Menguillotine

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.