hands on your knees, angelina jolie (hans landa x actress!reader x dieter hellstrom)
-> (gif not mine)
summary: "if i were to kiss your hand, well, then you would have no choice but to take it to bed with you."; reader is the star of german cinema and attends the premier for her newest film, only to meet two particularly devoted fans
warnings: none? me being greedy ig
word count: 2232
a.n: lads honest to god if you want the threesome i will write it im just testing the waters here. sorry also eeby sleeby proofreading i had an exam today this is my treat to myself
~
Premier nights were always the same. Lights, camera, action. By now you had it down to an art, the fake smiles, the extravagant outfits, the commending your co-stars even if you'd spent every day shooting wishing they were dead.
Making a film during the war was a difficulty in itself, but you still had to make a living, so when the director had called you up you hadn't hesitated. Perhaps it wasn't your best work, but at least it payed the bills, and it kept invitations to these sorts of events coming. You had to admit there was something enjoyable about being the centre of attention, though some days you did find it tiring.
Tonight was was your first big event since the war had broken out, and you planned to make an evening of it. You'd never even heard of the cinema, and at first you were reticent about showing your face at an independent venue lest it all be a shambles, but honest to God you needed a night out, needed some attention for Christ's sake. People assumed with your job you'd never have a moment to yourself, but as people's priorities changed and their will to spend what little money the war had left them with on frivolities decreased, less and less people were going to the cinema. You'd spent weeks swanning around your apartment. The isolation was fun - until it wasn't.
But now you were back. And from the second you stepped out of the car, you knew this was where you were meant to be.
Your reservations about the venue vanished almost instantly. Though size-wise it was perhaps a little cosy, the decorations were extraordinary - though as the film was being produced by the Reich, you hardly suspected anything less. Always one for the spectacle, a whole host of high-ranking military personnel were in attendance, chandeliers were hanging and champagne was flowing to excess.
One party member in particular caught your eye. Though most of the eyes in the room were on you, yours were on him. You'd only heard tales of him until now, the famous Colonel Hans Landa, the most feared man in the army. Overlooking the crowd from the top of the staircase he watched the masses like a hawk, never once taking a sip of the flute of champagne in his hand. In all honesty you hadn't expected him to be so handsome; you primarily recognised him from the insignia on his uniform. Slightly greying hair, a row of pristine medals on his chest, his face was severe, cool eyes scanning the masses below.
It took him a while to notice you, or at least to look at you directly, though you'd been watching him in silence for a few moments, ignoring the conversation a producer was desperately trying to engage you in. You felt like you'd been caught staring and quickly looked away. You noticed his smile growing at the sight of you looking just as you turned away.
It took a lot to make you nervous - you'd had to rid yourself of any anxieties from the outset of your career - but there was just something about the Colonel that made your heart beat a little faster, brought a blush to your cheeks. The hangers-on were still around you and you finally tried to engage with them now - much to their excitement - if only to distract yourself from the fact that Landa was now slowly descending the staircase, eyes trained on you. You pulled your fur wrap a little tighter around your chest and gave an effected laugh to something one of the other officers had said. For a moment you thought you might be in the clear, but after all you knew who you were dealing with, and not even the most adored actress in Germany could fool Hans Landa.
"Fräulein (Y/L/N)," a voice sounded over your shoulder. There was no mistaking the gentle Austrian accent in the register and you couldn't decide whether you were relieved or anxious to finally have his attention.
Landa stood behind you with the same grin you'd caught only a glimpse of, soft eyes though for a second you noticed something darker bubbling under the surface.
"Colonel Hans Landa," you said, giving him a small smile. The men you'd been speaking with visibly withdrew and after only a few seconds of his presence, you found yourself alone with the SS's most dangerous man.
Without even your offering he reached for your gloved hand, giving it a small disappointed look. You cocked an eyebrow. "Something the matter, Colonel?" you asked, a slight tease in your voice. Your fears were beginning to dissipate into something perhaps more dangerous as you felt the warmth of his own hand radiating beneath the white fabric.
"For a moment I thought I might have the pleasure of kissing the hand of Germany's darling star, and now I see my dreams shall remain exactly that - dreams." Such a speech, and for what? What could a Colonel of the Gestapo care of you? You assumed he would think of such things as cinema as the whims of women, not worth his time.
"You are opposed to my glove?"
He gave a small shrug. His mannerisms were not at all what you'd been expecting for a man with so much blood on his hands; he teased you as though you were old friends, almost as if he was trying to court you.
"It isn't quite the same to say I've kissed the glove of the beautiful Fräulein (Y/L/N) than to say I've kissed the hand. You see, I assume when you go back to your big city apartment you'll toss that glove on the bedroom floor and won't think about it until who knows when. But-" Lightly you felt his thumb begin to trace over your knuckles through the thin material. "-if I were to kiss your hand, well, then you would have no choice but to take it to bed with you."
You were stunned. Part of you wondered if this was a joke, but when you looked to his darkening eyes, there was a complete absence of humour. You steeled your nerves and reciprocated his teasing.
"If you have such an issue with the glove," you said scarcely above a whisper, "why don't you remove it."
