes (and some are still the same). but the real question is if my taste got better or worse …

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ BENNY GECKO [ Fallout New Vegas ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ PATRICK BATEMAN [ American Psycho ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ CLAY PUPPINGTON [ Moral Orel ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ STAN SMITH [ American Dad ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SAM TRAPANI [ Mafia Definitive Edition ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SONNY CORLEONE [ The Godfather ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ HANS LANDA [ Inglourious Basterds ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ STEPHEN STOTCH [ South Park ]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ VITO SCALETTA [ Mafia 2 ]

[whiteskullofroses]

Noch einer! (DIETER HELLSTROM X READER)

PART 2! (NSFW)

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

A/n: YALLL ITS HERE. Sorry for the long wait, but I'm telling y'all it was worth it. Once again it is 1 am, and Dieter is looking rather scrumptious. This one is one hell of a smut, so be prepared. (Yall better be proud of me for finally having the balls to write smut:)) Enjoy!

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

Tag list: @kateris-world

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

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

You were taken back by his sudden actions, as you were sure this was going to be your end, when in reality, it was just a new start.

You knew this wasn't right, you knew that he was your political enemy but oh god how attractive he was. Besides, you left politics behind a bottle of scotch ago.

Dieter leaned into you and used his free hand to grab your waist. Pulling you closer to him, you could taste the alcohol on his tongue.

His hand moved lower to your hips, squeezing them hard. So hard it almost made you whine out. You let your arms fall around his neck and travel up to his hair. Your loss of sence made you make the hat fall off his head onto the ground.

Dieter broke free from the kiss, breathing deeply. He panted and smikred, then pat his lap : "Come sit, mein Schatz."

Spreading his legs, making room for you to sit on one of his thighs, he sighed. As soon as you sat down, you felt something hard: "Have a gun in your pocket?"

He simply looked at you and grabbed your face: "Shhh..." He lifted one of his eyebrows and placed one of his hands on your lower stomach, dangerously close to your pussy: "Be good and keep quiet." He tilted his head towards the other walk-in room, where the meeting was supposed to be held before everyone got drunk. You could hear the other Germans laughing and playing cards, but once Dieter spoke, all your attention landed on his voice: "We don't want them to hear us now, do we," speaking softly in your ear, making you even more lustful for him: "mein Schatz?."

You shook your tipsy head, all you wanted was him inside of you, him touching you and him covering you in love bites all over, the whole rest of the night.

Looking up at him and into his eyes, sitting in his lap with his already hard cock beneath you, feeling his hot breath on your neck as he kissed and bit it. You were in heaven.

"Good girl." His hand went underneath your fake Nazi uniform dress and right into your panties.

Once his fingers were playing with your clit, you moaned out, totally forgetting about the people a thin wall away from you. Dieter was quick to shut you up with his hand now holding your mouth shut.

He finally started fingering you, drawing circles on your clit and stars in your eyes, you felt yourself getting even wetter and even more hotter. For a man, he was incredibly skilled on how to please a woman, quite frankly, you were impressed, but deep down not really surprised.

His hand was holding your mouth so tight that all that was heard for you were soft muffles and moans of pure pleasure.

You moved your ass on his cock, making him whine out in the sudden feeling of friction. Although Dieter felt like he was going to cross the finish line already, you could feel him trying his best to hold back.

All of this became almost too much. Him quietly moaning and gasping in your ear as you rubbed your ass on his cock, you being drawn to literal tears by how good he made you feel. On top of that, you both were drunk to death.

Just as you were about to come, he pulled out of you and quickly picked you up, bridal style, and put you on the table. You cringed at the feeling of spilled scotch soaking your uniform, but didn't really care, cuz after this night, you were planning on burning it anyway.

Dieter put you infront of him, with your back on the table. Spreading your legs, you couldn't believe such a beautiful sight right on-top of you.

Dieter was now standing in between your legs, his hard cock bulging out of his black pants, his hair a mess and his hungry eyes staring at you.

"Please." Was all you had to utter for him to rip your underwear from under the skirt off. As he threw the panties on a chair close by, you lifted yourself up in a sitting position and unzipped his pants.

Dieter was quick to push you back down. With a devilish smirk on his face he breathed out: "So eager for me, huh?"

All you did in response was moan out his name.

That sent him into overdrive. Just hearing you so desperate for him made him even more motivated to make you unable to walk for days.

Dieter finally pulled out his cock, it was so swollen, you almost felt bad for not making him come already.

He placed the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You took a deep breathe in, ready to take him.

It didn't take you long to get comfortable with his size and become a moaning mess underneath him.

The people in the other room were no longer an issue, as most of them were already asleep, and those who weren't under such strong influence already left the basement and headed home.

"You feel..." Dieter was barely able to form sentences at this point: "so good..."

Slowly, as he felt himself getting closer to orgasm, he started getting sloppier with his thrusts and much more intense with his voice. He was getting quite loud, and so were you.

Leaning down to kiss you, you could smell his cologne. The fragrance gave off a spicy, earthy and almost citrusy like whiff. Definitely Hugo Boss.

"Dieter!" You screamed out, breathless as he made you cross the finish line and come all over his cock.

"Scheisse..." Moaned out the man before he came inside of you. He let his head fall down to your chest, breathing deeply.

Your tangled your fingers in his hair and started to calm down from your high. It felt so intimate to you, and you loved it.

Dieter slowly lifted his head and kissed your forehead. He picked you up from the table and made you sit in his lap once again.

"Mein Schatz..." He caressed your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear: "you did such a good job."

You kissed his cheek and looked Into his eyes: "I would have never, in a million years, guessed how this night would play out."

He simply smiled, looked at the cigarette box on the table and asked: "Noch einer?"

THE END.

[aluxlorde]

DONNY ME BOY 😭🙏🏾🧸 ( why is there no bat emoji on Apple 😔 )

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Due to the resurgence of N@zism in the United States, I would like to drop this deuce on y’all ( also I sense the fandom coming back n I want to boost it up 😁😁 ) MORE TO COME FOR SURE !!

[darkfruhlingsgefuhle]

Smoke & Celluloid

Inglourious Basterds Pairing: Dieter Hellstrom / F!Reader Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers Part 3/?

It was one of the few places left untouched by the war — at least on the surface. A narrow café tucked between two shuttered shops, its green awning faded, its windows streaked with the steam of warm bodies and bitter coffee. You sat in the corner near the window, back to the wall. Always.

You sipped slowly. Alone. The day had been quiet. Uneventful.

Until you saw him.

Your heart skipped, but your expression didn’t change.

He moved through the door like he owned the air.

Dieter Hellstrom.

Again.

This time, without his gloves. His jacket is fully buttoned, uniform is flawless, the cap fits perfectly. He scanned the room — just once — then his eyes landed on you.

A slow, deliberate smile.

He approached.

You didn’t flinch.

“Mademoiselle,” he greeted, voice silk wrapped around steel. “What a surprise.”

“It’s a popular café,” you replied. “Surely not that surprising.”

He chuckled. Low. Sharp. “No, I suppose not. May I?”

You didn’t answer, but he sat anyway. He took off his cap and put it on the table.

The waiter appeared instantly, too nervous to question the uniform. Dieter ordered black coffee. Nothing else.

You glanced at him once, then returned to your cup.

“What brings you here?” you asked lightly.

He tilted his head. “Curiosity.”

“About coffee?”

“About you.”

There it was. Not subtle.

You raised a brow. “I thought your inspection was complete. Are you spying on me?”

He leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the table. “Inspections never really end. They simply… evolve. And I am just observing....”

A pause. You met his gaze — unblinking, cool. “Is that a threat?”

He smiled again. “No. If it were, you’d know.”

His fingers tapped the porcelain edge of his cup.

