#yandere baldur's gate

[donat-senpai]

This work lay in drafts for a very long time. Now I have translated everything. Woohoo! (Reminder: English is not my native language. There are mistakes here)

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! Pairing: Yandere! Ketheric Thorm x Reader, Yandere! Enver Gortash x Reader, Yandere! Orin the Red x Reader tw: platonic obsession, manipulation, restriction of freedom, mention of murders

I'm ready to throw an idea at you. Attention. You get into the bg3. BUT you aren't Tav and you aren't together with Tav. You find yourself among the Chosen Three. And they become platonic yandere!

Ketheric Thorm, Enver Gortash and Orin the Red will know that you know about their future. You know how to achieve certain events, as well as how to prevent it. Keeping you close is not only a necessary measure, but also an advantage. From now on, they must do everything to prevent Tav from finding out about you and taking you away.

You spend the least amount of time with Ketheric Thorm. As the leader of the army, he is always in the most dangerous places of the war. Besides, the Moonrise Towers are a dangerous place. There are a lot of killers there. You are usually in full view of Ketheric. Over time, you begin to get used to it. Ketheric listens, but often doesn't pay attention. You can tell him anything. At this time he goes about his business, sometimes nodding to you. But if you suddenly ask him a question, he will simply look at you menacingly, making you afraid. The old man is not angry. He just didn't remember anything you said and doesn't want to admit it. Your voice helps him not to worry. If you're still talking, it means you haven't been eaten. Therefore, he can continue his business. When you leave the Moonrise Towers, Ketheric looks with bitterness at the things you leave behind. It reminds him of the times when he was still a father. Perhaps he will put your drawing or note in one of his books.

Orin will become friend or foe depending on your decision. If you refuse to help them, She will find ways to make you talk. Her ideas about the world are very perverted, so friendship with Orin barely differs from enmity. She will take great pleasure in fooling around with you. She likes to scare you by telling you colorful ways of killing you. You will probably not be able to make friends because of her. It's hard to trust someone and tell your secrets when that someone could be Orin herself. She will need time to convince Gortash and Ketheric to allow you to visit the Bhaal’s Temple. They don't trust Orin. The more disgusted you are by the atmosphere of her temple, the more fun she will experience. In the depths of his bedroom, Orin will get a little soft. She will let you play with her hair. And she will talk about the teachings of Bhaal, but not with the intention of scaring, but with the desire to share something hidden for her. She will also want to teach you how to make a sacrifice to her god correctly. If you refuse, she will be upset, but will not insist. (Gortash made it clear to her that she should not break you.) Then she brings you back and avoids you for a week or two. It's new for her to feel this way. Not even her family received this honor. When she calms down and copes with unusual emotions, she will visit you again. And she will promise to kill you in the most beautiful way possible when necessary. It's not a threat. This is her expression of love.

It is with Lord Gortash that you spend the most time. His castle is safe, and the Steel Watchers walk around the city everywhere. You are well dressed and always look great to match him. High society is asking questions about who you are to him. Are you a lover, relative, decoration or pet? Only you and Gortash know that you are a means to achieve his goals. And only Lord Gortash knows that you are someone he has grown more attached to than he should have. He gives you almost anything you want, but expects you to cooperate in return. In addition, Gortash believes that just looking beautiful next to him is not enough. Therefore, all your free time (which is not much) will be occupied with training. If you escape from the castle (which is absolutely impossible), the guards will bring you back. Gortash is perhaps the only one among the owners of three stones who understands that your usefulness is not constant. Everything can go along the route you know with minor changes in his favor. Or it may happen that what is happening will become completely new even for you. Sometimes he jokes that he will throw you out when you become useless. But you still remember how Lord Gortash got angry at the impudent Count for asking to take you as his wife and Gortash ordered the insolent man to be executed.

----

Somewhere in the universe, the Emperor turns the table in a rage and demands Tav to quickly find and save (kidnap) you. (I don't know how he found out about you ._.)

----

Tav sighs tiredly and silently agrees. They're too tired of all. They just hope that their new future ally will be a little less problematic than everyone else in the camp.

[yanderes-galore]

I feel like Wyll is not appreciated enough in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom, so can you write a yandere concept for him?

I can try, sure! I researched him the best I could :)

Yandere Wyll Ravenguard Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Fear of loss implied, Manipulation, Mizora is an enabler, Possessive behavior, Conflicted feelings, Violence, Murder implied, Kidnapping, Blood, Forced relationship.

Wyll is a Fiend Warlock with a pact with the demon Mizora as his patron.

He gave her his soul to protect Baldur's Gate and is very dedicated to protecting people.

He is commanded to slay demonic creatures, Tieflings unfortunately included in Mizora's eyes.

Wyll is heroic and kindhearted, his obsession would puzzle him as he wasn't expecting to want to do dark things for someone he loves.

Mizora probably finds Wyll's obsession amusing... her pet seems so infatuated with you...

Perhaps she'll help him obtain you... a treat for her pet.

Even as a hero, Wyll is very playful in nature.

He seems genuinely nice to be around and would definitely be conflicted if he noticed darker desires within him towards you.

Wyll is already conflicted enough as is due to the mischievous nature of Mizora, the source of his powers.

Mizora would definitely feed into the dark desires Wyll begins to develop.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Mizora senses Wyll's obsession and wishes to play around with it.

She wants to encourage him to take what he wants... something Wyll hates the thought of.

Wyll's obsession definitely develops due to Mizora.

It originally starts as a yearning to protect you.

Especially if you are afflicted with a Mind Flayer parasite.

Wyll's heroic and playful nature would quickly make you two friends (For this concept I am assuming you are not a Tiefling).

As a result, you're mostly on good and mutual terms with Wyll.

You two trust and probably even care for one another as friends.

You don't have much of a clue when Wyll starts feeling conflicted.

He's willing to do nearly anything for you... but how far does he plan to take things to protect you?

Plus, does he even see you as a friend at this point?

With how he feels towards others around you... this may be deeper than he thought.

It doesn't help that whenever he's away from you he keeps feeling a certain yearning that won't go away.

He despises it when Mizora appears to tease and tempt him when you're gone.

The demon always whispers in Wyll's ears small promises.

She can give him more power... enough to take you all for himself.

