Hi my lovelies, this is part 2 of the Love Languages series with Cata. I hope you enjoy.
Dinner
Cata Coll x Reader
Description: you and Cata make dinner together.
Cuddles : Dinner : Shit Day : Sleep : Markets
Many times it’s our actions, not just our words, that really speak what our hearts feel.
You were at one end of the couch, artistically draped over the padded fabric as if you were posing for a portrait. Your body was half-sprawled, the soft cushion cradling your back and your legs stretched out in front of you. Your fingers traced the seam of the couch cushion, moving slowly as you let the quiet stillness of the room wrap around you.
Cata was on the other side, one hand resting on your sock-covered feet, squeezing every so often, her thumb brushing across the fabric as if she were trying to comfort you without saying a word. She was deep in her reading, eyes scanning over the page that told you she was clearly at the interesting part, her lips moving ever so slightly as she read in her head.
The air was filled with a soft hum from the kitchen speaker, the delicate instrumental music drifting from the room beyond, barely audible but there enough to make the atmosphere feel peaceful. Your eyelids felt heavy, your body sinking deeper into the couch, the warmth of the blanket tucked around your shoulders making everything feel perfect. You were in that semi-sleep state, drifting between dozing off and listening to the music, a part of you trying to stay awake but the weight of your exhaustion urging you to just let go.
It wasn’t long before your mind began to wander. Cata’s soft breathing, the rhythmic sound of her turning pages, and the low murmur of the music faded into the background as you let your thoughts slip away. You could feel the steady pressure of her hand on your feet, her gentle touch a quiet anchor in the stillness. It was so easy to get lost in the comfort of the moment, to forget about everything else and just be here with her.
With what felt like a Herculean amount of effort, you dragged yourself from the land of dreams back into the land of the living. The warmth of the blanket felt too good to leave, but your stomach growled in protest, reminding you that you had things to do. Slowly, you shifted your feet from Cata’s lap, the motion pulling you back into the present. You glanced over at her, still lost in her book, and smiled to yourself. There was something about the way she could get completely absorbed in her stories, her face lighting up in concentration. It was adorable.
You carefully stood up, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the satisfying crack of your back as you yawned. Your feet made contact with the cold floor, and you padded quietly to the kitchen, trying not to disturb her peaceful state.
The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of onions and peppers sizzling on the stove. You reached for the knife, beginning to chop up the other vegetables, the rhythmic motion allowing your mind to settle once more. It wasn’t until you reached for the next ingredient that you felt it - a solid pair of arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against the chest that was warm and familiar. You jumped slightly, the unexpected contact making your heart race for a moment before you heard Cata’s soft chuckle in your ear.
“Lo siento,” Sorry she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder in apology. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but the sweetness of it made you smile.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” she teased, her breath warm against your neck, and you couldn’t help but groan at her awful attempt at flirting. It was endearing, though, in that awkward way only she could manage.
“Stick to Spanish or Catalan, baby,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically, though a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth.
“You never understand when I flirt in Spanish or Catalan anyway,” she whined, and you felt the playful pout in her voice even without seeing her face.
“I don’t need to understand,” you said, tilting your head back to look up at her. “Your voice goes all low and raspy. Es muy sexy.” It’s very sexy.
She didn’t answer right away, but you felt the hum of her laughter vibrate through your body as she kissed the top of your head, the playful glint in her eyes obvious even from your peripheral view.
“In that case, què estàs cuinant, noia bonica?” she asked, her voice soft but teasing as she leaned in close to your ear, her lips grazing your skin. The words rolled off her tongue in a way that made you dizzy, not entirely understanding them, but deeply appreciating the sound of them.
You blinked, not really hearing the words but catching the way they wrapped around you, curling in your chest like a sweet, forgotten melody. It was hard not to smile at how effortlessly she could make you feel both relaxed and fluttery at the same time.
