#wicki x reader

[mlmxreader]

The Best Way to A Soldier's Heart | Wilhelm Wicki x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi, hope you're doing well

I was wondering if I could request Wicki with the prompt "I don't care if I gotta walk a thousand miles to be with you, I want you"

Hope you have a nice night and thank you!

summary: Wicki's got a little crush, but at least he knows what the best way to a soldier's heart is.

tws: swearing, smoking

Ration quality food wasn't exactly the best thing in the world, it wasn't particularly filling and it didn't particularly taste good either, but you and the Basterds made do with what you were given, and when you could, stealing from locals was another option; the few times you had managed to get cheese, real cheese, and real butter and eggs were some of the best meals you had had in years, and although everyone ate more than their fair share, and there were never any leftovers, Wicki always gave you a part of his own. He would lie and say that he was full, but in truth, he had seen how you were struggling so much more than the others, and he wanted to at least make sure that you had a full stomach, even though he couldn't do anything else.

But it was late, and your stomach was growling so loudly that it was keeping Wicki up as he tried to sleep in the hammock next to where you were on the floor; usually, such a noise was easy to ignore and easy to brush aside, but because it was you, Wicki couldn't stop himself. Slowly and cautiously getting out of his hammock so that he could search his bag for something, anything to eat; there were a few stale biscuits, and a little bit of cheese that he had intended to save for a later date, all wrapped in brown paper. He grabbed it, and gently kicked your foot, clearing his throat as he squatted down and handed you the parcel.

"Käse," he stated. "Und Kekse."

You nodded, grabbing it and tearing off the paper as if it was the most valuable and useful of gifts, shoving the biscuits into your mouth without even a second of hesitation; you smiled at Wicki, crumbs all over your lips, and allowed him to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs as he returned the smile.

It wasn't much, but at least it stopped your stomach from grumbling so loudly, even if Wicki couldn't help himself as he sat down properly and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head to the side and raised his brows. "Better?"

"Much," you chuckled softly. "Thank you, Wilhelm..."

He nodded, unable to shake the thought from his head, something that his father had told him long ago; the best way to a soldier's heart is through his stomach. Wicki smiled. He had always had a little bit of a crush on you, even back when you were transferred to the Basterds from your section of the RAF; your commanding officer, Kashyap, had told you to go with them, as you had flown over enemy territory enough that you knew it well. You served almost as a sort of guide, and Aldo was pleased to have you on the team. Wicki had been a little nervous around you to begin with, mostly because he had never met a man so fucking handsome before, and when he got to know you, when he got to know your personality, it took the breath from him; his gazes would linger, he would try and make you laugh at every chance, he would sleep near you and would almost always offer to help you with guarding the Basterds and scavenging for anything other than ration quality food.

He pulled out his cigarettes, and offered you one. "Gern geschehen, mein Pilot."

You scoffed, letting him cup his hands around the end of your cigarette so that you could light it, staring into his eyes as you swallowed thickly. He pulled away, and you couldn't help but to miss the closeness. "Remember when I took you for a spin in my Hawker?"

"Ja," he nearly laughed at the memory. "You were in a lot of trouble with Kashyap for that."

"It was fun though," you pointed out. "Wasn't it?"

Wicki nodded, finally letting out a soft chuckle as he lit his cigarette. "I wasn't happy when you made us go upside down... or when you raced the Spitfire."

You grinned. "When I raced Khan, I thought you were gonna be sick."

"I very nearly was," he admitted. "But... I enjoyed it."

"I'll take you out in it again," you told him. "When we've won the war, when I go back to the RAF... if you come with me, I'll take you out in the Hawker again - as payment for the cheese and biscuits."

"Are you sure?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

You nodded, still grinning at him as you nudged his shoulder. "I'm a pilot, I'm sure of everything I do in a plane... besides, I gotta think of a way to repay you for feeding me, don't I?"

"You don't need to," Wicki told you gently, shaking his head. "You'd do the same."

"Wilhelm, I'd walk a thousand miles for you," you admitted with a soft laugh. "I'd fucking stroll through fire like it was a walk to the shops, if you asked me."

He swallowed thickly, wondering if maybe he should tell you about his little crush on you, wondering if you felt the same and wondering if he really should be honest; tomorrow may never come, you may never see the dawn creeping up. Time was short. It was better to die an honest man. "(y/n), I... feel things for you. Romantisch things."

You shrugged, tilting your head to the side and cocking a brow. "And you think I don't feel them things, too?"

He looked at you, the type of look that told you everything you needed to know; that he knew what you had meant, and that he was sitting there, waiting for you to make the first move just so he could be sure. Just so he knew what you had said meant what he thought it did. Wicki wasn't shy, not by any means, but he was careful, and he didn't want to make a move if you weren't ready for it. He didn't want to cause any miscommunication.

So you sighed, and you took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles as you smiled. "I want to be with you, romantically. Not just as brothers in arms."

Turning his hand over, Wicki laced his fingers with yours, and sighed heavily when you gave his hand a little squeeze; it was the first move he had waited for, and now that he knew what you meant, he nodded slowly. "I don't care if I gotta walk a thousand miles to be with you, I want you, too."

"Then keep feeding me," you joked softly. "I've got a stomach like a bottomless pit at the moment, keep feeding me and I'll never leave you."

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh when he heard Hugo start to trudge back to the little camp, turning his head slightly. "Get some rest, mein Kampfpilot. I'll be in the hammock."

"Wait," you tugged his hand, pleading with him. "Can I... shit... can I join you?"

Wicki nodded. "Ja, natürlich, there should be enough room for us both."

"Danke," you replied gently, "mein geliebter."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[sideeve]

☆ ── YOUNGER THAN YOU

☆ ── he knew it was wrong to involve himself with someone younger than him. but it felt so good. ☆ ── age gap ( reader is in her 20’s and john is in his 40’s ) , emotionally closed off john , daddy issues ( not me projecting ) , smut ( p—in—v s*x ) , squirting , listen to younger than you by whirr

john sat in an empty booth, nursing a glass of alcohol that he would sip from time to time. the burning sensation every time he swallows kept him alive. he watched as the criminals socialized around him. he remembered when he was like them

he would be able to talk to anyone without a problem. now, he felt like an outcast. despite the fact that people feared him when his name was spoken.

he hated interactions that weren’t needed. he was a man that spoke a few words.

but you? everything was different with you. ever since helen passed away, he kept telling himself that he’ll never find love again.

but he kept finding himself tangled in bed with you at night. spending his mornings with you.

he even almost forgot about helen. you could take her place. but…something kept eating him alive.

you are too young. you were mature. you could take care of yourself. you were strong. mentally and physically. but in reality, you were too young.

──

“johnny.” you wrap your arms around his waist as he makes himself a bowl of cereal. you kissed his bare back, his scent filling your nostrils. he must have taken a shower recently.

