Supernatural Imagines for The Soul

The Bandit Who Robbed The King of Hell

Crowley

I remember the first time I met [Y/N]. It was a cold November night and I just finished making a deal. I went around the corner to the diner to grab a bite when she ambushed me and took me down.

Once she held me to the floor, she pressed a small pocket knife to my neck. She was barely 16, yet she had quite a strong hold on me.

"Give me all your vaulables and no one gets hurt." She committed a rookie mistake, she lightened her weight on me which made it easier for me to flip her over and pin her to the ground.

"Rookie mistake. Never let your guard down, even if you have the upper hand. Now listen, no one robs me and gets away with it." Even though she had tried to rob me, I helped her up but held her tight so that she wouldn't run off.

Surprisingly, she didn't even resist my grip but instead she asked me a question in a subtle surprised tone,

"You're not going to be all surprise that I'm a girl? Usually that's how I get away, my victams are always too surprise to catch me."

She had an aura of spunk and sass around her, not to mention her English accent made her more charming. I liked her already but I was still fuming at the fact this little girl had the nerve to rob the King of Hell. I shall probably make her my maid and torture her if she disobeys.

"Well I'm not sexist and I believe even girls can resort to violence when needed. What I am surprised about is your age and size, you're pretty strong for a girl your size and age." I tell her as I lead her to the nearest crossroads to make a quick deal before going back to Hell with this bandit.

"Where are you taking me, Scots Arse!" at this point, she started resisting and making a fuss.

"Scots Arse? What's that about?" I was genuinely puzzled by this lass.

"You're Scottish aren't you? You also happen to be one of the biggest asshats I know so I combined the two and shortened it to form Scots Arse." she retroted back smartly. She was charming yet getting on my nerves. Before I could really blow my top, I transported us to Hell and literally dragged her to a cell.

***

You

I couldn't believe this guy. First I let my guard down around him, he picks at the mistake and now he brought me to a place that looks like a badly decorated haunted house.

"Excuse you, love. I'll have you know, Hell is fairly equipped to torture and scared the Hell out of people." The Scottish asshat retroted...shit I must have said that last bit out loud.

"Hell? What are you going on about, crackhead?"

"You're in Hell, peabrain. And watch your mouth, I'll have you know that I'm the King of Hell." he said it in such a proud tone, I just had to burst his bubble by laughing at him scornfully. I gave a very unlady like snort,

"Yeah and I'm freaking Queen Elizabeth." The next thing I knew I was being flung into a room which resembled a jail cell. It hurt my back but I was used to the physical pain. I stood up, placing my hand on my hip obnoxiously to show that I'll stand my ground and I'm not going to back down until he lets me go. My [e/c] challenged his dark murky orbs. Eventually I won the stare down. He gives a heavy sigh,

"I'm too tired to deal with you today." he locked the jail cell and snapped his fingers, resulting in food appearing in front of me. Impressive, but I'm still convinced that all of this is a stupid hallucination or a weird dream.

***

The next morning I woke earlier than expected. I didn't hear the Scottish guy barking orders so he must have been sleeping. I checked the outside of the cell for any guards and the coast was clear. I fished a bobbin pin from my messy hair and started picking at the lock. With a click, the cell door opened and I quietly sneaked out not wanting to attract any attention to myself.

I just walked around mindlessly exploring the place until I came to a room with a fancy door. I opened it and since it was empty, I slipped in. There was a huge table and a feast laid there waiting to be eaten. This must the dining hall.

I was enjoying some of the pastries that were laid out when his Scottish accent made me freeze,

"I knew I'd find you here." I slowly turn to face him with my mouth stuffed with the chocolate mossue which was to die for. I gave a sheepish expression. He gestured fot me to continuing chewing,

"Oh don't stop on my account. Eat up, it's all for you. I was doing a background check on you...and my my your portfoilo is impressive. You pulled off three sucessful bank heists all by yourself before you turned 16. After that, you laid low and stealing enough for yourself. What happened?" He really did his research. I shifted uncomfortably at his question.

"I don't want to talk about it." I told him stiffly while stuffing more food in my face. I missed binge eating; I used to do it all the time whenever I wanted. I am lost in my old memories only to be interrupted by the Scottish guy snapping his fingers at my face.

"Eh Bandit! Snap out of it!" I blink at him in a daze.

"What? And my name isn't Bandit!" I crossed my arms and shoot him a dirty look. Just when I thought we were making progress, we're back square one.

"Alright then. What's your name?" he asked politely enough. I decided to be slightly cheeky,

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"Its Crowley, now tell me yours, Bandit."

"Its [Y/N], not Bandit, Scots Arse."

We shared a smile and that's how I met Crowley, the brother I've always wanted.