Steal My Gold, Steal My Heart (Barbatos x Reader)

Steal My Gold, Steal My Heart

Barbatos always enjoys passing through the poorer districts in the Devildom.

It's places like these, where there are no nobles to sneer at untidiness and no royals to frown upon filth, that the essence of hellfire is truly captured, be through the sound of laughter that rings through the streets or the simple sense of spirit which burns proudly wherever the butler looks.

At first glance, the street is quite a mess.

Children are running barefoot, succubi are on the verge of exposing their privates, and vendors are shouting desperately at anyone who crosses in hopes of selling more of their dirt-cheap wares.

And yet it brings such a peaceful smile on Barbatos's face, because although these people are poor, they are happy, a joyous aura that genuinely seems to seep out of every soul on the street, spreading its brilliant glow to all who look upon the scene.

The merchant calling out to Barbatos on the right, dressed in a strange cloth garb which vaguely resembles silk, drums his fingers eagerly on his mat, bony digits pattering against the ground in a rhythm that beats in tandem to his own merriment. A little ahead, the students walking have their clothing in tatters, but the raw passion with which they remain engaged in their little debate slips out from their eager eyes, ever-moving gestures, and laughing lips. Even down on the other side of the street, where a boy sulks next to his father, Barbatos can recognize the telltale signs of peace from the way the demon leans on his arm as he rests, a bored expression plastered on his face to hide the true contentment he finds at being lost in the scene.

Indeed, it's truly unlike anything else in the Devildom. A sight to behold, it's times like now that Barbatos can almost forget himself as he slips through the people, weaving his body through their figures, getting lost in their crowds until he seems to blend into their happiness.

Almost.

A figure bumps into him abruptly, breaking the butler from his illusioned immersion.

"Sorry, sir!" A voice chimes out, the person not even bothering to turn around and properly apologize as they try to escape and blend back into the crowd, but Barbatos is too quick for them.

He grabs the arm that bumped into him, gloved fingers closing around the limb so tight that it pulls the person backward with a yelp, forcing them to stand in front of him as he stares disapprovingly.

Swift fingers pull the hood down, already glaring sharply in anger at the audacity of this fool, but the second his eyes settle over your face, his irritation fades to mild annoyance.

Of course it's you.

Who else would try to pickpocket him?

"You," He scowls, tapping his foot impatiently as his grip on your arm subconsciously tightens.

"Looks like I got caught again, huh?" You ask innocently, a light giggle spilling from your lips as you return the butler's strong gaze with a one of your own, flashing him a Cheshire-grin as you not-so-subtly attempt to pull yourself out of his grasp.

"Give it back," Barbatos orders in a steady voice, keeping his voice even as he holds his palm up.

"Sure, sure, just—wait! What's that thing over there? I think I see the demon king and his royal escort!" You dramatically attempt to draw Barbatos's attention elsewhere, pointing and making a big deal out of absolutely nothing, but the second the butler begins squeezing tighter around your arm, you give up the act. "Ow, ow, ow! Fine! I get it! I'll give you your coinpurse back, so stop squeezing me so tight!"