“i missed you tonight. where did you go?” your hands travel up to his chest. “i needed some fresh air.”

in your mind, you knew that was code for “i needed some time to think about something.”

“what did you think about?” he takes a breath. “i think we should end this.” your arms leave his torso, taking a step back, “what?” he turns to you, that same stoic look on his face. “you’re too young for me. you need a man who is around your age. someone who knows what do with you.”

you scoff, “you must be joking right? when was age ever a problem between us?” “you don’t underst—” “no you don’t understand! i don’t want anyone else. i just want you, wick.”

you take your place again, in front of him, instead taking his arms to wrap around you. he would’ve moved his arms back but he didn’t. he couldn’t resist you. you were his kryptonite.

he pulled you closer. “i don’t know how i could live without you.” he bends down, taking your lips with his. you moan in the kiss, sending electric signals in his body.

he pats your thigh, telling you to jump. you wrap your legs around his waist as walks up to his your shared bedroom.

you bounce on the bed, giggling. your clothes quickly ripped, which he promised you that he would buy some more.

he placed himself between your legs, kissing up your thigh while one hand places itself on your breast. “john.” he hums in response. “please. no foreplay today.”

he chuckles darkly. “impatient, are we?” his clothes were taken off, his tip prodding at your hole, “you—” “just do it, please!” you whine.

the first thrust was hard. he practically slip you open. for an old man, he knew how to fuck.

his hands gripped your hips, letting him stroke deeper. “fuck—” you let out a strangled moan. his hips thrust in rhythm, hitting that sensitive spot on your spongey walls. “i could never leave you.” he bends down, kissing your neck. “i love you.”

a knot forms in your stomach, threatening to rip. “john, i think i’m—” “come.” his thrust get faster, chasing for both your orgasms. “s-shit.”

a liquid substance covers both of your legs. you were hoping he didn’t notice. but he did, he groaned in pleasure. “fuck.” he released in you, white painting your walls.

he pulls out, laying next to you. “i hope you’re on the pill.” your eyes widen, “you finished inside me?” silence covers the room.

he wraps his arm around your waist, “i wouldn’t be opposed to having a kid with you.”

[mlmxreader]

So Kalt | Wilhelm Wicki x m!reader

anonymous asked: Hello! I hope you are doing well :) May I please request a Wilhelm Wicki x m!reader with the prompt “But does it matter when the only thing we love will die?” I was thinking that the reader could be really cynical and jaded because of the war and is trying to push Wicki away because of it, but Wicki is persistent and isn't giving up on the reader. Y'know, just something angsty and fluffy. Thank you! (p.s. your writing is genuinely always so good :))

summary: you know you can't tell him, as much as you want to, you know you can't say a damn thing to him.

tws: mentions of death/fascism/torture/etc, swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

There were things that a soldier could never say out loud or else he would risk being overheard and getting himself into a rather sticky situation that could risk his life or worse, the lives of others; there were things that you could never say, could never admit to, could never be honest about. Things you knew that, if anyone knew, they would end up being able to tell what, or rather who, your weaknesses were.

Even amongst the Basterds, your most trusted friends and your closest family, could never know those things; Donny, your beloved best friend who could make you laugh until your sides ached and you were sobbing, could never know those things.

Aldo, your self confessed new big brother who could give you confidence and would tease you into the ground in the same breath, could never know those things. Wicki, your beloved Wicki, could never know.

There was more to it than that, though. You knew, if you were to be the captured by the Nazis, that they would kill you after they were done torturing you; you were well aware that the chances of making it out of the war alive were slim to none, and you had come to accept that. You just didn't want anyone to be upset when it happened.

You didn't want anyone to miss you, to be heartbroken by you leaving them, especially not Wicki; nothing mattered anymore, life was worthless, but you knew that you had to keep fighting - even if you only killed one Nazi, that was still worth it.

You could die at peace knowing you had thrown a spanner in their works and helped to bring down the fascist war machine; but other than that, you were merely cannon fodder.

You would never tell Wicki, your beloved Wicki, of your little secret though; you would never tell him that you loved him, that you cared deeply and truly for him. You would never tell him that when he smiled at you, your heart ached; when he laughed at your jokes, your hands shook; when he snuggled into you at night to preserve warmth, you froze and felt safer than you ever had before.

You couldn't tell him that you loved him, and that you would spend your dying breath to keep him safe.

A very real possibility, you knew that too well, but you were prepared; if it came down to your life or his, you would die knowing that you saved him.

But you had to keep him at a distance, you knew you couldn't let him know that you loved him so much; you had to keep pushing him away even though he always came back, always came and told you that you would never be able to get rid of him no matter how hard you tried.

He wouldn't let you go that easily, he would refuse.

It was a cold night at the campfire, you had given Donny your jacket to use as a pillow while he lounged on the ground behind you; most of the ice had melted amongst the grass and dirt, making it cold and damp to the touch, uncomfortable by all means.

Aldo was talking over plans with Hugo and Omar, muttering and mumbling amongst themselves. You and Wicki were sat at the fire, and every time you found yourself trying to lean into him, you forced yourself to move over.

No getting close.

You needed to shuffle along, out of his grasp, every time that you found yourself about to rest your head against his shoulder; but while you would move a few inches, Wicki would move just as much, keeping close to you as he resisted the urge to hold your hand and to put his arm around you.

He made little moves here and there, passing you his coat to keep you warm, resting his knee against yours, but you kept pushing him away.

In all honesty, Wicki wasn't going to give up that easily, he wasn't about to let you go without fighting for you first; he loved you, he wanted and needed you to know that, but if you kept pushing him away, he couldn't tell you.

More than anything, he just wished that you would stop pushing him away so much, that you would let him in even a little bit; but he was also painfully aware of what war did to people.

He knew that you weren't the same man as the one who had volunteered back in thirty nine; he knew you were a lot more jaded, cynical, and cold thanks to what you had seen, been through. He couldn't blame you, even if all he wanted was for you to let him in even the slightest little bit, just budge the door open enough so that he could see into the hallway.

You shivered, and Wick didn't think twice as he grabbed you, sinking to the floor and pulling you between his spread legs; using his heat and keeping you closer to the fire so that you wouldn't be so cold, but much to his disappointment, you only argued.

"Let me go, Wilhelm."

"Nein," he growled. "Du bist zu kalt."

"Let me go."

"Ich sagte nein," Wicki huffed, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "Sitz still."

You caved, huffing and puffing curses at him as you did your best not to relax into his grasp; it was warmer, you couldn't deny that, and you did stop shivering when he grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around you as best as he could, the fabric bunched between your body and his.

"You're lucky," he murmured. "If I didn't love you so much, I might've let you freeze."

You paused, going completely still as you clenched your jaw; no, you couldn't tell him. He had a chance to make it out alive, you didn't; you wouldn't see the end of the war, there was no point in giving yourself any false good that maybe you and Wicki could have a relationship in the slightest. You swallowed thickly, pretending you didn't hear what he had said.

