Hi author☺️ I love your works so far! I was wondering if you could write a Dieter Hellstrom fic where his wife is a resistance member? (kind of bridget vibes, she goes with him to all the society functions, she interacts with his colleagues and officers, she’s like their poster girl for how women should be and what the soldiers should ‘fight for’ but she’s working against them in the background) I feel like his reaction and action to it would be so interesting. He could either go against her or just keep her safe while trying his best to ignore it. Maybe he finds out from an officer, or something she says doesn’t add up, maybe he catches her out (kind of like the bar scene) and puts two and two together. I feel like it could be super angsty but also super interesting, i feel like for a woman to be with Dieter she’d have to kind of match his personality (cunning, cocky, manipulative) and that could play in so well with the plot. i was listening to the song iloveitiloveitiloveit by bella kay and came up with the idea for a little inspo. Thanks, author 🫶
the house's walls will break with lies and fraud.
warnings: mentions of prostitution, implied violence
a/n im really good at history and i actually studied it for my GCSE's and my a levels now, so i specifically chose the dates on purpose as italy was in shambles because the leader mussolini had just been arrested! i used the dates to create a very urgent feel and dieter would have been on high alert due to the urgency of the documents
you were here for a reason. to play a part.
officers tell their wives to act more like you- more obidient, more docile, to obey their husbands.
women all flock over to ask you how you've done your hair, your makeup secrets- how to get your look.
big doe eyes, the ones that symbolised purity, innocence and submissiveness.
your warm smile was styled with chastity, but with a undertone of deceit. no one would truly realise what you were, well except your husband- sturmbannführer dieter hellstrom.
'ah hellstrom! what a lucky man you are to find such a pretty wife!'
you flashed a small smile, one full of fraud and sweetness, before grabbing your husbands hand and professing,
'well i would say i'm rather lucky to have a husband like him.'
your eyes which radiated warmth secretly flashed a tinge of deception as you gazed lovingly at your husband.
you proceed to then fake distress, and guide your delicate hand to your forehead with nimble movement and excused yourself from the crowd of men, grabbing dieter's hand and guiding him away.
'what's wrong with you today?' dieter asked.
'liebling,' you said with sweetness, inching closer to fix his tie, your long eyelashes functioning as a curtain to help hide the inner bitterness you held for him. 'my head seems to be swimming, can i go home?'
'you did this last time, mein schatz, what's gotten into you recently?' he asked, ever the questioning type.
'whats gotten into you?' ah- a question you've started to hear a lot more often.
'dieter, i'm just frail. you know me by now to not question these things' your feeble remark doing nothing to calm his skepticism.
'alright, i'll be home soon, don't do anything stupid' he said, pressing a kiss against your knuckle.
you moved to don your coat, a stylish piece dieter had bought you a while ago- before your marriage was etched with distrust and doubt.
you exited the hall elegantly, your head held high with poise. as soon as you left you pull out a piece of scrap paper, along with a pen and begin to write swiftly against the bricks of the walls poisoned with loyal members of a fascist regime.
hauptsturmführer schneider is slowly falling out the führer's favour.
eva krüger is cheating on her husband, gruppenführer kleinz with oberführer miller.
while this information seems bizarre to write- you knew the information would matter to a certain demographic.
all the social intel you had gathered was written down to ensure you could help the resistance identify the weakest links in the third reich. who is sleeping with whom, who is loosing favour in berlin.
you hail a driver down to drive you home. as the car engine booms and the unassuming male begins to drive, you bring out your paper in the backseat once again, to write more and go over details more precisely.
as you arrive home, you rush up the stairs to the shared room of you and your husband. once what was a room that was filled with love, joy and passion stands now nothing more than a room which both of you harbour distrust. like a game of cat and mouse, you know he isn't stupid. you know he's cunning- and theres no way he doesn't know the traitorous actions you commit.
with rapid movements you open his closet- grabbing out a briefcase before opening it and turning it upside down, sending papers flying everywhere.
you begin to go through the documents, your eyes searching each letter of text etched into the private sheets.
your looking for something in particular- a classified document mentioning intel about the visit of envoys from axis italy.
after a while of shuffling round papers, you finally find your prized possession. your not stupid either- you know you can't simply take the paper. as dieter is observant. he would notice straight away. the only reason the both of you continue to play into a deceitful game of cat and mouse is because he has no concrete evidence to prove your wrongdoing.
bringing out a old notepad, you flitter through the pages until you spot a clear sheet. a innocent sheet- soon to be tainted with intel you have one purpose of composing. to destroy the third reich.
internal distribution only
reference code: A-17/transit/442
subject: arrival and handling of foreign envoy
you continue to write, copying off the paper infront of you. your arm begins to ache as you write intensely, but theres no stopping, as you know time is limited and the door could open any minute.
you finally finish writing- stumbling to hide the papers as you shove them into the briefcase- although you make sure to stack them neatly in the order they once were as so to not arouse suspicion.
you then grab your notepad and shove it back into your purse, and move to place the briefcase back into the original place which you found it.
as soon as you grab the handle, you hear the downstairs front door opening. along with a loud,
you immediately panic, running to the wardrobe to place the briefcase as fast as you can, whilst hearing the footsteps of his approach up the stairs getting louder.
your heart palpitates in your chest as he gets closer, not being able to reach the highest shelf where it was with ease.
at the last moment, you shove it inside and close the wardrobe door as dieter walks in.
now- he hasn't seen anything incriminating- but he definitely sees you standing next to his wardrobe: the one where he places important documents.
however- nothing of your physical demeanour signals wrongdoing. you are composed and poised. the embodiment of docility.