“I find it… intriguing,” he continued, “how little I know about you.”

You shrugged faintly. “There’s little to know.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He watched you like a man watches a puzzle he intends to dismantle.

You matched his calm. “Then perhaps you’re just not looking in the right places.”

That made him go still for half a second. Like a wire pulled taut.

Then he leaned back, eyes gleaming faintly. “Touché.”

You didn’t answer.

But beneath the table, your hands were curled into fists in your lap.

This was no longer a game. He was hunting. Slowly. Elegantly. But it was hunting all the same.

And you — the prey — weren’t running. Not yet.

You would not let him see fear. You would not let him win.

“Do you do this often?” you asked suddenly. “Harass women in cafés?”

He smirked. “Only those whom I irritate.”

You tilted your head, voice flat. “Then I’m sure you’re very busy.”

A flicker passed between you.

A thread pulled tight.

Then — coffee arrived. He didn’t touch it.

He just stared at you, eyes cold, hungry, curious.

Like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to unmake you… or understand you.

And you — for a split second — weren’t sure which was worse.

You leaned in, resting your chin on your hand. “What’s next? A stroll through the park? A candlelit search of my basement?”

His jaw flexed.

“There are ways to be cooperative, you know,” he said. “Politeness goes far.”

“Oh, I am polite,” you said with faux sweetness. “You’re the one looming like death over my lunch.”

“You seem rather calm for someone under suspicion.”

“And you seem rather flustered for someone in control.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose.

~She was doing it on purpose. Poking. Toying. Does she know?~

No — you couldn’t. You couldn’t possibly know how much your voice grated beneath his skin, how your eyes — unafraid and shining with contempt — made his blood thrum.

He wanted to slam your cup off the table.

Wanted to choke the smug little breath out of you.

But he sat still.

Tight.

Silent.

“Your questions,” you added lazily, “are beginning to feel more like foreplay than investigation.”

That broke something. Not visibly. But inwardly?

He fractured.

“I wonder,” he said, his voice a low threat, “how long you’ll keep that tongue when no one’s watching.”

You smiled.

“Long enough to bite.”

And God help him — he felt heat coil in his spine.

He pushed back his chair then, slowly, calmly — as though he hadn’t just imagined you pinned beneath his palm.

“We’ll speak again.”

“I’m counting the minutes.” A mischievous smile.

He stood up abruptly, grabbed his cap, put it on with a sharp movement, and straitened it out with his palm.

He nodded once.

And left.

But your voice stayed behind in his ears like perfume and poison.

[correctopinionhaver]

tumblr veterans when a new tumblr blogger mentions the term “upvote”

[dilfismz]

Hans Landa and his controversially young gf drabble

“There’s something about you, Liebling. Something far too young… and far too tempting.”

You first meet Hans Landa at a formal military event — the kind filled with stiff uniforms, crystal glasses, and air so thick with pride and protocol it nearly chokes you. You’re seated beside your father, who’s been dragging you to these things since you were old enough to sit up straight. You smile when you’re supposed to, speak when addressed, and stay quiet the rest of the time. You’ve perfected the art of looking present without being present.

Until him.

He’s introduced with the usual rank and title, but you hear none of it — not really. What you notice first is the way he looks at you: calm, calculating, amused. As though he’s already decided something about you. His handshake lingers a second too long, and when he compliments your dress, it doesn’t feel like small talk.

It feels like a warning.

After that, you notice him everywhere. In rooms he has no reason to be in. At events you weren’t expecting him to attend. He speaks to you like you're older than you are — like you’re his equal — and yet somehow makes you feel small when he wants to. It’s a game, and you’re never quite sure if you’re playing or being played.

Still, you lean in.

In public, he is all charm and elegance. He touches you only in ways that seem innocent — a guiding hand at the small of your back, a lingering glance that no one else notices but you feel — like heat. His voice in your ear during dull dinners keeps you just on the edge of laughter or something more dangerous.

Privately, it’s different. His presence fills the room before he speaks. His compliments are slower, darker. You never know if he’s going to kiss you or test you. He’ll ask you questions no one else dares to — about politics, about your father, about what you really believe. He wants to know the parts of you that no one’s ever bothered to see.

And he listens, really listens, like your thoughts are valuable currency. But just when you start to feel smart — maybe even powerful — he tilts his head and reminds you, softly, “You’re very young, mein Schatz.” And it stings, the way sugar can sting if it’s laced with poison.

Your father disapproves, of course. How could he not?

He confronts you with fury and fear all tangled together. Tells you Hans is dangerous. Manipulative. Far too old for you. You want to tell him you know — that you’re not naïve — but the words get tangled in your throat because part of you isn’t so sure. Part of you wants to believe there’s something real beneath all Hans’s charm and cruelty.

You tell Hans about the argument. He only smiles, slow and amused, and says, “Men like your father fear men like me — because I don’t need permission to take what I want.”

You try not to fall, but he makes it so easy.

He brings you rare books, foreign records, letters written in Latin you have to painstakingly translate. Every gift feels like a challenge: Be clever enough for me. Keep up. You do, and you start to love the chase — the constant need to prove yourself.

He praises you when you push back, even when you raise your voice. He cups your face and says, “There’s that fire I adore.” But in the same breath, he’ll pull you close and whisper, “You still have so much to learn.”

You hate how much that excites you.

He reads to you sometimes — old fairy tales laced with darkness and twisted morals. You lie in his arms, half-drowsy, listening as he tells stories about wolves that wear sheep’s clothing and girls who wander too far into the woods.

When you ask why he likes them so much, he answers without hesitation. “Because happy endings are for people who don’t know better.”

You don’t know whether he’s warning you… or preparing you.

And then there are the nights you spend alone, staring at the ceiling, your skin still tingling from his touch. You wonder if you’re being changed — shaped into something you don’t recognize.

Part of you feels powerful. Chosen. Wanted.

The other part wonders if that feeling is just another one of his tricks.

You're smart enough to know he's dangerous. You're still drawn to him.

Maybe that’s what scares you most — not what he might do to you, but what you’ll let him.

Taglist: @selfishlittlebeing @stringcheezeislife

[sakinabrain]

"SWEET SOFIE" - Hans Landa x oc reader

warnings: smut, vaginal sex, age gap, sexual tension, virgin reader

The LaPadite house was plunged into an almost absolute silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fireplace and the soft sound of Sofie’s quill scratching the paper. Night was falling over the property, enveloping it in a warm and intimate shadow.

Hans moved around the room with his usual elegance, watching her with an interest that went beyond mere curiosity. He approached slowly, unhurriedly, as if each step he took was calculated so as not to disturb the fragile balance of the moment. Sofie LaPadite kept her eyes fixed on her writing, the delicate curve of her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she felt his presence closer than before.

— “Mademoiselle LaPadite, I must say your dedication to calligraphy is charming,” he murmured, his voice silky and laden with a treacherous sweetness.

Sofie lifted her crystalline eyes, meeting Landa’s. The gleam there was unfathomable, a mix of amusement and something else, something she didn’t yet fully understand. Her heart gave an involuntary leap, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

— “Thank you, Colonel,” she replied in a whisper, returning her attention to the paper but all too aware of his shadow looming over her.

Landa leaned in slightly, and the scent of tobacco and cologne filled her senses. He placed a gloved hand on the polished wooden top, right next to her arm, without touching her, but the warmth of his presence was almost palpable.

— “Such a dedicated and disciplined young woman…” he continued, watching her intently. — “That fascinates me. But don’t you get tired? Don’t your fingers hurt from holding the pen so tightly?”

Sofie swallowed. Her hands were indeed tense, as if her very posture betrayed her uneasiness. Before she could respond, Landa slid a gloved finger over the back of her hand, a barely perceptible touch, but one that made her catch her breath.