She paused for a moment, clearly noticing your distracted expression, and raised an eyebrow as if expecting a response. “What’s for dinner?” she asked in English, a little more clearly this time, her voice light with amusement.
“Oh, um,” you blinked, looking down at the pile of chopped onions, mushrooms, peppers, green beans, and tomatoes in front of you. “You said you missed Mallorca so... a-arròs brut? I think I’m saying that right.”
She smiled at that, her hand cupping your jaw, gently twisting you to face her. The touch was soft and tender, and you couldn’t help but relax into it, feeling the warmth trickle into your skin.
Her lips were soft and insistent against yours before you had a chance to ask any more questions. You melted into her, your body instinctively responding to hers as if everything around you paused just to let you both exist in that space.
You pulled back slightly, still dazed by the intensity of the kiss, your breath shallow. “W-what was that for?” you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper, a little foggy from sleep and the lingering warmth of the kiss.
She didn’t answer, just let her thumb smooth over your cheekbone gently. You felt her kiss you quickly again before turning you back toward the counter, picking up the bowl of meat resting on the side as though nothing had happened. You could still feel the heat from her lips, her presence grounding you in a way nothing else ever had.
You returned to chopping the vegetables, though now you were aware of the subtle shift in the air between you. It was the kind of silence that was comfortable, familiar, and somehow made everything feel more alive. The music continued to drift between you both, the soft rhythm of the melody filling the room like the underscore to your quiet evening together.
After a few moments, you recognised the beat of the next song as one of Cata’s favorites. You smiled to yourself, remembering all the times you’d listened to her sing along to this particular track. It was one of those songs that always seemed to make her move in a way that was so effortlessly graceful, so natural.
Sure enough, after a few beats, you saw her hips begin to sway, the motion slow and steady, as if she couldn’t help herself.
You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face as you watched her, her focus still half on you and half on the music. She turned to face you, her eyes sparkling as she placed the spatula down, taking your hand and gently pulling you toward her.
You squeaked, surprised by the sudden movement, but you went along with it, laughing as she pulled you into her arms, and you collapsed into the warmth of her embrace. Her hands found their way to your waist, and she started to sway with you, her body guiding you into the rhythm of the music. It was like an unspoken conversation, the way your movements fell into sync with hers, as if you’d always known how to dance together.
You giggled happily, letting her lead you around the kitchen, the music mixing with your laughter, creating a perfect little world just for the two of you. As the song came to an end, Cata spun you around, the motion dizzying for a moment before she pulled you back into her arms, dipping you low. You gasped in surprise, then both burst into laughter, the sound of your happiness mixing with hers in a way that felt like the entire universe was smiling along with you.
She leaned in close, her lips brushing softly against yours, and whispered, “T’estimo, amor meu.”
You smiled, your heart full, as you whispered back, “I love you, sweetheart.”
And in that moment, with the world outside the kitchen and the music fading into the background, it was as if time had stopped just for the two of you. Nothing else mattered except the warmth of her arms around you, the love between you, and the simple joy of being together.
Hi my lovelies, this is part 3 of the Love Languages series I started a bit ago, I hope you enjoy it.
Shit Day
Cata Coll x Reader
Description: You’ve had a shite day and Cata is there to help you.
Cuddles : Dinner : Shit Day : Sleep : Markets
Because positive affirmations work by replacing negative thought patterns with healthier ways of thinking, they can have a positive impact on the brain and body.
It was one of those days. One of those days where nothing went right. Your alarm didn’t go off, your coffee tasted wrong, there was too much traffic, your boss was an arse, and you generally just felt like rubbish.
The final straw came when you were trying to have a shower. You thought maybe, just maybe, washing the day off would help you reset. The water was hot - too hot, but you didn’t care. It was supposed to be comforting. The steam should have been soothing. The lavender-scented oils you kept in your bathroom always made it feel like you were at a spa, even if it was just your tiny shower in your apartment. But nothing felt good anymore.
