catarina macario x younger!uswnt!reader
summary: your admiration for the older woman turns into a crush
warnings: three year age gap, long chapter
you are twenty-two lacing up for the next game with chelsea, the weight of the blue jersey settling around you like armor.
this wasn’t new; you’d been doing this since seventeen, since you were a kid at the world cup, barely knowing how to handle all the pressure the world threw at you while winning one of the best trophies a footballer can have.
somehow, you’d found yourself. at the end of 2019 you went on loan to lyon from gotham, ready to prove your talent to the best audience.
you weren’t exactly alone though—there was catarina.
being eighteen when you first met catarina, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, you stepped into the lyon training grounds with the kind of awe you couldn’t hide.
you were on loan, adjusting to life in a new country with a language you barely spoke, and everything felt monumental, as if even the smallest mistakes would echo.
catarina, twenty-one, was already established and calm, someone who seemed to carry the weight of experience with ease– especially for someone who was young herself.
she spotted you from across the pitch during your first training session, a quick flash of recognition in her smile as she walked over, her strides confident and sure.
“hey!!! you’re from new york, right?” she asked, her tone light but curious, that american accent instantly grounding.
“yeah,” you replied, trying not to seem too overwhelmed.
“just... here for a season, you know?”
“good. i was starting to miss american familiarity here.”
from that moment, a kind of natural mentorship developed between you.
the three-year difference felt both small and huge; it wasn’t just the age, but the way she carried herself, the calm authority of someone who’d already figured a few things out. in frace, you could go with her anywhere. in america, she was allowed to attend the 21+ places while you had to stay behind with the young national teammates in the hotel rooms.
little did you know, catarina knew what it was like to leave home for a career, to adapt, and maybe she saw a bit of herself in you, struggling to find your place.
you noticed the steady way she’d watch you on the field, the way she’d wait until after training to approach, giving pointers with a casual tone that softened the critique.
“you’re trying to force the pass too soon. the forward could never get it without the defender clearing it away,” she’d say once, tossing you the ball after practice as you wiped the sweat off of your forehead with the blue lyon training kit.
“take a breath, let the play build.”
she’d take the time to show you, positioning you on the field, demonstrating how to look for space, to feel the tempo of the game like it was a second pulse.
“you’ve got great instincts and speed,” she’d say after you’d gotten it right, her voice warm with approval.
“just trust them a bit more.”
it wasn’t only on the field that she guided you. early on, when you stumbled over french phrases at cafes or struggled with the simplest exchanges, she’d be there, patient and amused.
the woman with brazilian ethnicity already knew a few languages. you didn’t, only growing up needing to speak english with very basic levels of spanish.
sitting in a café with catarina, selma, and amandine–you squinted down at the menu, wrestling with a word that looked more intimidating than it probably was.
“i can never get this one,” you muttered, half to yourself, as she leaned over your shoulder with a quiet smile.
“that one’s croque-monsieur,” she said, saying it slowly.
“it’s like fancy– what do you guys call it, grilled cheese?” selma grinned with her strong french accent as you looked at catarina with suspicion.
“she's right. you’ll like it, trust us.”
“croque-mon-seur?” you tried. all of the girls laughed while catarina started shaking her head.
“you’ll get it,” she said, giving you a light nudge.
as weeks turned into months, her presence became something you leaned on without realizing. she’d taken on this mentor role easily, with the kind of warmth that let you feel less alone in a new place.
she taught you bits of french, not only in words but in the quiet encouragement she offered, like the language itself was something you could share.
on the field, you started to shadow her during drills, watching how she played as an attacking mid—the same position as you. you found yourself asking questions, hungry to learn more even with skill abnormal for a youngster.
cata always answered with that patient tone, never making you feel as though you were asking too much.
during national breaks, there's always a different energy. a familiar choas you’ve come to love since being called up in the 2019 world cup.
being back with the uswnt squad feels like stepping visiting old friends– because you are. catarina is steady, and calm. on the national team though, you’re usually the one starting over her, especially as the attacking mid, unlike at lyon due to the amount of caps you have over the woman that's older than you.
she never lets any jealousy slip, always the first to give a pat on the back or a quiet word of praise that lingers more than it probably should.
the locker room screams with excitement before the friendly against portugal, and you’re tying up your signature purple boots, mentally running through the plays.
suddenly, cat is sitting beside you, her familiar grin softening the tension that’s been settling in your shoulders. maybe its her hands resting your shoulders too.
