⮕ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 ❘ [𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘]

▬▬▬▬𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕

🗒 ❛ HEADCANNON ༉‧₊˚✧

TIMELINE｡˚ ⁀➷ Post TFAWS; You are on the run with Anya, trying to track down the person targeting you.

HEADS-UP｡˚ ⁀➷ Father-daughter fluff.

PAIRING｡˚ ⁀➷ Bucky Barnes x SageWitch!reader

SUMMARY｡˚ ⁀➷ Bucky misses you and has a nightmare of losing you forever. Mara finds him in the living room and he opens up to her about the Winter Soldier as she uses her powers to comfort him; just like you had done in the past.

꧁꧂

The house was quiet, engulfed in the stillness of midnight. Only the distant hum of the city and the soft, rhythmic ticking of the old clock filled the silence. The living room sat in shadows, lit faintly by the orange glow of a streetlamp bleeding through half-closed blinds.

Bucky Barnes sat on the edge of the couch, hunched forward, elbows digging into his knees. Sweat clung to his brow. His vibranium hand trembled where it pressed against his forehead. His breathing was shallow, and uneven. He'd woken up choking on the tail end of a scream, heart hammering, throat raw.

The nightmare lingered, sharp as broken glass.

You. Screaming. Reaching for him. 

And him—frozen. Watching you slip into the dark.

A quiet sound broke through—the soft pad of footsteps on hardwood. Then a voice, small but steady, laced with sleepy concern.

"Dad?"

He turned his head slowly.

There in the doorway stood Mara. Ten years old. Barefoot. Wearing one of your old t-shirts that hung to her knees. Her curls were a mess, tangled from sleep. And her eyes... they shimmered faintly in the dark. That golden glow.

Just how your eyes would glow green, but warmer somehow. Brighter.

Bucky swallowed hard and tried to sit up straighter, "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, managing a faint smile. "What are you doing up?"

"I felt something," she said, stepping further into the room, "Like the air got heavy."

Without waiting, she climbed onto the couch and tucked herself beside him, knees drawn up. She always did that. She didn't ask—never needed to. She just knew when he needed her near.

"You had a nightmare," she said gently. "Was it about Mom again?"

He nodded once, "Yeah."

Silence fell again. Not uncomfortable—just heavy, the kind of quiet where words weren't always enough.

Bucky looked down at his hands. One flesh, one metal. He flexed the fingers of the vibranium one like he still didn't recognize it.

"I still feel him sometimes," he said, voice rough. "The Winter Soldier. Even after all this time. Like he's still in there, just waiting for me to slip."

Mara didn't flinch. She turned toward him and gently placed her hands on either side of his face. Her palms glowed with a soft golden warmth, and little threads of light spilled from her fingers, seeping into his temples. The tension in his body eased almost instantly—like something tight had uncoiled inside him.

"Then let me help push him out," she whispered.

And just like that, the storm in his head quieted.

He could still see the memories—the blood, the cold, the orders. But her light dulled their edges. And in the spaces between them, something else remained. You. Your laughter. Your smile. Your voice telling him he was more than what they made him.

His throat tightened, and he blinked fast, tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

"You've got your Mom's heart," he said hoarsely. "And her strength. She used to do this for me too, you know? Quiet the noise."

"Yeah, she told me once. That's 'cause she never let you carry it alone," Mara said, resting her head on his shoulder, "And I won't either."

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Her body was small, warm, and solid.

After a while, he spoke again. His voice was quieter now. Hesitant, "Does it ever... bother you?" he asked. "Knowing what I was? That I was... him? The Winter Soldier?

Mara leaned back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her hands had stopped glowing, and they rested gently in her lap.

"No," she said, without missing a beat. "It doesn't."

He blinked, uncertain. "Really?"

She nodded, "I'll be honest first I was shocked. Not scared," 

Bucky frowned at this, "Not even a little bit?"

"I mean, I saw you totally lose it when Nat bit your shoulder and then teleported away and you sounded like you were about to cry. You think I can imagine you as some big killing machine after that?"

Bucky deadpanned at her, but fondly.

Mara placed a hand on his chest, her palm splayed on his muscular pec, "The Winter Soldier didn't sit with me when I was sick. He didn't learn how to braid my hair from YouTube. He didn't sit with me when I caught the flu. He didn't go crazy trying to teach me math. He didn't dance with Mom in the kitchen or read me The Hobbit three times in a row."

She looked at him, eyes steady,  "You did."

Bucky opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"You're not him, Dad. You're you. And yeah... there's a past. But there's also this. Us. Mom. Love."

Tears slid silently down his cheeks. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered.

Mara smiled into his chest. "Mom told me love's not about deserving, and if it was, then the world would be a graveyard of loners,"

A small laugh broke through his chest, shaky but real, "Yeah... that sounds like her."

And in that moment, with the soft glow of her power and the echo of her mother's warmth still lingering in the air, the shadows that had haunted Bucky Barnes for so long finally began to loosen their grip.

Just a little. Just enough to breathe.

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