"I'm sorry," Wicki grumbled. "I shouldn't have said that, but... but I wish you'd stop pushing me away."

You moved, only enough to be able to reposition yourself so that you were facing him, glaring into his eyes as you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. "I have to."

"You don't."

"I do," you insisted. "You have a chance, Wilhelm, I don't... you'll make it out alive, I won't."

"You don't know that."

"I wish I didn't," you huffed. "But I do. You've seen the shit we're fighting against, you know what they're doing to people like us. I'm not gonna make it out alive."

"Don't say such things."

"I'd love to love you," you told him quietly. "But does it matter when the only thing we love will die? Does it matter how I feel when they could use that to hurt you?"

Wicki licked his lips, placing his hands on your face as he sighed, his skin so warm and yours so cold as he furrowed his brows. "Yes. Of course it matters... I'm not giving up on you."

"Wilhelm, don't."

"Listen to me," he was just shy of commanding you. "Ich liebe dich, und ich wird für uns kämpfen."

"Don't."

"I love you," he insisted. "I'm not giving up that easily... bitte, mein Soldat... don't push me away."

He was wearing you down, his sweet and honeyed words too good to be true; you could feel tears starting to come to your eyes as you swallowed thickly.

"What if you die because of me?"

"I won't," Wicki dared to smile. "Because you'll make sure I don't... please, don't push me away."

"I don't want to," you admitted. "But-"

"Don't think about anything else," he told you sternly. "Only what you feel."

"You promise nothing bad'll happen?"

"Natürlich. Ich verspreche."

You nodded, and crashed into him, your face against the side of his neck as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, sniffling. "I'm sorry I ever pushed you away, I just... fuck, I'm worried."

"You have me," Wicki said kindly, sweetly. "You don't have to worry."

You nodded again. "I should've listened to you from the start, you were always the smart one."

"Du bist ein attraktiver Mann," he chuckled. "Aber... nicht sehr klug."

"Stop," you chuckled softly.

"Kiss me," he mused. "And I'll stop."

"You asked for it," you pointed out as you pulled away.

He met you halfway, trying not to wince at how you were still so much colder than he was, but he soon melted into it; one hand on your lower back, fingers splayed, the other resting at the back of your neck as you dared to sneak your hands up under his shirt.

His breath hitched as your cold skin dragged up to his chest, but he soon smiled, nearly grinning as he eagerly kissed you; it was infectious, and just before he pulled away to catch his breath, you started to smile, too.

"I did ask for it," Wicki nodded. "I'll ask for it again, if you want me to."

"In a minute," you said, reaching into your pocket. "Cigarette?"

"Who am I to say no to such a handsome man?"

[averagewriter-inthedark]

How they react to you getting hurt 🥲 | IB headcanon

Link to my IB masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no

Content warnings: injury, blood, war, profanity, light angst.

Being part of the Basterds & getting injured would look like:

Getting injured was not something you planned, but in war it is bound to happen eventually. It could happen when y’all were ambushed, on recon, or something simple as moving place to place.

Whether it be a small graze, a split lip, or a possible fatal wound the Basterds are losing their mind. It would be utter chaos in the tent with Wicki having to kick them all out, besides Alsdo, so he could work with a clear mind. If it was a small injury that could be fixed with some bandages and alcohol then he’d be like “you lot are so dramatic. Just calm down they’re going to be fine.” But if it was serious then the last thing the man needed was panic around him, “if you all can’t shut the fuck up then get out! I need to concentrate before they bleed out!” Wicki cared deeply for you and felt responsible. He’d be dammed if you died on his watch.

Aldo would remain calm but internally was on high alert. You were one if the best Basterds and quite literally the glue that kept them together. In a shitshow of a world you still managed to smile, brining a level of hope and optimism to the squad. Seeing you in pain pulled at his heartstrings. Best believe he would stop at nothing to avenge you if worst comes to worst.

Donny would be in the same boat as Aldo, but would be more visibly anxious and pacing back and forth until he got an update. Like Aldo he’d set the world on fire to avenge you if you died. Donny is the bastard who’d try to make you laugh when you’re recovering which would only make the pain worse. “Oh sorry, I forgot you’re hurting there.”

Hugo is scary. Bottom line he is not talking, he is barely moving. It would not be until he knew you’d be okay that he would visibly relax. If the person who hurt you was still breathing Hugo would be silently plotting. The bastard would be the type to sneak out of camp and track the person himself. God forbid you died because you were the one thing keeping him grounded (platonically) so if he lost you….well pray for those who come in his way.

The younger basterds are losing their minds. Scared shirtless the only thing their minds go to is the worst. Smitty is holding back tears, Omar is biting his nails. They’d be camping outside the tent to hear what was going on and would fall on their asses when Aldo or Wicki were to suddenly come out. “Are they gonna be okay!?” They shout simultaneously, anxious at the sight of blood on Wicki. When the older man lit a cigarette and mumbled, “They’re gonna be fine. They just need to rest,” they all dropped to the floor in relief.

It would pain the basterds to have to send you home if the injury you sustained put you out of the line of duty. This wold be if you lost a limb or were in need of more medical attention than they could offer, such as losing your sight or part of your hearing. Aldo would be the one to escort you to allied territory to hand you over, the ride solemn and silent. “I’m sorry, boss,” you softly said., “I’m sorry I let you down.” “Kid, you’re alive. That’s all that matters and don’t you fuckin’ forget it. I’d rather be takin’ ya back breathin’ than in a casket.”

If your injury was not fatal and a quick fix, expect a small lecture from Aldo. He wouldn’t be upset with you per say, but just angry that it happened. Again, you are someone he cares about. All the Basterds do. So when shit like that happens it scares them and never did they wanna deal with having to bury someone they cared about. He would, however, scold you if the reason you got hurt was because you did something stupid or went against his orders. “L/n, I will warn you this one time. You pull that shit again and I’ll have your ass on the next truck back to base. Understood?”

At the end of the day the boys are just happy you’re okay. It was a close call but thankfully you survived and Wicki was the one with the brains to help you recover. They may have shit their pants and nearly went into cardiac arrest, but the basterds wouldn’t be losing their sunshine anytime soon.

[tomurderornottomurder]

fresh fruit; wilhelm wicki

pair. wilhelm wicki x gn!reader

summ. the sniper's delight orchard bears some fruit for you n wicki the snipers :)

gen. fluff

tw. eating, food, description of eating food

wc. 400+

note. oldish draft i like :)

Not only is the orchard an absolute delight to you and Wilhelm, the designated snipers for this mission, but the orchard actually has fresh, edible apples. You hadn't eaten fresh anything for god knows how long. Just the sight of the apple-bearing trees nearly made you cry. To say you're happy is an understatement. You took your chance as you and the other basterds snuck across the fields, filling your pockets full of fruit. 

