Also if any of y'all request anything please make sure to like at least give me a prompt, like come on pookies don't give me the bare minimum (I love y'all to pieces dw) ♡
I do write fluff, angst, I am capable of writing smut but I'm not the best at it, but I'll try my best!! 💖
The concept of meeting Mary in the backrooms and slowly developing a relationship with each other. Then when you both "escape", Mary (as she should) is so traumatized that she exhibits the same behavior as her mother and keeps you and herself locked inside her house...
Bonus points if she's very self aware of the behavior, (since she is a therapist.) That she's exhibiting and tries to justify it/fight against it.
"God, you're such a puppy." You groan as you once again gently push her off your lap, which causes a high-pitched whine in return. Nearly piercing your ears as you turn your head around to give her a look. Only to be met with big dark eyes that bore into your soul and simply looked like you just murdered her family (You didn't). "Sweetheart… don't look at me like that, you know better than to think your 6 ft frame is going to be able to fit in my lap." Your tone is soft, and your hand instinctively reaches out to grasp hers, which pertains to an odd, rubbery texture.
Though still upset with you, she relents and intertwines her fingers with yours and squeezes awfully tight, enough for you to clench your teeth. You don't really say anything, though, her tight grip giving you a sense of a sick, protected feeling. It's her way of showing that she cares and sometimes you have to bear the pain, especially when she involves her teeth. Which are still quite clenched at the moment, meaning she's still not quite happy with you. Eventually, after a long period of silence, there's noticeable movement in her eyes, as she moves her head in a side eye glance towards you, then before you can mentally and physically prepare.
She removes her hand from yours, causing you to sigh in relief for a split second before she suddenly launches herself at you. Her body crashing down on yours. ball jointed arms wrapping heavily around your shoulders as she contentedly makes herself comfortable in your lap. Which you had previously denied her. She's so content, nuzzled into your neck and practically purring in your ear, you can even feel the faint sharpness of her teeth that's pressed against you.
request; Would you per chance, write for my Girly pop Tess from the hit game The Last of Us? If so... General headcanons would be awesome, specifically if she's like overprotective of you because y'all are literally in an apocalypse and we're just going to forget the fact that she uh (rip) Ps. If not that's totally okay! 💕✨ (I LOVE YOUUU, I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!)
A/N; i'm rubbing my hands together like a mischievous little fly, i love you and your funny words magic man
warnings; i used tess's minimal backstory, but i made up certain details to help with the story progression :)
pairing; tess servopoulos x fem!reader (platonic + romantic)
Tess doesn't do soft. Hasn't since the day she lost her son and husband. I think that she would keep you an arm's length away, mainly keeping your interactions brief and almost transactional. She doesn't see much point in getting close to somebody, being a smuggler and all.
She isn't rude or anything(most of the time), she just keeps her replies short and simple. you could be trying to make small talk to fill the awkward silence, and she'll take the bait, answering your question and nothing more.
"So... how'd your last run go?"
"As well as most of 'em i guess."
"Yeah?"
"mhm."
It takes awhile for you to get on the same level as Joel. Maybe sooner, with you being a woman too. She opens up somewhat easier, and that's how you learn about her past before the outbreak. Her husband and son, how she lost a part of her pulling the trigger for her husband. How she just couldn't bring herself to do the same for her little boy, and now he's locked in a basement somewhere in another state.
She probably didn't even mean to tell you, but it's one of those late nights on a run you agreed to share a bottle of whiskey she managed to trade for. After a couple of swigs, she just twiddles with her pocket knife while you're talking about your life before the outbreak. Talking about family, and you don't expect her to say anything in-between the silence. And you're taken aback when she clears her throat and lays it all out.
"I was married once. He was a good guy, always knew how to make me laugh. Knew his way around an engine. Had a son too, was a good kid. Always laughing bout something, and telling me about the things he'd find in the backyard."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Damn kid looked like his dad, but sure did have my sass."
"Where are they?"
"..."
Her silence makes you wanna slap yourself immediately. You don't ask about family in the QZ. You don't ask about ghosts or family here.
"Shit, I-I mean you don't gotta talk about it, sorry."