“you look ready to score a hat trick today,” she murmurs, nudging your shoulder.
“don’t push it,” you laugh.
“starting lineup, a vet on the team. you notice how much the coaches and the staff trust you, huh?”
you manage a smile, a bit of heat creeping to your face.
“they’re trusting me to just... you know, not mess it up too bad.”
she scoffs lightly, her hand moving down to rest on your arm.
“y/n, you’re seriously too humble,” she says, voice low and just between the two of you.
“i’ve watched you since i met you in lyon. you have this... confidence, even when you don’t realize it. you don’t just belong here; you are the standard. do you know how insane that is being nineteen years old,” the twenty-two year old rants.
your face feels hot, and you look down, hoping she doesn’t notice the slight blush you can feel creeping up.
“yeah, well, it’s just pre-game stuff, you know? everyone gets this way.”
she tilts her head, a small smile playing at her lips.
“sure, if ‘pre-game stuff’ means having every player watching you just to see how it’s done or what to do next.” she moves closer, her voice dropping even lower.
“you’re more than good, y/n. i’d watch you play any day.”
the words linger, carrying a weight you don’t want to examine too closely. she’s always been supportive, always the first to praise you, but somehow her words feel different today, more intense, and it settles in your chest, creating a strange, fluttering warmth you refuse to acknowledge.
“thanks, cat,” you mumble, fiddling with your shin guard.
“i just... i appreciate it. and you know, don’t be too complimentary. i still have to actually do my job out there.”
she laughs, soft and genuine, her hand squeezing your arm before pulling away.
“oh, don’t worry. i’ll be out there to keep you in check if your ego gets too big.”
just as you try to shake off the blush spreading across your cheeks, she leans in, her eyes catching yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away. “but, y/n,” she murmurs, her voice softer, almost affectionate, “don’t hold back out there.”
you swallow, heart thudding harder than usual.
“i… yeah. yeah, no holding back.”
she smirks, giving you one last, lingering glance before she walks away, leaving you trying to convince yourself that your racing pulse is just the pre-game jitters.
skipping two months later– you were so happy winning the champions league with lyon. you felt as if you were standing at the peak of everything you’d worked toward.
the final whistle echoed in your ears, your teammates’ arms wrapped around you in victory since you delivered a goal and two assists for the 4-2 win.
right there beside you was catarina, her face alight with that mix of joy and pride that only winning a title brings. the two of you had spent a year pushing each other to new limits, and this—this win felt like the culmination of everything.
the celebration was wild, electric, stretching late into the night, but a bittersweet feeling hung in the back of your mind.
you knew what came next: you’d have to return to new york, back to gotham.
a week back in new york, trying to settle back into familiar routines, you still found yourself thinking about lyon, about that feeling of playing on european soil, where the game felt more appreciated.
the stakes somehow higher. you missed the thrill, the challenge, and most of all, you missed catarina’s presence on the field, her constant encouragement, her quiet, steady influence.
and then the call came from chelsea.
it was unexpected, a five-year contract offered by the london club, and the details? promising—more than you’d hoped for. it was an opportunity to stay in europe, to grow in a league you’d admired from afar, and in that instant, the decision felt like a piece of fate falling into place.
chelsea felt right, like the next step, and the choice was almost immediate. within days, you found yourself preparing for a new chapter in london.
it’s 2022, and as you settle into your new life in london, there’s a sense of excitement that only grows with each passing day. the new team, the city, the endless possibilities—it feels fresh, like you’re on the edge of something big.
yet, in quiet moments, you feel a pang of nostalgia for your year in lyon, for the late-night talks with catarina after long training days, the ease of sharing the same field, the bond you’d built.
at chelsea, you built a good bond with all of your teammates. you’ve gotten to be close friends with lauren while having magda as your mentor.
you missed catarina though, you had no idea why. she’d been more than just a teammate—she’d been a friend, a mentor, and you knew that her absence at the club level would be felt deeply.
you remind yourself that national breaks aren’t far off. you’ll see her again soon enough, the familiar red, white, and blue kit would be uniting you once more.
at chelsea, your time quickly became more than just playing football; it felt like finding a new family.
magdalena, with her calm authority and easy smile, became an older sister figure, a presence you leaned on during tough games or even just long training sessions. pernille was right there beside her, offering a comforting mix of humor and insight that kept you grounded.
together, they were like this solid, reassuring pair, and they had a way of making you feel like you belonged.
emma, your coach, saw something in you which is why she wanted you at the club per her request. she pushes you forward and shapes you into a player who could meet the intensity of the league.
her guidance, paired with the steady support of magda and pernille, along with your now bestfriend lauren, helped you grow both on and off the field.
at the end of the 22/23 season, magda and pernille gathered you aside after a practice session, their expressions a bit more serious than usual. magda was the first to speak.
