#then she brungs out a bunch of newspaper

[5uwabbit]

Hey look, personality swap between both MC

[stilldani24]

Seize the Day - Newsie!Bucky x Journalist!Reader - Chapter Five

Summary: The Newsie Strike of 1899 made the world stand still for two weeks. For one kid and his bum-legged best friend, it meant The World was watching and they needed to make a difference. Based on Disney’s Newsies.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, violence, disabled character

Words: 2985

A/N: I was gone for two months then supplied two chapters in one week?? You’re welcome. But I’m definitely moving in two weeks so this is in preparation of moving to a new place. 

PROLOGUE//CHAPTER ONE//CHAPTER TWO//CHAPTER THREE//CHAPTER FOUR//MASTERLIST

The next few days following the riot were…oddly quiet. Newsie Square was seemingly abandoned, aside from the occasional clean-up crew sent from the city. Pierce hadn’t sent out any additional papers or newsies to sell them for two whole days, since news about the Newsie Riot was blacklisted from every newspaper in the city. Except for one.

You marched happily up to Thor’s restaurant, where you knew the boys would be. Upon walking into the dining room, you were caught off-guard at the sight. You had assumed that the boys were going to be celebrating, perhaps even a tad bit excited, but no. Obviously still beaten up and recovering from the blatant assault on these poor kids, they were slumped in their chairs, laying on the ground, or strewn across a table. It was almost pitiful.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you spoke in a chipper voice to get their attention as you made your presence known. “Would you look at these glum mugs. These couldn’t be the same boys who made the front page of the New York Sun.”

As you said that, you proudly opened the paper you were holding out so they could clearly see the front page. They all hurried from their chairs, gathering around you to take a look at the picture. Excited chatter went around the room as they passed the paper to one another.

“You got us in the pape?” Sam asked, in disbelief but also in amazement.

“You got yourselves in the pape,” you clarified, motioning to the caucus of newsies. “Mine’s the only one that ran, though. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news so even I’m shut down now. I heard they arrested Steve, though. I was with Bucky until the riot died down but I haven’t seen him since. Did they get him too?”

“Nah, Zemo and Rumlow are runnin’ a story. They been sayin’ that he took it on the lam first sight of the cops,” Clint spoke up, making you look to him and raise your eyebrows.

“Bucky don’t run from no fight,” Peter spoke up, going up to Clint and shoving on his chest. Peter had been a newsie only a week but looked up to Bucky as if he was Jesus Christ himself.

“Take it down, shortstop. I’m just reportin’ the news,” Clint replied before walking off back to his table, plopping down in his seat and taking a sip of his water.

“Fellas, c’mon,” Scott spoke up, clapping Clint on the shoulder. “Le’s just drink in the moment, huh? We’re famous! And when ya famous, the world is your erster.”

“Your what?” Sam asked, trying to get his head around what this thick-accented kid was trying to say.

“Your erster.”

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

“Your erster. The fancy clam with the pearl inside!” Scott gave up now, exasperated as he too went to sit down. The room then erupted into the boys correcting him, making Scott flip them all off.

“Guys, whatever!” you told them. “You guys are famous. You’re making history with this front-page story. You’re, like…the kings of New York.”

Their mood seemed to all perk up when you said that, and Sam clapped you on the shoulder. “You’re the King of New York. C’mon. I have a feeling I know where Bucky is.”

You looked to the boy, nodding to him as he took your hand, leading you from the restaurant and down towards the theatre as fast as you two could. Finding him was of upmost priority, since the strike couldn’t go on without him. He was the voice of reason and inspiration for them all, and without him, the strike was at a standstill.

 Dear Bucky

Greetings from the Refuge. How are you? I'm okay. Guess I wasn't much help yesterday. Snyder soaked me real good with my crutch. Oh yeah, Buck, this is Steve, by the way. These here guards, they is rude. They say jump, boy, you jump or you're screwed! But the food ain't so bad, least so far cause so far, they ain't brung us no food. Ha ha. I miss the rooftop, sleeping right out in the open in your penthouse in the sky. There's a cool breeze blowin, even in July. Anyway, so guess what. There's this secret escape plan I got. Tie a sheet to bed, toss the end out the window, climb down then take off like a shot! Maybe though, not tonight. I ain't slept, and my leg still ain't right. Hey but, Pulitzer, he's goin' down! And then Buck, I was thinking we might just go, like you was sayin. Where it's clean and green and pretty. With no buildings in your way and you're riding Palominos every day. I'll be fine, good as new but there's one thing I need you to do. On the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each other so you tell all the fellas from me, to protect one another. The end.

Your friend best friend brother,

Steve

Bucky had been furious when he received that letter. From what he gathered from it, the Refuge was far worse than what he had experienced. He may also have been imagining it as way worse, since now he had to think of seeing it through Steve’s eyes. That kid had no survival instinct, and though he was tough and could put up a fight when in the right situation, he often needed Bucky to help him through. Now he wasn’t getting anything to eat or proper care for his leg. Bucky had no where else to go. He went right to Natasha’s theatre, needing an outlet for his rage. Often, it went onto a canvas with paint.

