Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Ring

Warnings - sex-trafficing, mentions of rape, death, survivors guilt, PTSD, blood, strong language

This is a very dark fic, and goes really deep into detail on things.
Also, this is my 100th one-shot!

Bucky knew the second you were gone that something felt wrong. He saw your eyes at the bar with the man you were talking to, but gave him a smile, shake of the head, and whispered I love you before cheerfully walking away. That was the last time he saw you. That anyone ever saw you. And it was two years ago.

It was a party. Something to celebrate. And it got ruined with your disappearance. He found other stories like that online with children, boys and girls. Teens. And even some adults, but only female.

He had hope you were still alive and would come back to explain, or give him a goodbye so he wasn't still worrying over a ghost. Or waiting up for you until the early hours of the morning. Putting some of his food up in the mini fridge you had bought him in case you came home. In his arms. To him.

You weren't happy where you ended up. No one was. You were fighting, literally. Kids were going against you. They were screaming around you, forcefully cheering on whoever was trying to beat you so they weren't suffering in the corner by the men with dirty hands and gross minds.

You've lost before. Felt literal fear as you tried to get them off. You were unconscious and woke up with an ache everywhere back in a cell full of ten years old girls with tears running down their cheeks.

Kids were dying. Teen were fighting against you. At first, you let them beat you, until they started killing whoever won because they were too weak to take the life of another. You hated it. It was a lose-lose situation either way you saw it. No one won. Only their life.

The girls you were with were being kept safe by you. No one hurt them, and they learned that. And so did you. Every consequence was harsher the more older they were. You had to be the oldest, which wasn't good. The worst you had was probably a brain injury, and you still suffer from the nose bleeds, white flashes, and blackouts every day, going untreated and hurt even more.

But it was for survival. Bucky was looking for you. Your friends, family, siblings. You had to have been reported missing, and you were. They showed you the newspapers if there was a face, and yours was on it.

Avengers goes missing and hasn't been found. Any information, please call NYPD police or Avenger Hotline.

It hurt to know they were still looking for you, even if you knew you weren't ever going to leave. Kids left and never came back, boys screamed that they were in pain and nothing was done to help them. You were bleeding a lot, from your period of just from being protective of the girls you were with, you didn't know. You didn't care, either. No one hurts them and gets away with it. And you show that rage.

Your head hit the floor hashly, and you realized they were done with you, feeling the small hands on your head. They were older now from when you first got here. Some were mature, some were still terrified. The oldest looked thirteen, at least.

"Y/N." She was helping you get focus on her again, her hand placed firmly on your cheeks with no hesitation of the blood. She was used to it by now. She shouldn't be, but she is. "There you go, keep your eyes on me until I can check you, okay?" You taught her some stuff for when you're not there, just in case someone dared to go by the deal you made.