“we wanted you to hear it from us,” she started, giving your arm a light squeeze.
“pernille and i are… we’re leaving chelsea.”
you blinked, trying to process.
“wait, leaving? like… transferring?”
pernille nodded, her smile soft but sad.
“to bayern. it’s… it’s a chance for us to play together in germany, and we felt like this was the right time.”
you felt a pang in your chest, sadness bubbling up because you couldn’t imagine chelsea without them. but you couldn’t hold back a smile either, one that came from genuine happiness for them.
“i’m gonna miss you both,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper,
“but i’m so happy you’re doing this together.”
magda pulled you into a hug, her arms warm and steady around you.
“you’ll always have us, no matter where we go.”
you laughed, hugging them both tightly.
“and i expect updates… lots of them.”
it wasn’t long after they left when lauren walked up to you one morning in the lounge, an unusual grin on her face.
as you were twirling your iced coffee together, making sure the creamer mixed well with the blonde coffee, lauren stops your wrist with a smirk.
“heard the news?” lauren asked, a twinkle in her eye.
“what news?” you replied, eyebrows raised as you sit the paper cup down on the counter.
“your friend catarina is coming to chelsea. emma signed her on for a few seasons.”
you laughed, shaking your head.
lauren can be a jokster sometimes. however, she crossed her arms, looking far too pleased with herself.
“seriously. emma wanted her on the team, and cat’s contract with lyon was up. she’ll be here to visit us at training soon.”
the idea sounded impossible, almost surreal. cat, here? with you, at chelsea?
it wasn’t until you saw her stepping onto the training field, a black crossbody bag slung over her shoulder, that it hit you. you froze, hardly believing your eyes until she spotted you, her familiar smile breaking across her face.
before you knew it, you were running toward her, your feet barely touching the ground as you threw yourself into her arms.
“cat!” you exclaimed, nearly breathless.
she laughed, pulling you into a tight hug.
“hey! god, it’s good to see you.”
pulling back, making sure to consider her knee injury, you couldn’t help but grin, words spilling out all at once.
“i can’t believe you’re here! lauren told me, but i thought she was messing with me.”
cat shook her head, her own smile warm and genuine as she holds your waist.
“nope, it’s real. looks like we’re back on the same team.”
just as you opened your mouth to ask about training together, her expression shifted, a slight grimace.
“i know, but with my knee its going to be a while.” she hesitated, glancing down at her knee.
“its alright, you’ll come back stronger!” you smile, your dimples showing as you show catarina around the place before you had to go to training practice.
six months later– it’s 2024. catarina’s first day to light training feels like an event, with the entire team gathered in the gym to show support for her coming back from an acl injury.
everyone’s happy, cheering her on as she settles in for her workout. you stand close by, eyes fixed on her as she picks up the barbell, your attention unwavering. this is a huge step for cat, and you want to be there for her.
as cat positions herself to start her barbell step-ups, sjoeke moves in, hands up, ready to help spot her.
“i got you, cat,” she says with a smile, stepping up beside her.
before you realize it, you’re already speaking, your voice coming out firm, almost a little too quick as you step behind cat beside sjoeke.
“no, it’s fine, sjo. i’ll help her.”
sjoeke pauses, raising an eyebrow at your tone, her smile shifting into something almost skeptical. she looks between you and cat, the air thick with a subtle tension.
“really?” she asks, voice edged with a hint of challenge.
“because i can spot her, y/n.”
“i don’t mind,” you insist, feeling the warmth creep up your neck, realizing how eager you sound.
there’s a beat of silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air, and sjoeke’s expression softens, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. her eyes narrow slightly, an amused glint in her gaze as she takes in your stance, the way your attention doesn’t waver from cat.
she puts her hands up, taking a step back with a knowing look.
“alright, y/n. she’s all yours.”
the team’s eyes are on you as you step into place beside catarina, your focus sharpening as you move in to spot her. cat glances up, smiling at you.
