His Challenger (ON HOLD)

Like A Queen

Your POV
I. Had. To fight Spot. The guy that every 'Hatten Newsie was afraid to come rally Brooklyn because he made them all noivous. I am so dead. I was panicking to say the least... I didn't want to fight someone who wasn't causing me or someone I care about harm. After a few minutes Spot comes back.

"Youse ready ta go sweetheart?" "I-I can't fight ya Spot.... you ain't done notin' ya me... o-or me family..." He looks at me, eyes scanning my face. "Sos, youse tellin' me youse can't fight witout a reason?" I nod hesitantly. Suddenly I'm trapped against the door. I let out a surprised gasp. I look up at him as he towers over me, his right arm above my head.

Stay calm stay calm stay calm. That didn't work, my breathing picked up, and I was scared. His brows furrowed. Oh no... he's angry wit me... he's gon throw me out. "Is youse scared of me sweetheart?" My eyes widened. I don't want ta say da wrong thing... what do I do? His eyes continued to scan my face.  His eyes continued to scan my face, I drop my gaze to the ground.

"Eh, eh, looks at me." Breathing a little faster, I returned my gaze him nervously. "Youse scared of me..." I open my mouth, but nothing comes out so I close it. I fight tears. "He really broke youse..." His eyes scanned my face again, and looked me up and down again. Seemingly, taking mental notes to my shaking. "I ain't gon hurt youse, ya know..."

My eyes widened a little. ".... you ain't mad at me..?" His gaze softened slightly. "He broke youse good..." He whispered. With the arm he had above my head, he pushes off, and backs away from me. My breathing shook for a few moments after, soon I was breathing regularly, but my hands were shaking violently. I clasped them around each other and held them to my chest, my gaze towards the ground.

He narrowed his eyes. "Jacky Boy is gonna gets it next time I sees him I swears Ise gonna—" My head snaps up. "N-no!" He looks at me. "D-don't hurt him..." He looked me up and down again. "Youse don't want me ta hurt him? Even afta all he's done to ya?" I look down. "... he's still me brudda..." He shakes his head a small smirk on his face. "Youse still cares about him, even though he treated youse like dirt..." I looked down.

"Dat ain't a bad thing sweetheart." I slowly look back up. "It ain't?" He shakes his head. "It makes him look worse." "Oh but I don't wanna dos dat..." "Ansa me dis buttacup, do youse eva looks out for yourself, or just the peoples around you?" I open my mouth. Do I? I close my mouth not having an answer. He shakes his head again. "Do me a fava buttacup, don't worry so much about what oddas think of ya. Can ya do dat?"

"... I-I don't knows..." "Listen sweetheart, it's for youse own good... if ya don't, youse could gets hurt. Taken advantage ofs... I don't want dat for ya." He jerks his head down the hallway. "Let's finds youse some things for your half of da room, okay buttacup?" I nod and follow. "Wait..." he stops and turns towards me. "Where will we gets it? Cause Ise don't think I has the money ta—" "Youse ain't payin' sweetheart."

"Youse already done so much for me, you don't hafta—" He smirks. "I told ya sweetheart, youse unda da watch of a king, dat means youse gonna be treated like a queen." My jaw dropped, and my face turned bright red. His smirk grows. "Youse do dat a lot." My hands shoot up to my face, trying and failing miserably to hide my blushing face. He chuckles, and jerks his head again. "Come on buttacup."

"Wh-what was da point o-of askin' me name i-if youse a-ain't gonna use it?" I asked as I followed behind him. He stops and turns around abruptly, causing me to run into his chest, throwing me off balance. I stumble backwards but he catches my wrist, a small smirk on his face. "Do youse want me ta call youse by ya name?" His face's close proximity to mine threw me off and my train of thought flew from my mind.

"I-I.... w-well..." "Ya want me ta says it, sweetheart? Youse want me ta says ya name?" I open my mouth, but he speaks first. "Youse want me ta say, '(Yn)', is dat what youse want?" I let out a squeak. What the actual heck, (Yn)... what was that? His smirk grows. "Youse want me ta call youse '(Yn)'?" I shake my head. "N-never mind..." He chuckles. "Ah ya poor thing, you'll gets eaten alive out there." He lets go of my wrist gently.

"Wh-whats dat supposed ta mean?" I asked as he began to walk away again. "Youse too easily flustaed (flustered) for ya own good, sweetheart. Here in Brooklyn dats dangerous." "B-but I'll be a-a guy most of da time, s-so Ise don't hafta worry about it... right?" "Wit my boys knowin' youse a goil, a pretty one at dat, Ise not too sure." He's got a point. My eyes widened. He called me pretty again. What in the world is wrong with me. I follow behind him and as we're about to exit the hall to his room, he turns to me. "Eh, if any of my boys does anything youse not comfortable wit, tell me. Got it?" I nod. "Good."

We get to where, I assume the Newsies here hang out. As soon as we walk in, all eyes turn to us, almost immediately their eyes go to me, I instinctively move closer to Spot. I do not like the attention. Spot lets out a piercing whistle, and all their eyes turn back to him. His voice was strong and authoritative as he addressed the Newsies. "Listen boys, and listen well. If any of youse make her feel uncomfortable, I won't hesitate ya soak ya. Youse gonna treat her likes a queen. Got it?" My eyes widened. In unison they all respond. "Got it boss."

From the looks on some of their faces when they turned back to me, they didn't mean it.

I get the feelin' imma be gettin' meself into a lot of trouble...