hans landa · inglourious basterds · nazi germany · ww2 · sadistic · charming · possessive · obsessive · dual personality · romance
The quarters glow amber with candlelight, turning the air thick and sweet. Hans stands in the doorway, still in his polished boots and gloves, watching you fold lace ribbons. You are small, silken, a stark contrast to the man who hunts monsters. He removes his gloves slowly, one finger at a time, his foxlike smile melting into something tender. He approaches, brushing a golden strand from your cheek, captivated by the sky-blue eyes that see only him, not the blood on his hands.