"They didn't make it. We were held up for awhile in the city after the outbreak. Ran outta food eventually and well, my husband went out. Came home thinking that the bite wasn't gonna get him. Hell, even I believed him for a minute."
"I'm sorry."
After that, something shifts. Slowly, quietly, but it's there. Whenever she makes a run with Joel, she keeps her eye out for things she knows you're fond of or need. Mostly need, like shampoo, new shirts, clothes, shoes, y'know, the practical things.
She'll go outta her way to deliver them personally. Cause then she gets to be an ass about it lol.
"Hey Missy, grabbed ya something from my last run. Noticed your shirt's more a rag than anything."
"You sure know how to charm a girl."
"You bet I do. You're welcome, by the way."
Joel notices and picks on her for quote "bein sweet" on you. She just flips him off half the time.
On the occasion that it's you she's doing the run with, she sorta (?) coddles you. Question mark, because i feel like with Tess, she sees you as an even and a person who can hold their own if she's letting you go on a smuggling operation with her. She covers you the same way that she does with Joel, but the only difference is that she always puts herself in between you and the threat. She's the one that checks the building out, gives you her some ammunition if you need it, that sorta thing.
If you get too trigger happy or reckless, she gets on your case afterwards while patching your ass up.
You ain't got enough rations? She's stepping in to give you a share of hers, or a ration card if she's got a spare.
She values your connection and bond don't get me wrong. But she'll waltz into your living area like it's hers and will start shit talking Joel if he gets on her nerves (which is most of the time but they always move past it lol)
Now, on the chance y'all make it romantic, that's another thing. She'll notice her feelings and to her, she's only ever really been with men(her husband for the longest time). It's conflicting, and to process it, she'll pull away to wonder if it's something she truly wants. I mean, it's the end of the world, she's got a routine, and now this is sitting on her chest. She'd probably fight it for a long time.
She's more quiet when she's around you, because there's just something about sitting in the quiet analyzing this person who came into your life and made waking up each morning slightly more bearable. Whether it's your laugh, your sass, or the way you hold yourself, she's smitten.
I feel like the confession isn't this big ol' grand thing, she's a busy woman with limited resources. She speaks through her actions, like cleaning your gun, fixing your gear, making sure you eat. The kind of care that looks rough and feels rough sometimes on the outside, but it's actually really intentional. She feels it, acts on it in small ways, but won't say it outright unless she's absolutely gotta.
You need to push her about why. Or who knows, she could feel like she's about to loose you. Either way, she grits it out not looking at you.
"You think I do all this just for anybody? I don't... stick around. Not like this."
And that's the closest thing to vulnerability she wants to show. Her voice is gruff, like she hates saying it, but she also needs you to understand that you're not just somebody to her. You're THE somebody.
She enjoys flirting with you with that lazy grin of hers. Calls you "doll, darlin, ladybird, honey" all that gross stuff (joking)
Is a sucker for a slow morning holding you, but hey, if you wanna hold her, she ain't complaining.
shares her coffee beans with you. believe me, huge accomplishment, she hides that shit from joel when his supply runs out.
Will try to hide her injuries from you, very stubbornly swears she can manage but let's you clean it anyways.
Wants to do literally all the heavy lifting for you, but respects your independency until you come crawling to her for help.
She speaks better through her actions, and whenever she messes up she goes outta her way to coax a smile out of you by apologizing (yes she uses her words, and yes she will admit her faults (begrudgingly but it's something))
i'm gonna stop there because i don't wanna write an angst scene to this amazing scrumptious post BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE IT I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH <33
-written 3.23.2026 REBLOGS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED
✦ karen’s been patient. watching you squirm under her gaze for weeks, always so shy and soft-spoken, legs crossed tight, eyes darting when she leaned a little too close or praised you just a little too sweet. she knew. she knew exactly what you needed — and what you were aching for.
✦ when it finally happens, it’s not rushed. she’s calm. commanding. her voice is low as she guides you to her bed, tugging off your clothes like she owns you, slow and deliberate, letting her fingers graze bare skin until your body is trembling. she makes you lay back while she gets undressed, and when she reveals her cock, your breath catches in your throat.
✦ she’s thick. veiny. flushed and leaking already just from touching you. she’s giving you something real, and your pussy clenches just looking at her. she notices. of course she notices. and she smirks.