Natasha entered the room as he finished the newest backdrop, smiling at the work. Like always, it was beautiful. She smiled as she approached the young boy, holding a wad of cash in her hands.

“Here’s what I owe you for the first backdrop, plus this one,” she told him, placing the bundle in his hands and closing his hand over it, her hand on top of his. “And a little something extra just account’a because I’m gonna miss you so. Just answer me something, Bucky. Tell me you’re goin’ somewhere and not runnin’ away.”

Bucky scoffed as he tucked the money into the front of his painting smock, walking to fix a detail in the painting. He had often refused taking money for his work, since he simply loved painting, but he knew Natasha would have taken him to the floor if he refused it any longer. “Does it matter, Miss Natasha?”

She sighed at his response, placing her folded hands in front of her as she turned to him. “When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else. But if you’re running away, no where is ever the right place.”

Bucky looked up when he heard running on the catwalk from above the backstage area they were in, seeing Sam and letting out a heavy sigh. He had wanted to distance himself from the newsies, for at least a little while, since he definitely wasn’t happy with the outcome of the riot. Natasha left as Sam ran down to the floor below, approaching Bucky.

“How’s about letting a pal know if you’re dead or not?” he asked sternly, paper in hand as he stopped in front of the boy. “We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for ya.”

“You ever think I didn’t wanna be found?” Bucky asked then as he grabbed a couple of paint cans, moving them aside. Sam just ignored him, showing him the paper.

“Look at this, Buck! We made front-page news, above the fold!” he exclaimed excitedly, opening the paper as to demonstrate that they were, indeed, above the fold of the newspaper.

“Good for you,” Bucky replied blandly, not caring a single bit about the fact that they made the paper. It was taken at a time before the police beat them senseless and Steve had been taken away to the Refuge.

“Everyone wants to meet the famous Bucky Barnes,” Sam countered, walking to the other side of Bucky now since the kid had moved to continue to paint. “Pietro Maximoff even sent a kid over to tell us that at the next event, we can count on Brooklyn being there. Yeah, we may have been stomped into the ground, but that was just round one. With press like this, our fight is far from over.”

“Every newsie who could walk was out there this morning sellin’ papes like the strike never happened,” Bucky had stopped painting now, turning to Sam to finally face him fully. “Save your breath, it’s hopeless.”

Sam then sighed, turning to the catwalk to see you standing there, just watching. He beckoned you down, to which you nodded and began walking down the steps.

“I was out there with them,” Sam told Bucky. “If I don’t sell papes, I don’t eat. But I saw this look in Stark’s face. He was scared, he was actually worried. So I walked away, and so did a lot of other kids.”

Bucky just sighed, looking up finally to see you. “Jesus, what’s a guy gotta do to get away from you people?”

He undoubtedly felt embarrassed about crying in front of you. No, not just in front of you, but into your shoulder. He was supposed to be tough as nails, no emotions getting past him, but he had been blubbering like a baby and clinging onto you like his life depended on it.

“There’s no escapin’ us, pal. We’re inevitable,” Sam told him, and you walked towards the kid and the giant canvas to get a look at it.

“Well, you look like hell,” you commented, raising an eyebrow at the scenery he had painted. “Is that Santa Fe? You’re painting something you ain’t even seen before?”

“Oh, you want me to paint something I’ve seen before?” he asked snarkily, grabbing the canvas and spinning it around. On the back of the wooden canvas was a cartoon. Beneath a giant foot in a shiny loafer, which was labelled “Pierce”, a bunch of newsies were being squashed underneath it. “Newsie Square, thanks to my big mouth. All of us beaten, some of us arrested.”

“Lighten up, no one died,” Sam told him with a frustrated look, crossing his arms.

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed, almost amused but definitely pissed. “Is that what you’re aimin’ for? Lang brought me a letter from Steve, from the Refuge. I tried to go see him, y’know? Climbed up the fire escape. They busted him up so bad, he couldn’t even come to the window! Now what if he don’t make it, huh? You willin’ to shoulder that? For what, five pennies a pape?”

“It’s not about pennies, Buck!” Sam finally snapped at him, having enough of all the “woe is me” talk coming from the kid. “You said it yourself, we wouldn’t have to scavenge in the streets if we were given a fair deal, alright? We need to fight for that. This is a fight we have to win!”

“If I wanted a sermon, I would show up for church,” Bucky sneered in his face, stepping back now and motioning back to the staircase so the both of you would get the hint.

“Now, tell me how quitting does Steve any good,” you spoke up now, leaning towards the two boys. Bucky shot a look at you, daring for you to go further, but the look you were giving him was much stronger than any death glare he could give you. His lack of answer made you smirk. “Exactly. They may have won the battle. But you know why a snake starts to rattle?”