— “Oh, forgive me,” he murmured with a smile. “An involuntary reflex. Just a touch of concern.”

She gently withdrew her hand, not daring to look him in the eye. She knew she should move further away, keep a safe distance, but his piercing gaze kept her anchored there, as if she were entangled in a web of fine, dangerous silk.

— “It’s late,” she said, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

Landa nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Then, with a satisfied sigh, he straightened and adjusted his gloves, giving her one last appraising look.

She lowered her gaze, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

— “I should... I should clean my pen,” she mumbled, rising from her chair a little too quickly.

Landa stepped aside, making a small gesture as if to grant her passage, but the knowing smile remained on his lips. As she turned toward the small table near the fireplace, her hands fumbled slightly with the ink bottle, betraying her flustered state.

He watched her for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer, more intimate.

— “Tell me, Sofie... Do you always prefer solitude at this hour, or do you sometimes indulge in pleasant company?”

Sofie’s fingers trembled as she set the quill down, and she dared a brief glance over her shoulder. He was watching her, waiting, the fire casting shadows over his sharp features.

— “I... I don’t mind the quiet,” she whispered, then hesitated. “But company can be... pleasant.”

Landa’s smirk deepened at her hesitance. He stepped closer, his presence unmistakable behind her.

— “How fortunate,” he murmured, his voice like silk, “that I, too, find such moments of quiet... enchanting.”

Sofie’s heart pounded as she stood frozen, acutely aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them. She knew she should move, should put more distance between them, yet something in the air held her captive, as if she were caught in a slow, intricate dance with a partner far too skilled for her own comfort.

— “Your father is such a lucky man, Sofie... With such beautiful daughters, but you're the prettiest.” He almost whispered, close to her ear, she could feel his breath on her neck.

Sofie’s breath caught in her throat, her skin prickling as Landa's words lingered in the air, a dangerous sweetness that held her in place. He knew exactly what he was doing—each word, each movement, calculated with a precision that made her pulse race in a way she had never experienced before.

His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke again, his voice a soft, intimate whisper. — “Such a delicate creature, Sofie... So innocent in your own way. But you are not impervious, are you?”

His hand moved from the side of her waist, grazing the curve of her body, his touch warm and lingering. Sofie felt the heat of his proximity wash over her, her heartbeat loud in her ears as his lips grazed her neck. She stiffened, her breath hitching at the feel of him so close, but Landa, ever patient, seemed to savor the moment, his lips just barely brushing her skin.

— “Tell me,” he whispered, “Do you feel this too? The way our bodies align so naturally... So effortlessly...”

Sofie swallowed, her voice betraying her — “Colonel Landa... I…”

Before she could finish, Landa's hands, like liquid shadows, slid around her waist, feeling her delicate nightgown, his fingers splaying across her hips. He gripped her lightly, pulling her toward him with a gentle force, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of her neck, she could feel his broad chest against her exposed back.

— "Shhh," he murmured, his voice like a velvet command. — "No need for words, Sofie. Just let it happen." His fingers traced a slow path down her arm as the other hand massaged her hip, and then, with a swift, almost teasing motion, he pushed the sleeve of her nightgown off her shoulder. The cool air met her exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between them.

Sofie gasped, her entire body responding to his every movement, the tension mounting with each passing second. She leaned back against him, the soft press of his chest against her back sending shivers through her. Her mind screamed at her to resist, to pull away, because he was a dangerous man, but something inside her had already surrendered.

His lips brushed against the exposed skin of her shoulder, tender and possessive at once, before he slowly pressed his teeth into the soft flesh there, just enough to make her gasp in a mixture of shock and pleasure. The sound of his kiss sent a ripple of heat through her, and she could feel the way her body reacted against her will.

— “Colonel…” she whispered again, her voice trembling.

Landa chuckled softly, the sound like a quiet, dangerous promise. — “Yes, Sofie... I’m here..”

His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her hips with delicate precision, as though he were memorizing the feel of her body. Sofie’s breath hitched again, and without realizing it, she leaned further into him, her body giving in to the intoxicating pull of his touch.

— “You’re so beautiful when you give in, Sofie,” he whispered against her ear, his words laced with both admiration and something darker. — “So willing. I could make you forget everything else… Just trust me.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and the world around her seemed to shrink to just the two of them — him, and the dangerous allure of his presence. The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket, comforting and suffocating in equal measure.

As his lips traced a path along her neck, her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling against him. Sofie’s mind, still clouded with confusion, seemed to forget the reservations she had held only moments before. The only thing she could focus on was the way he made her feel — alive, electrified, and utterly helpless in the face of his seduction.

— “Say my name, Sofie,” he whispered, his lips grazing her skin once more, his voice deepening with hunger. — “Say it, and I’ll make you forget yourself completely.”

She couldn’t stop herself. — “Hans…” The name slipped from her lips before she could fully grasp the weight of it.

A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he pulled her closer still, his body pressing against hers in a way that sent a rush of heat through her. His lips met her skin once again, this time more forcefully, as if claiming her, as if he already knew she was his.

— “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Now… don’t fight it.”

.....

The corridor of the house seemed to stretch into a private eternity as Colonel Landa led Sofie toward her modest chamber. The heavy oak door closed behind them with a decisive click, sealing the intimate world they were about to create. In the gentle glow of a single oil lamp, the room’s sparse furnishings were bathed in a warm, golden light that accentuated every delicate curve and shadow.

Landa’s posture was calm yet commanding as he moved toward the neatly made bed. He settled himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that both beckoned and challenged.

Sofie paused in the doorway, her heart pounding as she surveyed the scene — a quiet room that now seemed to cradle the promise of a daring transformation. For a long moment, she lingered between uncertainty and the thrill of a secret script borrowed from the romance films she had once watched in stolen hours. The flicker of anticipation glowed in her eyes as she stepped toward the bed, her movements tentative yet determined.

Her hand reached up to the delicate clasp of her gown, and with a deep, shuddering breath, she allowed herself to mimic the scene that had long fascinated her on the silver screen. Slowly, almost reverently, Sofie began to remove the fabric that had both concealed and defined her, every piece of clothing falling away like layers of hesitation. Each movement was deliberate, a tender unveiling of both vulnerability and latent strength, her eyes locked on the Colonel as if silently seeking his approval.

Landa’s gaze softened into one of quiet admiration, his features revealing a hunger tempered by a genuine respect for her willingness to embrace her own desires. In that suspended moment — where the flickering lamplight danced upon bare skin and tender secrets — the air around them became electric, charged with the promise of intimacy and the whispered hope of unspoken confessions.

— “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and resonant as he extended a hand toward her. — “Come here, mademoiselle..”

Sofie’s cheeks flushed with both the heat of the lamp and the warmth of his praise. Though every instinct whispered caution, her heart leaped at the possibility of a night where every touch and every glance might weave a new story—one where she would dare to claim the desires that had so long lingered in the corners of her mind.

She walked towards Landa in a gracious shy stride, she look at him asking for guidance and he smile not so purely. He motion her to sit sideways on his thigh, so she does, letting him feel the warm heat of her virgin core.

— “So wet, my sweetness...” He whispered, guiding her hand to his lips, kissing her palm gently, and each pad of her delicate fingers, making she deep breath, he watch her chest rise and fall. “They seem so soft.”

— “You want to touch them?” she mumbled, still shy but letting go slowly.

— “Just control those sweet noises, yes?” he said, his hand going up to massage one of her breasts making she sigh softly, he could feel her pussy dampening the fabric of his trousers where she was sat. — “So sensitive...”

She opened her legs unconsciously and he took it as an invite, he stop for a second, taking off his gloves, showing his hands, he lean to her.

