Robbie Kay/Peter Pan Imagines [Not Taking Requests]

Imagine #24- Burglar (Peter Pan)

"We'll be back by midnight at the latest, Meg." My mom states.

"And remember: no parties." My dad teases, ruffling up my hair a bit. I laugh and straighten it out with my fingers.

"Don't worry, guys. You're only going to be gone for a few hours. I think I can manage myself." I grin.

"We know, honey." My mom says sweetly to me, kissing me on the forehead.

My dad peers down to his watch.

"Crap! Marie, we're going to be late. We love you Meg!" He says as they walk through the door and slam it before I can say goodbye. The entire house seems to vibrate, and then everything is dead silent.

I quiver. It wasn't that I hated being home alone; it was the stillness that came with it that made the little hairs rise on the back of my neck. I sigh and turn on the TV to break the silence. Just as I was getting comfy, a large squeak reverberates from upstairs. I freeze and pause the TV, straining to listen. Another creak, then another. It sounded like a man in big clumsy boots was trying to tip toe but was failing miserably. I try to brush it off.

Stop freaking yourself out, Meg. It's just your imagination playing tricks on you.

But the methodic creaking doesn't cease. It gets louder and louder until it seems the din is coming up from just above the living room. I turn the TV off and quietly set down the remote. I get up from the couch and go over to the corner where my softball bat was conveniently placed in the crook of the dining room walls.

"Hello?" I call out upstairs.

The creaking stopped momentarily before coming back again, followed by the sound of objects being scrambled about.

Then it hit me: I was witnessing a full-out robbery in my very own house. My legs begin to slowly give out when I'm halfway up the staircase, and I grasp onto the railing for support. After a couple deep breaths, I upright myself and get my bat in a ready stance like I'm about to hit a home run ball.

My instincts tell me to run, get out of the house and away from the intruder. But the other half is urging me to continue my quest up the remaining stairs and beat the crap out of this guy, whoever he may be. My mind is reeling with all of the possible answers like a tornado of thoughts and emotions.

I decide to ignore my instincts, to take that single leap of faith. I creep slowly and quietly up the never-ending staircase until I make it to the loft. The racket is coming from my parents' room. The door was wide open, and I could barely make out a dark silhouette crouching bedside my parents' king size bed, rummaging through some papers. What in the world was this man looking for?

"Hey!" I call out, not knowing what else to say.

The man looks up at me, and with a short pause he gets up from his spot and slowly saunters slowly over to me.

"You really shouldn't be here." The man snickers, emerging from the room and into the warm incandescent light of the loft.

The man is filthy, with a long scar stretching down his entire face. He was the exact image one would picture of a burglar in a film. He was covered from head to toe in black, a ski mask pushed up atop his head. With the muscular build he has, it would be enough to make anyone quiver and surrender. But I wouldn't give up that easily.

"And why shouldn't I be?" I protest, "This is my home. You're the one who shouldn't be here."

"Big mistake." He sneers, as if enjoying this little scene. He pulls a revolver from his side pocket and aims it towards me. My heart drops. What did I get myself into?

"I'd step away from the girl if I were you." A different threatening voice echoes in the room.

"Who are you?" The criminal shouts, doing multiple 360s in utter perplexity.

I take my chance. I dart behind the man as he was facing away from me and give him a good whack in the back of the head. With a satisfying thump, the man falls limp to the ground in a bulky lump. I grin at my accomplishment.

"You've got fire," the anonymous British voice from earlier states, "I like fire."

The figure comes out from the shadows and reveals his attractive features. I can't help but stare in awe at is sparkling green eyes. They shone with such adventure and fun that it was hard to avert my gaze. The boy stood there as if waiting for me to ask who he was.

We stood in silence for a while before the boy cleared his throat and spoke:

"So I don't even get a simple 'thank you' for giving you the opportunity to knock the guy out?" He teases, raising an eyebrow as if to give dramatic effect.

"Who are you?" I ask, deviating from his prior question.

"I'm Peter Pan. And who might you be, love?"

"Meg."

"Well, Meg, it was nice to meet you but I must be going now. Island to run, Lost Boys to look after--"

"You expect me to believe that you're he mischievous little redheaded boy fro the Disney movie?" I sneer. Who did he think he was fooling with such a childish lie?

"I have no clue what you are referring to, love," He states innocently, but I can tell through that devilish grin he wasn't kidding around, "Well, I must be going."

He approaches the large window of the loft. Surprisingly, it was open; but it wasn't before.

Before he reaches it, I grab into his wrist. He turns around with a confused look painted across his gorgeous face.

"Will I ever see you again?" I ask.

"Do you believe?" He queries.

"Yes."

"Good." Is all he says before throwing himself out the window. I gasp and look out to see him flying out and up into the deep blue sky until he was just a speck among the stars.

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Okay, so this was my first time writing in the app and it is so weird. D:

This is for @lost_girl_forever_12!!! Hope you like it!!!

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