“No, why?” Bucky asked.

“Because he’s scared.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, like I’ll believe that.”

“Go look it up, it’s a fact,” you groaned, throwing a paintbrush at the kid. “Why else would he send dozens of goons? An entire army, plus the cops? Because he’s scared.”

Bucky was silent for a few moments. “Okay, you might be right.”

“Thank you, God,” you groaned in relief, placing a hand on your head. “He knows we’re winning. Okay, here’s the plan. I can see about getting a meeting with Pierce and telling him our negotiations, okay? I have the ties, trust me. Bucky, I want you to be there specifically. You’re the front man so he’d only want to hear from you. I’ll send for you once I get it, okay?”

Bucky nodded to you, looking up at his canvas for a second. He hoped with all his heart that Santa Fe looked something like that, at least just a little. But then he looked to you. You were here in New York. You were what he had his sights on now, not Santa Fe. He would follow you to the end of the world. “Okay,” he confirmed. His eyebrows then raised as you spit in your palm, holding your hand out. Oh, yeah. He would follow you to the moon if you asked.

You sent for him a day later, a letter to the theatre since that where he undoubtedly would be. You invited him to the World building, unknowingly at the same time as when the mayor would be stopping by with Snyder to discuss the Refuge. Since the strike and rally, which was to be held at Natasha’s theatre the following day, would be held and organized by an “escaped convict”, Pierce was looking to shut it down since that was within the law to do so. You walked into the room mid-conversation, looking to Pierce as he glared at you. All he did was hold up a paper, the copy of the New York Sun with your article displayed on the front, and it made you sit down in your seat. If there was one man in the world to make you comply, it was Alexander Pierce.

“If that’s the case,” the mayor continued. “Then we can take him back into the Refuge. Quietly.”

Pierce slammed his hands on the desk, frustrated. “What good does quiet do me? I want a public example made of him!”

Before he could continue, Wanda ran into the room. “Mr. Pierce, the boy, Bucky Barnes, is here. Just outside. He has a letter summoning him here for a meeting with you.”

Your eyes widened as you stood up from your chair, wanting to run from the room to tell Bucky that now was really not the greatest of times, especially since Snyder was in the room and ready to take him at any second. Pierce laughed, telling Wanda to let him in, before forcing you back into your seat with one simple word. “Sit.”

You quickly obliged, sitting back in your seat as he swivelled it around so you wouldn’t be seen upon Bucky entering. Pierce had to have known you set up this meeting, but you didn’t know what he was going to do now that he had a man capable of throwing him back in jail in the room.

“Mr. Bucky Barnes,” Wanda announced as she entered the room, a tinge of nervousness on her face as Bucky walked in behind her. Since the two were similar in age and grew up in Brooklyn, she had been silently and secretly rooting for the newsies to win this whole fiasco.

“Now, which Bucky Barnes is this?” Pierce questioned as Bucky took a look around the room. “The union organizer or the petty thief and escaped convict?”

“Which one gives us more in common, huh?” Bucky quipped quickly in response, making you stifle a laugh from where you were hidden by the huge-backed chair. Seriously, Pierce had the strangest taste in office decoration. Everything had to be the most expensive thing he could get his grubby hands on.

“Impudence is in bad taste when crawling for mercy,” Pierce replied, unamused.

“Crawlin’?” Bucky chuckled. “No, no, it ain’t like that. See, I was just stoppin’ by with an invite. It seems a, uh, a few hundred of your workers are rallyin’ to discuss some, uh, recent disagreements. Now, I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case direct to the fellas. Huh? So, what do ya say, Alex? Want us to save ya a spot on the bill?”

“You are as about as disrespectful and cowardly as I was told about,” Pierce smirked in response. “When I was your age, boy, I was fighting in a war. It taught me a lot of valuable lessons, this one most importantly. You don’t win a war on the battlefield. It’s the headline that crowns the victor.”

“Well,” Bucky smirked as he stepped closer to Pierce. “I will keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front page photos of our rally.”

“Rally ‘til the cows come home,” Pierce replied with a devilish smirk. “Not a paper in town will publish a word. And if it’s not in the papers, it never happened.”

“You may run this city,” Bucky snapped at him. “But there are some of us that cannot be bullied. Even some reporters.”

“Ah, such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news,” Pierce replied as he walked to your chair, simply standing by it. “Talented girl. And beautiful as well, don’t you think? I’d sure hope you’d agree, since she takes after her father.”

He then tugged your chair around so it swiveled to face Bucky, but he had done it so hard that you had nearly fallen from your chair. You looked up at Bucky, taking in a deep breath as he saw the look on your face. He looked from you, to Pierce, then back to you.

“I’d like you to meet my daughter. Y/N Pierce.”

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