— “You know how to kiss...?” He whisper, and she slowly nod, obviously lying, but he liked the confidence. Leaning hungrily and tongue kissing her, who learned fast how to give it back, his hand going down and pressing his thumb on her clit, making she tense up and moan, he sink his middle finger on her entrance.

Elicting a gasp from Sofie, which he swallowed with the kiss and moans, he start finger fucking her slowly, and start sloppily kissing her neck and shoulders, only listening to her moans, in a moment, he suddenly took his finger out and push her on the bed, making her moan at the loss.

But he did better, he leaned down and started eating her out as if she was a piece of the sweetest strudel, making her whimper softly.

— “Oh mon dieu...” she almost wrapped her thighs around his head, he was holding her legs open with an gentle amount of force, but with a firmness that made her squirm lightly.

He licked the layers of her pussy and sucked on her clit, poking his tongue on the entrance with need for her taste, her hands would tangle on his hair, messing it up, but making his breath get heavy.

The heat rose on her core, she felt that delicious wave of pleasure and started clenching around nothing, pointing that she was getting close, with that, Landa pull away and stick his finger on her again, just to give double stimulation as he keep sucking.

— “Hans...!” She cried out, letting her head fall back.

With a few more finger thrusts, she melted on him, and God, did she tasted good? Hans couldn't deny that this was his favorite cream from now on.

He lift his face, smirking at her, she bite her lower lip, breathless, she couldn't even close her legs because it would compress her sensitive clit.

— “Ah mademoiselle... I'm almost bringing you to the capitol with me.” He mumbled, standing off the bed, undoing his shirt, letting it slid off his body, and then, the pants, she look at his size, he was average, but damn, it was thick.

— “C-can i?” She said, softly, sitting up slowly and sitting on the edge of the bed, he stand right in front of her.

— “Sure you can take it? You don't need to give me anything back, sweet girl... This is your night.” He said, liking the idea but reassuring her, he didn't wanted to see her choke on her first time with him.

— “Teach me.” Sofie asked, looking up at him with those sweet eyes.

— “Teach you...? Fine.” He took hold of his hard cock, slowly stroking it, letting she watch the foreskin going back and forth, the pre-cum crowding into the slit of the pinkish dickhead, she unconsciously bit her lower lip, and slowly raise a hand to touch him.

Landa let her feel his cock weight on her hand, as she try doing like he did, his eyes got half-lidded as he hum approvingly, the pre-cum slid down the length, she lean her head to lick and he woke up.

— “Just a second...” He said, taking something on his pants pocket, a condom, at least he was responsible, he put it on calmly, and she watch amazed.

— “What is it..?” She asked, innocently.

— “This is so new to you, isn't it?” He smirked “It's called a condom... It's a kind of protection, so i wont get you pregnant if i don't pull off before coming on you.”

— “Oh.” She nod slowly “Will it hurt..?” She said, laying back on the bed as he guide her, he shook his head and mumbled a — “Not that much.” — he get between her legs, in a missionary position, and look into her eyes.

— “Tell me if hurts too much, okay?” He said, softly, before positioning his cock on her slicked folds, feeling the warmness against his tip made him shudder lightly.

She nod and try to relax as he kiss her neck, to keep her distracted from the pain, his thumb gently rubbing her clit as he slowly push his hips, she would make small pain faces, making him hold in this place until she gave him a "keep going" nod, her hands were on his back and biceps, sometimes gripping, sometimes tracing.

— “Don't clench, alright...?” He said, it was on the half, she hum softly, — “I'll make it one push, okay?”

— “Okay....” She whisper, and Hans look at her face momentarily before pushing his hips into hers, pressing on her core, she almost groaned softly, her nails digging on his shoulders.

— “Relax for me, please... Please, my sweet lady..” he whispered against her neck, his free hand playing with her hair as she breath fast, trying to endure the bittersweet pain — “It will pass...”

After a few minutes of caresses and sweet kisses and sweet talks, she finally relaxed, slowly and carefully pressing up on him.

— “You good?” He asked softly, he had been so patient.

— “Mhm...” She nod slowly, her arms around his neck, he slowly but surely started thrusting on her.

Their bodies soon got used to each other, and they passed the night entwined in a pleasure dance, filled with gasps, sighs, moans and whimpers, and she felt so loved, so wanted and cared for.

.....

The morning light crept in through the narrow window of Sofie’s room, casting soft golden rays across the bed. Sofie stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly, still heavy with the remnants of a dream she could not fully grasp. For a moment, she lay still, the quiet of the room pressing around her, before the realization slowly crept in — she was alone.

Her body was still warm, the lingering traces of the night’s encounter clinging to her skin like a secret only she could understand. Her fingertips brushed across her neck, feeling the faint ache of his touch there, the remnants of his lips still haunting the delicate skin. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she remembered the weight of his gaze, the way he had made her feel both powerless and powerful all at once.

The sheets were tangled around her, a chaotic reflection of the night that had unraveled between them. As her eyes traced the bed’s edge, a faint, intoxicating scent lingered in the air—the distinct smell of tobacco, cologne, and something deeper, something that was uniquely his. Her chest tightened as she inhaled, the scent drawing her in like a thread pulling her back into the memory of his presence.

Her fingers moved to her shoulder, where the fabric of her nightgown had been pushed aside, and she shivered at the memory of his touch, his fingers tracing every curve as if mapping her body. The marks he had left were still there, faint bruises, soft red lines where his lips had grazed her skin. She could feel them now, even in the quiet of the morning, as if his touch had etched itself permanently into her.

The silence around her felt almost oppressive now, a stark contrast to the pulse of life she had felt in his arms. She had given in so easily to him, to the pull of his presence, the magnetism of his every word and every movement. And now, in the stillness of the morning, it felt like the aftermath of a storm, the air thick with a longing that she couldn't yet name.

Her hand brushed over the place where he had been, and the coldness of the empty bed hit her like a sharp wave. He was gone. She knew it without a doubt. He must have left already, returning to the capital, to the duties that called him away. She had never asked him, but somehow she knew. There was a finality in his absence, as if he had left behind only the echoes of his presence and the marks of his touch.

A part of her wanted to call out to him, to chase after him, to hold on to the fragments of the night that had slipped away so quickly. But the rational part of her knew better. He was a man of power, a man who played by his own rules. She was just another fleeting encounter to him, another indulgence in a night of passion.

Yet, as she lay there, her body still humming with the memory of him, Sofie realized that it wasn't just the physical pleasure that lingered. It was the connection—the intoxicating feeling of being seen, of being desired in a way she had never experienced before. His presence had awakened something inside her, something she couldn’t easily push aside.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, but the ache in her chest refused to subside. She wanted to forget the way he had made her feel, to push aside the confusing mixture of pleasure and longing that had taken root inside her. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, it became clear that she could not.

The door to her room creaked open, and she turned her head sharply, her heart leaping at the sound. But it was just her younger sister, stepping into the room with a tray of tea. Sofie gave a soft smile, her gaze a little distant as she nodded in thanks.

She set the tray down and left, and Sofie was alone again, with nothing but the remnants of the night to keep her company. Her fingers lightly grazed the collar of her nightgown, where Landa’s hands had once rested, and she felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify.

But as the day began, the weight of reality settled back in. She could not afford to dwell on what had passed, no matter how consuming the memories might be. Sofie LaPadite had responsibilities, a family to care for, and a life to live. And yet, the thought of him, of his presence, lingered like a shadow, impossible to shake.

She took a deep breath and rose from the bed, smoothing her gown as she walked toward the window. The world outside seemed unchanged, but inside her, something had shifted. A new longing, a new desire, one that she didn’t fully understand yet, but one that she knew would follow her for some time.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Sofie stood there, staring out at the rolling hills, her heart still racing, her thoughts tangled in the memory of him. And though she knew she would never see him again, part of her wished that the night hadn’t ended.