“thanks,” she says softly, her eyes warm, trusting.
“anytime,” you murmur, feeling the faintest flicker of nerves as you help steady her. your hands hover near her shoulders, close enough to catch her if needed, your gaze lingering on her face longer than you intended.
she doesn’t seem to notice, focused on her workout, but you can’t help the way your eyes trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her shoulders, the way her breath deepens with each step up.
there’s an intimacy in the moment that feels almost palpable, and you struggle to tear your gaze away, as if caught in something you’re not ready to admit to.
from the wall, lauren’s leaning back, watching with a bemused smile as you stay glued to cat’s side, every bit the protective spotter.
when she catches the way you look at cat, something just a bit too intense, she comes over to you after you finish helping cat.
“so,” lauren starts, her voice a low murmur,
you shoot her a glance, brushing it off.
she raises an eyebrow, grinning.
“you’re looking at her like she’s a piece of cheesecake or some shit?”
“i don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging, trying to keep your tone casual, but lauren isn’t buying it.
“right, you just happened to nearly elbow sjoeke out of the way to help her.” she nudges you, clearly entertained as you walk out of the gym area with lauren following.
“i didn’t know you were so... possessive.”
“i’m just helping a teammate, lauren,” you say, a bit more defensively than you meant.
she laughs, exchanging a look with katie, who’s been watching with a raised eyebrow.
“teammate, huh? well, looks like you’re a really supportive one. maybe you could give me a back massage,”
“gross,” you laugh while rolling your eyes playfully.
you make your way to the lounge, hoping to avoid further questions. as you step in, ashley, mille, and zecira are all sitting together, looking up as lauren walks in behind you, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“guys, guess what i just saw,” lauren announces, voice full of laughter.
“y/n practically staking a claim on catarina during training.”
you feel the heat rising to your face, reaching for a protein bar to keep your hands busy.
“lauren, do you ever shut up?” you mutter, trying to play it off, but the room erupts in laughter.
ashley shakes her head, grinning wide.
“i fucking knew it! i knew you had a little thing for cat.”
“please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you open the protein bar.
“you all have overactive imaginations.”
just as you think you might have a chance to let it blow over… sam, who sits on the couch beside mille, finishes her call with her fiance kristie, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.
“so, y/n,” she starts, her grin just as playful,
“you gonna do something about this little crush, or what?”
you sigh, taking a bite of the protein bar.
everyone around you laughs, clearly not fooled, and as much as you try to deny it, you can’t shake the way your heart jumps whenever you’re around cat.
march 2024 arrives and it feels like the start of something new and familiar all at once. it’s game day against leicester city, but there’s an extra pulse of excitement coursing through the chelsea locker room as everyone pulls on their light blue kits.
for you, this game holds a different kind of significance: it’s the first time you’ll be sharing the pitch with catarina since your days at lyon, and though she won’t be starting, just knowing she’s there—back from the injury that’s kept her away from the game she loves—adds a layer of warmth to everything.
you catch her watching you from across the locker room, her gaze dropping from your eyes to linger as you adjust your shirt and tug on your socks. it’s almost enough to make your breath hitch, and it doesn’t help that the kit has a snug fit, a sleek light blue that seems to catch her attention.
her eyes trail up slowly, as if she’s memorizing every detail, and when her gaze meets yours, she looks away with a small, shy smile.
erin, sitting beside her, sees it all and nudges cat in the shoulder with a smirk that says she’s absolutely onto her.
the pre-game energy is high as you head out onto the field, and while you’d usually be in the midfield, today you’re positioned as left-back. the shift feels strange, like wearing a jacket that’s just slightly too big. you tell yourself to adjust, to focus on the rhythm of the game and do your part.
as the whistle blows and the play begins, you find yourself absorbed in the moment, thoughts of cat lingering but pushed to the back as you settle into the role.
in the 38th minute, an opportunity opens. bjorn is making a move toward the box, slipping past defenders, her eyes focused and ready. you’re aware of the ball at your feet, feeling the familiar weight of it as you move up the wing. scanning the field, you find the angle and send a cross sailing toward bjorn, hoping she’ll connect.
she times her jump perfectly, meeting the ball with a header that sends it directly into the net. the crowd erupts, a sea of blue cheering as your teammates swarm bjorn in celebration.