The bottle of your expensive lavender oil sat there, sleek and shiny, all the promises of relaxation in that simple glass. The bottle felt damp under your fingertips, the condensation from the steam making it slip slightly in your grip. Before you could do anything, it slipped right from your hand. You watched it fall in slow motion, the bottle hitting the sink with a dull thud, then bouncing onto the cold bathroom tiles.
It shattered. Glass flew across the floor, and the oil pooled out, rich and slick, spreading out like a little river of failure.
You froze for a moment, staring at the mess you’d just made, trying to take in what had happened.
“Fuck!” you yelped, your voice harsh and broken. You reached down instinctively, hoping to salvage something, anything, at this point. But it was too late. The glass shards were scattered everywhere, and the lavender oil - your very expensive lavender oil that had been a gift from Cata - was wasted, slipping through your fingers like sand at the beach.
The instant you touched a piece of the glass, sharp and unforgiving, you pulled your hand back. Your fingers stung. Gingerly, you looked down at your hand, blood starting to trickle down your finger, and you swore again under your breath. It was stupid, you knew. It was just a cut. Just a stupid little accident. But it was the moment that broke you. All the little annoyances of the day, the frustration, the exhaustion … it all came crashing down.
Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You weren’t even sure why you were crying. You didn’t know if it was the blood, the mess, the failed attempt at self-care, or everything that had built up inside you over the course of the day. But the tears kept coming. Slowly, they spilled over, soaking your face as you just sat there, holding your hand close to your chest, letting the tears mix with the water from the shower that was still running.
You cried for an embarrassingly long time. You didn’t care how pathetic you looked, curled up on the floor, your hand bleeding, your face wet with tears. Everything felt like it was too much.
To make matters worse, Cata was out at some corporate event thing with Puma, looking like she had it all together. You wanted to text her. You wanted to call her and let her know how awful you felt, how everything was falling apart. But for some reason, you couldn’t. It was like there was something deep inside you that didn’t want to burden her with your mess. You knew, logically, that if you did reach out, she’d be there in a second, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe it was pride, maybe stubbornness. Maybe you were just an idiot. But you stayed silent.
Hours passed, and eventually the house grew quiet. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the shadows in your room seemed to stretch out, swallowing up the light. You sat there in your spot on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, your body aching with the weight of the day. You stared at the empty space where Cata should have been. It felt like the house had grown colder without her.
Then, the door clicked open. Cata’s key turned in the lock, and the sound of her arrival echoed through the hall as she dropped her bags by the door. She hadn’t expected you to be awake. She had probably planned to come in, check on you quickly, maybe sneak in a shower, and then curl up next to you, the two of you wrapped around each other like a couple of koalas.
But when she stepped into the living room and saw you sitting there, her face changed. She immediately dropped everything and rushed to you. You didn’t even have to look up to know what she was thinking. She was already kneeling in front of you, her hands cupping your face gently.
“Amor meu!” she cried, the tenderness in her voice making you feel like you’d been hit by a wave of warmth. You could feel the concern radiating off her, the way she took in your puffy eyes and blotchy skin, the way she took everything in with that soft, steady gaze.
“I-I’m okay,” you managed, though your voice cracked.
“Do not lie,” she said firmly, her hands soft but insistent as they guided you to look at her. “I know you, love. Talk to me.”
You didn’t want to, didn’t want to drag her into your mess, but you felt the tears starting to well up again, and before you could stop them, they slipped down your cheeks. “Shit day,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the weight of everything was too much for you to say out loud.
“Oh, baby,” Cata murmured, pulling you into her arms. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. The way she held you, as if she was protecting you from the world itself, made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt all day. Her arms wrapped around you like they belonged there, like they were always meant to be there. “Just let it out, my love,” she cooed, her voice a comforting lull. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. Let yourself feel it all.”