Why should he watch you from afar and daydream?

Why should he settle for being friends?

Is he really going to let others take claim to you?

Doesn't he feel the burning jealousy within him?

Wyll has to push Mizora away, cursing her for putting such vile thoughts in his head.

Yet the ideas still persist.

Mizora simply promises her pet a gift, a treat... you.

Why should he refuse?

Mizora enabling Wyll is what causes the poor hero to corrupt more and more.

Wyll can't help but stare as you converse with other companions... his grip on his rapier tightening.

He tells himself not to listen, he tells himself if it's meant to be... you'll come to him.

But the longer he has to wait, the longer he has to pine... Mizora tempts him, pushing him to the brink.

He really does want you all to himself, to protect you and care for you.

No other person could care for you like him.

When Mizora meets with Wyll again, she grins.

She can tell her pet has decided to give in.

Wyll apologizes to you as he finds himself committing atrocities for you.

Murder, fire spilling across the land, it's all too much to handle.

He tries to keep his destruction to a minimum.

By the time he snaps, he has you locked away, blood coating his hands and rapier... but you in his arms.

You're so warm against him... as warm as the blood and tears staining him.

When he looks at you he realizes he has sinned.

Mizora has corrupted him more than he'd like to admit.

As he stares at you... he tries to put it aside.

His father was right, he was just as bad as the demon he made a pact with...

But at least he has you now.

[starfall-dream]

Hi! I don't think anybody else has asked about the Emperor yet (when I was scouring your blog, which I am very much enjoying, thank you for your content!), what are your thoughts on him in this au? I've got to gush about my favourite. The very same one who has been protecting the party this entire time from within the astral prism (and preventing them from undergoing ceremorphosis), acting as a morally grey guiding force and ally.

- Do you think the astral prism (which is initially in Shsdowheart's possession) would react any different - with the Emperor's presence becoming more "tangible"? Be the reader aware of it or not with the Emperor working behind the scenes, like a ghostly influence through the artifact (since he shares in the goal of getting rid of the Absolute threat and he needs the party alive for that).

- The dream guardian is a subjective character (up to he player's creation), therefore - what do you think he would manifest as to the isekai-ed reader? Someone they already know from their world, an imaginary character or something that already exists in the Forgotten Realms (the world where bg3 takes place in)?

- Would the Emperor guide them in their dreams more often than the rest and try to get their trust from the start? (without revealing his true identity as an Illithid - a creature that without a doubt would be intimidating to the reader to whom all of this was previously fiction)

- The reader can not access or learn magic as a wizard would (as established by you), but I don't think the same would apply to psionics (since it's focused on the mind and most of the companions also have a tadpole in their brain with the exception of Jaheira and Halsin. They already have the supernatural equipment for it).

I think, depending on the reader they'd jump into the opportunity to gain more power like that as a calculated risk - to ensure their continuous survival and to achieve their goal of getting back home (and maybe even overusing illithid/mind flayer powers as a result). I think the Emperor would be able to tutor them when it comes to the powers of the mind - should they let him.

With them being able to share thoughts with the Emperor in a very intimate matter (nonverbal communication proving to be superior to words), should they trust him (the world they want to get back to, for example not just through words but all other stimuli) - would rendered them being able to get the emotional and mental strain off their shoulders. I think he'd be very interested in reader for more reasons than one, even if it wasn't a scenario with yanderes involved.

Overall, the Emperor mirrors the player in the game - treat him well and he shall return it, but grant him spite and he will give it back in handfuls. In the end, both of you need each other to survive (until other options arise, such as freeing Orpheus who is a wildcard as to whether or not he will want you dead). As such, I feel that every player's iteration of the Emperor (along with their interpretation) are different.

Anyways, thank you for reading, have a nice day! Sorry if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes.

So I love the long ask, and I'll try and answer every part of it.

First off, I've never been that big of a fan of the Emperor, he just doesn't interest me that much in terms of characters. So I haven't thought much about him in terms of the AU.

I could see the prism reacting differently to reader if the Emperor realizes that reader is truly not from this world. This would make him the first character to actually believe/realize that reader is from another world--possibly causing him to approach manipulating reader differently, like having him promise to find reader a way home if they help him.

I think the dream guardian would look like someone that matters to reader back in their world, just so that the Emperor can build his trust with them. How the dream guardian is up to you. By extension, he's also meeting and talking with reader much more often in their dreams in order to build that trust with them. He essentially places himself as a pillar of support because of how disconnected reader is from the rest of the group.

In terms of magic, I imagine the psionic powers are the farthest they will go, unless you count things like scrolls. I imagine reader is already pretty wary of becoming too far removed from their old self, but they do want to remain safe, so they psionic powers are kinda a last resort for them.

Like mentioned earlier, the Emperor spends a while building up his trust with reader in order to get on their good side, which means that at a certain point reader does trust him a lot more then they should, especially if he's promising to find them a way home.

[klavioli]

"You will eat only when I tell you too. Do you understand?"

[junocornkiwi]

perfectly normal about this man (he's mine, go away)

he's fine, he's enjoying this

[moonselune]

dark bg3 companions accidentally hurting their love 😩

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Accidents

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, injury, forced memory loss

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The hall was filled with raucous laughter and the smell of roasted meat and strong wine, the boisterous aftermath of another successful raid. Minthara was at the center of it all, reveling in the praise and cheers of her loyal soldiers, basking in the spoils of a hard-won victory. Her presence was as fierce as her reputation, a conqueror at her finest—sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued, laughing and tossing back drinks with an unrestrained joy that made her seem, for once, utterly at ease.

In the spirit of the celebration, she reached over, her gaze finding yours in the crowd, the glint in her eyes unmistakable. Before you could react, she pulled you toward her, her arm firm and unyielding as she drew you in close. The pull was sudden, and as she guided you onto her lap with possessive ease, your ankle snagged on the edge of the tablecloth, twisting in a way that sent a searing pain up your leg. You bit back a wince, unwilling to disrupt her moment of triumph, choosing instead to let the discomfort settle quietly beneath the noise of the celebration.

She continued to laugh and boast with her allies, her arm securely around you as if declaring to all who watched that you belonged to her alone. Her hand rested on your waist, fingers pressing into your side, her gaze frequently shifting to you with an unmistakable glint of pride. You bore the twinge of pain, focusing instead on her joy, your heart warmed by the rare sight of her unguarded smile, the way she seemed almost softened by the glow of victory.