[unculturedswine-101]

Just wanna say ty to all the Christoph Waltz sluts out there who be liking my old posts from my fixation on that sexy grandpa.

I see you, and I appreciate u

[michelle-is-writing]

Relax, Donny Donowitz

I tried my best with German in this imagine as I know a little (just basics), so if there are any corrections that need to be made, please message me! Thank you!

Warning: violence, Nazis, death, brutality with a bat, gunfire, ending is a bit NSFW 

Word count: 2.1k~

For a week, the basterds had nothing to do. The very person they were trying to find had seemingly gone on holiday, and no information on where he had travelled to was available to us. As soon as he left, it seemed as if the world itself had calmed down. The men were finally able to write and send out their letters to their mothers and loved ones at home while others were left to rest and catch up on what was going on in the world that didn't involve the ongoing war or guns.

Specifically, Donny enjoyed the first few days of freedom from his duties as we were all able to stay at a hostel for that week and rest. The hostel was run by a kind man who, come to find, also hated the current ongoing regime in his home country. Because of this, he was more than willing to help the basterds in our mission.

Donny and I both got to have breakfast with each other every morning, and later on, we had the ability to get lost in each other in nothing but the bed sheets and moonlight without the possibility of anyone walking in or complaining. In a way, we got to finally act like a normal couple for once in a very long time. It was just us to ourselves, and we weren't complaining.

However, on the fifth day of rest, Donny seemed tense, almost irritated. He woke up, sat at the breakfast table, and drank coffee with me while I jotted down status reports on the missions we completed. Being the Basterd's (I guess you could say) secretary, it was my job to do such things. I wrote down information about soldiers and their lives, mission statuses and details, and even small facts about the Basterds themselves. Being the fiancé of the infamous "Bear Jew," my job was mildly easy as my source of information was usually right beside me when given the chance.

For Donny, on the other hand, his work mostly entailed beating the enemies to a pulp with his bat in hand or just simply shooting them. It was a way for him to release any fury and anger he held, while at the same time, protect his country and everyone involved in it. The opposing side was always his target, and if he were to see any of them at any time, he would surely pull back on his trigger and release the fire held within him.

"Donny, what's the matter?" I ask him, looking up from my papers to stare at the handsome man in front of me. In his usual attire, he's hot, but when he's dressed in nothing but a simple pair of cotton pants, the matching button-up top thrown off long ago, he looks absolutely delectable.

"I work too much," he simply answers, staring down at his cup of coffee, not an ounce of sugar or cream in the dark liquid. "I'm so used ta missions and fighting that... I kinda forgot how ta relax," he adds on with a small laugh as he turns his attention to look at me.

Smiling, I ponder through my thoughts for a few seconds before standing from the table and walking over to him. As soon as I’m within arms length of Donny, he pulls me close and sits me in his lap where he immediately begins pressing feather-like kisses against the exposed skin of my arm while his rough hands dance across my bare thighs. Just like his shirt, my pants had been long forgotten about as well.

"What if we had some fun today?" I suggest, instantly receiving Donny's eager lips on my neck. Before he can fully begin in his actions, I stop him with my hand on his head and a smile on my lips. "Not that type of fun," I quickly reiterate, gaining a groan of protest from the man.

"What if we went to a field and played... baseball?" I ask him, looking down to see him with an eyebrow raised questionably.

"Baseball?" He repeats the word in a question-like voice. "I haven't played that since we were in Boston," A few seconds pass before he smiles. "Although, I guess it would fun playing with you."

Almost immediately, he stands from his chair with me still in his arms. I can't help but giggle and wrap my arms around his neck even tighter, just as he likes it. I have to enjoy these moments with Donny because I never know when I'll be able to repeat them, or if I’ll get them again. Sometimes, missions can draw on from one week to one month, and during that time, the feeling of loneliness is inevitable. When you're so used to someone's warm arms around you all the time, you can't help but yearn for that when they're away.

Getting dressed was a hassle with Donny trying to kiss me at any chance he got, but I guess it isn't any different from what he's been doing for the past few years. Before leaving, we gathered his bat (free of any enemy blood, of course) and a ball the hostel keeper had lying around. We then traveled out to a field not too far from the inn, no one else out in the field despite the sun being out and the weather pleasant. I wasn’t going to complain, however; that leaves it all to Donny and me to enjoy ourselves.

Smiling at the dark haired man, I pitch the ball to him which he skillfully hits, letting him score a home-run while I run to get the ball, ultimately running out of air as I run back. "Woo-hoo!" Donny shouts, victoriously throwing his arms in the air as he stands at the base. "Still got it, baby, yeah!"

"Oh, quiet down!" I tease him, hunching over to catch my breath as he quickly heads over to where I stand. Donny merely grins at my comment before I raise back up, still a bit out of breath. Placing my hands on my hips, I watch as Donny's smile turns into a focused frown, his eyes cast toward the forest behind me. Turning my head, I don't see anything, but my ears do catch something.

"Do you hear that?" Donny asks, receiving a nod back from me. Without a second thought, he takes my hand in his before walking toward that secluded part of the woods, not forgetting to grab his bat he dropped when he first hit the ball. Walking closer to the tall trees, I pick up more on what the noise is. It's people talking to each other in another language.

"Is that German?" Donny asks me, receiving another nod. Stopping beside a big pine, I try to listen in on the conversation. "Can you understand it?" He whispers.

"I think," I answer him. Aside from Hugo, I also serve as a translator to the Basterds for German having learned it in my youth. Leaning my head closer to sounds, I can hear the conversation more, but only bits and pieces.

"Zwei Leute,"

"Two people," I say the translation.

"Juden,"

"Jewish,"

"Feuer… Haus,"

"Fire... house,"

My eyes widening, I look back at Donny. "I think someone's talking about setting a house on fire," I tell him, his widening just like mine before he crawls through the forest with me beside him. Taking slow and quiet steps, we try to be as silent as possible as we soon find the owners of the voices. Sure enough, the two men sharing the conversation are decked out in Nazi attire, the bands on their arms giving them away immediately. As the two smoke cigars, they point out toward the part of the field that leads out to the civilian life. Looking around the rest of the woods, I don't see anyone else, and since the sun is bright out today, I'm pretty confident that the two are by themselves.

"When I say three, toss the ball in the air," Donny whispers, successfully avoiding gaining attention from the two enemies. Walking a few steps behind me, he swings his bat low to the ground as if he were readying it. "Stay there," He tells me, before counting down. "One... two... three," With the last number, emitting from his lips, he whistles loudly as I toss the ball into the air.

Right as both of the nazis turn to look at us, Donny swings his bat at the ball, successfully hitting the ball and making it fly into one of the Nazi's in the head. While the first nazi stumbles backward, now unconscious, the second one reaches for his gun, but he's too slow as Donny wastes no time in running up and hitting the man in the stomach before spinning and hitting him in the back of his head with the wooden instrument. Just like his fellow cretin, he falls to the ground as well, except in his case, his heart stops beating and body convulses in response to Donny's harsh hit.

Giving him one more hit on the ground, Donny moves on to the other man, turning him on his back so he can face him. Ripping the gun from the man's side, Donny tosses it over to me where I grab it and ready it, just in case. Donny then aggressively slaps the man repeatedly who wakes up on the fifth hit with a bloody nose.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Donny taunts, the Bear Jew coming out in full force. The man holds his hands up to protect himself, making Donny laugh. "Give us your mission details, you piece of shit," Donny says to the man, only to receive a weird look. He must not speak English.

Walking up to the two, I get on the same level as Donny before holding the tip of the welrod to the man's neck, his eyes flashing in fear in response to a gun he stole being pressed against his neck. "Gib uns die stadtplan, oder wir schneiden deine kopf ab," I tell the man, speaking full German.