You thought you had already felt everything, but the moment her scent enveloped you, and the heat of her body pressed against yours, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You let yourself sag into her arms, tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt, the two of you tangled together on the couch. It was like all the walls you’d built up all day fell away in that instant. You didn’t have to be strong with her. She already saw you for everything you were, and she loved you all the more for it.
“Talk to me,” she murmured against your hair, her voice gentle but persistent. “You don’t have to be strong with me.”
You sniffed, your voice still small, almost ashamed. “I feel like I fuck everything up. I’m a total mess.”
Cata pulled back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” she said softly, but with an unwavering certainty. She waited until your eyes locked with hers. “You are not a mess. You are tired. You are human. And you are doing so much better than you think.”
You shook your head, unconvinced, but Cata didn’t let you look away. “I see you,” she continued, her voice steady. “I see how hard you try. I see how kind you are, how much you give. One bad day doesn’t undo all of that. You are good, amor meu.”
Your breath caught, and your chest tightened.
“You are enough,” she said, pressing her forehead gently to yours. “Exactly as you are. And I love you. On good days, on days like this, always.”
You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of her words sink in, deep into your heart. “Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for being so good to me… so good for me. I really appreciate you.”
“T’estimo,” she whispered softly, her lips brushing against your cheek.
“Love you too,” you managed to say back, your heart swelling as you melted into her embrace.
have you ever noticed in videos that lena has really long legs, to the point that her hips are at counter top level if you get my vibe 😉😉
Hello my lovely. So I no longer write for Lena Oberdorf but I loved the story so I have changed it to a Cata story. Thank you my lovely.
Test Drive
Cata Coll x Reader
Description: You and Cata go to Ikea.
“Cata, baby, what about this?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.
“Huh?” she replied distractedly, her eyes glued to her phone screen. She was off in her own world, thumbing through something.
“What about this?” you repeated, a little louder this time, pointing to the table in front of you. It was nice. Big enough to fit four people comfortably, five if everyone was willing to get a little cozy. The wood was painted white, and there was a quirky, carved pattern running along the edge, something floral but abstract. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it gave the piece some charm.
“Lemme see,” Cata said, finally pocketing her phone. She scuttled over, slipping in behind you and resting her hands lightly on your waist. You felt her hips press into your lower back as she leaned forward to get a better look.
You laughed under your breath, tilting your head. “Baby,” you whined softly, trying to turn around, but her arms tightened just a little.
“What?” she asked innocently. You sighed, shaking your head at her antics, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.
“What do you think?” she asked after a beat, her voice dropping a little, gentler now as her fingers traced lazy circles over your shirt. You couldn't help but relax into her.
“I wouldn’t have asked for your opinion if I didn’t like it,” you teased, glancing back at the table. It really did look good here, in the showroom’s dining setup, under the artificial lights that made everything feel warmer than it actually was.
You knew this was the last way she wanted to spend her rare day off, wandering the winding maze of Ikea, then hitting up a few other shops afterward. Not exactly the relaxing kind of day off she fantasised about. But she was here anyway, half-distracted, half-present, and entirely trying to make it tolerable for both of you.
“It looks good. Sturdy,” she said with a firm nod, stepping beside you now. Whether she was reassuring you or herself, you couldn’t tell.
“So, I’ll mark it down?” you asked, reaching for your phone and pulling up the notes app where you'd been keeping a running list.
“Yep.” She popped the “p” with a grin, one hand sliding down to intertwine her fingers with yours.
“You’re so weird,” you huffed, though there was no heat behind it. You rose up on your tiptoes and gave her a quick peck on the lips.
She smiled into the kiss, her nose brushing yours. “You love it.”
You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately.”
—
“What about this?” Cata asked, pointing to a cabinet top with an almost casual flick of her hand. It wasn’t anything wildly extravagant, simple and sturdy with a deep blue base and a faux-marble surface. You could already picture it in your new kitchen: the two of you moving around each other in easy, familiar loops, music playing from a little speaker perched on the windowsill, both of you humming along, swaying lazily between the stove and sink, drinks half-forgotten on the side, sharing kisses and long touches as you moved in a carefully choreographed dance.