It wasn’t until later, when the festivities began to wind down, that the pain in your ankle became harder to ignore. Minthara rose to her feet, signaling that it was time to return, her soldiers parting as she strode forward, her energy still humming from the high of celebration. She glanced back over her shoulder, motioning for you to follow.

You stood, trying to put weight on the injured ankle, but a sharp, burning pain shot up your leg, and you staggered slightly, clutching onto the edge of the table to steady yourself. Minthara turned, her brow furrowing as she noticed your hesitation.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was tinged with impatience, though her eyes were keen, picking up on your pained expression. You forced a smile, waving her off.

"Just… give me a moment," you said, trying to brace yourself, wincing as you shifted to balance on your uninjured foot. Her gaze sharpened, her annoyance fading as something else took its place. She moved closer, her presence grounding, though her expression was unreadable.

"Who did this to you?" she demanded, her voice a dark growl as her gaze swept over the room, ready to find the source of your discomfort.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly, rolling your eyes in spite of the pain.

"You did, Minthara," you replied, a hint of amusement slipping into your voice. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a fleeting moment, something almost like guilt crossed her face. She looked down at your ankle, her expression turning uncharacteristically soft, her fingers brushing against your shoulder as if grounding herself.

“I… I see.” Her voice was low, almost hesitant. She swallowed, her jaw clenching, and then, with a surprising gentleness, she reached down, sweeping you up into her arms before you could protest.

The movement was swift but careful, her hold firm yet tender as she held you close against her chest, her gaze unwavering.

“I’m awful, aren’t I?” she murmured, a note of remorse slipping into her tone as she carried you out of the hall. The sounds of laughter and feasting faded behind you as she moved toward your quarters, her expression serious, brow furrowed in thought. “I should have been more careful. You… deserve better than my careless handling.”

You didn't respond, relishing in the fact that for once Minthara openly admitted fault in what seemed like an age. She seemed genuinely distressed, her gaze flickering between your face and the path ahead as she continued to hold you with a rare, almost reverent, care.

As she entered the quiet privacy of your chambers, she carefully lowered you onto the bed, making sure to avoid jostling your injured ankle. She knelt at your side, her eyes searching yours as if to ensure you truly were alright, her fingers brushing your hair back with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

“Rest here,” she commanded softly, though her voice held none of its usual edge. “I’ll fetch some bandages. And I’ll be here all night. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

And there was the Minthara you knew, possessive, paranoid. You reached out, catching her hand before she could pull away, a soft smile on your lips. “Minthara, it’s alright. Truly. It was just an accident.”

But she shook her head, her expression resolute.

“I was careless. I could have hurt you worse,” she murmured, her voice low, as if confessing some dark crime. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you because of me.”

Her fingers lingered over yours, the possessiveness returning to her gaze as her thumb brushed over your knuckles, her eyes intense, almost fervent.

“I will make it right,” she promised, her tone resolute. She leaned in, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if sealing a vow. You felt her warmth, the steadiness of her presence grounding you, her arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness. As she pulled back, she met your gaze, the intensity in her eyes mingling with a tenderness that was so rarely revealed.

For the rest of the night, she stayed by your side, tending to your injury with an attentiveness that bordered on devotion. She brought cool cloths and soothing salves, her hands gentle as she applied them, her fingers brushing along your ankle with the utmost care. Every so often, her gaze would drift to your face, as if needing to reassure herself that you were truly alright.

She stayed by your side until you drifted into sleep, her presence a steady anchor. And as she held your hand, she whispered a final, unspoken assurance: you were hers, and she would ensure that from now on, her strength would be the shield that protected you—not the force that could ever bring you harm.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The tension in the Sharran cloister was palpable, a dark cloud of rage swirling around Mother Superior Shadowheart as she discovered the Selûnite infiltrators had wormed their way into her carefully curated ranks. Her voice, usually measured and velvety in its coldness, now cut like shards of ice through the dark hallways as she ordered the intruders dragged before her. She wasted no time in beginning their punishment, her fury unleashed with the force of a storm. Her piercing gaze was alight with indignation, every movement sharp, purposeful, as she struck with words and weapons alike, her litany of scathing threats echoing through the chambers.

You had followed her, a silent support lingering at the edge of the room, watching as she punished each Selûnite spy, the atmosphere heavy with her righteous wrath. But Shadowheart was too absorbed in her task to notice you there in the shadows. The Sharrans around her, caught in the whirlwind of her anger, cowered, trembling under her glare as she drove her fury into anyone unfortunate enough to stand too close.

In the chaos, you stepped forward, hoping to soothe her anger before it spilled further, to reach out and ground her. But in her rage, Shadowheart was like a coiled snake, her senses honed to nothing but aggression. She didn’t see you. When you tried to place a calming hand on her shoulder, she spun around, lashing out with a fierce backhand intended for the trembling initiate behind you, her armored hand colliding brutally with your ribs.

A sharp, blinding pain bloomed through your side, and you stumbled back, clutching at the bruising that spread beneath your skin. You barely managed to keep your balance, and though you opened your mouth to call her name, your breath hitched, unable to muster the words. Your world narrowed to the throbbing ache of her unintended blow, and the way the weight of her fury washed over you. But you knew better than to show weakness in the cloister, especially amidst the volatile punishment Shadowheart was delivering.

So, you slipped back, cradling your ribs, slipping through the shadowed halls toward her chambers where you could nurse your injury alone. Your vision swam slightly from the pain, and the distance seemed longer than usual. When you finally arrived, you collapsed against her bed, taking steady breaths and wincing as you traced the outline of the bruised ribs with trembling fingers.

Much later, Shadowheart found you there, slumped against her bed, her expression snapping instantly from cold fury to impatient irritation.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she closed the chamber door behind her, stalking closer. “I told you I wanted you by my side, not off skulking around like—” Her words cut off as she took in the way you held yourself, favoring your side, the paleness of your face, the strain in your eyes.