✦ “Scared, baby?” she asks, voice all honeyed and mocking, running her cock along your soaked slit. “Don’t be. I’m gonna make it fit. Gonna fuck you so good, you’ll cry.”
✦ she starts slow. rocks her hips forward just enough to part your folds and press against your hole, watching how wide your eyes go. her hand rests on your lower belly, holding you steady as she pushes in inch by inch. the stretch is insane. you’re whimpering, gripping the sheets, already fluttering around her cock before she’s halfway in.
✦ karen’s jaw is clenched, her breathing ragged as she bottoms out. she loves how tight you are. how you try to hide your tears. how your thighs shake around her hips. she bends down and kisses you, hard, swallowing every sound you make.
✦ “Taking me so well,” she whispers, brushing hair from your face. “Knew you would. Knew you were made for this.”
✦ her thrusts start slow, deep. every time she pulls back, you feel the ridge of her cock dragging against your walls, making your stomach flip. it’s overwhelming. full. perfect. she presses her body to yours, one hand on your throat, the other gripping your hip, fucking you through the moans, the trembles, the wet heat pooling between you both.
✦ you lose count of how many times she makes you cum. she’s relentless. her rhythm grows harder, rougher, her balls slapping against you, wet and loud. your cunt’s so wet it’s messy, slick dripping down to your ass, making obscene sounds with every thrust. you’re cock-drunk, eyes rolled back, mouth slack, whispering her name like a prayer.
✦ karen doesn’t pull out. she growls when she cums, low and guttural, fucking her load deep into you, keeping her hips flush against yours until you feel the warmth fill your cunt. she stays buried inside, holding you through your aftershocks, pressing kisses along your chest, your shoulder, your jaw.
✦ “You’re mine now,” she breathes, voice husky against your neck. “And I’m not done with you yet.”
✦ she pulls out slow, watching your hole gape around nothing, her cum dripping out in slow, sticky trails. she pushes it back in with her fingers and makes you watch. “Keep it in for me, baby. You look so pretty like this.”
✦ and even after, while you’re dazed and trembling in her arms, she’s already hard again. she kisses your temple, strokes your thigh, and whispers about how many more times she plans to ruin you tonight.
Thinking about her not seeing the sun in quite some time and how the white blaring light of the facility makes her headaches worse and worse... But that's when you come around, another victim of manipulation and poverty. Emily starts viewing you as the sun, as she continues to see and interact with you. Someone or something that can take the edge off and numb the pain. You're her drug quite literally, and as you know she's quite skilled with them <3
Update: after I reblogged this someone messaged me offering me tickets to the sold out Hausu screening with a Q&A and autograph session with the director
I recently finished Cassandra on Netflix. And I must say, the no amount of fanfiction about this woman really upsets me. So, I have decided to write my own. I will post on here and Wattpad for shits and giggles. Because I want to. So, here is the first chapter of a fanfiction I wrote; Blossoming Feelings.
Bear with me, I'm not the best at writing, so please don't come at me if the plot doesn't make sense or is cringe. Also I use German lines from ChatGPT, that's my safest bet. I wish I knew the language well enough to be able to write my own lines.
––––––––
Nein = no
Liebling = sweetheart, darling
You'd been the babysitter of the Schmidt family ever since Peter was a little boy. Three and a half years old, to be exact. When Peter was born his father, Horst Schmidt, was able to take two years off and go on paternity leave for his family. However, two years was the maximum he could take off. His mother, Cassandra Schmidt, tried to look after little Peter independently but quickly realized that it would be difficult to make food, clean, and raise Peter all on her own while her husband left to work every day.
That was when she and her husband decided to put out babysitting ads everywhere. The search for the best babysitter lasted for half a year before they found you. The previous ones either demanded too much money, didn't connect with Peter and thus do a good job, or were too closed-minded for the job.
When the couple found you, oh boy, were they over the moon.
You were dedicated, passionate, loving, and, most importantly, observant of Peter and understanding of his feelings. It was Cassandra's favorite thing about how you did your job.
You were in college when you first started babysitting Peter, studying Biotechnology. As time passed, Peter grew older and you graduated with a degree. Soon, you started working but never stopped babysitting Peter since he was still under eighteen.
