Set Me Free | Sam Wilson

set me free | sam wilson

summary: it is said that your skin will regenerate itself approximately every 27 days. although, that may be true... it's been two years. why doesn't it feel like it?

pairing(s): sam wilson x teen!black!reader [ minor natasha romanoff x teen!black!reader as well ]

warning(s): talks of sexual assault, panic attack

genre: angst, hurt/comfort words: 2,278

authors note: IF THE TOPIC OF SEXUAL ASSAULT IS TRIGGERING PLEASE DO NOT READ!!! the parts that are in italics are flashbacks to reader's nightmare. the flashback doesn't go into detail of the reader's SA, only Sam comforting them about the nightmare. this is a vent fic is based on my experience as a SA survivor. i use writing as a way of coping and stuff. it's free therapy. i've been sitting on this fic for over a year debating on if i wanted to post it and finally finished it. the ending is kinda rushed tho.

Two years ago, you died. Well, not physically. You were still breathing and everything. But that was when your innocence had retired. You never told anyone when it first happened. You were too scared of the consequences. And, by the time you hadn't, it seemed too late to speak up, in your opinion. There was nothing anyone could do now. He already ruined you. So, you just let it be.

Eventually, you learned from Sam and Natasha that your uncle was arrested for multiple charges of sexual assault. You were immediately overwhelmed with tears at the announcement, for you finally felt free. You began to laugh as well. The pair were quite confused as they watched you laugh and cry. A weight lifted off your shoulders that day as you finally could admit what he did to you. Sam suggested speaking up, but you were still very fearful of even being in the same room as him. It didn't matter that you'd be protected during the trials; the thought of it made you sick.

You still get nightmares from time to time. Sometimes, they were manageable. Other times, they were not. Last night, it seemed like luck was not on your side. You didn't get much sleep due to how bad this one was.

~~

It felt too real as if he was watching in the shadows of your room. FRIDAY alerted Sam due to the spike in your vitals. You'd awakened in a state of panic. You sat in a pool of sweat as your heart pounded in your head.

Sam busted through the door in a frenzy. He hadn't noticed his mistake until you frantically hurried out of bed toward the widow bites on the desk. You trembled in the corner of the room as you pointed the weapon toward him. Sam lifted his hands as he attempted to persuade you to put the weapon down. "It's okay. You aren't there anymore. You're safe," he assured. "You can drop it. It's okay." He stayed in that spot, repeating those phrases until you lowered the weapon.

Finally, the widow bites hit the ground. You drop down along with it. Slowly, Sam takes a couple of steps toward you. Knowing you were still startled, he squatted down to your level to make himself less of a threat. He kept some distance between you, instructing FRIDAY to turn on the lights. "You're safe. I'm here. It's okay." You quivered in fear. Although you saw Sam before you, you only heard your uncle's voice -- the monster who took advantage of you. Your mind was playing tricks on you. "Breathe with me, yeah? Ready? One, two, three, four…." You obeyed his instructions.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Soon enough, your breathing went back to normal. Your sobs shift to hiccups and periodic sniffling. Sam waited for you to settle more before questioning, "Is it okay if I move closer?" He didn't want to set you off again.

You nod.

"Are you sure?" 

You swallowed. "Yes," you whispered with a croaky voice. 

Carefully, Sam scoots to sit beside you. He makes a point of keeping some space between you. You sit in silence for a while. He wants you to take control of the situation. He doesn't want you to feel pressured to talk. You recognized the silent act and appreciated him dearly.

"I… I thought I saw him." You glanced up at Sam; your voice was low, shaky. You pointed to the corner adjacent to you. "H-He was right there." Sam doesn't speak. He held out his hand as a silent invitation of reassurance. His eyes and the expression on his face held sympathy. You clutch his hand like your lifeline.

"He can't reach you anymore." Those five words caused a loud sob to escape. Sam pulled you onto his lap and nestled you as you let it all out. He couldn't prevent the tears from falling. Sam hated that this happened to you. No one deserves to feel manipulated and violated.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

You sat there for who knows how long. Waves of grief and pain danced throughout the room as both of you cried. Sam grieved with you as you wept over the loss of who you once were. Truthfully, he felt responsible for what happened to you. The man wished that he was there to protect you that night.

He hadn't noticed that you'd fallen asleep until he heard the sound of soft snores. Guessing that you wouldn't want to sleep in your bedroom for the rest of the night, Sam slowly maneuvered himself to carry you to his room instead. Sam spotted your teddy bear in his peripheral vision as he approached the door and grabbed it before walking down the corridors. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about waking anyone else in the Compound because only You, Sam, and Natasha lived on this floor. As far as Sam knew, Natasha was still visiting her sister, Yelena, in Ohio.

Once he settled you in his bed, Sam made himself a makeshift bed on the floor at the end of the bed. Sam knew you'd end up scolding him in the morning for doing so, but he didn't care. He checked his phone for the time and noticed a message.

Message from Nat:

Hey. Friday alerted me that [Name] had a nightmare again. My flight isn't for another hour, but I'll be there before she wakes up. I know you've got them, so I'm not too worried. Update me tomorrow :)

Delivered at 2:35 a.m.

I finally got her back to bed. This one seemed much worse. I'll tell you more in the morning. Have a safe flight, Nat

Delivered at 3:56 a.m.

Sam checked up on you again before allowing himself to fall back asleep. "Sweet dreams, [Name]."

~~

As you wake up, the scent of lavender and pine trees greets you. From beneath you, you can hear Sam snoring. Usually, you'd scold him for the potential back pain he'd experience later. But you were too exhausted today to do so. Despite your body's protests, your brain determines you are better off continuing your education. Some of you believe that connecting with friends will lift your mood. So you try not to wake up Sam and sneak back to your room to prepare for the day.