a grin spreads across your face, pride surging as you run back to position, your gaze flicking to the bench where you spot cat clapping, her eyes on you, the corners of her mouth pulled into an admiring smile.
the game presses on, and in the 44th minute, you spot another chance. mayra’s waiting near the edge of the box, finding an opening just wide enough for a clean shot. slipping past the defender, you send the ball right to her feet.
she doesn’t waste a second, taking the shot and sending it straight into the net with a perfect strike. you jump on her back in celebration, happy to give the second assist for a player that is out of position.
it's 2-0 before halftime, and as you jog back, you’re buzzing with the energy of the lead.
the walk to the locker room is filled with celebratory chatter, but as soon as you settle onto the bench, your mind starts to go over every play. being out of position has you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that’s hard to shake.
you sit there, running through every mistake, every step you might have taken wrong, the weight of your own expectations pressing down on your shoulders.
even with the two assists, you’re surprised that no defensive errors you’ve committed ended up with a conceding goal.
you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice cat coming up beside you until her hand lands gently on your shoulder, her voice soft and soothing.
“hey,” she murmurs, leaning in slightly so only you can hear.
“you’re doing great out there. seriously, y/n.”
you manage a nod, though your shoulders still feel tense. she must notice, because without a word, she pulls you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you in a way that feels grounding.
the warmth of her hand on your back, tracing gentle circles, starts to ease the tension, her touch a reminder to breathe.
“you’ve got this,” she whispers, her voice steady and close, almost like a secret between the two of you.
“you’re holding it down out there, trust me. emma even said that you’re doing great defensively for someone that's mainly an attacker.”
you let yourself lean into her a little more, savoring the reassurance, her breath warm against your temple. it feels grounding, safe, and for a moment, you don’t want to let go.
there’s something about the way her arms hold you, strong yet gentle, that makes the anxiety ebb away, leaving a warmth that has nothing to do with the game.
just then, sjoeke clears her throat from across the room.
“gross,” she calls out, a playful grin on her face.
you and cat pull back, laughing, though you feel the heat rush to your face as she lets go, her hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary.
“thanks, cat,” you say softly, offering her a smile.
“anytime,” she replies, her gaze lingering, warm and full of something you can’t quite name.
you head back out for the second half, but she stays on the bench, still recovering, cheering from the sidelines. knowing she’s there, watching, makes you feel a little lighter, your movements sharper, steadier.
it’s the 72nd minute, you’re focused on pushing up the left flank, linking up with your attackers, and keeping your defensive responsibilities in check. your eyes scan the field, watching for openings, and it’s only when you catch lauren jogging toward the sideline and the fourth ref holding up the number board that you realize who’s coming on in her place.
catarina is stepping onto the pitch, and despite your efforts to keep composed, a bright smile tugs at your lips. this is the first time in so long that you’ll be playing together, and for once, you let yourself admit it, if only silently—you have a crush on her.
you turn your attention back to the field, your heart beating a little quicker, that sense of familiarity and excitement building with each touch of the ball.
she’s out here with you now, right where you’ve wanted her to be, and knowing she’s nearby is enough to make you feel even more determined.
in the 78th minute, you get the ball near midfield and start driving up, your pace quickening as you swerve around a few defenders. your feet are light, every movement fluid as you weave through their attempts to block you.
when you reach the edge of the box, you catch sight of cat, her positioning perfect. without a second thought, you use the outside of your foot to send a quick pass in her direction, the ball rolling smoothly toward her.
cat doesn’t hesitate. she meets the ball with a precise kick, sending it past the goalkeeper and straight into the net.
as the crowd erupts, you can’t help the excitement that surges through you. before you know it, you’re running toward her, a wide grin on your face, arms open as you close the distance.
“cat!” you shout, laughter in your voice as you reach her, wrapping her in a hug. her arms come around you instantly, holding you tight, and for a moment, it feels like the entire stadium fades away, leaving just the two of you in the center of the pitch.
“we did it,” she murmurs, her voice soft, just for you to hear.