The irritation faded instantly, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the bruise forming beneath your clothes. The hardness in her gaze softened, her mouth parting as she realized the truth. A flicker of something like guilt flashed in her eyes as she reached out, her fingers brushing over your side where her blow had landed. She knelt beside you, her hands tender as she gently traced the bruised area, a softness in her touch that was so rare, so achingly vulnerable.

“I did this… didn’t I?” she whispered, her voice low, almost as if confessing a sin. Her fingers hovered just above your injury, gentle but not daring to press against the tender skin. You nodded, seeing the way the admission weighed on her, how it quieted the storm she’d been carrying, leaving behind only remorse. Shadowheart’s expression twisted, her jaw clenching as if she were berating herself.

“I didn’t know…” she murmured, the words catching as she struggled to find her voice. Her thumb traced a delicate line over the bruise, her touch feather-light, as if afraid of causing further harm. Her fingers brushed along your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that felt raw, exposed.

You managed a faint, reassuring smile, but she could see the pain you tried to mask, the tremble in your breaths as you held yourself steady. Shadowheart’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the fierce Mother Superior was gone, leaving only the woman behind the title, the woman who cared for you, who held you in her own strange, possessive way.

“Let me help,” she whispered, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. She reached for a vial of salve from a nearby cabinet, her movements steady, controlled, but her hand shook slightly as she unscrewed the lid. She applied the balm with delicate precision, her fingers tracing gentle circles along your bruises, her touch soothing. The coolness of the salve seeped into your skin, easing the pain, and she moved with a care so tender it was almost painful to watch.

As she worked, Shadowheart’s gaze remained fixed on you, her brows drawn together in an expression of quiet regret, the darkness in her eyes softened by a rare vulnerability. Her fingers lingered over the bruised area, as if making amends for the unintended pain she’d caused. Once she finished, she reached up, her hand cradling the back of your head as she guided you against her, her other arm wrapping around you in a fierce, protective embrace.

She held you like that for a long moment, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her breath warm against your skin. Her voice was a soft murmur against your ear, as if afraid the walls might hear her confession.

“I would never knowingly hurt you,” she whispered, the words laced with a raw sincerity. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded, returning her embrace, feeling her fingers tighten against you as if anchoring herself. In her arms, you felt her regret, her apology expressed in the protective hold she refused to release. She leaned back slightly, her thumb grazing your cheek, her gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on reverent.

“If anyone else had dared lay a hand on you…” Her voice trailed off, her tone darkening, and her jaw clenched with the ferocity of her possessiveness, a flicker of her old wrath briefly reemerging.

But as she looked at you, her face softened again, a vulnerability lingering in her gaze. She brought her forehead to rest against yours, her fingers tangling gently in your hair.

“No one will ever hurt you again, not in my cloister, not even I.” she murmured, a vow sealed in the tender brush of her lips against your temple.

She drew back, her hand lingering on your cheek, her gaze still fixed on you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. You began to feel the cold familiar tendrils of her magic, picking through your brain, your memories, and a part of you knew that this would all be just a bad dream in a few moments. Shadowheart would ensure that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambirion Gale:

Gale’s realm shimmered in its usual opulence, his pride woven into every corner of his sanctum. He was pacing, speaking passionately as he demonstrated a new spell’s power, his hands crackling with an arcane energy that danced dangerously close to his skin. You had seen his arrogance before—heard the confident lilt in his voice, the unspoken superiority that often coated his words. But tonight, it was stronger, almost ferocious. The spell flickered dangerously close to you, and you shifted back instinctively.

“Careful, Gale,” you warned, knowing well enough when his confidence outpaced his control. But he barely heard you, lost in his own musings, his gaze bright with that intense, single-minded fervor. With a twist of his wrist, he let the energy spiral outward, only to miscalculate—just slightly, just enough.

The spell hit you, a searing pain ripping through your side as you staggered backward. The light around you dimmed as the agony wracked through your body, leaving you breathless, crumpled to the floor. You pressed your hand to your side, feeling the wet warmth of blood soaking through your fingers.

Gale’s voice stilled, and his eyes snapped to yours, widening in disbelief. For the first time, his arrogance shattered, his usual composure breaking as he took in the sight of you, his lover—injured, by his hand.

“No, I… I didn’t mean to…” he murmured, his voice faltering. He moved toward you, his steps uncertain. You saw the shock in his face, the momentary disbelief that something he had wrought could actually hurt you. But as he knelt beside you, his fingers hovering over your wound, you felt anger coil within you, fueled by the pain, by his blinding pride.

“Didn’t mean to?” you bit out, voice trembling with pain and fury. “Gale, you were so wrapped up in showing off that you didn’t even realize what you were doing. This is what happens when you’re too arrogant to listen to anyone but yourself.”

Your words cut through the silence, and his face flinched, his usually steadfast gaze flickering. He tried to reply, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“Do you even care, Gale?” you continued, the frustration spilling over as you gripped your side. “Or am I just another piece in your game of ambition, another part of your grand design?”

A shadow crossed his face, a painful truth perhaps, one he might not even admit to himself. But there was still that flicker of arrogance in his gaze, buried under his momentary regret. He tried to reach for you, but you jerked away, ignoring the pain it caused, the vulnerability that came with pulling back.

“This is what your ambition costs, Gale. The people you claim to care about? They’re expendable, so long as they serve your vision, your grand schemes. Or am I wrong?” You forced yourself to hold his gaze, daring him to deny it, to pretend that you were any different from the countless others he had left in his wake.

For a moment, he faltered, his hand clenched as he fought for the right words. But even as his expression softened, there was an edge of defiance there, a refusal to admit that you might be right.

“You’re not expendable,” he said quietly, his hand hovering near yours. “I do care… deeply. This was a mistake, and I regret it.”

But you saw the way his gaze hardened slightly, the way that brief glimpse of vulnerability closed off, locked away beneath his familiar mask of confidence. You knew what that look meant—that even if he felt regret in this moment, it wouldn’t change his path. He wouldn’t turn from his ambition, from the power he craved.

“Then prove it, Gale,” you whispered, your voice laced with a bitter edge. “If you truly regret it, then change. Stop treating me like a tool for your ambition, stop pushing everything else aside for your pride. Show me you’re capable of putting someone else above yourself.”