You were better off staying at home. 

The school hours are a blur. You lack self-control. You are not present mentally. You've detached yourself from everything. You were tired of your peers and those who didn't know you well. You wrote your exhaustion off as pulling an all nighter, which wasn’t too much of a lie in your eyes. That was your explanation when confronted with your unusual behavior. Most people bought it. It took more sway from Peter, Ned, and Michelle. They stopped bothering you after you assured them you were okay, though you still occasionally felt some concern. When the day is done, you are overwhelmed by the amount of skin you would brush up against while walking through the hallways to your next destination. You're quick to pack your belongings and rush out of the building. You don't bother to say goodbye to your friends.

A black Corvette Stingray awaits you just outside the school's main entrance. "Hey, Solnishko," Natasha says as you enter the car. When you questioned Natasha one day during your training session, she explained that it meant "little sun." She described you as having a bright and fiery essence, similar to the sun. And you became her little sun from then on. However, her little sun isn't shining as bright as usual today.  

The term endearment makes you smile but doesn't reach your eyes. Natasha doesn't comment on your gloomy disposition.

"Hi," you reply. "How was your trip?" The upbeat tone you desire does not come through. As Natasha drives away, you concentrate on the blurry scenery outside the window. You cringe internally at your lack of enthusiasm. Even though small talk is the last thing you want to do right now, you last saw Natasha a while ago. You were missing her presence.

"It was great. Later, I'll fill you in on everything." Only a murmur is returned, so the redhead ends the conversation there. The only sound on the return trip home is the radio playing at a low volume.

Natasha knows that you're not yourself. Your body language reeks of detachment. She doesn't take offense to the lack of expression you offer her. Sam gave her the run-down of last night's events once you left for school. She sees herself in you, and it pains her. The same drained look in her eyes after the memory of the past that Natasha pleaded to any god who would listen to escape. She knows how it feels to have her body controlled in such a terrible way - Innocence that was snatched away without any consent. It upset her terribly, but the most she can do is comfort you in any way she can. 

Once you enter the Compound, she guides you to her room, knowing that you usually find solace in her bed compared to your own. "Do you want to talk about it?" You still stand at the edge of her bed, arms crossed against your chest as comfort. She sits with her back against the headboard, waiting for you to make a move yourself. She waits patiently for you as you ponder whether you want to relive the nightmare again. You crawl over to the opposite side of the bed and lie so your head rests in her lap. "You know, I was talking with Bruce the other day, and he told me our skin regenerates itself every 27 days," you say as she caresses your cheek. "It's been two years, Tasha; why can I still feel him?" Your voice cracks as the tears you've been fighting away resurface.

Natasha's throat runs dry at your words. She wants nothing more than to harm the man that hurt you. Of course, there isn't a time limit when it comes to healing from trauma, but she hates that this still affects you so profoundly to this day. "I don't know, Solnishko," she whispers. She's at a loss for words. She knows nothing she says will immediately take away the pain you experience. "I'm sorry I can't take the grief away, sweetheart. If I could, I'd do it in a heartbeat." 

"I know. But your presence is enough for me." You bask in each other's comfort for a while. "Is Sam still home?" 

"Yeah, did you want to see him?" she asks, and you nod in response. 

"Okay. Hey Friday?" she calls to the Artificial Intelligence. "Can you tell Sam to come to my room, please?"

"Of course, Ms. Romanoff," the AI replies after a beat.

After a few minutes, a knock sounds at her door. Granting the man entrance, Natasha gestures to the teen in her lap, who has their eyes closed. "Hi, honey," Sam greets them as he nears the edge of the bed. Slightly opening your eyes at the sound of his voice, you grin. "Hi, Sammy," you whisper. 

"How are you feeling now?" He asks you. Observing your face, he can see signs of exhaustion in your eyes. 

"Very drained," you admit. "But a little better now that both of you are here." As much as you love everyone on the team and have a strong connection with them, you've always been more connected to Sam and Natasha for some reason. And the two of them love you like their own. They both smile softly at that. 

"How about we all take a nap, yeah? And then we can go out for dinner later?" Natasha suggests, looking at Sam for his thoughts on the suggestion. 

He nods. "Sounds good to me. Is that okay with you?" He asks you for confirmation.

You nod in agreement. With a yawn from you, you all situate yourselves on Natasha's bed. Sam and Natasha lay on opposite ends, with you in the middle. They wait until your breath evens out before speaking quietly. "I might call the school tomorrow to excuse her. She needs a day for herself." Sam tells the redhead. 

"Yeah, she needs it. Maybe we could plan an outing with the team for her." She kisses your forehead, brushing your braids out of your face. "Or just with us, depending on how she's feeling in the morning." 

Sam nods at the idea and closes his eyes; Natasha follows suit. And for a while, it's quiet until he says, "You know, you'd make an incredible mother, Nat." The statement causes Natasha to open her eyes again and look at Sam. He knows the subject of motherhood is a touchy one, given her background, but he can't help but admit it. He honestly does believe his friend would be the best parent. "Thank you. You know, you wouldn't make too bad of a father yourself, Wilson. You already have the terrible dad jokes downpacked," she says with a light chuckle. 

He sucks his teeth. "They not that bad."

She smirked lazily as the jet lag from the mission caught up to her. "Everyone else begs to differ." 

"You think they'll be okay?" Sam asks as he stares at the sleeping teen between them. 

"They always do. They have us in their corner to guide them," she reminds him, and he nods in agreement. If you were anything like either of them, you wouldn't let this throw you off track forever. You always bounce back from whatever obstacles life throws at you. With that, they fall asleep with a heaviness in their hearts for you, but they know you'll be alright.