'ah liebling- i didn't expect you coming home so soon, is everything alright?'
you ask, feigning worry as you inch closer to him, helping him take off his hat, and then his tie.
you make sure he doesn't notice the faint tremor of your hands, the vague smudges of ink littered around your fingers- not evident enough to notice, but you knew he would surely catch on if he looked hard enough.
'i got tired of listening to major von hessen bamble on about his newly found prostitute- and i thought i would come home to see my most prized possession, hm?' he admits.
now your not daft- you can easily tell he came home because he knew what you were doing.
he treats you like a prized chess piece. there is genuine attraction, of course- but it's rooted in your shared intellect. he loves that you are the only person who can keep up with his wit.
the dining room released a crisp scent of roasted duck along with fresh bread, mingled with the sharp tang of polished and pristine silverware. the candles that were lit emitted a warm hue, and casted shadows that seemed to slither across the walls.
you smoothed out the hem of your dress before taking your seat. every movement was calculated and every glance was measured.
dieter proceeded to pour a bottle of mosel riesling wine into two glasses, the white liquid catching the light of flame like the sun. his eyes flicker to yours as he settles the glass down, long enough to unsettle you.
'shall we begin?' you asked, docility flowing through your question.
dieter nodded as he grabbed his fork and knife in the other hand, cutting himself pieces of the dead duck that lied on his plate.
your mind was elsewhere. dieter leaned slightly towards you, voice low but still carrying enough weight to make you second guess yourself.
'you seem.. distracted tonight, schatzi' he said, 'do i need to worry?'
a faint tremor of your fingers hovered over the glass as you carefully set it down, locking your eyes onto his.
'oh i've just been tired. tonights dinner was... exhausting.'
he didn't seem convinced. but he said nothing more. yet instead, he leaned back, observing you with sheer scrutiny: parallel to the chess master watching its pawn.
little did he know, two could play at that game.
conversation resumed, this time more minor political gossip- the type of politics you could dive deep into without raising suspicion. but you mentally logged down and drank in every single piece of intel you could get. your hands automatically twitch against the pocket in which your notepad lies, sheer evidence of treachery scattered across the pages.
his gaze occasionally drifted down to the pocket in which the notepad lied.
how much did he know? how much did he suspect?
he sets his cutlery down with a small clink,
'you know what i heard today?'
your heart palpitates in your chest, does he know- fully know about what you've been doing? did someone betray you?
'a young woman, around your age... was caught passing information to the resistance.'
'yes, and?' you reply, your voice containing control, even though your mind was in a million different places.
dieter tilted his head slightly, almost as if he was wondering how best to tell his story. his gaze flickered to yours, brief yet deliberate.
'i mean, they didn't suspect her at first,' he said, 'she was charming, soft spoken.. quite beautiful im told- like you.'
your hold on your knife tightens on instinct and you force it to relax with strain.
'mm..' you hummed lightly. 'that does sound unfortunate.'
his lips twitch- just barely.
'unfortunate?' he repeated, 'yes. for her.'
'they let her continue on for a while...' he continued, cutting his food with slow movements. 'watched her, waited. you see.. its far more useful to observe a traitor, than catch them immediately.'
'and what happened to her?' you ask, putting on a facade of being bored.
'ahh- now thats a good question.. mein liebling' he said. you could tell the endearment was laced with a tone of mockery.
'they slowly took everything from her, slowly. made sure to cut off her routines, connections.. her little secrets.' he replies, his eyes looking directly into yours, intentionally.
'and when they finished, they made sure she understood exactly why she had been allowed to continue.'
silence pressed against your ears.
you tilted your head, a faint crease of curiosity forming between the middle of your brows.
'how dreadful..' you said gently.. 'to live under such illusions.'
for a moment- a small, fleeting movement, something shifted in his expression. approval? amusement?
it vanished as quickly as it came.
'yes..' he said. 'illusions can be.. dangerous.'
you took a sip of your wine to steady your hands, letting the cool liquid calm your nerves. the faintest of tremors lingered in your fingers, but you masked it with the show of setting down the glass perfectly.
conversation resumed, though it felt thinner now. more fragile. every word stretched over something seemingly unspoken.
dieter leaned closer to you, his voice dropping an octave.
your breath caught inside your chest- but only for a moment. a moment of fragility.
'knew what?' you asked, turning to him with practiced softness.
'that she was being watched.'
you held his gaze. steady. unwavering.
'i think...' you said quietly, 'if she was as clever as they say.. she would have suspected it coming.'
'but suspicion is not proof.' you quipped.
a real reaction this time.
it wouldn't be visible to anyone else- but you saw it.
the slight narrowing of his eyes, the almost smile that never formed.
the rest of the dinner passed in a blur of politeness and careful restraint. dessert was served. however, the air never quite cleared.
when the final plates were taken away, dieter stood and extended his hand towards your direction.
'come, liebling,' he said smoothly. 'you must be exhausted.'
you placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you up to your feet. his grip was firm, grounding. yet not gentle.
as you walked away from the room together, hand in hand, you could feel it.
something far more dangerous.
