#once in a lullaby ( MATT x BULLET ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sergeant-donny-donowitz · 5 years ago

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Sonata for a Basterd (Hugo Stiglitz x Fem!Reader)

@owba-chan @inglourious-imagines @war-obsessed

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You had one leg crossed over the other, your yellow dress draped just above your knees. The shine from the black buttons distracted you for a moment. Your head was lowered, your black felt hat tilted down. Your hands in short white gloves clasped together on the table in front of you, your cup of tea was a few inches away.

You watched the steam rise for longer than you cared to admit...

Eventually, your eyes wandered toward the window.

It was late. The sun had long dipped beyond the red horizon.

The train had stopped in a little town in the middle of nowhere, in nazi-occupied France.

Bougainvillea flowered around the posts by the benches outside, lit by a lone street lamp.

Very few people were boarding the train here.

You carelessly eyed the figures in the dark.

There were about ten of them, and that was as much as you cared to know at the moment...

It would turn out to be so much more important than you thought.

Thoughts.

Thoughts...they never left you in peace.

There was always so much to think about and so little time...

So much to fight for and so few ways.

The steam from your mug continued to float, the train drifted along the tracks, and the stars smiled on that night.

Your eyes happened to fall upon something unusual.

About ten people.

Ten men.

Soon to reveal themselves as ten basterds.

They were all standing around, looking to each other seemingly with signaling and speaking eyes, awkwardly holding uneaten croissants, and unsipped espresso.

You cocked your head, and followed their eyes.

You nodded once to yourself, understanding their glares "Ah...je vois..."

'Ah...I see...' You eyed the car full of high ranking nazi officers in first class, drinking and smoking up a storm.

One of the ten men held up his hand when he saw what you saw.

A woman and a child walking through the tram to get to another one.

You all saw it.

A toddler giggling just a few seats away.

A few college kids hanging around getting a bite to eat.

Families.

All innocent.

All possible victims of a lost bullet.

The man leading the other nine, Aldo Raine, eyed his team, and gave a signal. "Hold your fire..." All they needed was to see the look on his face.

They couldn't start anything.

Not there.

There were too many innocent people...

But...the basterds weren't the only ones to notice something.

The nazis had caught on to the lingering looks.

And you had caught on to everything.

You walked back to find your place on the train, just a car away...

Just as you heard the beginning of a rising suspicion and the prologue of a tragedy, you raised your bow.

The nazis, the basterds, and the innocent heard the enchanting notes of a soulful sonata, from your violin. The Devil’s Trill Sonata.

It was useful to everyone...A lullaby for the lagging toddlers, a pacifier for the nazis, and a saving grace for the basterds.

For you, it was practice.

You had a big concert coming up...

The Nazis knew it. It was being sponsored and held for them. They quickly forgot their suspicions as they heard the notes, and we're drawn to you, like a siren.

They congratulated you, your talent, and expressed their excitement for the concert.

You brazen through it, and forced a smile. You walked through their tram. Each nazi smiled and tipped their hats to you.

You stepped into the next train car.

Ten sets of eyes simultaneously looked up at you, then darted away.

Each analyzing you and your intentions.

The ten basterds had dispersed to avert the nazis' suspicions.

One of them was sniffing tobacco, while someone muttered a translationto him: Hugo Stiglitz was telling him what the nazis had told you.

They couldn't wait for the concert.

The rest of the basterds were scattered around, pretending to read newspapers in languages they didn't understand.

They held their ground, pretending to be civilians. They fooled literally everyone but you.

They knew something was going on with you.

But for the sake of the real civilians on board, they didn't confront you.

You, on the other hand, made your move.

You walked past them to get to your seat, and on the way, you slipped an envelope onto the table between the man with the German accent and ice in his eyes, and his leader.

They stopped speaking for a moment.

You kept walking, made no other contact with anyone else aboard except smile genuinely at a baby that babbled on a few seats ahead.

You made it to your compartment. You left the door open, planning on going to the bar later that night and calm your nerves.

You knew what you'd just incited.

It might be nice to have one last drink.

... You held up your compact mirror, and reapplied your matte red lipstick, the color of wine and blood.

You hardly looked up from the mirror when you responded to the somehow welcomed intruder "I don't suppose you're here to kill me, are you?"

The man froze, "N...no?"

You pressed your lips together to perfect the shading, shut your mirror, and placed in your pocket as you turned around to look at him.

Perhaps the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.

"You're a basterd, aren't you?"

Hugo wasn't much of a liar. "Ja..."

You nodded. "Well?"

"Well what?" Originally, Aldo was the one that was going to confront you, being the lieutenant and all...but Hugo refused.

Aldo didn't know why.

Frankly, neither did Hugo.

All Hugo knew was that he had to see you again, even if it was just for a moment.

You smileda little, noting his slight German accent. "You're Hugo Stiglitz, aren't you?"

He blinked, and though he was stunned with your deduction, he remained visibly stoic, "You know my name?"

You reached out, and he shifted slightly...still remembering his days in a nazi operated prison.

You didn't think much of his subtle flinch at the time. You gently closed the door to your compartment so you wouldn't raise suspicions.

"Look, mack..."

He noticed your french accent, and listened, desperately trying to find anything else to pick up on, " If I didn't spend every day of my life trying to piece things together about the only ones I know for certain are doing things right, well... I'd lose my mind."

As intrigued as he was, he still needed answers.

"Why did you give us tickets?"

You smiled a little as you sat with a little spring. "Don't you boys need a break?"

He noticed a slight cynical sway in your tone, and the shadow of a smirk on the edge of your smile.