“Nice,” you said, the word leaving your mouth with a small, instinctive smile.
Cata’s expression shifted almost immediately. The little crease appeared between her brows, her lips pressing together as she turned toward you, studying your face like it held some code she hadn’t quite cracked. “Do you not like it?” she asked, her voice dipping slightly, softer, tinged with a trace of uncertainty.
“No, no, I do,” you said quickly, meaning it, and you watched as the tension in her shoulders eased. She reached for you without hesitation, her fingers curling around your wrist as she tugged you closer, pulling you into her orbit like she always did.
“Hola,” she murmured, her face so close now that you could feel the warmth of her breath, the barest brush of her lips against your skin when she spoke.
“Hello, my love,” you replied, the words coming easily, familiar and true. You pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, smiling as you did.
“So you like?” Cata asked again, tilting her head toward the countertop, but not quite taking her eyes off you.
“Yeah,” you laughed under your breath as she guided you by the hips, gently but insistently, until your back was pressed lightly against the cool edge of the counter.
“There,” she murmured, more to herself than to you, her arms braced on either side of you now. You could feel the solid presence of her body, close and certain. “Comfy?” she asked, one eyebrow arched in mock challenge.
“Yes,” you replied, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.
“If you’re not happy, we can keep looking,” Cata promised, glancing over her shoulder at the neat rows of other showroom pieces. Her hand squeezed yours gently, a quiet reassurance.
“No, this is fine,” you told her, shaking your head with a small smile. “I’m just not really in the market for a countertop based on comfort.”
“Well,” she grinned, leaning in so her lips brushed your ear, “maybe you should be.”
—
“Cata?” you asked, your voice a mixture of confusion and mild horror as you took in the sight before you.
“Sí?” she grinned up at you from her place on the floor, looking far too pleased with herself for someone currently lying awkwardly in the corner of a display shower.
“Why,” you began, gesturing vaguely to the absurdity of the situation, “are you on the floor?”
“I’m measuring,” Cata said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She even had the audacity to roll her eyes, like you were the one being ridiculous.
“Measuring what?” you asked, crouching a little yourself as if getting to her level might somehow help you understand whatever was happening here.
“The shower,” she replied plainly, as if this explained everything.
“It has all the information here,” you pointed out, tapping the little laminated plastic wallet taped neatly from the wall. You scanned over it quickly; measurements, materials, available colours – literally everything any normal person might need.
“Well, I had some more things that needed to be checked,” she said airily, grabbing your outstretched hand and using it to haul herself to her feet. Cata brushed herself off with a little huff, then turned to you with a bright, expectant look.
“Stand here for me,” she instructed, already reaching out and steering you into position beneath the fake shower head before you could agree or protest. It wasn’t really a request so much as a declaration, and you found yourself moving simply because there was no other viable option.
You shot her a look as she took a step back, arms folded, head tilted slightly as she assessed the scene. Cata’s eyes flicked from the overhead fixture to the width of the shower tray, then back to you, standing there like an obedient test subject.
“This seems big enough, right?” she asked, gesturing vaguely around the cubicle, as if the answer wasn’t already printed in three different places on the product information.
“For what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes a little, though you could feel the corners of your mouth twitching upward.
Cata grinned. “For us,” she said pointedly, stepping in beside you and pulling the fake glass door shut with a soft click. The space suddenly felt even smaller with both of you inside it, her familiar gentle scent and the warmth of her skin filling the space more than any hot water ever could.
“See?” she continued, turning in a slow circle as though inspecting the room. “Plenty of room. We won’t be struggling for space.”
“We don’t struggle for space now,” you objected, though your tone was already fond, teasing.
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s… debatable.” You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as she gave you a quick, satisfied nod.
“You’re so weird.”