His mouth opened, but no words came. He looked at you with a strained expression, his hand finally reaching to rest gently on your shoulder. His eyes softened with something close to remorse, but you saw the conflict there—the part of him that couldn’t give up what he was, what he had strived for all his life.

“I… can’t promise that,” he finally admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But I’ll heal you. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. You mean more to me than anyone else ever has.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wincing at the pain that shot through your side.

“You’d still choose yourself,” you replied. It wasn’t a question—it was a fact, and one you knew would always stand between you.

His jaw tightened, and he cast his gaze away, unable to meet your eyes. Even as he laid a healing spell over your wound, mending the skin, you felt the cold distance growing, the realization that, for all his words, he would always choose his ambition, his power. His fingers brushed your cheek, a gesture meant to be comforting, yet laced with a possessive weight.

“I’ll protect you,” he said, a vow laced with conviction. But beneath it, you sensed his underlying need for control, his desire to keep you tethered to him, regardless of the pain he might cause.

As he stood and helped you to your feet, his expression softened slightly, his voice tender.

“I need you by my side. But remember,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your hand, “to be with me means to accept the risks that come with my ambitions. Nothing I do is without purpose.”

And though he held you close, you knew: in his heart, Gale was a god driven by ambition, by pride. He would always walk the path he had chosen, no matter who stumbled or fell beside him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The dungeon echoed with harsh cries and the sound of Astarion’s laughter—cold, indulgent, the kind that chilled you to your core, no matter how long you had been by his side. His spawn was on his knees before him, trembling under Astarion’s merciless gaze. You knew better than to intervene, staying back while Astarion taught yet another 'lesson' to one of his underlings. This one had failed him in some small, inconsequential way, though that never mattered much when it came to his punishments.

You watched, keeping your distance, but then his tone shifted. Astarion’s eyes glittered with malice, and he raised his hand. The spawn flinched, recoiling instinctively as Astarion’s power flared to life, sparking through the darkened chamber. In the momentary thrill of control, he sent a pulse of energy forward, forgetting you were even there.

Before you could react, the force hit you, knocking you back against the cold stone wall. The shock ripped through your body, leaving you breathless, your head spinning from the unexpected blow. Pain radiated from your shoulder, and you clutched it, sinking to one knee as you tried to steady yourself.

It took a moment for Astarion to realize what had happened. When he did, his eyes widened, the spark of sadistic pleasure dimming as he turned to you. He took in the sight of you, disheveled and hurt, a faint bruise already forming where his magic had struck you. His amusement vanished in an instant.

“Oh… my sweet,” he murmured, his voice slipping into a gentler tone. He crossed the room in an instant, dismissing the spawn with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Look at you, injured on my account. How careless of me.” He reached out, fingers skimming over your shoulder with a delicate touch, his gaze filled with a rare and almost tender regret.

You tried to wave him off, still catching your breath. “It’s fine, Astarion. I know it wasn’t intentional…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, his tone far softer than before, as if soothing a wounded animal. “It was entirely my fault. And I will make it up to you.”

His fingers trailed down your arm, guiding you carefully to your feet, his touch lingering as he steadied you. He pulled you close, his grip gentle but possessive, as though he needed to reassure himself of your presence.

“Come,” he said, leading you with an air of quiet resolve. “I’ve hurt you, my love, and I cannot have that. Not even by accident.” His voice softened into something dangerously sweet. “Allow me to make amends.”

Before you could protest, he whisked you away to his lavish quarters. Within moments, he had you resting on a velvet chaise, summoning a myriad of luxurious gifts to your side. Silks, jewelry, dark, fragrant wine—anything he thought would bring a glimmer of joy to your eyes. He touched your shoulder gently, his hand brushing over the bruise with surprising care.

“Here,” he whispered, offering a glass of the finest wine, crimson and rich. He tilted the glass to your lips, watching as you sipped, his expression attentive, eyes darkening as they traced every line of discomfort on your face. “Only the best for you, my precious,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost down your neck.

As you looked at him, it became clear that this apology was more than words. This was Astarion’s way of spoiling you, of showing his remorse through the only way he knew how—possessive affection and opulence, ensuring you felt nothing less than adored. He knelt beside you, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Please, indulge me,” he said, a faintly pleading note in his voice, one that might have seemed foreign had you not recognized the subtle vulnerability in it. “Let me shower you in everything that I am, as an apology for my careless mistake.”

Even as he lavished you with attention, draping you in furs and pressing soft, almost reverent kisses to your forehead, he still possessed that intensity, the dark, possessive gleam that never left his gaze. Every touch, every gift, reminded you of the lengths he would go to keep you close, to keep you firmly under his watch.

Finally, he brushed his thumb over the bruise, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity.

“I can’t stand the thought of you being harmed, least of all by me,” he murmured, his hand drifting to cradle your cheek. “I’ve taken you into my world, my life—and I swear, you will be cherished, protected, spoiled… whatever it takes.”

And though you felt the sincerity in his regret, you knew—deep down—that this was still the same Astarion, the one who ascended, the one who wielded his love with an iron grip. His remorse was genuine, his regret almost touching, but it didn’t change the possessive hunger that lingered beneath, the unyielding desire that he used to bind you to him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Halsin:

The remains of the town smoldered around you, charred wood and scorched earth stretching as far as the eye could see. Halsin’s wrath had torn through the place like a storm, fueled by his unyielding belief in protecting nature at any cost. You had seen his anger before, watched as he dealt swift justice to those who abused the land, but you had never anticipated just how far his fury could reach.

You staggered, clutching your side where a jagged cut ran from your ribs down to your hip, a remnant of the debris flung from one of his brutal spells. Pain radiated through you as you tried to catch your breath, the acrid scent of smoke filling your lungs. Halsin turned to you, his eyes widening in horror when he finally noticed the blood staining your clothes, the way you struggled to stand.

“By Silvanus… what happened?” He was at your side in an instant, his hands hovering over you as though afraid to touch, his gaze flickering with panic. “Did I…?” His words faltered as he pieced it together, his expression crumbling with guilt.

“Yes, Halsin,” you rasped, fighting against the pain. “You didn’t see me—too caught up in destroying everything around us.” His face fell further, regret etched into his features. He reached out to you, pulling you gently to sit on a fallen tree trunk, his hands trembling as he pressed a healing spell over your injury. Relief washed over you, though the ache remained, a phantom pain that mirrored the destruction surrounding you.

