catfish and the bottlemen imagines for rainy days + mondays

Rainy Days And Mondays / Bondy

You felt disgusting. That was the simplest way to put it. The most honest way to put it. You felt so rough, groggy headed and aching all over. Your head, your arms, the back, even your fingers had that hot stinging sort of ache whenever you moved. Your joints burning like the back of your neck which was covered with a fine glimmer of sweat.

This was one of those colds which had snook up on you over the space of a couple of hours.

That morning you'd felt fine, you'd finished your run at 7 o'clock, been at work by 8.30, half an hour early, and you'd felt alive.

But by half 12 you'd felt the complete opposite. The lights in the office stung your eyes and your boss had sent you home the minute they'd heard you sniffling down the phone to a client.

"You'll never make any sales sounding like that," they'd dismissed you immediately, forced you into taking the rest of the day off sick because they didn't want you to pass it round the rest of the office.
You needed the money really but deep down you were relieved to be able to come home and shower, motivating yourself to keep moving with the thought of climbing into bed and sleeping. Slipping into an unconsciousness which would hopefully last until you were recovered.

That wasn't what had happened though and when you awoke on your bathroom floor, wrapped up in a bath towel, one hanging half tied up around your hair, your boyfriend shaking you awake with concern lacing his features together, you grew very confused very quickly.

"Fuck, y/n are you alright, what happened?" Bonds looked a lot more worried than you thought he should, his hand on your shoulder one hand to your cheek, he was frowning asking you the same question again, chewing his cheek when you smirked and mumbled an answer which made perfect sense to you but none whatsoever to him.

"Sleepy," was the one word which he could understand, the rest of it was half asleep slurred nonsense which only fed his concern as he held the back of his hand up to your forehead and winced at the heat you were radiating.

"Shit love you've got a proper fever," he said, his voice softening with sympathy for you as he helped you to sit up, smirking only when you were propped up and leaning against him, eyes already closing as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Sorry m'gettin you all wet," you mumbled thinking about you wet hair dripping on his sleeve, your cheeks flushing even more red than they already were about a minute after he made his joke.

"Aye I know, usually the other way round," hed tried to tease you but you'd been too slow, only really half present, so you hadn't giggled and told him to shut up straight away.

When you did though he cracked a smile, his arm around your shoulder squeezing you into his side.

"Ugh," you moaned quietly, eyes shut because the bright light in the bathroom was too much for you. "B im so ill," you said sniffling, "it's not fair..." you pouted. For a second he thought you might actually cry but you didn't and as he rubbed his hand soothingly over your arm he turned and kissed your wet hair, breathing in your shampoo scent.

"Poor baby," he said with a smirk, leaning into your side to kiss your cheek before slipping his arms under your legs and round your back to pick you up off the floor. It took you by surprise at first but you didn't say anything, just giggled a little into his shoulder, "cmon doll there's only one place for you n a think we both know where that is..." he said running his fingers through your hair. You were more than just burning up a little and that fine sweat could be felt on the back of your neck too so when he placed you down gently on the bed you took the towel which was still tangled in your hair and used it to try and dry yourself a little though nothing you tried could make you feel comfortable.