The straight line of his mouth curled up at one side, and he was just making to pull the first finger of the glove when you heard a cough from your side. Hans stopped and you instinctively removed your hand, realising how odd the situation must've seemed from the outside looking in. All of Hans' hilarity fell from his face, his own hand lingering for a moment in the air.
Turning to assess the intruder you saw a tall man stood at your side, brown hair slicked back into a strict part. From his uniform you recognised him to be a major, and his warm body carried the soft smell of cigarettes. A constellation of moles decorated his face and for a moment you paused to stare, not too dissimilar to how your eyes had lingered on the Colonel.
What was happening to you? Perhaps it was your weeks of isolation, perhaps it was a natural reaction to having such attractive men simultaneously imposed upon your person. You weren't quite sure what you were supposed to do with yourself. It was as if your brain had short-circuited.
Though you were conscious of the anger radiating from Hans' body, you couldn't drag yourself away from the new arrival.
"My apologies, Fräulein, if I'm interrupting," he said, voice low and almost a hum.
You shook your head before Landa had a chance to dismiss him, realising that somehow, amidst two high-ranking Gestapo officers, you were the one with the power.
"No, no," you insisted, earning a smile from the major.
"I just couldn't resist," he said with a small smile, every word delivered slowly as his eyes drank you in. "I'm quite the fan of your work. I couldn't miss an opportunity to finally meet you."
He introduced himself as Major Dieter Hellstrom, and though you were turned away you could practically feel the fury radiating from Landa. Every second longer your conversation with the major persisted his blood boiled, and it was a wonder his glass hadn't smashed from how hard he was gripping it.
"I hope it's not too bold of me," he said, eyes glancing to the floor, almost bashful. "I was wondering if I may kiss your hand."
You couldn't help but laugh, much to his immediate dismay. "Oh, no, sorry, I'm not laughing at the request: of course you may kiss my hand. It's just that Colonel Landa here has just asked me the same thing."
The two men looked at each other finally, both of their faces dark, and silence ensued. For a moment you weren't quite sure what to do, looking back and forth between the pair in wait of a truce. There seemed to be a silent war localised to their shared line of sight and you realised only you could prevent them from going at each other's throats.
"Gentlemen," you whispered, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, drawing them closer. "There's no need to fight now: I have two hands."
They turned to you, confusion written equally across both of their expressions. With a small smirk - rather enjoying juggling both of their attentions it should be added - you slowly peeled off both of your gloves, tucking them away into your purse, before presenting each of them a bare hand. Neither had quite figured out the situation yet, but when Dieter was the first to move, Hans wasn't to be easily beat, and soon enough the pair of them were at either hand, both of them looking up at you through their lashes. You had to admit, you rather liked the sight. You'd thought perhaps they'd be adverse to the idea of such a submissive configuration, but it seemed in the competition for your attention, there was room for extraordinary behaviour.
Just as you were starting to enjoy yourself, the call came that the film was about to start. You didn't want it to end, the way both of them were all-but beggars at your feet.
"Well," Hans said, coming to your side, "whilst this has been nice, it seems it's time I escort the lovely Fräulein to her seat."
He was offering you his arm, which you were much obliged to take, but Dieter wasn't going to give up that easily.
"Actually, Herr Colonel, I think your security duties would be better suited in the foyer. It's best if I take the lady to her seat." Now he offered you his arm, and you couldn't resist interlocking, his firm bicep tensing around your bare skin. You could feel his muscle move beneath the fabric of his uniform and you couldn't help the excitement that flooded through you. Between the pair of them you had the most feared men in the whole of the SS, and yet they seemed to be willing to go to any lengths for your attention.
Landa gave a small chuckle, though it was anything but humorous. "The thing is, Sturmbannführer-" He snarled the title as if to remind Dieter he outranked him - though the major remained unphased by the hierarchy. "I was just having a conversation with our star here when you arrived. So, unfortunately, Sturmbannführer, you're intruding."
Hans seemed rather pleased with himself for coming up with this work around and was just about to retrieve you from the major when Dieter once again retaliated.
"I believe it is up to Fräulein (Y/L/N) whether or not I'm intruding." He looked down to you, grin signifying he already knew the answer. "Would you like me to leave?"
You slowly shook your head, trying to keep your breath steady under his gaze.
"There. We have our answer." Hans looked a little defeated, though still refused to say a word against you.
Dieter was just leading you toward the screen when you reached back, a hand wrapping around Landa's arm. With a mere shrug for explanation, you simply reminded them there was a seat either side of you - lucky as well, as without you as a barrier they may have gone straight for each other's throats.
The pair of them settled in beside you, Hans to your left and Dieter rather smugly to your right. Whilst both of them may have been accompanying you, the major had the added enjoyment of being on the same playing field as Colonel Hans Landa, his superior.
You were just settling in to watch the film when you felt a hand land gently on your knee - your right knee. You caught sight of Dieter just as the light was going down. He wore a perfectly placid smile, as though he wasn't making your heart beat ten to the dozen.
Hans noticed your attention become diverted, and whether he was mirroring the major's behaviour or simply just had the same idea, soon enough you felt a warm grip on your knee - your left knee.
The picture started with applause from the crowd, but you knew there was no way you'd be able to focus on the screen.