“I didn’t mean to harm you,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. His brow was furrowed, and he searched your face as if hoping to see some glimmer of forgiveness. “You… you didn’t deserve this.”

You sighed, the words bubbling to the surface before you could stop them. “Halsin, the pain you feel for me right now? That’s what the town felt. That’s the suffering you brought to every single person here.”

His expression hardened slightly, and he shook his head.

“No,” he replied firmly, as though he couldn’t allow himself to entertain the idea. “They brought this upon themselves. They polluted the rivers, they stripped the land bare… they threatened the forest, threatened the very balance of life.” His hand tightened over yours, his gaze holding an intense, unyielding conviction. “But you? You are innocent in all this. You did nothing to deserve harm.”

“Halsin,” you pressed, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity, “those people… they weren’t all responsible. Some were just… caught in the crossfire.”

He closed his eyes, as if to block out your words, his jaw clenching in defiance.

“They allowed it to happen,” he said after a moment, his tone steady and resolute. “They reaped what they sowed. Nature’s wrath is a fair balance, and sometimes, it must be delivered without mercy.”

Your heart sank at his words, seeing how deeply his ideology ran, how it had begun to blind him to anything beyond his duty to nature. His thumb brushed over your hand, a gentler expression surfacing as he looked at you with regret.

“But you are different,” he insisted, his voice softening. “You’re a part of me, a part of my heart… I would never willingly let you suffer.” His hand rested gently over your injured side, his touch feather-light as if afraid of causing you further pain. “This… this was a terrible accident, a mistake. Let me care for you.”

He gathered you in his arms, holding you close, murmuring words of apology and soothing promises that it would never happen again. You tried to squirm against him, show your displeasure, but you were too injured, too in pain. Halsin urges you to rest, holding you tighter, his embrace was warm, and terribly comforting. But his earlier words echoed in your mind, stopping you from falling into the sense of false security he so wanted to keep you in. It was a reminder of the fervent, unyielding belief that lay beneath his love for you. He cared deeply—perhaps too deeply—but you saw now that his vision of justice and protection left little room for compromise.

Even as he held you, cradling you with the utmost tenderness, you felt a creeping sense of unease. Because while he might regret hurting you, his view of the world remained unchanged and they would suffer for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The argument had started as a murmur in the grand halls, a mere whisper of discontent between you and Wyll. But now, it had grown louder, echoing through the room as your voice rose, frustration simmering into anger. Wyll’s usual charm and restraint had slipped away, revealing the uncompromising intensity that lay beneath, the dark possessiveness he had tried so hard to keep veiled.

“I don’t want to live like this, Wyll!” you shouted, exasperated. “I can’t even take a single step outside these walls without guards watching my every move. This isn’t freedom; it’s a gilded cage.”

His eyes darkened, and he reached for you, his hand catching your arm with an unyielding grip.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” he said, his voice low and fervent, as if he could simply will you to understand the depth of his feelings through his words alone. “Don’t you see? The world is filled with dangers. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I need to keep you safe—don’t you understand that?”

His hand on your arm tightened as he spoke, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive intensity that bordered on painful. His gaze was fierce, a blend of desperation and resolve, as if he believed that by holding you tightly enough, he could mold you into a version of yourself that would fit within the confines of his devotion.

“Wyll, you’re hurting me,” you tried to say, your voice strained, but he was too caught up in his tirade to notice. His other hand grasped your shoulder, his thumb pressing into the curve of your collarbone as he pulled you closer, his words pouring out in a fervent rush.

“All I do is for you,” he insisted, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “Everything I have—this title, this power—is nothing without you by my side. You’re mine, and I can’t… I won’t let anyone take you away.”

But as his grip tightened further, you felt a sharp pain, his fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You tried to turn your face away, biting back the protest that rose in your throat, unwilling to escalate the tension. But he caught sight of your tears, and suddenly, his words faltered, his intensity shattering like glass.

The shift in him was immediate, his entire demeanor crumbling as if he had been struck. His grip slackened instantly, and his gaze dropped from your face to the floor, his expression one of dawning horror. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist, and he buried his face against your stomach, his embrace now gentle, almost reverent.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, the words choked with remorse. “I didn’t mean to… I would never want to hurt you.” His voice trembled, his fingers clutching at the fabric of your clothing, holding on as if afraid you might slip away. “Please, forgive me,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper, repeating the words like a mantra, as if he could somehow absolve himself through sheer repetition.

He looked up, his face stricken, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading as he clung to you, a broken look crossing his features. The proud, powerful Grand Duke was gone, replaced by a man brought to his knees, stripped of his armor and his strength by the weight of his own actions.

You hesitated, your hand hovering uncertainly above his head before finally resting it in his hair, running your fingers through it in a soothing motion. He let out a shuddering breath, his grip loosening further as he melted into your touch, his shoulders slumping in relief at even the slightest gesture of forgiveness.

“I was… wrong,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t want to be the reason you shed a single tear. I swear to you, I will do better. Just… please don’t leave me.”

He pressed his forehead to your stomach, clinging to you like a lifeline, his remorse palpable as he held onto you. And though your heart ached from the pain of his earlier touch, you couldn’t help but soften, your fingers running gently over his head as he continued to hold you with all the desperation of a man who had come face to face with his own demons.

You felt his arms wrap more gently around your waist, his head pressed to your middle as if he could somehow anchor himself there, seeking solace in your presence, his breath shaky but steadying with each passing second. For a moment, he was silent, simply holding you, his words falling away as he pressed a gentle, almost reverent kiss to the fabric of your clothing, an unspoken promise to mend what he had broken.

And as he knelt there, humbled and vulnerable at your feet, you could see that beneath the dark possessiveness lay a fractured, desperate love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ooooo I really tried to make it very accidental which is why some of them may seem similar premices. Anyway hope you guys enjoyed this - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

Or check out my redbubble shop here ! 💜

[yandere-sins]

At one point in time, there was a glitch in BG3 where Gale behaved like a stalker to tav starting from the goblin village. Gale just won't take no for an answer and acts like you're betraying him even though you've broken up with him many times. I was wondering if you ever got the chance and ever considered writing for that fandom again, could you write something with this glitch? If not, it's cool. Sorry for bothering you.