Once you and Wilhelm get into position as well as the rest of the basterds, you shoot him a playful smile. He spares you a look before turning his attention back to the task at hand. "Rate mal, was ich habe (Guess what I got)," You singsong, pulling a shiny, bright red apple from your pocket, turning it in your hand. 

"Du hast einen Apfel geklaut? (You stole an apple?)" 

"Several apples," You scoot closer to him, holding the apple up to his cheek. 

He keeps his focus, looking ahead through the scope of his rifle. He hasn't quite got to the point where he's completely comfortable in telling you that he loves your shenanigans (and you) but he can never deny you. "Are you trying to distract me on purpose?" He teases, eye still forward.

"No," You lean into him, "but I wanna see you try one." 

That catches his attention. He turns his head to look you up and down. His brows furrow as he practically examines you and your apple. 

"C'mon, please," You lay your head on his shoulder and look up at him.

"One bite," He bargains.

Your nose scrunches up as you smile at him, scrambling to sit across from him and hand him the apple. "Okay, go on," You sit like an eager dog, foaming at the mouth.

He doesn't get why you're so eager to see him bite into an apple but he obeys your little wish. As always, he can't deny you. He flicks his eyes to yours before sinking his teeth into the crisp, juicy apple. He savors the taste with juice and drool dribbling down to his chin. "There," He holds the apple out to you.

Your smile widens before you rock forward onto your knees, reaching a hand out to wipe the line from his face. Swiping your thumb from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. "There," You smirk, ghosting your fingers over his as you take the apple from him. 

He tries his best to hide the shiver that slinks down his spine. 

Then you take a bite from the same apple, eyeing Wilhelm the whole time. "Wunderbar, if I don't say so myself." You shoot him a wink before gesturing to his rifle, "Better get back to work, Corporal."

[ghostyundercover]

First chapter will be out soon if you re still interested in it😏

Willhelm Wicki fanfiction

Hi , i started writing a x reader insert story with Wilhelm Wicki and was wondering if any of you guys would be interest in reading it. It would be post on wattpad i think, please comment if you re interest in it

[romanarose]

No.

No outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: You're sick and Joel won't let you go to work.

Warnings: Being sick. Extra for talking about covid, but reader doesn't have covid.

Immersability: Reader is fem bc this is specifically written for someone. Usually in drabbles I try to make the reader gender non descript just to make them accessible to people of all genders but this is for someone. I toyed around with sick indicators like looking flushed or pale, but I just landed on describing a change in coloring. I'm sorry if that's not vague enough.

A/n: Written for @joelsgreys who I saw was sicky wicky and I just wanted to give a few short paragraphs of comfort.

Support writers and content creaters! Reblog and leave comments!

***************

"No."

Joel stands in front of your bed, arms crossed and already dressed for the day. You had been sleeping in, or trying to. How was he not cold? You were freezing.

You try to get out of bed, but Joel walks over, gently but firmly laying you back down. "Joel! I have to go to work!"

"Like hell you do." Joel pulls the covers up over your shaking form. "You were up all night hack'n up a lung, what if you have covid?"

"I don't have covid, I checked last night."

Joel furrows his brow as he looked down at you. "What? When?"

Coughing loudly, you try to convince your husband you were fine. "I took a test around 5 when I thought *cough cough* I was gonna puke."

"Sweetheart..." He kneels down beside you, brushing hair out of your sweaty forehead. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you have to work too! It made no sense for us to be miserable."

Joel sigh, pulling out his phone. "Try and look as sick and sad and possible."

You didn't have to try too hard. Your change in coloring was apparent and your face gleaned with sweat. Your nose was raw and dry and chapped from wiping it and your eyes held deep bags from no sleep. To top it all off, you frowned and pouted, eyes glistening from the sickness.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he snapped a picture. "Good, you look awful." He sent the picture to Tommy. 'You're on your own today.'

"Joooooeeeelll" You whine. "I can't stay home if it's not covid, boss won't have it!"

He snatched your phone off the bedside table and dialed your boss, letting him know that you were running a fever and puking, and he was certain he wouldn't want you spreading that sickness to others knowingly, right? Your boss conceded, Joel tone leaving no room for discussion and his implication promoting your boss to say you can stay home tomorrow too.

Your smile greeted him when he got off the phone. "I love you, you know."

"I do."

*Ding!* Went Joel's phone, loudly. Joel always had it on loud so he could hear. He didn't trust the vibration or flash and his hearing was bad enough he wanted to make sure he always got important phone calls and texts involving you, Sarah, and Tommy. It was annoying, a slight irritant and sometimes made you jump, but it was a small sacrifice for him and his peace of mind. He looked at his phone, opening the text from Tommy. 'Disgusting. *puke emoji* Both of you stay away from me. I got it here.'

Taking out the Vaseline you always kept for your dry lips, he rubs a glob on your dried up nose. "I'm gonna drop Sarah off at school, then run to CVS and get you shit. THEN I'm going to IHOP and getting a breakfast fit for a princess."

"Oh my god I'm starving."

"I know, baby." Joel kissed your gross forehead before shoving a few things in his pocket as Sarah called for him downstairs. "Try and take a nap, I'll be home in an hour and take care of yuh, alright?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused. That was Joel, alright. Joel Miller always took care of everyone around him. He raised Tommy, he raised Sarah always putting them before any need he had for himself. When you came into his life, he did the same for you. You liked to think you returned it, that you cared for him too, but to Joel, caretaking was second nature to him. He didn't need a thank you, because that's just what he did... but you thanked him anyway. Sarah was a great kid, but she was 14, and 14 year olds are in their own world. Tommy was like a brother to you, and you knew he'd care for you too and has before, but he lived his life knowing Joel would bail him out.

You would never take Joel for granted.

"For everything you do for our family."

**************

Hope you feel better soon Vee! I know we don't really know each others but I know how much a lil fic can perk someone up so I hope you are least feel comforted bc your right, Joel would NEVER let you work under these conditions!

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings

[saltysideblog]

Salty imagines...

Sick Basterds

Inglourious Basterds x Reader

Request: Yes! By anon 🤍

What would the Basterds be like with a cold?

During the war, there's no time for whining. Expect lots of spent tissues being hastily stuffed into coat pockets in between rounds of fire and more than one Basterd nearly choking to death trying to keep a cough quiet...

Aldo:

Even before the war, Aldo was a resilient little bugger. Has hundreds of absolutely vile tasting home remedies he swears by and will refuse your help.

"S'jus' a cold, sunshine, ah can take care of it..."

His voice is rougher than usual and his nose is lookin' a little red, but he promises to rest if you insist. When he lays his head in your lap and feels your fingers threading through his hair as you coo about how strong he is, he feels like a million bucks. His very favourite home remedy. No fish oil required.

Donowitz:

When Donny gets sick, he reverts back to his ten year old self; a spoiled mama's boy. Will insist on wearing his pajamas all day, pouting,

"I'm sick..." is his only reply when you ask him to put on some real clothes. Will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist when you cook,

"Come back to beeeed..."

