Spot Conlon x Reader | The Queen Of Queens

Prologue

1898

I walk down the Brooklyn docks, Spot and I have a meeting to attend to. I hear a few boys begin to catcall, but stop once they realize that it's me, the leader of the Flushing newsies, AKA the Queen of Queens. 

The meeting I have is basically a fight, I have to get his pimp cane from him without getting knocked off my feet. If I lose, we partner up, meaning that they can sell on my turf, and we can sell on his. Which is bad, because his boys are loud, which would scare the regular customers we have.

That would also mean that he would no longer be the King of Brooklyn, he'd be the king of Brooklyn and Queens. And I'd be the Queen of Queens and Brooklyn, which doesn't have a nice ring to it.

The reason I was challenged to a fight instead of a regular meeting is because I've never lost a fight. Many people have backed down because I'm a girl, but those who don't have suffered. 

Walking up to the pile of boxes he calls his 'throne', I see him, sitting at the top. The king has decided to challenge the Queen. He looks me up and down and hops down, spitting in his hand then sticking it out for me to return, which I do. 

"Well, ain't it the Queen of Queens in da flesh," he says with a smirk. 

"Anyways, pretty-boy, shall we get tah business?" I ask, he chuckles.

"Is a little lady like you still able tah fight? Because then I'd feel bad for havin' tah beat a little goil's ass," Spot mocks me. I chuckle and lean against his shoulder like I don't have a care in the world.

"Is a cocky little brat like you ready tah fight the Queen? The queen who has neva lost a fight?" I ask, standing straight and cracking my knuckles. He lets out a sinister laugh and places a hand on his cane.

"More than ready, princess," Spot says, mocking me with a lower titled nickname. 

I straighten my posture, to let him know that I won't even be trying. He waits for me to start, because that's what everyone does, and that's their mistake. I run straight towards him, he readies his fist to punch me. As soon as I get less than a foot in front of him, I slide under him, then quickly getting up and kicking the back of his knees, which knocks him on his knees. I walk over to him and quickly grab his cane from his belt, which was easy to do. He looks up at me, angry, but trying not to let it show, and failing.

"Youse gotta teach me how tah fight like dat. I mean, youse a goil, how are you stronga than me?" Spot asks, which makes me laugh.

"Listen 'ere, Princey. I think dat you has an idea of how our fights should go, so I'll give ya a tip, since ya seem tah need it. Don't think about it, don't think of me as a goil, don't think of how the fight is going tah go, just fight. Dat's how you lose, you think of me as a goil sometimes, others you'll try tah make up a plan, and the rest of da time you do both. Now, pay up," I say, making him groan. 

"You're stubborn," he says as he pulls a dollar bill out of his pocket. I take it and smirk.

"And you're small," I say, patting him on the head. I'm about an inch taller than him, which has always upset him, because he's two years older than me. "I best be off, don't wanna let a good buck go tah waste," I says while walking down the pier. I see tons of boys whose heads are turned, watching me walk down, I can see the fear and interest in their eyes.

I walk over to the nearest bakery and buy a cupcake and 6 loaves of bread so that my boys can eat good tonight. While walking back through Queens, I see one of my older boys being chased by a boy around his age who's holding a bat. I sigh and put on a polite smile.

"Excuse me, sir. Why are you chasing one of me poor newsies?" I ask him, with sweet voice. He turns to me and blushes.

"Oh, uh... He lied about the headline, and me mudda said tah beat 'im up tah teach him a lesson. I'se sorry," he says, clearly flustered.

"It's okay, sir. What's your name? Youse really handsome," I say with a smile, making him blush harder.

"I- uh- I'm George. What's your name, miss?" He asks. I giggle and lean into his ear, trying to seem seductive when I'm actually just distracting him and reaching my hand into his pocket.

"Dey call me Undahand," I say, showing off my nickname by taking a $2 bill and running away. He doesn't realize what happened until I was about a block away from him. They don't call me 'Underhand' for no reason.

As I walk back to the house of Kings, which is what we call our lodging house, I see all the boys crowding around, some are lying in bed. I walk over to the center of the house and yell.

"Boys! I brought some dinna for ev'ryone!" I yell, getting everyone's attention. They all come running over and I tear them each a piece and hand it to them. It's not a lot, but it's enough to keep them happy.

"Hey, how did the meetin' wit' da King of Brooklyn go?" My best friend and right hand man, Paces, asks. I sling my arm around his shoulder.

"Just as we predicted. Dat's how I paid for da bread. Plus me cupcake," I say, placing the cupcake in my mouth and being overwhelmed with sweetness. "This stuff is so good."

"Then maybe you should keep it in ya mouth," Paces says, gesturing to the food that's spilling out of my mouth. I nod, getting ready to head back to my room. "But hey, please tell me: Is Spot still self centaed?" He asks, I nod.

"Big time. Hates it when I call him 'Princey', so if you evah see 'im, call 'im dat," I say with a wink, walking back to my room and shutting my door. A sigh escapes my lips as I walk over to my whiteboard. I place a tally mark on 'Fights Won'. 

The score is currently as such: 

Won: 217 

Lost: 1.