Peter Pan Ouat Imagines (ON HOLD)

Maidly Duties?

(Y/N)= Your Name
Words= 1785

"Don't know me off my pedestal, Pan." You spat, looking the arrogant boy up, and down twice for good measure. In the words of Hook, he may look like a boy, but he's a bloody demon.

You knew you should've listened to your Father when it came to drastic decisions like sacrificing yourself to an eternity of slave labor for the lost boys or the murder of your entire family: the crew. You know, just the everyday things.

"Now you listen here you-" He paused slightly, unknowing that his lips twitched in thought, "Just clean the fire pit. Or else."

What an asshole. He had magic and cannot clean something as simple at that of a fire pit? Imbecile.

"OI! Over here maid!" A slim, olive skinned boy leaned against the tree, "Pick that up." He nodded in the direction of the ground, but nothing was there.

Before you could object and argue- which was a constant thing your father had to warn Pan about- He threw an apple core he was gnawing on, onto the ground. A slob! A pig! Couldn't he just have fed it to the hogs!

His blonde hair contrasted to his pitch brown brows and green eyes with golden specs, like looking at the grassy ground only to find stars instead of flowers or bugs.

"Piss off." You mumbled and went back to taking out all the old, burnt and utterly useless logs from the fire pit.

Who does that remind me of..

You mentally scratched your head, Ah! Pan! Utterly useless!

"I said." He stepped closer, leaning into your personal bubble, "Pick. It. Up."

Without missing a beat you stuck out your middle finger and popped it out of your mouth like it was a sucker! "Mmhmm.. No. Kiss. My. Ass!" You lowered your hand and started to rake a bit more angrily.

Apparently his dead file masculinity had been threatened, and in 'defense' he did the most terrible of things, even Pan might disagree, but that was saying a lot. He was an ignorant bastard.

He slapped you. Right across the face, right on the cheek, right where anyone— everyone could see it.

Your while upper half was turned in a whiplash of pain and anger, and you could do nothing about it. Nothing. You remembered the rules Your Father and Pan had agreed upon.

1. No harm will come to the Lost Boys.
2. No harm will come to you. (Clearly that one was broken.)
3. Hook can get her back, on the contrary of Pan's approval.
4. She shall do what he asks of her, with no disobedience- even when she complained, Hook had added. She shall do it, no matter what her reluctant thoughts bring her to.

By the time you were in the woods, covered in ash, grime and- to your surprise, blood.

"What the fuck." You turn your hands around in front of you realizing that your cheek was bleeding, swollen, and stinging.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, although when the salt from your tears got into your puffed and cut cheek it was the only thing you could control at the moment. Your emotions had rain of themselves..

{Meanwhile Back At Camp}

"(Y/N)!" Peter walked into the camp, interrupting the laughter coming from the small group of boys sitting in a suspicious looking circle. "Where." He intruded with his washy accent, "Is that girl?"

"Kurt slapped her after she went crazy!"

"I heard she hit him with a rake!"

"She was not doing what a good maid would have done!" One said in a Australian accent.