Beelzebub(Record of Ragnarok) x female reader who is like Castorice from Honkai Star Rail
the ceaseless demise of ambition .
Summary: beelzebub spent his life alone ever since the realisation of Satan.. he never made effort to interact, that is, until he met you.
Pairing: Beelzebub x Castorice!Reader
wordcount: 2.1K
a/n: requested by anon! Yay - fulfilling my first crossover fic/request in general!! Reader has gloves because things die when they touch em, thats all the stated info the rest of reader’s description is vaguer. BEELZEBUB WANTS DEATH. The hardest part was finding the right behavior to give beelzebub I hope it didn’t stray from his character. I tried to dig up as much info as I could about castorice, (read every single lore article I could find) kinda HC’S but it’s mixed with story telling kinda writing enough of me yapping go and read!! x
Dividers : @fae-and-wolf
The first time Beelzebub ever set his eyes on you was when he was taking a brief stroll in the enclosed garden of Valhalla. His gaze flicked up from the deep purple of the blossoming buds to your form, sitting poised on one of the marble benches carved. His hand dropped from the stem as his whole body turned to face you, studying your appearance. This is the first he’s seen of you - not that he emerges from his quarters full of research often - at the sanctuary where he would go to clear his mind. There are rotting flowers and dying soil surrounding you, but Beelzebub takes little thought to that, just kind of… blankly staring. He doesn’t approach you though, instead peeking at you from between the leafy stalks.
His intrigue dissipated quickly as he hadn’t stirred from his quarters for days, engrossed in his findings an experiments. Nails dug into scattered papers as Beelzebub grits his teeth with frustration. Sooner than he can fight it, his feet are planted at the threshold of the greenhouse. Beelzebub didn’t expect you to be there again, he hadn’t really given you a thought after that one sighting, though he found himself scanning the controlled foliage for your figure.
You’re there.. Behind an assortment of trees, your back to him as you fondle with something in your hand. Realizing you’re handling a flower. Beelzebub’s jaw clenches as he stares at the flower, its deep blue and cerulean petals withered into dried husks. His eyes widen with curiosity, this is unlike anything he has really seen before; and certainly never expected you to display such power. After that day he cannot stop thinking about you, what he could do with your abilities, what he’d be able to finalize after thousands of years of trial.
Your third encounter was accompanied by Hades. You and the God of the Underworld are well acquainted; forasmuch as Hades holding the title of King of the Dead, and you, the daughter and Guardian of the River Styx.. You two were bound to be familiar with each other, something Beelzebub did not consider. Hades introduced you to him, albeit Beelzebub’s surprise, his face was stony and his lips pursed in a thin line - warranting no real emotion. Not to say your reaction was the same, you were more… polite. Courteously dipping your head in greeting, your features more supple but your gloved hands were intertwined tautly. How strange, the more Beelzebub made brief conversation, the more he wanted to boil over with his questions.
Unexpected but fortunate for Beelzebub, Hades informs the Lord of the Flies with some information with a knowing tone. Explaining your stature as the Embrace of Death, your position of a member of the Chrysos Heir, and your abilities that can make a simple material deteriorate with a touch of your hand. Hade’s tone would edge expectancy as he enunciated the latter.
With this newfound knowledge, Beelzebub would spend days observing you undetected. Surveying you when you sharpen your skills, scanning your types habits and how entities succumbed to your touch, often gathering the corpses if they hadn’t fully vanished into particles. Beelzebub would keep a ledger, full of unfinished studies of your assets and possible capabilities. But blank spaces littered the pages, hours of work still remain incomplete, all because he has just been watching from afar. What he needs to do is get up close, as this is only opportunity. Sometimes Beelzebub stares at the blank - no - unfinished pages with a blank stare, only that his eyes dry out as he peers down at the empty spaces where the truth should lie. His teeth grind as his shoulders squared, ready to throw his records halfway across the room. Why couldn’t he bring himself to talk to you? Was the looming pit overwhelming Beelzebub because he didn’t want to accidentally attach his one, and possibly, only chance at putting himself to rest? No, he had to do something.
You two start talking and having simple conversations, a step up from what he’d been doing anyway. Beelzebub would ask you questions, genuine curiosity sparked in the back of his mind, but never really showed in his tone or expression. You found it odd, but were happy to enlighten such inquiries. Over time you explained what he already knew, sometimes giving snippets of new information, but that wasn’t long lasting enough. He needed to get closer, at least closer enough to allow him physical examination.
You agree to help as Beelzebub asks you to perform an experiment - a way to make a kill switch for his prior experiments after hundreds of malfunctions and failures.. You’re unable to see past his lie as you willingly accept his task, wishing to possess a deeper understanding of your abilities. The ‘killswitch’ he needed was coated in generous lace of deception, yes it was a trigger to end life, but it wasn’t for his experiments. His heart jumps for the first time in eons as he appreciates that this might be the final way that he can meet his demise. This unending curse could be severed.
Beelzebub’s hopes increase as the days decrease. Your embrace was tested on several types of objects, from organic, to inorganic, even substances like liquids or gases. As more time passes, your limits are exerted more than you were used to, Beelzebub stoic and sharp as he attempts to extract your ability, hoping to turn it into a form of drug that welcomes inevitable death. He never fails to notice the tension in your hand, gloved or not, even when it hung limply at you side. He notices the way your wrist relaxes, and your palm loosens as his hands meet yours.