“that was all you!” you cheer.
you feel her grip on you tighten, and your heart swells as the rest of the team joins in, everyone piling into the group hug, laughter and cheers filling the air.
the game’s finally over, and the stadium is cheering with the energy of chelsea’s victory. you’ve got a genuine grin on your face, eyes drawn to cat as she makes her way through a string of congratulatory hugs from the team.
she’s radiant, practically glowing in the aftermath of the match, and watching her light up like that stirs something deep within you. but, as thrilled as you are for her, there’s a quiet, nagging feeling creeping up in your chest.
a thought crosses your mind—would she ever really want to be with you? maybe you’re too young, too inexperienced for someone like her. what if she doesn’t even like women? the doubts start stacking up in your mind as you watch her laughing with the others, and it’s impossible to shake the feeling of insecurity as it clouds over your happiness, just for a moment.
emma notices your gaze, the way your smile flickers, and sidles up beside you.
“everything alright?” she asks, her tone casual but her eyes knowing.
you hesitate, then decide to be honest.
“i just... i don’t know. it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, but emma doesn’t let it go.
“it doesn’t look like nothing,” she says with a small smile, glancing over at cat.
“you know, it’s pretty obvious on both sides.”
“cat likes you too. maybe she doesn’t always show it in the ways you expect, but... it’s there. the entire team can see it.”
her words sink in, warm and reassuring, but also nerve-wracking. what does that mean? do you dare to take it seriously?
before you can ask more, emma steps away, and cat is suddenly in front of you again, grinning and pulling you into a tight, warm hug. the embrace is so close, her arms wrapping around you in a way that feels like more than just a friendly gesture.
you can feel the steadiness of her breathing, the warmth of her body against yours, and a part of you wishes you could stay like this, here in her arms, forever.
neither of you says anything, and in the quiet of the moment, you’re just holding each other, lost in the feeling. around you, you notice a few chelsea fans snapping pictures, murmurs about a possible new couple, but you don’t even care.
you’re caught up in her warmth, in the closeness, until you finally let go, smiling softly at her.
later, as the team heads off, you invite a few people over to your apartment to relax. most are too tired to celebrate, and honestly, you’re relieved—hosting company sounds exhausting after a long day, and you’re happy enough to have a quiet night to yourself.
you head home, showering and settling into your soft pajamas, the contentment from the day still making you smile.
you’re about to head to bed when a knock at the door catches your attention. curious, you pad over and look through the peephole, only to see cat standing there, hands in her sweatpant pockets, looking slightly unsure.
you quickly unlock and open the door, blinking at her in surprise.
“cat, what are you doing here? it’s almost midnight,” you say, though a grin creeps onto your face.
she shrugs, grinning back.
“you did say you were hosting company, didn’t you?”
you chuckle, stepping aside to let her in.
“okay, you got me. want something to drink? i’ve got water, maybe some juice…”
she watches you as you head to the kitchen, her eyes flicking over you, taking in your comfortable clothes and how your body fits in them.
“water’s fine,” she says, though her gaze lingers a little longer, sending a flutter through your stomach.
you hand her the glass, and as she takes it, you notice her eyes lingering again, tracing over your face, down to your lips, then quickly looking away. the subtle glances have your heartbeat picking up, the room suddenly feeling warmer.
the way she’s looking at you is... different. intense. it’s as if there’s something unspoken between you, simmering beneath the surface.
she catches you watching her and raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
“why are you looking at me like that?”
caught off guard, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but, with the comfort of your apartment and the courage you feel just from being around her, you answer truthfully.
“because... you look beautiful,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. the words leave your lips before you even fully realize it, but you don’t regret them.
cat’s eyes widen, her smile softening. she sets down her glass, then takes a step closer, so close that you can feel her warmth radiating. without another word, she reaches for you, pulling you down onto the couch and gently guiding you to sit on her lap.
you can’t help the small smile that sneaks onto your face as you settle, feeling her hands resting on your hips, grounding you in the moment.
“what are we doing here?” you ask, your voice quiet, curiosity sparking with a mix of nerves and excitement.
cat’s hand brushes a strand of hair away from your face, her thumb tracing lightly against your cheek. “i don’t know... what do you want us to be?” she murmurs, her gaze intense, searching yours for a hint of what you’re feeling.
you swallow, feeling a rush of confidence at her words, the encouragement in her tone. your eyes flick to her lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you ask,
she doesn’t respond with words, just leans forward, her lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. her hand settles on your hip, gentle but possessive, grounding you as you melt into her.
when you pull back slightly, your heart pounding, you manage a small smile, feeling braver than before.
“will you... will you be my girlfriend?” you whisper, barely able to contain the hope in your voice.
her answering smile is warm and bright, and without a moment’s hesitation, she pulls you back into her embrace, her lips finding yours once more.
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