Eyes wide, the man shakily reaches down and takes out a piece of paper, but I can tell that isn't the map. Cocking the gun, I aim it toward his knee cap without looking and shoot, the only sound following being the man's cry of pain thanks to the gun's built-in silencer.

"Der echte eins," I demand, seeing Donny in the corner of my eye smirking.

"Kapitulation, kapitulation!" The man cries out, pulling another paper out of his jacket pocket. Yanking it from the man's grasp, I flip it open and see the familiar cities around Belgium, the Imperial Eagle stamped onto specific locations such as public buildings and flats.

"Thank you," I mutter, walking backward as I stare at the map more. Over the top of the page, my eyes catch Donny quickly break back into his badass persona before beating the nazi's face to a pulp with each brutal swing of his bat. Once he's done, he wipes the blood from his face and walks over to me where he peers down at the piece of paper in my hands.

"Can't bring you anywhere," I joke, handing him the map to look over. Smiling, I press a kiss against his lips, quickly receiving one back before he pulls me close to him. "Work just seems to follow you."

"You're the one who finds all'ar missions, baby," He responds, smirking as he kisses my cheek. "And it looks like you found the rest of 'em for all of Belgium," With the discovery, Donny seems happy and almost proud in a way. Looking back at the map with him, I find myself sighing a little. Our long weekend is over, but at the same time, the Basterds are closer to their victory, and Donny's got his mojo back.

“Just warn me next time you decide to shoot a man in front of me.” Donny’s voice breaks me away the map and over to him as he now stands behind me. I raise an eyebrow at him curiously, but he simply continues smirking before leaning his face into my neck and pressing his hips into mine, something hard and eager poking into my back. “Almost fucked you right here in the forest, babe,” I gasp, just in time for him to bite at my neck harshly. “You really have no fucking clue.”

Translations :

Gib uns die stadtplan, oder wir schneiden deine kopf ab,

Give us the map, or we rip your head off,

Der echte eins,

The real one,

Kapitulation, kapitulation!

Surrender, surrender!

Welrod: Welrod was a European gun made during the Second World War

[claratompson]

2 Headcanon Major Dieter Hellstrom

6. His reaction when you got injured/shot.

It's been about a year since you started dating Major Helstrom. Despite his busy schedule, he tried to devote a lot of time to you. He is a very caring man and always cares about your safety. In matters of expenses, he took full responsibility, claiming that it was his main duty to pamper and provide for you.

Unfortunately, rent prices increased, as did the costs of running the bakery. When your Aunt Josephine fell ill, running the bakery fell on your shoulders.

Dieter saw how you silently worried about your aunt's health and that you wouldn't be able to manage the bakery. He even offered to take on the financial expenses, but you flatly refused: "No, I won't let you decide these issues, Dieter. You don't have to."

Dieter insisted: “I don’t have to, but I can and want to help you. Is that bad?"

"No, it's not bad, I just can't... I'll feel awkward in front of you, that you'll spend money on my problems. I have to decide them myself."

The man was amazed by your stubbornness and independence, he loved it in you, but it was very difficult for him not to try to help you when he was able to do so: “I want to take care of you, help you.”

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, saying, "You already do too much for me."

The major smiled softly at you and said, "Just promise me that if things get really bad, you'll let me help."

"Okay, I promise," you agreed.

>>>

One of the temporary ways to solve your financial problems, you chose to get a second job. The local tavern needed a waitress. Of course, the pay wasn't exorbitant, but it was convenient for you that it was a couple of once a week and only in the evenings. The major was not delighted with this news, but he could not contradict you.

You stood your ground. Dieter insisted that he would walk you home every night. He did this for safety reasons, knowing what kind of people were in such places.

"I'm sure that's not necessary, Dieter. I can get home on my own."

"No. I've already come to terms with your independence, but as for your safety, let me decide." He said with undisguised displeasure and a commanding tone.

You looked into his eyes, realizing how worried he was about you. Smiling at him, you hugged him tightly: "Okay, Major, let it be your way."

He moderated his ardor and hugged you back.

>>>>

It had been 2 weeks since you had been working at the tavern. Only a couple of times a week. You got used to it pretty quickly. Of course, sometimes tipsy soldiers tried to hit on you, but once they found out who your lover was, they immediately lost interest in you. The Sturmbannführer was very protective of you, and anyone who encroaches on your safety, hurts you, or offends you will have to deal with him.

>>>

Thursday evening, business as usual. Young couples and a few soldiers fill the tavern. Some order beer, some wine. Some, something stronger, scotch or whiskey.

You suggested that the next shift would end quickly and go smoothly.

But your expectations were interrupted by a sudden burst of gunfire. One of the officers had made a bet with a soldier that he could hit a glass on the bar table next to which you were standing.

That the officer was drunk, the accuracy of his shooting was reduced to a minimum. You didn't even notice the threat because you were standing with your back to them.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through your left thigh, closer to your knee, causing you to fall to the floor and scream in pain. Blood covered the entire floor. You tried to somehow close the wound so as not to lose too much blood, but your strength was becoming less and less with each breath.

Luckily, Major Hellstrom was waiting for you outside at that moment. He was leaning his back against the car, smoking a cigarette. Hearing the screams and gunfire coming from the tavern, he immediately threw away the cigarette and went into the building. He didn't like the sound of gunfire, because you were there. The major hoped that the bullet hadn't hit you, but his hopes were dashed when he saw you lying on the floor in a pool of your own blood. Dieter immediately ran to you, kneeling down next to you.

For the first time in his life, he was nervous and worried about someone. His heart pounded wildly with fear when he saw how much blood you had lost.

The major looked angrily at the officer who had shot you, ordering the soldiers to detain him: "I will deal with you later, Oberfähnrich Schulman."

Dieter ordered the bartender to bring him vodka and a cloth to put on your wound and stop the bleeding: "Everything will be fine, Meine Liebe. Just don't close your eyes." - he told you in a gentle tone.

He picked you up and carried you to his car. The man kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror. Your eyes were slowly closing, your legs were weak, your heart was beating a thousand times faster. You no longer heard what Dieter was saying. You fell asleep. 20 minutes later, the major took you to the medical center of the military hospital. He literally turned all the doctors on their ears.

The major was outside your room. He was sitting on the bench, nervously tapping his foot. He couldn't lose you. You were the most precious thing in his life. Now the major hated this officer with all his heart.

He already knew how he would make him pay for what he had done to you. After a couple of hours of waiting, a doctor approached the major, removing his starched cap and mask, stained with your blood.

Dieter stood in front of him, rubbing his hands nervously, asking the main question: "Well, how is she, Herr Schultz?"

"Sturmbannführer Hellstrom, Francis has lost a lot of blood, since the bullet hit her femoral artery and now she is very weak, but she will survive. She is lucky that you got to the hospital so quickly."

A weight fell from Dieter's soul, he was so afraid of losing you.

"Can I see her? Just for a few minutes."

Dr. Schulz was understanding of his request and, patting him on the shoulder, said, "Okay, but only for 5 minutes." Dieter thanked him and walked into the room where you were lying. He sat down on the chair next to your bed. The man took your hand and kissed your palm, quietly whispering, "Everything will be fine. You are safe."

All these minutes he just looked at you. The major stroked your cheek, kissed you on the forehead, left the hospital, intending to deal with Oberfähnrich Schulman.

7. How caring he is.

After you woke up and were discharged from the hospital, Major Hellstrom never left your side. He was by your side almost all the time.

As he promised, the situation got worse and he had to intervene. The major paid the expenses for the bakery, and regarding the rent, Dieter wanted you to move in with him, then your aunt could go to Switzerland to relatives, and you wouldn't have to rent a place, but you refused. "But why "no" again, Francis? I love you, I want you to be near me. You don't have to pay rent and worry about your aunt anymore."