You refuse to touch any person or individual with an ungloved hand, not doubt why. Your hands starved of another beings physical contact. People have always been wary of you, their behaviors and movements painstakingly gingerly as they shift around you. Though Beelzebub was never so delicate with his movements. He made movements in his chambers - turned into lab - with purpose. It’s something you marveled at, later questioning. Beelzebub explained the enchantment that his long-gone friend, Lilith casted on him, he was never allowed to die, it was physically impossible; and every attempt and loophole was halted. You knew Beelzebub had a facade, putting aside his usual flat expression, you could tell this meant a lot to him. You should say, after hearing his explanation to his earnestness, you came more comfortable with your own movements too.
You two share moments Beelzebub never expected to have. You spoke about your duties as the Servant of Death, guiding souls from the underworld to trial. Beelzebub mindlessly paid attention, his library of details of you growing steadily.
You disclose some things of your past, only feeling as it was right, he did for you. Uttering the tragic death that undergo your own foolish mistakes..
Beelzebub’s been in your shoes before, ostracized from other beings for being “cursed by Satan.” Understanding your hesitance to be close to people. Maybe that’s why he feels a magnetic draw to you, and you him.
Beelzebub’s excitement of his passing ebbed away like his indifference towards you. He felt a lot more seen with you, as you did with him too. But like you having your boundaries, he had his too. Objecting letting his guard down too much near you, in case Satan ever took over him again. He did not want to lose or be responsible for another murder of a companion, maybe he was growing to enjoy your company?
Not in a thousand years would it ever appear anywhere but his mind, but, Beelzebub adores you. Your powers, your stature, your calmed personality. You weren’t crazy, but you weren’t too stoic either, the perfect mix that kept him entertained as much. Usually being by himself in his lab, no noise but the fire crackling and slithering through the air, him alone with his thoughts. You could say that the dead silence obstructed his work, his experiments that failed because of one simple mistake caused by the disruption of his thoughts. But now that you are accompanying his presence, Beelzebub feels more at home. He was never one for lively settings, but a. Touch of someone else’s - no - your existence is all he needs.
You enjoy simply watching Beelzebub work. Eyes locked on his features as he organised the files littered on his desk. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched in deep concentration. Or when he adjusts your form, allowing easier access to see the origins of your power. His grip on you firm, and eyes sparked with dedication.
Frequent nightmares are common for Beelzebub. Remembering the screams and chokes of Lucifer, Azazel, and Samael. Beelzebub wakes up from his desk frantically. His breaths are short as he recollects his bearings, nails subconsciously dug into the wood of his desk laden with research. Mind busy with shrouding thoughts and assurance, his mind skips over the hand placed delicately on his shoulder blades, a figure behind him. Then, a voice, Your voice. Ringing through his ears, hauling back into reality.
You’re there standing over his hunched form. Hands softly caressing his broad shoulders, croaking your concern. It eventually calms him down. But the pit of memories and the familiar feeling of them being wiped at the same time brought him back down.
Your soothing touch freezes up in a dreadful realisation. An alarming sight, one you were not used to, your gloves absent from where they would be now. You back away, dread pulled down your features. It took a moment for Beelzebub to catch on, dealing with his own demons.
His mouth gaped with something to say but his thoughts run like water. Maybe this is the way it’ll end- something this neglected… this simple.
Moments pass, nothing happens.
The air was sour with uncertainty. Two individuals who wished for different things. Relief floods over you when his form stays, your hand gripping your wrist. But disappointment wrecked Beelzebub’s final thoughts when nothing happens. He doesn’t speak much after that, but you are still hooked on how he was immune to your deadly touch.
Now everytime Beelzebub has these reoccurring nightmares, you are always at his side at once. He’s fond of this change, always having to wake up breathless, and recover on his own. It wasn’t like he was not used to it, but having you by his side… Made him never want it to change.
When the experiment ends, Beelzebub never mentions it to you again. What he did with the successful vial, if it really worked. also avoiding telling you about the real reason he had you be his companion. Never really the type to explain things, even if it meant a lot to you, if you never know, you won’t need to find out..
Years pass smoothly, staying friends - as if he wasn’t the only person you could interact with properly. Never once have you seen Demonic Destrudo, although you have heard descriptions of it. Unwanted whispers clamour to discuss the horrors of Beelzebub’s doings. You don’t necessarily like the comments, though Beelzebub himself doesn’t care. Merely walking away when he picks up any sign of gossip. You try to avoid causing a scene. A simple frown of a brow and pursed lips worked fine to express your exasperation towards these disdainful thoughts.
But you noticed Beelzebub has been growing a lot more protective.. no— possessive. He seems to always be trailing behind you, at your side, or looming directly over you. Reckless like nothing else but you should be with him, you find it kind of overwhelming..
Beelzebub becomes a lot more comfortable around you physically - but only in private. After a long day, his firm arms leaning on you from behind, his head buried in the crook of your neck. The hungry look in his eyes as he feasts on your sight, your hand in his as you waltz across the research-ridden floor. Emotionally, he makes several comments, some so well worded it eve takes you a minute to distinguish. Most of the time, he lets you drone on. When you two have nothing to say, sitting in silence progressing with your own tasks are just as pleasurable.
Your relationship is knitted with close layers of empathy. Knowing each other’s past, the similarities of your pains, mutual respect. But the differences were what pulled you together. Your status as the Servant of Death, carrying souls to their demise, bringing objects to their inevitable end, Beelzebub with his curse and his unyielding personality. Yet all the peculiarities that others find bizarre, even grotesque, earned a pedestal to celebrate
End notes: sorry kinda got sick of this but was too far in to change it. Mid-way i realise that none of this is related whatsoever to the ragnarok, anon im so sorry.
If you want me to make another that has ragnarok in it ill probably do it. ❤️
