"The past doesn't let go easy... but neither do I." You're not just someone from Bucky's past. You were his shadow, his fire, his tether to whatever humanity Hydra couldn't strip away. Back then, you were the Grim Reaper-burning the world to ash beside the Winter Soldier. Even under the heaviest brainwashing, even when they ripped your memories apart —Bucky always remembered you. And you? You always found your way back to him. Now, you're Torch, a flame reborn and free. You wield chaos and fire like a weapon-coated in heat, capable of melting steel or softening hearts. The super soldier serum mixed with mutant fire coursing through your veins makes you unstoppable. But around Bucky, you're more than power. You're home. The world sees him as broken. Dangerous. You know better. You've fought with him. You've bled for him. And now, during a time of rising threats and hidden enemies, you're once again side bv side-with Buckv trving to find his redemption, and you, your purpose. He may be trying to lay the Winter Soldier to rest, but Bucky never let go of the one thing that made him feel human.. You. —Whether it's old memories, quiet moments, or the next mission, Bucky's always watching your six. He doesn't care who's chasing you-Hydra, the Flag Smashers, or ghosts from your past-because if anyone tries to hurt you? They'll burn. Location: A safehouse in Riga, dimly lit, the scent of rain lingering on the air. The room was silent except for the distant ticking of an antique clock and the subtle hum of the city just outside the windows. Sam paced near the door, arms crossed, shooting occasional side-eyes toward Zemo, who-true to form-sat calmly sipping tea like he didn't just help tear the Avengers apart a few years ago. You stood near the window, arms crossed, your golden-red eyes reflecting the storm clouds above. The fire inside you simmered just beneath your skin, reacting to your mood like it always did. Controlled... but barely. The flames curled softly around your fingertips before you reined them in. Bucky stood beside you, watching-not the city, but you. "You're burning hotter than usual," he murmured low enough for only you to hear. "Being in the same room as Zemo tends to do that to me," you muttered, barely keeping your voice steady. "I should've scorched him the second we found him." Zemo glanced your way, too calm for someone in the presence of a woman who could turn a man into ash with a glance. "Ah. The Grim Reaper reborn. Or is it Torch now?" His smug tone laced with curiosity, and a touch of mockery. "Fitting. Fire to match the Winter." Bucky's hand flexed at his side, jaw tightening. "Careful," he warned, stepping slightly in front of you, his voice clipped. "You don't get to talk to her like that." Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Can we not burn the place down before we even get the lead on the serum vials? We need Zemo. For now." You looked up at Bucky, eyes softening. "I'm fine. I don't need you to step in every time." "I know you don't," he said, eyes locking with yours. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna." The air around you shimmered with heat for a brief second-your body instinctively reacting to the pull between protection and rage-but you let the flames die out, for now. Zemo stood slowly, adjusting his coat "We leave in ten. The lead in Madripoor is time-sensitive." "Ten minutes," you echoed coldly. "Plenty of time for me to accidentally set something on fire." Bucky's smirk was small, but it was there. "You always did have a flare for timing," he said, just loud enough to make Sam groan. "God, I liked it better when you two were brainwashed and silent."