As interested as he was...he still needed answers. He didn't have time for this.

He'd already spoken to you more in two minutes than he had to the basterds in a week.

"Why did you give us the tickets?"

You shrugged. "The train is full of innocent people. Real people. I know that, and you know that. But the concert is organized by and for the nazis. For the morale or whatever you want to call it. They'll parade in with their rags and patches. Do what you will with that, sergeant."

"And your friends?" He was wondering if the other musicians were not "real people" to you.

You sighed "My friends? They're at war."

Or hiding.

Or dead...

"The musicians." Hugo insisted.

"Sympathizers..." You didn't know that until about a month before.

Hugo sat across from you, "And you?"

He wondered if you were not a real person... maybe you were a dream. Maybe that was why he spoke to you so much...

Your response was short. And one hundred percent honest. "Ready."

It took him a second to process what you said. He wondered if there was something lost in translation, but then he saw the certainty on your face. "Ready?"

"Ready to fight or die. We're at war, after all."

Hugo raised his eyebrow.

It was at that moment, he felt something.

He felt something for the first time in a long time.

A combination of things, actually..

Confusion at first. Mostly rooted in the sorrow at your willingness to die, and admiration for your fearless demeanor.

He noticed you.

In that moment, he noticed everything about you. You were young. How young exactly, he couldn't tell, but you seemed to be just about Smitty's age... So young... And god help anyone who hurt someone that young while Hugo was around. He saw your eyes. The things you said weren't the product of an angry young person's bravado and false hope. You were perfectly competent. You were perfectly aware of what you were saying. There was no Smoky Mountain fire, and no Frankfurt winter fueling the light behind your eyes. Just awareness. You. He knew you in that instant. And he knew you were perfectly content with what you had just done... He wasn't. "Don't go." He spoke gruffly, the only way he knew to try and save you from a stray bullet in two night's time. You were a fighter, but not a soldier. You were a free spirit seeking to free France. Even if it cost you everything. You crossed your arms, "Don't tell me what to do, sergeant. I'm not one of your basterds.

Hugo Stiglitz commanded respect and fear from every single soldier he met, on either side of the war. He was stunned... No one had talked to him like that since before the war... He raised an eyebrow. Both at what you had just done and at his own internal monologue. He was worried...He was worried about you. He never worried about anything. This wasn't him... This never used to happen before.... You were right, and he knew it. You weren't his soldier, you were just a musician. A young French musician...nothing more, and nothing less. He really had no command over you... Just your dreams. That night, you arrived at your destination. You, the innocents, the basterds, and the nazis went your ways. You parted from the ten basterds, and shared a knowing glance with them as you turned away with your violin case under your arm. That night, in your room, you dreamed, for the first time in a long time. And you dreamed of Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz... You thought nothing of it all the next day...or...chose not to. It happened all over again the next night. The day of the concert, you smiled. You'd done your country a service...rather, you'd done Free France a service. But in what may have inevitably been the last fourty-eight hours of your life, you did yourself a disservice, and fell in love... Still, you didn't mind so much. That was what kept you smiling as you filed onto the stage in the concert hall, and looked over the opera boxes housing hordes of nazis.

It was a glorious way to die, being in love with a basterd.

Hugo didn't see it that way. He thought it was just a moment of weakness, back on the train. But he couldn't stop thinking, no...worrying about you. You... He didn't even know your name until he saw Omar fanning himself with a program. He grabbed it, looked under the violin section... Y/n L/n: First violin... He smiled.... It was a beautiful name...

He caught himself...He hated himself in that moment. He shook his head, and blinked once, centering himself. He was a basterd, and on a mission. He glanced around the seats, spotting each and every one of his fellow basterds seated, waiting for the signal.

The lights on distant chandeliers faded, and the stage was set. The conductor bowed. The nazis applauded. The basterds waited. Hugo listened... As much as he tried to focus, he couldn't. Every note reminded him of the sound of your voice, the sound of the train, the sound of the envelope sliding across the table. The light falling over you, your black dress draping over the stage, your hands holding the violin like a muse holding a lyre. As he watched you play with a soft, reverent, resigned smile on your face, he sighed...and smiled himself. For a moment, the only thing in his mind was the notes he was able to pick out that came from you. Time stood still. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He heard the signal. The beginning of Ride of the Valkyries. He looked over to spot the basterds beginning to take their places. "Scheisse."

He'd almost forgotten. He couldn't help but look at you in sorrow when he heard the first bullet. And he heard Donny's voice, "STIGLITZ, WATCH UTI." Hugo snapped back, and shot a nazi, saving the youngest basterd... He took his place with his team, and took down each and every nazi in their way. Among the basterdized chaos, Hugo caught glimpses of the stage. He saw the sympathizers running or hiding. He saw you rise, clentching the neck of your violin and your bow in your left hand. Your pearl necklace just off center. The curls in your hair just loosened, strands beginning to fall. Your arm was raised, one eye closed, head tilted to the side. You pulled a trigger. Hugo's eyes followed the path of your gun, to a nazi aiming a gun at him....Or who had been. That nazi now had a bullet in his forehead. Hugo looked back at you, and you looked at him. You winked, and gave a smug grin. Hugo smiled softly and slowly, something he wasn't used to until two nights before, when he met you. In that moment, among the chaos, in the middle of war and loss, Hugo found something.. It made him smile, genuinely.

It was the beginning of something. Something new.

Something more. Something beautiful... Something Hugo had never known before there was you.

#hugo stiglitz #inglourious basterds imagine #aldo raine #smithson utivich #Omar Ulmer #Donny Donowitz #Wilhelm Wicki #basterds #quentin tarantino

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