"No. I won't live with you. We've only been dating for a year..." you insisted.

The major grabbed your arms: "The best year ever."

"And yet, until we are married, Dieter, we will live separately," you answered firmly.

The major smiled slyly and asked: "Is this a hint?"

"No, absolutely not. I'm just stating a fact. We can't be together all the time," you justified yourself.

Dieter grabbed your cheeks and, looking into your eyes, said: "I will never let you go. I almost lost you once. I can't bear it if something else happens to you."

You nodded silently, remembering how the major stayed by your bedside for almost days while you slept; with what care he changed the bandages on your leg; how he carried you in his arms when it was painful for you to walk at first. You remembered the expression on his face when you finally woke up: he hugged you tightly and almost cried with happiness. Dieter kissed you hard on the lips, expressing all his love for you. Hellstrom adored and loved you. You were everything he held dear.

Pulling away from him, you said, "Dieter, you've already done too much for me. I don't want to change anything yet. Be patient with me, please."

The major stroked your cheek, grinning, giving you his charming smile: "Am I not patient?!"

You smiled sheepishly and replied, "As always."

Dieter kissed you on the forehead and, looking into your eyes, said: "Have it your way, meine Liebe. Just promise me that the second job is over. If you need anything, you can always ask me."

You didn't argue with him and before kissing him on the cheek, you said: "I promise you."

8. His Christmas present to you.

Christmas is coming in a couple of days. You prepared a modest gift for Dieter, but a good gift. A collection of books about medieval German poems and stories. You weren't sure how much he would like the gift, but you were counting on a positive reaction.

Dieter invited you to celebrate your first Christmas with his family in the city of Hattingen. At first you refused, considering your presence inappropriate, but the major was adamant: "Don't even think about refusing. I want to spend this day with you. I need you. And besides, I've long wanted to introduce you to my family." After convincing arguments, you agreed, not wanting to offend him.

Christmas dinner with the major's family was wonderful. His parents liked you as much as you liked them. You thought that dinner with his family couldn't be better.

The next morning it was time for gifts. You with undisguised embarrassment handed the major a gift, saying: "The gift is very modest, I hope you like it."

The man smiled at you as he opened the package. You certainly didn't expect such a reaction from him. He smiled widely and happily, kissing you on the cheek: "Francine, how did you guess? This is something I have long dreamed of. Thank you, meine Liebe."

Afterwards, Dieter handed you his gift. It was a green box with a golden bow. When you opened it, you saw expensive Chanel perfume and a golden heart-shaped pendant. You were extremely happy with this gift. Dieter really had a knack for guessing what you wanted.

After hugging the major, you kissed him on the cheek, and then handed the gifts to his parents.

You turned to face him and saw the major standing in front of you on one knee, holding a box with a sapphire ring in his hands.

"You are everything I think about and dream about. I love you, Francis, and I want to spend my whole life with you. Will you agree to become my wife?" he said in one breath. It was obvious that he was nervous, waiting for an answer to the question.

You covered your mouth with your hands in shock. The fact that Major Helstrom wanted to marry you was out of the ordinary. You didn't expect it to happen, but it did.

You had never been sure of anything in your life, but now you were sure of yourself and that you loved him and wanted to spend your whole life with him, so you happily answered, "Yes, I do."

The man breathed a sigh of relief, put the ring on your finger and, standing up, hugged you tightly.

9. Your reaction when you had a terrible dream where he died.

It was pouring rain, thunder was booming loudly almost every second. You were walking down the street soaking wet, wondering why you didn't take an umbrella with you.

Someone was shouting your name: "Francis! Francis!"

You couldn't understand where this voice was coming from.

You picked up your pace a little, trying to find the source of the voice. As you walked forward, the voice grew louder and you realized it was coming from the Louisiana Tavern, where you used to work.

Your heart started beating faster with every step down the stairs. You opened the door and saw Dieter. He looked at you and smiled his charming smile. Despite this, you felt a dread clenching inside, as if something terrible was going to happen right now.

The next second, an officer from around the corner fired a pistol into Dieter's chest.

You screamed in fear, trying to run to him, but your legs seemed not to move, as if they were stuck to the steps of the stairs.

You couldn't even touch him.

The next second you woke up in a cold sweat from your own scream.

You were in your bed at home. You covered your face with your hands and cried. The dream was so real and terrible that you couldn't shake the thought that something had happened to Dieter. You had to make sure that he was okay.

Getting out of bed, you put on a warm robe and a coat over it, and then left the house, heading in the direction of Dieter's house.

You literally ran as fast as you could. You should have seen him.

It was about a 20-minute walk from your house to the major’s house, but since you ran, you got there faster.

You ran up the steps and knocked on the door. A couple of minutes later, a sleepy major opened the door for you.

"Francis? What are you here for...?" - Before he could finish speaking, you hugged him tightly, causing him to stagger. You held him tightly, inhaling his scent.

It was at that very moment that you realized how much you loved him. The man, perplexed, hugged you back, stroking your hair. He pulled back slightly to look at you, struggling to break your tight embrace. Your face was swollen and red from crying, and you could see fear in your eyes.

The major stroked your cheeks and asked, "What's wrong, Francis?" You stroked his face, reassuring yourself that he was alive. He was here with you.

"I had a really scary dream. I was in the tavern where I used to work and I came down and saw you. You smiled at me, but then someone shot you in the chest..." - remembering this dream, tears appeared in your eyes again. "And I couldn't even approach you. My legs were numb... And I was so scared. When I woke up, I... wanted to see you. I needed to know you were okay," you said, tears streaming down your face.

Dieter wiped your tears with his thumbs and kissed your forehead, hugging you tightly, whispering, "I'm okay. I'm here with you, Shatzi. Don't cry."

"Can I stay with you?" you asked awkwardly."

Dieter smiled softly and replied, "Of course you can. I wouldn't let you go."

He put his arm around your shoulder as you walked up the stairs. The major put you to bed, covering you with a warm blanket. You realized that he was going to leave.

Grabbing Dieter's hand, you pulled him towards you: "Please don't go. Sleep with me tonight."

The major leaned over, kissed you on the forehead and said, "I'm not going anywhere. I'll just get you some water and be right back."

You reluctantly let go of his hand, waiting for him to return. A minute later he handed you a glass of warm water, which you greedily drank.

As soon as the man took off his slippers and climbed under the blanket with you, you immediately pressed yourself against him, hugging him tightly. Dieter kissed you all over your face, wrapping you in his arms.

You buried your face in his neck and hugged him, saying, "I love you so much, Dieter."

The major stroked your back and replied, "I love you too, Francis."

He gently stroked your hair and kissed your forehead until you fell asleep. The Sturmbannführer guarded your sleep all night.

10. Wedding.

You and Dieter decided to get married at the beginning of summer, when it was already warm in northern Germany, but not too hot. The only thing you were worried about was that the man would change his mind about marrying you. You always felt that you were not worthy of him. Having become his lover, attending events where high society people gathered was part of his life, and therefore it became yours too. Every time you walked arm in arm with him into some establishment where there were social rich people who did not know the need for anything during the war, they looked at you as if you were at dinner. Sometimes you felt that you were not suitable for Dieter. He was a German officer who fell in love with a simple girl selling fresh bread and for some reason decided to marry her.

"The eternal struggle of statuses." You thought, fiddling with your engagement ring. You looked at yourself in the mirror and didn't see anything special.