That was also why his father had taken a liking to you, because of your major. You didn't like Peter's father back then, he seemed... deceitful. To this day, you still didn't favor him.
His wife, however, was a different story. Cassandra was a very determined woman, much to your admiration. She was observant and mindful of other people, and a great mother to Peter. You wished you had a mother like her, someone who was patient with you.
When Horst wasn't home to be a father to Peter, it was just Cassandra and you.
Peter was practically raised by two women. It used to be so domestic at their home, just the three of you playing, and you helping Cassandra with chores and cooking.
You remember Peter being into ice skating. He would watch ice skating on the family TV every single day. You believed that one day he would be a fantastic ice skater. Horst, on the other hand, felt threatened by Peter's innocent interest in the occupation.
"Mama, Papa, ich möchte auch Schlittschuhe. Bitte." (Mama, Papa, I want ice skates too. Please.) Peter was used to speaking German with his parents and you. German was Peter's mother tongue, after all. You could understand German. Ever since you came to Germany, you got used to hearing it and eventually started to understand the words with a bit of help from dictionaries. Speaking, though, was a bit more difficult but you tried learning it for Peter, as Peter was learning English from you.
You were cleaning the kitchen as an extra help for Cassandra while she ironed when you heard Peter plead to his parents. Cassandra and Horst briefly glanced at each other before his father turned his head back to him, looking at him from above the newspaper he had been reading.
Horst smiled. "Schauen wir mal, was der Weihnachtsmann dir bringt." (Let's wait and see what Santa Claus brings you this year.)
You rolled your eyes. This man really got on your nerves. There was absolutely no way he would buy him ice skates. Peter smiled back at him and turned back to continue watching the ice skater flex and stretch while skating.
Cassandra was watching the interaction in awe, curious if her husband would, for once, make Peter happy on Christmas.
Unfortunately, her thoughts got cut short when the smell of burnt fabric and the sound of sizzling filled the room and reached her nose and ears. She immediately looked down and yelped, removing the iron from the shirt she was ironing.
"Damn it!" Cassandra didn't like cussing in front of her son, so when she did cuss, she did it in English.
You ran into the living room, eyes wide with worry. You still had a duster in one hand. "Everything okay, Mrs. Schmidt?"
Horst gave you a side-eye as he watched your interaction with his wife.
Cassandra shook her head, giggling nervously as she put away the iron onto its metal rest. "Nein, nein. I just dozed off, Liebling. Thank you." You nodded, smiling slightly at the reassurance.
Horst cleared his throat and you looked back at him curiously, Cassandra doing the same. He gave you a disingenuous smile, his eyes raking over your form, before turning to his wife. Your mouth twitched in disgust.
"Says here, Wernicke's wife had another child." You took the cue and left the room to continue dusting the countertops in the kitchen, but you could still hear everything since the rooms were next to each other.
Cassandra took another shirt and began ironing that one while listening. "A colleague of yours?" She asked curiously.
Horst, instead, ignored her question like the shit-ass husband he is and continued. "He already has five daughters. This is the sixth one," you could hear the smile in his voice. "Can't have a boy, I guess, can he?"
You shuddered at that. Horst was the typical misogynistic patriarch. He believed men were of far greater value than women, and treated his wife like so too. Not only that, but he also believed that activities and occupations had genders and that boys, like his son Peter, should like boy things.
It still baffled your mind how a wonderful and open-minded woman like Cassandra found someone so stupid, ignorant, and useless.
"Ich hätte nichts gegen ein weiteres Kind einzuwenden." (I really wouldn't mind having another little child.) Cassandra told Horst in a sultry tone, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Whether it be a girl or a boy." She smirked and your heart dropped when you heard that in the kitchen. Yeah, this was a reminder to you that she was in love with her husband.
"Oh please, darling," Horst scoffed, folding the newspaper in half and looking Peter over. "Ich bin froh dass Peter aus dem Gröbsten raus ist." (I'm glad that Peter is finally older.)
He licked his finger to turn the page. "And you almost have your figure back." Your heart dropped a second time, and you had to hold yourself back from gasping. You couldn't believe your ears. This sorry excuse for a man really objectified his wife, just like that.
There was silence after that. You guessed Cassandra was upset at what he said, naturally.