"Don, I'm busy."

"I want ice cream."

"I'm making pasta."

"But I'm sick..."

Kiss his forehead and serve him some matzo ball soup just like his ma did. It'll buy you a few moments of peace... until...

"Babe?? Come cuddle with me..."

And if you don't answer immediately,

"I'm sick..."

Wicki:

The only way you know Wicki's been sick is when you get sick after kissing him. When you confront him about it, he just shrugs,

"I didn't want you to worry."

Loves when his partner dotes on him. He thinks it's very sweet that you care, even if he can handle it. Will probably end up taking care of you instead, bringing you hot cups of tea and honey and running you a bath (to be shared, of course.) The bathroom windows are all fogged up as you both sink into the warm water,

"Feels like a lot of steam."

He'll kiss your shoulders and chuckle,

"Yes, but I can breathe again."

Stiglitz:

No one has ever seen Hugo get sick. But as his partner you know the truth; he just secludes himself in the guest room until the illness passes, like a wounded animal crawling into a hole. Will not let you near him,

"You will get sick."

And that's final.

He becomes a spectral figure, a vampire stealing food from your kitchen and retreating back to the shadows. Only emerges once he's his usual chipper self. He appreciates all the little notes you slip under the door more than you know; keeps them all in a shoebox in the closet.

Utivich:

Tries to soldier on, will wrap himself up in a big blanket, walking around like one of the caped heroes he writes about. You'll find him half asleep at his typewriter, barely holding onto his cup of now cold coffee. He will never ask you to take care of him, but he makes it difficult not to. You get him over to the couch and tuck him in, he lets you know just how much he appreciates what you do for him, sleepily mumbling,

"I love you so much..."

Before dozing off.

In a few hours, you'll have to do it all again, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Omar:

Very difficult to wake up in the morning... or the afternoon... or any time he dozes off. Omar's a sleeper and whether or not you dote on him makes no difference to him... because he'll be asleep. It does put a smile on his face when he wakes up in the middle of the afternoon and there's a box of his favourite snacks with a glass of water on the coffee table for him.

Feel better!

He runs his fingers over your handwritten note.

He likes knowing you think of him, even if he's not the most interesting conversationalist at the moment.

Hirschberg:

Does not cover his mouth when he sneezes so you will get sick at the same time he does. Gets a little upset about it, because who's gonna take care of you now?

"I can't, I'm sick too!"

"Sweetie, we're adults, we'll take care of each other."

Pouts and whines about it but it makes his heart flutter when you say things like that. Each other... he's not a romantic by any means, but the thought of there always being "each other" could make him swoon. Still won't cover his mouth.

"It's nasty! I don't want that all over my hands!"

Doesn't seem to understand that he can wash his hands but you can't wash the air.

Sakowitz:

Much like Wicki, Sakowitz doesn't want to bother his partner with a silly little cold. The only time he might ask for anything is when you're walking past him and he grasps both your hands, looking deep into your eyes with a sadness only known to orphaned pups... it makes you a bit worried,

"What is it, honey?"

He holds that serious look on his face as he very delicately and politely asks if you could make him a cup of hot chocolate,

"If it isn't too much trouble."

He's more than happy to dote on you when you're under the weather though,

★ Bonus ★

Hicox:

"Stiff upper lip, luv, won't let a little cold bring me down."

*immediately gets upset because he can't taste his tea with a stuffy nose*

[arianadevareux]

Imagine...

Wicki and Stiglitz helping you learn German.

“I want to understand some of what our enemies are saying, here, men. Can you help me?”

Wicki and Stiglitz shared a questioning glance before it was WIcki that responded.

“We’ll help you. We could give you lessons on our down time.”

[rurivu]

Photo album 📷

Actually it's a little headcanon for my fanfic,but I don't then i can finally end it(daaamn)

Her name is Sidney Cushing, silly baby girl 💞⭐

[fangirl-imagines]

Dating Wilhelm Wicki Would Include...

A/N: I wrote these at like 3am and they read like it. 

Ooooh boy, okay

This will be mildly NSFW, you have been warned. 

His voice, omg, I could listen to him talk forever. 

He would know the effect his voice has on you too and would absolutely use it to his advantage/to tease you whenever possible. 

If you can’t sleep though or are feeling particularly nervous/anxious he will sit down next to you and whisper to you in your ear, even just very casual conversation or affirmations, to help you calm down. 

Sometimes he’ll say something to you in German and you have no idea what he said but Hugo is rolling his eyes at the two of you. 

You’ll take that as a good thing you guess. 

Hugo, omg Wicki is Hugo’s best friend right? Well at first he would not trust you at all but by the end of the war you are his favorite basterd. 

For the most part Wicki is quiet though and doesn’t say much sometimes but the two of you can have an entire conversation with just a few glances. 

The others find this both fascinating and kind of creepy sometimes. 

You are also trying to learn German from him and Hugo though so you can understand them better which Wicki thinks is kind of cute. 

The first time you tell him you love him in German he gets a big (for him anyway) smile and kisses you. 

Some (most) nights you're all camping out in the woods, you and Wicki will just go missing for a few hours after separately heading for a walk and not return for hours. 

One time you came back with a few hickeys and Donny would NEVER let you live it down. 

He's protective of you but in small casual ways. 

Like he's always worried about you freezing when it's cold out and will casually through the day take off one of his own many many layers and offer them to you. 

If you're all out drinking during a break or while laying low he is always trying to offer you water between drinks. 

 Small acts that show he cares about your well being because really he just wants to look out for you where he can. 

All the other bastards would love to tease the two of you anytime they can. 

Donny in particular keeps asking you for the first couple of weeks why you didn’t pick him but after enough slaps to the head he finally lets it go. 

I don’t think that Wicki would like to talk much about his life in Austria before the war. You learn quickly not to push him on that. 

He doesn’t have anyone waiting for him back in the states after the war is over but he does have you now and he will follow you wherever. 

[mlmxreader]

Still Awake | Donny Donowitz x m!reader

anonymous asked: Donny with I'm just gonna bash your fucking brain in ( really just this scene...)

summary: Donny knows you all too well for your own good.

tws: war mentions, swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

The stars outside gleamed a silver smile along with a laughing moon while the winds whistled a fine old tune; a tune that had been heard by every ancestor, yet had been drowned out by the sounds of gunfire, mortars, shelling, tanks, and death. Hurricanes and blizzards, no storm could be heard over the raging melody of death and destruction.

Yet, within the tunnel, a bear slept soundly beside the man he loved.

His arm thrown over his man, Donny was snoring softly, the soft breaths warm against the back of your cold neck; his leather jacket draped over you, and one of Wicki's thicker jackets beneath it, yet you were still so cold.

