catfish and the bottlemen imagines for rainy days + mondays

LSD and The Search For God // Van

It had been snowing all week. The street outside and the garden were freezing. The kind of cold which leaves the tip of your nose red for hours after you come back inside. The kind of cold which takes you hours to warm up from.

At first the snow had been fun, you and Van had spent entire days behaving like kids in it, you'd dragged him out to build a snow man, which had turned into a snow family with a dog, which had wound up in a huge snow ball fight with the neighbours.

But after a week of the stuff the novelty had worn off and all you wanted to do was stay indoors, snug under the blankets on the sofa with Van, cuddled up to him drinking tea.

And this afternoon in particular you felt particularly cosy and dreamy, under the blanket on the sofa drinking tea. Because the tea you'd been drinking wasn't your classic English breakfast. You'd brewed it specially that afternoon with the last of the shrooms you'd got saved and stored in the back of the cupboard, left over from a messy weekend with Bondy and Larry.

The effects of the drug hadn't quite kicked in yet but you could already feel your mind beginning to drift and you knew that as long as you relaxed and let it go you'd feel dreamy and lovely any time soon.

Van was the same. The two of you were lying on your sofa, him underneath, you on top your noze nuzzled into his neck, eyes closed the strange patterns on your eyelids enchanting you. When you'd asked Van if he was getting anything he'd simply hummed, daydreamy too as hed turned to kiss your temple and comb his fingers through your hair.

"Anything pretty?" you'd asked only to blush seconds later when he smirked and spoke in a sleepy low voice.

"Aye," he sighed softly, "you,"

And when he did you couldn't stop the giggle which rose from you though you hadn't wanted to let him hear how funny you'd found his terribly joke.

"That was a terrible joke," you smirked cuddling into him a little closer, hiding your blush from him as you wriggled to nuzzle into him and get comfortable again.

"Wasn't a joke," he smirked, his voice quiet as the world around you began to warp and come to life.

Your senses were beginning to heighten, you were beginning to tune into every little sound. The birds cooing outside, the buzz of the electrics. It could have been annoying but it wasn't, it was like it's own little symphony.

And then there was Van. Youd tuned into him, more close than you could have done sober. The sound of his breathing, the soft lilt of his mersy tones.
The beating of his heart in your ear, this low, steady, soothed sort of thrum. The reverberations of him and you breathing soft and slow together. Cosy and wrapped up in one another's arms under the blanket.

You'd never felt closer, never felt more tightly intertwined than you were now, the lazy way you lay together, and yet as you shifted again, a little restless, you realised that you wanted to be even closer.

You wanted skin on skin, you wanted your lips meshed with his. You wanted him to hold you properly, with purpose.

"Stop fidgetting love," chuckled Van, "you're tickling me," he grinned grabbing hold of you by your hips to hold you still, his hands wandering only seconds later when he felt the curve of your waist a whole new sensation.

"Can't help it," you said softly, "can't get comfy," you mumbled into his neck, unaware of how the vibration of your voice over his skin would effect him. Unaware of how it would make him feel as his hands smoothed back up over your bum and over your waist.

"How are you not comfy babe I feel divine," he smirked at you, taking the mick though his joke went over your head as you smirked and sat up in his lap, legs straddling him.