Oh! I didn't have that actually, it might have already been fixed by the time I started playing, but thank you for sharing, that's super interesting! :D Thank you for requesting him ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

It was hard enough to travel with complete strangers, whose needs and wants were always prioritized by them over the common good for the group. Every day, there were some forms of arguments and discussions, sometimes being superficial digs and other times profound differences. Balancing the group while also living with the fear of dying day after day gave you constant anxiety and stress.

And Gale's budding feelings didn't help with that.

"Here," he muttered wistfully, holding out a small daisy he had picked from the wayside, looking at you like a shy boy confessing his first crush. Even though the group was on their way to Baldur's Gate to get the answers you so desperately needed, he still had the time to look out for you and try to lift your mood, which had been tense ever since you left Moonrise Tower. But his gesture had quite the opposite effect on you. There was a soothing hum of bickering and laughter behind you, revealing that no one was paying the two of you walking ahead any mind. Yet, you couldn't have been more happy to be spared the nosiness of your companions at that moment.

"You know it was just that one time. It didn't really mean anything, Gale. I told you!"

Your words were a mere hiss in the wind as you frowned upon the flower in his hands, dismissing it completely by turning your gaze straight ahead onto the forest path. There were more important things you had to keep in mind than his desire to court you. It had been your own fault—and the wine's—that you gave in one night, letting this man comfort you at your most vulnerable moment and caving to his desire.

Many nights had gone by since then and you two had worked together in an effort to put an end to the plague of mind flayers and cultists that had taken root in the world. But while it seemed like Gale wanted more and more from you each passing day, you tried to create a distance he wouldn't allow. There lay the flaw in your relationship, which was primarily out of necessity for you, yet a matter of the heart for him.

"What isn't can still be! You just need to give me a chance to prove myself!" he whisper-begged, the sound of desperation in his voice giving you goosebumps. It was as annoying as it was gut-wrenching that he kept trying. Gale saw something in you that you didn't want to see and didn't really care for, as the truth was: if you two had been strangers, you wouldn't even have looked in each other's direction on the street.

Why pretend that you two could actually work as a couple?

"Gale, I said no! I am not interested! Not now, not ever, why don't you understand that?!"

"Because I know! I saw it in your eyes that night! We are the same and we belong together—why do you keep denying it?"

"The same? We— Gale are you insane?! We are nothing alike! In fact, if I had to travel without you, I wouldn't miss you at all!"

The last part slipped out a bit louder than the rest, catching the attention of your closest companions, Astarion's lips curling into a catty grin. At the same time, Karlach looked taken aback by your statement, slowly shaking her head in disapproval. Clearing your throat, you composed yourself and gave Gale a stern look.

"It's not happening," you said quieter but firmly. "Let's get this over with and go our separate ways, I want you to respect that."

Finally, you managed to shake him off as his feet slowed, but you kept walking. Hopefully, he'd finally listen after many nights spent in conversations about you two and the future you didn't want with him. You were sure that one day, he'd find someone who could appreciate all the quirky and sweet traits Gale possessed, but it simply wasn't you.

"Get it over with?" he said behind you, sounding in disbelief. Gale didn't yell, but he said it loud enough that everyone raised their heads and looked up, confused eyes darting from Gale to you. He still held the poor flower in his hand, but his knuckles turned white as he clutched it.

"We spent nights together talking about us and our future, and you just suddenly change your mind and want me to get over it?!"

That was one way to misinterpret your breaking-up attempts.

"How about I just stay here and die in misery because no one apparently can love me! Not Mystra, not you—no one! Might as well become a mind flayer, what difference does it make!"

"Harsh," Astarion commented as he passed you by, grinning from ear to ear as he enjoyed the show.

"I didn't think you'd be so mean to lead on the poor guy," Karlach chided, Gale's show apparently having left a bitter taste on her judgment of you. She shook her head as she walked by, followed by most of the others that traveled with you, Lae'zel giving you her classic tongue click in annoyance.

"Not to tell you what to do, but-" Shadowheart stopped just before passing you, holding out an old dagger to you she must have pulled from her bag, "-it would be merciful to kill him. Before he turns into a mind flayer, I mean."

Then, she, too, walked on, leaving you behind with the mess of a man before you. You took a deep breath as you felt your feeble reputation with the others and your pride wash off you, the cold silver in your hand reminding you that you couldn't just leave him behind. Gale was a part of the group, even if it was hard to allow him to stay close to you after his continuous efforts to guilt you into a relationship.

"Gale, come on, the others will leave us behind if we take too long--"

"No. You told me to get over it, so here I am, getting over it. Over our relationship, over my life! Getting over it all!"

"Gale you're being childish!"

"Childish?!" he gasped dramatically, one might think he and Astarion swapped personalities when you weren't looking.

"I love you, and you call me childish?! I've done everything for you! I've been there for you, helped you, advised you! I told you about everything that happened to me! I- I bared myself before you! Don't tell me my feelings are childish when all I did was give you everything I got! Don't deny me of my dignity! At least I never played with your feelings like you have with mine!"

Oh, what a headache, you thought as you rubbed your forehead, taking a deep breath. You could only hope the others would stop walking eventually until you figured out how to clear up this situation and get Gale to not give up on his life like that.

"I'm sorry, Gale. I just don't feel the same."

They were words you had said countless of times by now, but even so, they didn't have any effect.

"I appreciate your sincerity and your efforts so we could make it this far, and I don't want it to end like this here. You've been a good... friend. You helped me countless times, but I just don't feel the same about you as you do about me. And I told you, but you won't listen, and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Tell me why," he mumbled, taking a step forward. You almost wanted to recoil, not having noticed him practically closing the distance while you tried to come up with your retort. "Why don't you love me? If you could just give me a reason, I could make my peace with it. Tell me what I did wrong, please, I beg you!"

What should you say? "You're not my type" or "I was drunk when we kissed"? Was there any way to not sound rude when breaking up? Were you even breaking up? As far as you were concerned, you two were never together in the first place.

"I'm sorry," you muttered instead, watching as the last glimmers of hope escaped from Gale. "I don't have a reason, I just don't love you."