The broken tunnels did very little in terms of warmth, cold droplets of semi solid water trickling between the cracked stones; Donny didn't seem to notice as he slept in his vest, his trousers pulled down to his ankles after he complained that he was too warm, his baseball bat right in front of you.

Some of the names had become smudged, yet still legible and still readable; every name a different story.

Every name a different loved one who should have been safe. A loved one who should be alive. You looked away, not wanting to be reminded of what would be waiting for you if they were to capture you; you knew all too well, but you had to keep fighting. You couldn't give up, couldn't let them kill more people as the hours went on; it was like Aldo said - the only good Nazi is a fucking dead Nazi.

The best thing any of you could do for anyone was to kill every single one of those fuckers, the more painful the death, the better.

Make them pay.

Make them regret every word, every action.

Make sure they could never hurt anyone again.

Make them rue the day they ever put that fucking uniform on; some of them lied, said they were only following orders and didn't actually believe in what they were doing, but they were fucking liars.

The lot of them, every little fucker who so much as nodded along to speeches, deserved to die.

Donny tried to pull you closer, a grumble coming from the back of his throat as he realised that he couldn't, and he sighed as he dared to open one eye; gently, he tapped your stomach with his rough fingers, and moved to sit up.

Looking down at you, he frowned. "You're still awake?"

You nodded, moving onto your back as you sighed, shivers running through your body as you missed his warmth. "Too cold to sleep."

He tutted, daring to straddle your waist for a moment before he gently lowered his body onto yours, trying not to laugh when he felt you chuckle at the sudden contacts. "This any better?"

"You becoming a blanket?" You teased, daring to bring a hand up to card through his hair as he rested his head on your chest. His dark black hair was somehow still soft, like it had been washed just that morning, even if you knew that he had not gotten the chance to wash it for weeks.

Then again, neither did you. It was difficult to find bodies of water that were big enough to bathe in, even more difficult to come by certain basics like towels, spare clothes, soap; everything was hard to find and to come by when you weren't even allowed to be in contact with other allied regiments unless it was an emergency.

Basterds were on their own, and that meant no rations, which meant that everything you could find, you had to salvage however much you could; you would have killed for a bar of soap. You couldn't blame Donny for smelling a bit, given the circumstances, and you were certain that you did as well; but his hair was still so soft, you wondered if he secretly had a bar of soap to himself that he wasn't sharing.

Probably not.

His stubble was getting thicker by the day, it would only be a few weeks until he had a proper beard; you could remember the days when he would despise himself for not shaving every day. Those days were long gone; now, even being able to trim facial hair was a fucking luxury and a half. As much as you knew you were doing the right thing by killing every Nazi you could find, you did wonder if the other allied regiments were better off; they were given rations, they had places to wash.

"You're doing it again," Donny murmured.

"What?"

"You're doing that thing where you wonder if the other guys are better off," he mumbled against your skin, "y'know, that thing where you think that maybe you'd be better off under some fuckin' McAuliffe cunt's command."

"You really know me that well?" You asked, tugging at his hair gently to force him to look at you.

Donny smiled as he nodded, raising his brows slightly. "Course I do... gonna make you my husband one day, I'd like to think I fuckin' know you as much as I do myself."

"Fair point," you hummed, letting go of his hair so that you could put your arms behind your head. "You really think we're gonna live that long, though?"

He didn't want to say it, didn't want to admit that he really wasn't sure if he thought about it for more than a few moments; but he also knew that if he didn't say it, then you would be worse off. He couldn't have that.

"Yeah, of fuckin' course I do! Anyone who tells me otherwise, I'll tell them straight: I'm gonna bash your fucking brains in."

"What if I tell you otherwise?"

"You won't," he glared at you with big brown eyes as he shook his head.

You licked your lips as you swallowed thickly. "What if I do?"

"Then," he moved up, straddling your waist again as he planted his hands on the cold stones either side of your head, a smile coming to his face. "I guess I'm gonna have to fuckin' kiss you til you think differently."

As he looked at you, he couldn't help but to smile; he could remember you being so small that people had to carry you. He used to be so small that he couldn't kick a football when he was younger. He couldn't remember you both getting so much older; you had become so handsome. He got so tall. Wasn't it just yesterday that you were playing in the street outside his father's barbershop?

So many years together, one season following the next like it was nothing; everything you had done together growing up, had brought you both here. He still loved you as much as he did when you were both small; he still loved you as much as he did when you were stupid children. So natural a fit, it was no shock that, if you were to make it out of the war alive, there would be a canopy to stand beneath just around the corner.

"I love you," he breathed out.

"I know," you mumbled, gently cupping his cheek. "I don't wanna lose you."

Leaning into your touch, Donny shook his head. "I don't wanna lose you, either."

"Tell me we're gonna make it out alive. Tell me it's all gonna be alright."

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

One Calm Night: Donny x Fem!Reader

Requested by @sodapop182 I'm so sorry it took so long to post things have been so hectic lately!