—
“Isn’t it a little… high?” you asked, eyeing the bed suspiciously as Cata stood beside it, looking like she was already imagining a lifetime’s worth of naps and lazy mornings sprawled across it.
She glanced at you, then back at the bed. It was wide, covered in crisp white display sheets, the kind that practically dared you to sit on them even though you weren’t supposed to. It did look comfortable – plush, with a soft give to the mattress and one of those ridiculously padded headboards you could lean against for hours.
“I don’t think so?” Cata replied, a small crease appearing between her brows as she tried to see whatever it was you were seeing. Her eyes drifted from you to the bed again, measuring it like a coach assessing a tactical setup.
“I don’t know, it just seems … taller than the one we have at the moment,” you said, leaning forward to press your hand into the mattress. It had that satisfying sink, the kind that made you want to just curl up right there in the middle of the store. “See,” you pointed out, standing beside it again. “It just about comes to my hips.”
“That’s not a bad thing though,” she mumbled, almost too fast for you to catch it.
You turned your head, raising a brow. “Hm?”
“I think it’s the perfect height,” she repeated, this time with a bright, unbothered grin, the kind that usually got her out of trouble but only made you more determined to argue your case.
“I’ll have to jump to get into it,” you pointed out, gesturing exaggeratedly to the distance between the floor and the top of the mattress.
“I’ll help you,” Cata grinned, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into her like it was the simplest thing in the world. You could feel her laughter rumbling in her chest before you even heard it.
“And when you’re on international duty? An away game? What then?” you teased, tilting your head back to look at her.
“We’ll get you a step stool,” Cata said immediately, not missing a beat and pressing a quick peck to your temple. She burst out laughing when you reached out and pinched her side in retaliation.
“Aye!” she squealed, squirming away just enough to escape your fingers but not enough to let you go. “Abuse!”
“Justice,” you corrected smugly.
She grinned down at you, her hands still warm against your waist. “I’m still saying it’s the perfect height.”
“Of course, you would,” you muttered, though you could feel the traitorous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. It was impossible to stay annoyed at her for longer than a few seconds, especially when she was looking at you like that, like she’d already planned out the first night you’d spend in that bed together.
—
“Are you sure about all the choices we made today?” you asked, clambering into bed with a groan, your muscles aching slightly from hours of showroom wandering, price comparing, and debating the virtues of matte finishes versus gloss.
“Of course, I am,” Cata grinned up at you. Before you could properly settle, she grabbed your wrist and used an unsurprising amount of strength to tug you over her, leaving you straddling her hips with a squeak of surprise.
“But… they were mostly my options,” you frowned, biting your lip as you looked down at her. “I don’t want you to just agree because you think I like it. That’s not fair.”
Cata let out a soft, almost amused sigh and reached up, her fingers brushing against your cheekbone in that annoyingly perfect way that made your breath catch. You leaned into her touch automatically, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the warmth of her palm soothed away some of your lingering worry.
“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her thumb stroking gently along your skin. “I promise, I like all the things we chose today.”
You opened your eyes, searching her face for even a flicker of doubt, but there was nothing there except easy certainty. Still, something must have flickered across your own expression because she gave a quiet laugh and added, “They’re all perfect. Every single one ticked my boxes.”
“Your boxes?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sí,” she grinned, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “My boxes. You know, strong, sturdy, spacious, comfortable for you.” She counted them off on her fingers.
You snorted. “Those are your must haves?”
Cata gave you a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course, I want you to be comfortable.”
You blinked, your stomach giving a tiny, stupid flip at the way she she was looking at you.
“What? Why?”
She smirked, tugging you a little closer, her hands settling firmly on your hips. “For when we have sex. Gotta keep my girl comfy when I’m making her see stars.”
A laugh burst out of you before you could stop it, the warm flush on your cheeks doing nothing to hide how pleased you secretly were. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re mine,” Cata grinned, stealing a long, sweet kiss.
