I got no goddam sleep last night, this is why
Backstory: Nyssa Wayne
Nyssa Wayne, who was once known as the vigilant and skilled shadow under Batman, harbored a secret connection to Bruce Wayne, they were related. Orphaned at a young age, she grew up unaware of her true lineage. Bruce, with his complicated family history, never knew of her existence either. Nyssa’s journey began when she was discovered by Bruce during one of his patrols. Impressed by her natural fighting ability and her unyielding spirit, he took her under his wing and trained her to be his protégé. As shadow, Nyssa formed a strong bond with the Bat-Family, especially with the first Robin now nightwing, Dick Grayson, and the second Robin, Jason Todd. She shared a deep, father-daughter relationship with Bruce, who instilled in her a strong moral code: they fought for justice, not as judge, jury, or executioner.
However, the rigid adherence to this morality led to tension. Nyssa’s desire for retribution against Gotham’s criminals clashed with Bruce’s principles. She felt that certain criminals, like the Joker, could never be redeemed and that the justice system often failed to protect the innocent. A heated confrontation drove a wedge between them, and feeling misunderstood and constrained, Nyssa faked her own death, leaving the Bat-Family in mourning. She disappeared for years, during which time she discovered that the Joker had brutally tortured and murdered Jason Todd. Consumed by a thirst for vengeance, Nyssa tracked down the Joker and executed him in cold blood. Only Selina Kyle, Catwoman, knew the truth and decided to take Nyssa under her wing. They developed a close mother-daughter bond as Selina trained her in the arts of stealth, combat, and survival.
During her time with Selina, Nyssa encountered Talia al-Ghul, the enigmatic daughter of Ra's al-Ghul and Bruce Wayne’s former lover. Talia recognized Nyssa’s potential and invited her to train with the League of Assassins. Within the League, Nyssa and Talia formed a close relationship, with Talia ultimately naming her the godmother of her son, Damian Wayne. Nyssa's world was shaken when Jason Todd was resurrected and brought to the League. Though he didn’t remember her, Nyssa’s memories of their bond as Robin and her feelings for him remained strong. They grew close once more and shared a night of passion, but Nyssa knew she couldn’t risk their relationship and left the League the next morning, breaking Jason’s heart.
Returning to Gotham, Nyssa resumed her work with Selina and adopted the villainous persona "True Justice." She soon learned that Jason had rejoined the Bat-Family as the Red Hood. He had been brought back into the fold and was struggling with his new identity. Meanwhile, the Bat-Family discovered Damian’s existence and brought him to Gotham, where he became the fifth Robin. The Bat-Family, now consisting of Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara Gordon: Oracle, Jason, Tim Drake: Red Robin, Stephanie Brown: Spoiler, Cassandra Cain: Black Bat, Damian, and Duke Thomas: The Signal, continued their mission to protect Gotham.
Nyssa’s hidden identity was eventually uncovered by Dick Grayson. Their reunion was not immediate; it was a gradual process built on trust and understanding. Dick, who had always been like an older brother to Nyssa, was elated to find out she was alive. He initially confronted her in a dark alley, where he removed his mask, revealing his tear-stricken face. The sight of Dick’s raw emotions broke down Nyssa’s walls. They spent countless hours talking, reminiscing about the old times and discussing the paths they had taken. Dick was persistent, his compassion and wisdom breaking down Nyssa’s walls. Over time, through many late-night conversations and heartfelt discussions, Dick convinced Nyssa to reveal herself to the Bat-Family. Reluctantly, she agreed. Dick brought her to the Batcave, where the family’s reactions ranged from shock to relief. Bruce, seeing her alive, was overwhelmed with a mix of guilt and joy. Jason, hurt from their past encounter but relieved to see her, struggled with conflicting emotions. The others, each processing the news in their own way, welcomed her back into the fold with varying degrees of warmth and skepticism.
The reunion with Jason was particularly poignant. Jason had always been the rebellious one, and his resurrection had left him with scars both physical and emotional. When Nyssa had left the League of Assassins, she had done so to protect him, but her departure had unintentionally caused him great pain. When they first saw each other again, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words. Jason approached her, his eyes a storm of emotions--anger, relief, confusion, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Nyssa found herself unable to look him in the eyes, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. Jason finally broke the silence, his voice filled with hurt and anger as he demanded to know why she had left him without a word after the night they shared. Nyssa explained her reasons, her voice trembling as she expressed her regret and the deep pain she had felt knowing she had hurt him. Jason, still angry but relieved that she was alive and safe, struggled to reconcile his feelings. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering that he never stopped loving her despite the pain she had caused. They realized that despite the hurt and the distance, their bond was still there, forged in the fires of their shared experiences. They decided to start anew, not as the people they once were, but as the individuals they had become.
Nyssa’s return marked a new chapter for the Bat-Family, one fraught with unresolved tensions but also the potential for reconciliation and renewed strength. Over time, Nyssa worked to rebuild her relationships with each member. She shared many heartfelt conversations with Bruce, where they addressed the pain of their separation and the different paths they had taken. With Jason, she navigated the rocky terrain of their past and found ways to support each other, recognizing their shared trauma and growth.
Nyssa also formed new bonds. She mentored Damian, drawing from her experiences to guide him through the complexities of being Robin and the legacy of their family. Damian remembered who she was, having always looked up to her as a sister and aunt figure. The two of them shared a love for art and animals, often spending time together sketching or visiting animal shelters. With Tim Drake, she discovered a kindred spirit in their analytical approaches and shared a mutual respect for each other's skills. Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain became close allies, and together, they tackled many challenges, often leaning on each other for support and camaraderie.
In time, Nyssa found her place within the Bat-Family once more. She became a symbol of resilience and redemption, proving that even the most strained relationships could heal and evolve. Her journey was a testament to the power of forgiveness, the strength of family, and the enduring hope that justice could prevail, even in the darkest of times.
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Bucky Barnes | Rebellion Series | Caution
Part one of the Rebellion Series
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?
Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.
Words: 34OO
You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.
You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.
And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–
Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.
A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.
The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…
“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”
“Steve, I–”
“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”
Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.
“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.
But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.
“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”
You ignore him and focus on your breathing.
“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.
The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”
Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.
The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.
“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”
He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.
“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”
Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”
He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”
…
Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”
“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.
“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.
“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”
“Has she started to trust you?”
Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.
If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.
“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.
If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…
He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?
Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.
“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.
He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.
“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.
He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”
He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.
“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”
Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”
You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”
Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.
Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.
“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”
Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”
A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.
You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”
Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”
You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”
His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.
…
The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.
Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.
However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.
Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.
Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.
They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.
Again.
…
“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.
“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.
Bucky suppresses his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.
“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.
Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”
Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”
Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…
Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”
The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”
He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.
Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.
And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing of course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.
Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.
Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”
Bucky can only grunt in agreement.
…
“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.
Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”
Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”
“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. “The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”
Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”
Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.
Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.
He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.
The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.
A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.
And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?
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