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.
––––––––
Liebling = sweetheart, darling
Nein = no
Ja = yes
You'd been the babysitter of the Schmitt family ever since Peter was a little boy. Three and a half years old, to be exact. When Peter was born his father, Horst Schmitt, 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 Schmitt, 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. Schmitt?"
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. "Ja, ja. 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 arguing 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. Schmitt..." 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.