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

************** 1944 ************** "Well shit, son, this is some good stuff," Aldo chuckled as he glanced over the label. It was in French, so he couldn't exactly read it, but he recognized the logo and colors. Donny nodded eagerly though he had a nervous smile, "Yeah I just hope Y/n likes it." Hugo smirked and Wicki smiled and said, "Well  even if she doesn't, she likes you enough." Donny shook his head as he packed away the wine and some pastries into a basket he was able to find. "Nah..." he cleared his throat and turned back around, "Does she?" Aldo rolled his eyes, "Pretty damn sure just about as much as you like her." They had never seen Donny smile as much as he did that moment. Wicki chuckled, "So quit worrying, Donny. Just go and be yourself!" "Well..." Hugo shrugged, "Maybe tone it down a bit." "What? Tone what down? By how much? I-" "That. She already said yes. Relax a little, son." Aldo chuckled as he pushed Donny out of the room, "Go get dressed." Meanwhile, you were  with Omar, and he was shaking his head, "The poor guy's losing his mind, take it easy on him." "Wh-I did nothing!" You laughed and Omar did too, "I know, I know. I think he just...hasn't been on a date in a long time. And, I don't think he's ever liked someone this much." "Well no pressure," you sighed and checked your hair in the one mirror in the hideout for the thirtieth time. You would have worn a dress, but the one dress you did have you used for disguises on   missions....so at this point it was too torn up to use for a genuine date. Besides, if anything happened while you were out, you had to be ready to come back and help the others. So, you had to settle for the least damaged shirt you had. It was a long sleeve blouse. It was emerald green, Donny's favorite color, coincidentially. You paired that with some high waisted pants that had only a few stitches holding it all together, and, you pretty much had to wear your usual boots. You did give them a good cleaning, though. You were all just doing your best. What else could you do? Meanwhile, Smitty and Hirschberg came back from a short mission. They had a few scalps for Aldo, and were a little happy that they were now ahead of everyone else in terms of paying off their debt to Aldo. And when they walked into the kitchen and saw some fancy looking wine and some treats, well, they couldn't help themselves. They downed about half of the bottle along with the pastries when they heard glass shatter behind them. "You're fucking kidding me." They turned around slowly, and saw Donny had dropped two glasses. It was then that they realized the wine and food was most likely for the date.... To be fair, they had been gone for a few days. And Donny talked about taking you out all the time, they didn't realize this was the time it would actually happen. Donny was standing looking shocked and, unfortunately for them, very angry. Hirschberg muttered, "Smitty, run. I'll distract him." "He'll take us both down, forget it. We'll just make him angrier..." "What the fuck's goin on out...aw shit." Aldo sighed, his hands at his hips as he shook his head. He knew even if they ran they wouldn't get very far, so the next best thing was to reason with Donny, "Now, look, son...They didn't know no better, they were gone! Them two boys are good kids, they didn't mean nothin' by it! You know they love Y/n, they don't mean nothin'! It's-" Then, Omar walked in with you. Donny turned around and when he saw you, he immediately stopped fuming. He even smiled a little, looking a lot calmer. "Y/n..." Aldo practically ordered, "Everyone out." Smitty, who felt a little guilty started to shake his head, wanting to explain to you he really didn't know, "But I-" "Now. Move. This is your savin' grace, boy." Aldo ushered the poor kid out along with a smirking Hirschberg. "Donny, you ready?" You asked, not really sure what was going on, and not really caring. You had been waiting for Donny to ask you out for a painfully long time. Since boot camp, really. He sighed, and lightly kicked a piece of glass to the side, "I had some stuff for us," he picked up what remained of the bottle of wine, "They beat us to it, kid." He had to chuckle a little. You giggled as you stood behind him and wrapped your arms around him, observing, "Well, it's still half full." He laughed, "You're right y'know!" He chuckled as he instead put a few rations of chocolate in the basket along with the half full bottle. The rations may or may not have been Smitty and Hirschberg’s, but that was a story for another day.  He turned around and swept you off your feet. "Ready?" You laughed, "Been ready for years, Don." He raised an eyebrow and grinned as he led you somewhere to the countryside. It was so quiet, the afternoon was so lovely, if you didn't know any better, you'd think there was no war. Just you and Donny. It was just as you'd dreamed of for so long, and you let him know that. You never thought you'd make him blush as much as you did, but that just made it even better. He was softer than he let on before. You always had your bet on that, but now you knew it for a fact. And you knew he was yours. You were both laying in some tall grass, looking up at the sky as a few grey clouds drifted between you and the stars slowly. It seemed to be the one calm night of the past year or so.

"Y/n?" Donny murmured with a smile, glancing at you. "Yeah Donny?" You turned to look at him. "I think I'm in love with you..." Any of the basterds could have told you that Donny loved you for a fact...for quite a while now. But, you didn't mind the wait. Things hadn't gone as planned, but hey, that happens sometimes. Especially when you're surrounded by basterds. You giggled a little, as he rested his hand on your cheek, and you admitted what you'd known for a long time, "I think I'm in love with you too..." The stars shone in his eyes, his shoulders loosened up as he heard the only words that could bring the sergeant some relief. He kissed you softly, living completely in the long awaited moment. Times were tough, you were all far from home, anything could go wrong at any time... But for that night, in that moment, Donny was completely content with life, now that he had you. And nothing could take that from him.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Can We Cuddle? 🙈 | How the Basterds ask you to cuddle | IB Headcanon

Link to my IB masterlist

Requested by this anon ♥️ Rules for requests

Lt. Aldo Raine

Aldo is the type of main who rarely gets time to rest. Being in the middle of the woods in a war while hunting krauts means you two lack privacy or a nice warm bed. But there are days where Aldo gets so exhausted and a flicker of peace while the other basterds are occupied and takes advantage of it.

“Can we cuddle, darlin’?” He’ll simply ask, throwing aside his pack and coming to lay beside you. He pretty much already has his arm wrapped around you and nuzzling his way into your neck, sighing at the warmth it provides. The ground is hard and he’ll wake up with a sore ass and back, but at least he gets time to hold you in his arms.

You’ve already got a grin on your face, leaning into him while securing your arm around to play with his hair, saying, “Of course, love. Though, you already got yourself comfortable.”

“maybe I knew you’d say yes,” he smirks, kissing your jaw and cozying up to you. “We only got a short amount a time ‘fore those fools ruin it. Let’s make the most of it.”

Sgt. Donny Donowitz

Donny probably doesn’t even ask honestly. The man will just plop his happy ass on top of you, causing a groan followed by a laugh to escape your mouth. If y’all are at an inn/motel with the rare occasion of having a bed, Donny doesn’t hesitate to jump on top of you.“What do you want, mister?” His arms fall to your sides, resting his head on your chest while looking up at you with a cheeky smile. You’re own smile forms, knowing what it is he wants.

“Can we cuddle, doll?” The innocent question has your face soften, immediately shifting to make yourself more comfortable as your arms go to cradle him. “Do you even have to ask?” He chuckles at your response, grinning in victory as he shuffles more up your body so he wasn’t fully on top of you but against your side. It’s rare you two get to cuddle, but Donny loves anytime you do. The Basterds used to hollar and tease in the beginning of y’all’s relationship, before stopping when Donny threatened to use his bat on them.

“This is nice. Ain’t it, doll?” He hums in content, feeling you hold him. Usually he’s the bigger spoon and likes to hold you, but on these types of moments he loves just laying on top of you and feeling the gentle thump of your heart against his ear. You smile and lean down to kiss his head, “It’s the thing I look forward to most when I’m with you, Donny.”

Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki

Ever the gentlemen, Wicki would politely ask you to cuddle. He probably would pop the question when he sees you in distress or in dire need of rest. Taking your blankets and pack, Wicki sets up a little spot by the fire after you two have first watch and gesture for you to join him.

“What’s this,” you can’t help but ask, small smiling in the corner of your lips when you see him lay down and open his arms. “Lay with me, Schatzi. You need rest and I wanna hold you tonight if you don’t mind.” Biting your lip, you ease down and allow him to pull you into the position where his chest is to your back, the two of you facing the fire at a safe distance where you feel the heat but not close enough where it’s a hazard. “Don’t mind if I do, Corporal,” you then tease how out of character it is for him. Usually it’s you asking him to cuddle, not the other way around.

“With all the hell we see, Y/n, having a little bit of peace with you is what I strive for,” fingers brush through your hair, Wicki kissing the side of your head as sleep threatens to take over you. “Sleep now, liebling, I’ll be here when you wake.”

Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz

Hugo is not one with words. So as you can imagine he’d likely not directly ask you to cuddle but instead give a motion with his hands or his body language gives away what he wants. You two would be bunked together—thanks to Aldo��when y’all get the chance to be at an inn while doing recon in downtown Paris. Having been…something, for sometime you two know each other’s boundaries with physical touch still being difficult for Hugo. He trusts you and knows he feels something strong for you, but he still has trouble letting you in.