Soon Christmas came rolling around, making it snow like there was no tomorrow. You rang the doorbell of the Schmidt house and waited for the door to open to reveal Cassandra as usual. To your dismay, Horst opened up.
His smile fell for a moment before he checked out your fit for today.
"Hello, Ms. L/n." He greeted in a monotone voice. "It's Christmas, is it not?" He asked. You stood there, waiting for him to get to the point already. "You are dismissed for today. It's the holidays after all." He gave a disingenuous smile and went to close the door before you both heard Cassandra's soft voice.
"Liebling, wer steht an der Tür?" (Darling, who is at the door?) Came her gentle voice before she appeared next to Horst.
You let out a quiet gasp at the sight. She was all dolled up; hair in perfect curls, nails as red as her lips, and an outfit that looked fantastic on her. Not the most formal, but not too casual as well.
Cassandra locked eyes with you and she looked you up and down as well. Horst furrowed his eyebrows at your expression, but before he could say anything Cassandra spoke.
"Ah, Schatz, du siehst toll aus. Komm nur rein, komm rein." (Ah, sweetheart, you look wonderful. Come in, come in.) She gestured inside with her hand while smiling at you gently. Horst let out a sigh, but Cassandra gave him a look, and he moved aside for you to enter.
You entered the large house reluctantly, not liking that there was tension in the air because of you. Cassandra led you to the living room with Horst following behind you and flashed you a grateful smile. Peter was watching ice skaters skate again, blissfully unaware of the tension. You started to softly smile back at Cassandra when Horst cleared his throat. Your smile faded in a second.
"Cassandra, ein Wort." (Cassandra, a word.) He told her calmly, but there was unspoken danger in his voice, like the calm before the storm.
Cassandra paused, looking back and forth between you and Horst for a brief moment before letting out a sigh and nodding. You watched as she walked past you and gave you an apologetic look from the corner of her eye. Horst left the living room and went upstairs with Cassandra tailing behind him with her head hung.
You hated seeing her stressed around her husband, or stressed at all. He was supposed to be the one she could confide in, and yet, you could see she felt uncomfortably nervous when Horst was around.
You sighed and turned to Peter who was still watching the TV, mimicking the ice skaters' moves in real life. He looked adorable, in his own world. You decided to greet him.
"Hallo, Pete Pete." (Hello, Pete Pete.) That was the nickname you'd given him. It was silly and cute, like the boy himself. He turned back with a wide smile on his face, "Y/n!" He squealed and ran up to you, enveloping you in his arms tightly.
"I missed you." He said, still in your arms. You suddenly picked him up and spun him around, him yelping in surprise and excitement.
"Ich hab dich auch vermisst, kleiner Mann!" (I missed you too, little man!) You responded while holding him tightly, not letting him fall.
Then, a crash sounded upstairs. Your head immediately snapped in the direction of the stairs. You carefully put Peter down on the ground and kissed his forehead, before quietly walking to the stairs. He looked at you with a worried little expression.
You went upstairs and the first door to your left was left ajar. Horst and Cassandra's voices could be heard from inside, gradually getting louder due to the heated argument they were having.
"Ich fasse es nicht, dass du ausgerechnet die Babysitterin eingeladen hast, Weihnachten mit uns zu verbringen!" (I cannot believe you invited the babysitter to spend time with us on Christmas!) Came Horst's voice, you could see him approach Cassandra in a threatening manner through the gap as Cassandra bent down slowly to clean up the mess on the floor that was a broken vase. She hung her head low as her husband continued aggressively.
"Ich habe es verdient, heute Zeit mit meiner Familie allein zu verbringen, verdammt nochmal!" (I deserve to spend some alone time with my family today, damn it!)
Cassandra shot back up suddenly and began to give Horst a piece of her mind. "Sie gehört zu unserer Familie, Horst! Und das schon seit einiger Zeit." (She's a part of our family, Horst! And she has been for a while now.)
Your eyes widened as Cassandra started to defend your place in her family.
"Es wäre doch total unverschämt, sie von unserem Spaß auszuschließen und sie nur für uns schuften zu lassen!" (It would be rude to exclude her from our fun and only have her work for us!) Cassandra raised her voice. However, Horst didn't seem to like that, and as he began advancing toward Cassandra with balled-up fists, you decided to intervene. You knocked on the door loudly, drawing both of their attention.
