Imagine Spot Conlon Saving You

                                    

                                          
"What do we have here?" "Whatcha doing in this part of town, sweetheart?" Catcalls and whistles follow you down the street. You keep silent, trying to ignore them. Stupid Brooklyn boys. In your rush, you had forgotten not to go through the "bad part of town." Now you were paying the price. So much for a shortcut. 
 Suddenly, a brawny blond boy jumps down from his perch on a stack of crates, blocking your path. He wears only some faded red suspenders holding up his ragged pants. "What's your rush, goil?" He asks, taking a menacing step forward. You step back, but he keeps advancing. Before you know it, he and a few other boys have you backed into a dead end alley. 
 Your breath starts coming faster. You nervously tuck a lock of (h/c) hair behind your ear. "I need," you say. It comes out as a squeak instead of the confident, commanding tone you were going for. "I need to get home. Now. My parents are expecting me."
 "Oh!" the blond boy says with mock sympathy. "Mustn't keep you from your mommy, must we?" The other boys snickered. 
You clench your fists so hard, your nails dig into your palms. Anger wells up inside of you. How dare he speak to you that way! You are a lady of high standing! "You, you good for nothing little...!" You stop before you say the cuss word you were thinking of. It isn't ladylike to swear. "I don't know who you think you are or what you think you're accomplishing by detaining me, but," you say, the confidence you were lacking only moments before now in your voice. "But YOUR mother must be ashamed of you. Now, I'll be going."
 You try to walk breezily by him, but he puts up an arm to block your path. The boy is now so close, only a few inches separate you. You can feel his hot breath on your face. His nostrils flare violently, and his face is bright red. You realize you may have made a mistake by mouthing off when you are in no position to do so. Fear once again clutches at your heart. Your back hits the cold brick wall as he comes ever closer, and you screw your (e/c) eyes shut, waiting for the worst. 
 "Hey!" a stern voice shouts. Your eyes pop open, and all of the boys freeze and whirl to look at the intruder. A muscular boy about your age pushes his way forward to stand beside the blond boy. His brown eyes snap with anger. "And what do ya think you're doing, Clyde?" He asks the blond boy. 
 "None of your business, Conlon," Clyde shoots back, still blocking your path to freedom. 
 "Miss, ya know this guy?" Mr. Conlon asks you. You violently shake your head 'no'. "Is he bothering ya?" he asks. 
 "Yes," you whisper as Clyde glares at you, not backing away an inch. 
 "See, Clyde," Mr. Conlon says. "The lady don't want you bumming around here. And neither do I. So get off my turf, and neva let me catch ya here again, got it?" He clenches his fists, and you can see his muscles bulge. 
 "Oh yeah, Spot? And who's gonna make me leave?" Clyde sneers. 
 Spot Conlon gives a shrill whistle. Several Brooklyn newsies appear. "They is. You gots five seconds ta get outta here. Five." Spot grabs your hand. "Four." Clyde begins to back away from the two of you. "Three-two-one," Spot counts off the rest of the numbers faster than you thought possible. "GET 'EM!" He begins running, dragging you behind him. Fists begin flying behind you. Once you're safely around a corner, far from the brawl, Spot stops and drops your hand. 
 "Thank you," you say and give him a dazzling smile, relief flooding through you. "So much."
 "No problem," he replies, ducking his head, stunned by your smile. The tough boy who had told off those bullies a few moments earlier was gone. "Gives the boys a nice chance for some soakin', gets it outta their systems for a while. I'm Spot Conlon, by the way. King of Brooklyn." He extends his hand for you to shake. 
 "(Y/n)," you reply. "Your Majesty." You drop a curtsy and giggle. "I had no idea I was in the presence of royalty."
 Spot flushes a deep red, and his unshaken hand drops back to his side. "Sorry, force of habit. That's what the guys call me. Ya want I should walk ya home? Brooklyn's no place for a lady like you afta dark."
 "I think I'm alright from here, Spot. But thank you."
 Night is falling fast, and you're glad for the cover the darkness provides. You don't want Spot to see how flustered he makes you feel. He's amazing. 
 "Well, if ya ever need anything, just ask one of da Brooklyn newsies for me, and I'll be there quick as a whistle, yeah?"
 "I'd like that. I hope to see you again soon, Spot." Before you know what you're doing, you plant a kiss on his dirt smudged cheek. You rush away in a whirl of skirts, heart pounding from your encounter with this handsome "king."