This particular night however, was a hard day for both of you and you both were exhausted to the point you dropped onto the bed beside him before being taken aback by the look he was giving you. “You okay, Hugo?” You ask, sitting up a bit to decipher why he was giving you that look. When he glances down at the bed, shifting a bit closer he looks up at you with nervousness. It clicks for you, “Did you…do you want me to move closer?”

When he nods you slowly draw forward, watching his arms open and letting you fall into them. Tucking your head in his neck, you feel Hugo wrap his arms around you, stiff and unsure. It’s only when you relax against him that Hugo relaxes as well, the both of you falling asleep shortly after, a small smile painting your face.

Private Smithson Utivich

Smitty is nervous around you even after you two have established your relationship. Getting alone time gets him flustered and there are times where the opportunity arises to cuddle with you and it still makes his palms sweaty. You find it adorable, however, and sometimes tease him by saying, “All you have to do is ask, Smitty. You know I’ll say yes.”

It just makes him go red, stuttering out, “Can—can we cuddle a bit? If you don’t mind—I-I,” you cut him off with a kiss to the cheek, curling up to him. His body head could be felt through his clothes, making you nuzzle up to Smiitty as he awkwardly brings his arms around you. “Better, bud?”

“Yeah,” he sighs with a crooked smile, happy with the feeling of you in his arms. Smitty can’t help but love the moments where you two get to relax and just talk about life while cuddling. It makes him feel at home, “So much better.”

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

The Hunter and the Apache

Okay, this is my first time writing for Aldo, but I promise to give it my best effort. Thank you @sergeant-donny-donowitz for allowing me to brain storm this idea! As always characters and the gif are not mine. I hope you all enjoy it!!

Description: The Nazis are well aware of the Basterds and the many powerful members of the group. However, a new member of the Basterds has made an impact, and their skills with hatchets are unmatched

Warnings: gore, violence, langauage, the Basterds kicking butt and taking names like normal

The Basterds had surrounded a small group of Nazis, and corned them in a secluded section of forest outside of the village they were staying in. Tracking the Nazis down was easy, and now that they had the enemy in their grasp, they would be able to get all of the information that they needed.

“Now, I need you to tell me where more of your little buddies are,” Aldo said as he glared at the Nazi that sat in front of him.

The Nazi merely scoffed at Aldo. “Why should I tell you anything, stupid American.”

“Well, if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’m callin’ the Hunter of Harrisburg over. If you’ve heard of Aldo the Apache and The Bear Jew, you had to have heard about the Hunter of Harrisburg.”

“Yeah, and they don’t take mercy on Nazi assholes like you,” Donny chimed in as he twirled his bat around. The other Basterds all shouted in agreement.

Every Nazi in German-occupied France knew exactly who the Hunter of Harrisburg was. Some thought that they were a phantom, or perhaps the devil. The Hunter of Harrisburg was known for appearing out of thin air and taking out victims with one skillful throw of a hatchet.

“I’m not scared of this American pig you call the Hunter of Harrisburg,” the Nazi snarled.

Aldo simply chuckled. “Oh that’s where you’re wrong because the Hunter of Harrisburg is no pig. If anything, their faster than a hawk huntin’ a jack rabbit.” The leader of the Basterds was met by defiant silence.

Finally, one of the other Nazi captives couldn’t take the intense pressure any longer. He sprung to his feet and began to run out of the clearing. None of the Basterds moved to shoot the man, but instead let Aldo take charge. Aldo gave a short whistle, and a figure flung down from out of the trees above the clearing. The figure landed on their feet, and with one smooth movement of their arm, the hatchet they were holding flew through the air. The hatchet made contact with its target, and crimson liquid tinted the Nazis green uniform.

All of the Basterds cheered as the figure sauntered over to the dying Nazi. They pulled the hatchet from the Nazis spine, and leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Have fun in hell, you piece of shit.”

While the figure begun to remove the scalp from the Nazi, Aldo turned back to the Nazi in front of him with a smirk resting on his face. “Still not afraid of the Hunter of Harrisburg?”

“Good shot, Y/N,” Hugo Stiglitz said as Y/N walked over to where the other basterds were standing. Y/N smiled at the usually silent man. “Thank you, Stiglitz. It was a very nice shot if I do say so myself.”

“Ya know I could have got that guy,” Donny commented as he grinned at Y/N.

“You wish, darlin’. I don’t think that big bat of your’s would have travelled that far of a distance,” Y/N replied. Their voice was twinged with the same Southern accent as Aldo.

Aldo and Y/N had met back in Tennessee. Y/N lived in Harrisburg, which was a few hours away from Aldo’s hometown, and they would often go to him to buy their supply of moonshine. In return, Y/N would give Aldo firewood to use in his cabin. Y/N’s toned arms were evidence of how often they split wood, and it was well known that Y/N was the best hatchet thrower in Tennessee.

When Aldo first formed the Basterds, he didn’t want to wrap Y/N up in the dangers that awaited in Europe. He cared too much about them, and he didn’t want to see them harmed. However, Y/N caught wind of the group that Aldo was a part of, and they took it into their own hands to join the Basterds. Now after earning their reputation as the Hunter of Harrisburg, the Basterds treated them like family, and the Nazis were terrified of them.

Y/N tossed the scalp down at Aldo’s feet and held their hatchet close to the head Nazi’s throat, the blood of his comrade still dripping from the silver edge of the weapon. “You better start talkin’, or you’ll end up just like your friend over there.”

The Nazi automatically began to tell all of the information that they needed to know, which was translated by Wicki. After the information was gathered, Hugo and Omar shot the other Nazis that remained in the group, leaving the head Nazi quivering in front of Aldo and Y/N.

“Now, I’m gonna give you somethin’ you can’t take off, and then you’re gonna run back to your commander and tell him that the Basterds are comin’ for every last one of you Nazi scum,” Aldo declared as he plunged his knife into the Nazis forehead. The blade pierced through the Nazis skin, and he howled in pain.

After the Nazi started to run back in the direction of the village, all the while holding his bleeding temple, the Basterds headed in the opposite direction. They had more Nazis to hunt, and with the directions that they received, they knew exactly where to go. The other Basterds took the lead at the front of the group, while Aldo and Y/N trailed at the back.

As Y/N whiped the dark fluid from the silver edge of her hatchet, Aldo snaked his arm around Y/N’s waist. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are when you take down Nazis,” Aldo whispered in Y/N’s ear.

“I don’t think you have, but I’m glad that you get as much enjoyment out of it as I do,” Y/N said as they leaned into Aldo’s touch. His warmth brought them comfort, which in these uncertain times was a godsend.

Once the war was over, Aldo vowed to propose to Y/N, and he kept that promise. It didn’t matter how many enemies they had to face. The Apache and the Hunter of Harrisburg would always stick together until the very end.

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