Horst called out to whom he thought was Peter, not having seen you. "Ach, Peter, geh einfach wieder runter – wir kommen gleich." (Ah, Peter, just go back downstairs – we'll be right there.)
You opened the door quickly, standing at the doorway quietly. If looks could kill, Horst would be six feet under by now.
Horst glared at you while stepping away from his wife, not liking the way you were giving him the death stare. "What are you doing here?" He asked, clearly annoyed. "Can't you see we're in the middle of talking something out?"
"It sounded more like shouting to me." You smiled sarcastically. "And I'm the babysitter, I am to make sure your child feels safe and comfortable."
Your deadpan seemed to have caught Horst off guard, and he scoffed once he collected himself, walking past you and hitting your shoulder on the way out, making you sharply turn your head to glare at him again.
You heard his footsteps go down the stairs and disappear into the living room. When you turned your head back to look at Cassandra, you found her backed up against the wall from the previous argument. She slowly pushed herself out of the corner and kneeled in front of you.
You looked down to see you were right in front of the broken pieces of the vase. Kneeling down with her, you stopped her from collecting the pieces.
"Let me, Mrs. Schmidt..." You smiled at her tenderly. She rolled her eyes before letting out a little giggle.
"Nonsense, let me help. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me by my name?" She asked teasingly. You hummed, feigning in thought. "A few more times." She laughed along with you.
Your face then turned serious. "But seriously, let me handle this. We wouldn't want you to get a cu–" Just as you were saying that you cut the side of your finger on a piece of porcelain. You hadn't been paying much attention to how you were handling the pieces. You quietly hissed in pain, holding your finger tightly and applying pressure on the wound.
Cassandra gasped in worry as she watched your blood run down your hand and onto the floor. "Oh, Liebling..." She got up along with you, leaving the pieces on the floor, and gently took your hand in hers. The adrenaline you were feeling from the rather deep cut had you zoning out on what she was saying.
"Sweetheart? Y/n?" She softly called your name.
You hummed curiously. "Y-yeah?" Your voice was shaking from the pain. You felt your eyes start to water up as a reflex and closed your eyes, holding the tears back.
"I asked if you could walk with me to the bathroom?" She repeated her question from before. You nodded and let her lead you to the bathroom carefully. You were hyper-aware of the way her hand was tightly wrapped around your bleeding finger to at least slow down the bleeding.
Once in the bathroom, she sat you down on the toilet lid. She unwrapped her hand to check the bleeding and tutted. "It's a pretty deep cut and there is a tiny piece of porcelain in there."
You watched as her light brown eyes examined your wound. Had her eyes always been this beautiful?
She glanced up when you didn't say anything and did a double take when she saw you staring not at your hand, but at her.
You two just watched each other for a second, however, it felt like an eternity. "We're going to need to pull it out." She whispered, her eyes examining your facial features as did yours with her.
"P-pull what out?" You stumbled over your words, your face getting heated out of embarrassment.
"Das Porzellanstück, Dummerchen." (The piece of porcelain, silly.) She chuckled tenderly. "I'm going to get some help." She got up and went to the mirrored cabinet and took out a first-aid kit.
Then, she started tending to your wound. "This might hurt a bit." She said, applying the rubbing alcohol and taking the piece out with tweezers. You hissed and squirmed, but she only smiled tenderly, being very patient with you. Soon she was wrapping your finger up with a bandage.
"There. Wie neu." (Good as new.) She watched you admire her work with a giggle and smiled at your expression, chuckling along with you.
"Thank you, Mrs. S– Cassandra." You stumbled over your words, again. Your face heated up, but she only laughed gingerly. "Good, you're making progress." She replied before putting the first-aid kit away and opening the bathroom door.
"Leave the vase on the floor, I'll take care of it. You go down and make yourself at home." She ordered.
You saluted her jokingly. "Of course, ma'am." She playfully rolled her eyes and left the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You were confused about your feelings, to say the least.
I've never seen anyone post Smart House fic!!! I wrote a short one, for any fellow PAT enjoyers who may or may not exist (other than me and a few friends)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