You found yourself thinking often about how you would feel if Dieter broke off the engagement. The thought of it cut your heart like a knife, and a dull melancholy spread through your soul. His family had welcomed you with open arms on Christmas Day when he proposed, and his mother, Henrietta, had even given you a family brooch a couple of weeks ago, which had been passed down through the female line of their family. And since she didn’t have a daughter, she had given it to you, adjusting your wavy blond hair, saying: “And when you have a daughter, you will give her this brooch for her 14th birthday.” Remembering that evening, you squeezed your eyelids shut, holding back tears. In two weeks, the wedding day would soon arrive. You were overcome with hundreds of doubts and fears. Would you be a good wife?

You were distracted by the touch of a warm male hand and the familiar fresh and cold scent of the major's cologne. "Shatzi, why are you here alone and not downstairs with everyone?" Dieter asked, kissing you on the cheek.

You looked down and, not wanting him to see your tears, turned to face the balcony and replied, "I just wanted to get some fresh air, so many people make you sick faster than wine."

The major stood in front of you, grabbing your chin: "Why are you turning away from me? I want to see your face."

Seeing your tears, he came closer and hugged you around the waist, asking, "Why are you crying, Francis? Don't you enjoy our engagement party?"

You took his hand and, smiling sadly, answered: "No, of course not. The evening is simply wonderful. I like everything very much."

"Then why is meine liebe braut crying?" he asked, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"I don't know.. Why do you want to marry me? You could have chosen someone who suits your status, and not me. I'm nobody." - you admitted honestly. Looking up, you saw his steel-gray-blue eyes, in which anger flashed, which is why you looked down and said: "Forgive me.. I'm so stupid."

The man cupped your cheeks and, looking into your eyes, said, "What are you saying? What nonsense? What do you mean, why do I want to marry you? I love you, Francis. You are my woman. No one and nothing has the right to make you think otherwise. And if this was one of your ways to get rid of me, Fraulein, then don't even think it will work. I won't let you go."

You smiled a little at his words. The major kissed your forehead and nose, and then said, "I guess it's like that for all girls before their wedding, but I won't let you run away from me. Just think, Francis, you'll become Frau Hellstrom. My Frau."

You hugged the man tightly, feeling how calmness displaced the fear and anxiety in your heart.

Pulling away, you stroked his cheeks, which made him smile and kiss you hard, holding you by the waist. You kissed him back, stretching out this moment when you were together, happy and in love.

>>>>

The wedding was scheduled for June 16, 1943. The weather was warm and sunny, a light summer breeze blew. You insisted that you wanted to get married in a Catholic church. Dieter did not dare to contradict you. He loved you and did everything as you wanted.

Your parents and sister came to the wedding.

Early in the morning, your mother and sister helped you put on your dress and do your makeup.

Mom kissed you on the cheek and stroked your hair, saying, "My girl, how beautiful you are." "Thank you, Mom." You smiled. You were a little worried about your wedding night, since you had never been intimate with a man.

"Don't worry, Francis. The most important thing to remember is, "Be a lamb in the kitchen and a tigress in bed."

Your sister showed a mix of embarrassment and disgust on her face, saying, "Ugh, Mom!"

"What? Sooner or later the same thing awaits you." - Mom answered.

"Do you have to talk about this in my presence?" - your little sister asked discontentedly.

"You can leave. Your sister is worried, I need to calm her down." - your mother said politely.

Your sister left the room, and your mother hugged you tightly, and then said: "Don't worry, daughter. I see how much Dieter loves you. You tell him if something is wrong. He will understand anyway. If you get scared, just think about how much you love him."

You smiled nervously, then took a deep breath and exhaled, replying, "Okay. I get it, Mom."

Mom hugged you once more and left, and your father came in to replace her. When he saw you in this white dress, tears appeared in his always stern blue eyes.

He came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, saying: "How beautiful you are, my daughter."

You smiled at your father and hugged him tightly.

"I love you, dad," she said quietly.

Your father stroked your cheek and said, "I love you too, honey. You'll always be my little princess. I know Dieter loves you, otherwise I wouldn't trust him with you. However, know that if he dares to hurt you, you can always rely on Mom and me."

"Thank you, Dad." You thanked your father, brushing away tears.

"Well, I guess they've been waiting for us for a while." He said.

He pulled your veil down over your face and then you grabbed his shoulder.

>>>

The Mendelssohn March played softly as you walked down the aisle. Even though there weren't many guests, you were wildly nervous under their scrutinizing gazes, squeezing your father's shoulder.

All you were afraid of right now was tripping over something stupid.

Through the thin fabric of your veil, you looked at Dieter.

"How handsome he is," you thought. The man was dressed in his black dress uniform and his whole gaze was focused only on you.

His face was filled with amazement and delight. You looked like an angel to him. The dress fit your figure perfectly.

As your father handed you over to Dieter, he patted him on the shoulder, smiled at you, and took his place on the bench next to your mother.

The major took your hands in his, gently stroking your fingers. You listened to what the priest was saying, but your whole gaze was fixed on Dieter.

When, at last, the vows were spoken, you exchanged rings and the major removed the veil from your face and, cupping your face, kissed it.

The wedding was absolutely wonderful. You danced a lot, drank wine and ate all sorts of delicious food.

You didn’t notice how quickly time flew by and, of course, the evening moved on to one of the main parts - the first wedding night.

To say that I was terribly worried is to say nothing. Dieter brought you to his house, where you will now live together.

He kissed you hard on the forehead and said, "I'll leave you for a while. Clean yourself up if you need to, Mein Schatz."

As soon as the major left the bedroom, you sat on the edge of the bed, covering your face with your hands.

"What if he doesn't like me like this?! I'm so worried. Mom, I think, said something about being a tigress, I think. The first wedding night is not a cake to bake. What should I do?" you thought nervously.

All this time you sat like this, covering your face with your hands. You didn’t even notice how you lay down on the bed and in a couple of minutes you were sleeping quietly.

Dieter entered the room and saw you lying on the bed: "Meine Liebe, is everything okay?"

You didn't answer him. He came up to you and, removing your hands and strands of hair from your face, realized that you were sleeping.

The major stroked your cheek and, smiling, kissed your forehead. The man did not wake you up, but only moved you so that your head lay on the pillow. Having covered you with a blanket, the major changed his clothes and went to bed.

11. Your reaction the morning after the wedding.

The sun slipped through the curtains and fell on your eyelids, forcing you to wake up. You slowly opened your eyes, turning onto your back. A second later, you realized that you were still in your wedding dress. Turning your head to the left, you realized that Dieter was not there.

You sat down on the bed, trying to remember what happened that evening.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Dieter entering the bedroom with a glass of water. Seeing that you were already awake, he smiled and approached you:

"Good morning, meine Frau." The major kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

You asked him directly: "Dieter, did we have something yesterday?"

Dieter: "No, Schatzi, nothing happened."

You: "Why? What happened?" you asked, puzzled.

Dieter: "When I returned, you were already fast asleep."

You: "You could have woken me up."

The man grinned and took your hand: "No, I couldn't. I saw how worried you were, and especially how soundly you slept. The wedding was very eventful, I wanted you to rest."

You looked down in embarrassment: "I'm the worst wife in the world."

Dieter hastened to reassure you: "No, what are you saying, no..."

"I ruined everything. Our first night together," - you said, upset.

The major patted your shoulders and said, "Don't say that. You haven't ruined anything. If you're not ready, then you're not ready. We'll have time for that later."

"I'm so stupid, forgive me."

Dieter: "Stop talking like that, Schatzi. You have become my wife and that is all I could dream of. I love you."

"I was really worried, but... I still wanted this evening to be special for you, for both of us."

The German stroked your cheeks and, tenderly kissing your lips, said: "This day has become special simply because you agreed to become my wife, Liebste. Don't think that you have spoiled anything or let me down, okay?"

You nodded in agreement and kissed him hard.

The major stepped back, stroked your face and said, "Breakfast is ready. Get yourself ready and go downstairs. We still have a train to catch."

"Okay," you replied.