Hey! How about a song fic for Nat x reader for stuck on you by new politics
If you’re still doing song requests of course 😊
i am! (i don’t really think this is what you wanted, nonnie, when you asked for this song, but it’s where my mind went for some reason)
stuck on you
when you fall asleep, the dreams come.
you’re in your apartment you share with natasha, doing some mindless task that doesn’t matter at all. and then there are arms around your waist, ones that you lean into easily. but there’s something off, something that doesn’t feel right at all. it’s not who you thought was behind you. there’s the cold feel of metal and no trademark smell of strawberries that natasha carries with her.
you turn around and see a cold face staring back at you, one that looks like fragments of the woman you love. you reach out to touch her, and your arm is twisted violently.
the next thing you know, you’re flat on you back, the butt of a gun unforgiving against the back your head.
you’re in an out of consciousness within the dream, but you have no clue for how long. memories and people drift around your mind. your mother and father. it’s a nightmare, and some part of you recognizes that fact, but you’re trapped, screaming under the weight of your unconscious self.
mostly, though, you dream of natahsha. anything about her. you see her red hair turned away from you as you run towards her. you see her eyes, darting back and forth. you see her lips, calling your name.
every time you see her you call out, hoping that this time the glances of her will stay. they never do. she’s out of reach, one step away and one step closer to driving you insane. her laugh echos through you mind, a beautiful, torturous sound.
you wake up without moving. it’s a habit you’re sure anyone of your profession would develop. you’re laying flat on your back, sweat coating your body.
somehow, natasha knows you’re awake. “come on, let’s get you fixed up,” she whispers into the dark of your bedroom.
she leads you into the connected bathroom, turning on the tap and letting it run while you collect your thoughts.
she looks up from where she was wetting a towel. “are you okay?” she asks with caution.
“don’t worry, it was only a bad dream. i’m fine,” you say shakily.
“i was worried about you,” she says truthfully. “you’ve been having those more and more.”
“they’re always about you,” you admit. “i’m trying to reach you, but you’re just one step further. you’re stuck in my head, and i don’t know what i did. i’m paralyzed with fear every night that i’ll wake up and it will be true.”
“sounds like in torturing you,” she says quietly. “you do enough of that yourself.”
“you could never,” you insist. “it’s the best feeling in the world when i wake up and you’re there. you’re there for me. my lover, my best friend, my life. i’m stuck on you, tasha, forever and always. that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. when i know it’s only a dream i’m content being hypnotized by you.”
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