You took a step back as his gaze sunk to the ground, defeated, heartbroken. It was better this way, even if it made you feel miserable. After all, you didn't want him to get the wrong impression or feel betrayed by feelings that never existed. But you also didn't want to humor him and come to hate him just because you didn't make it clear what you felt.

"Let's go, Gale. The others are waiting. We have a mission to complete."

"Wait."

His hand grabbed you before you could react, his fingers digging deep into your wrist as he pulled you back, applying a painful pressure on your body. The dagger in your hand shivered as you tried to hold on to it, being perhaps the best thing to defend yourself with should something happen.

"Let me go!" you immediately insisted, but instead, Gale came closer, much, much closer than ever before. His face hovered beside yours as he stared at you with unblinking eyes. You felt his fast, heated breath on your face like fire licking at your skin, sweat collecting on your forehead as your heart began to race with adrenaline.

"You can still learn to love me."

"What? Gale, what are you talking about? That's not how--"

"I can show you. I'm useful, I'm a good wizard! I'll be whatever you want me to be. You can still fall in love with me over time! I just need to prove myself to you, right? I need to be better than I was, I understand it now! I vow, I will!"

Raising your hand with his own, he pointed the dagger right at his throat, the apple located there bopping nervously before he continued to talk, his voice having a slight shiver in it as Gale made you a deal that made you gulp as well.

"Or you kill me now. If you think you can never love me, if you truly, honestly think that you'll never feel the same as me, kill me. Do it, please. Because I cannot live knowing there will never be hope for us. I just can't. Please. Please. I accept whatever you decide, so please."

Droplets of blood started to run down his throat as he pressed the tip further forward, guiding your hand towards his death. You wished he was just joking, throwing his life away over something so trite as your feelings for him, but with every second, more blood sprung forth from the wound, and Gale gasped as the pain began to spread.

And even after killing so many and being so appalled by his actions, you couldn't do it.

"N-No! Stop!" you yelled, ramming your free hand into his shoulder and tearing away from him. Finally, Gale let you go and the dagger fell to the ground, far away from either of you two, as you made a backside landing onto the hard dirt path as well.

Immediately, you felt Gale's arms around you as he sunk to the ground, hugging you tightly while your whole body tensed in his bone-crushing hold. "Thank you," Gale whispered, his voice cracking as he repeated the words over and over.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Only when you whimpered in pain did he let go, his eyes glossy as he quickly wiped away the tears from them before getting back up and taking your hand to pull you into a stand again.

"You'll not regret it," Gale promised you solemnly, and you couldn't help the creeping of regret already clawing its way around your body.

"I'll prove myself to you, and you will realize you didn't make the wrong decision."

And with that, Gale moved on, chipper as a carefree bird while you were left behind, your eyes falling onto the silver dagger on the ground, its tip still coated in dark red. Fear gripped you, washing over you as you realized the mistake of giving someone so desperate hope. Hope that would be even harder to shatter now that you proved his crazy theory that you believed in a chance for you two, too. All, just because you couldn't bring it over you to kill someone innocent just because he was desperate. But at that point, you didn't know yet what Shadowheart really meant by talking about mercy.

And that she never truly meant merciful for Gale, either.

[ddarker-dreams]

In Life, In Death.

Enver Gortash x F Reader.

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, imbalanced power dynamics, manipulation and brief mentions of blood. Word count: 2k.

Control. 

In all its variations, this word is what you associate most with the tyrant hiding in plain sight — Lord Enver Gortash.

If it’s an art form, then he’s a virtuoso. The invisible score he weaves needn’t hypnotize the listener, no, they are drawn in willingly. Lured by innocuous and diabolical plans, shackled into place by unchecked ambition. Though they may feel unique in their role, to him, they’re little notes that shall fall silent once the page is turned. 

The full vision behind the overture is unknown to even you. From the snippets you’ve overheard, it leaves a sinister impression. Discordant harmonies promise a dark future. 

You thought you’d find satisfaction in stilling his tongue. You dreamt of the day, yearned for it, like a bride one night away from walking down the aisle. From your current vantage point, you should be seconds away from fully realizing this goal. The control he exudes over himself and others can’t be infallible. Nothing is. 

If the gods can bleed, then so can he. 

If the gods can die, then so can he. 

If your fellow man can kill, then so can you. 

“One thing’s for certain, dearest,” he comments, his tongue unfettered as ever, “Our evenings together are never dull.” 

Contrary to your wishes, it’s you who is rendered speechless. 

You are hovering above him, the long skirt of the nicest dress you own rising to accommodate the uncomfortable position. Beneath you lies a man whose dark eyes inspire more trepidation across your features than what’s reflected in his own. A perfect politician’s smile accentuates the bags beneath them. The brief struggle — if it can even be described as such — has left his hair more tousled than usual. It’s splayed out against the wooden floorboards of his study. 

When he speaks, his Adam’s apple rises dangerously close to the blade kissing his skin. This is made riskier by how shaky the implement is in your hands. 

“Breathe, darling,” he instructs, stoking your frustration. Only he would have the audacity to make commands of the person holding him at knifepoint. “You’re seconds shy from passing out in a nervous fit. That would be counterproductive to your designs, I take it?” 

Your nostrils flare. “You want to enter the afterlife making insufferable quips?” 

He considers you for a long moment. 

“The delay’s left me with little else to do.” 

“‘Delay,’” you scoff. Your grip around the hilt tightens. “A self-important egoist to the end.” 

“You’ve made up your mind, then?” 

“Long ago.” 

“Hm,” he hums, the low sound resonating in his chest. “I wonder about that. Fantasizing over my death in your head is a far cry from enacting it out yourself.” 

Your eyes narrow into slits. You want to dismiss this as a petty taunt, but you both know that isn’t the case. It’s why his tone lacks condescension — he’s pointing out a fact. Everything is hitting you simultaneously like you’re being doused in an icy pale of water. The soft smile on his face, the steady rise and fall of his chest, how level-minded he remains despite what should be a looming threat.

Then there’s you. 

Sweat beading down your temples, your breathing erratic and your stomach twisting into knots. You’re acutely aware that outside the heavy mahogany doors stands a legion of Banite fanatics. Some disguised as Flaming Fists, the others choosing not to bother. At Gortash’s command, they’d have no difficulty subduing you. The agonies that’d await afterward… you shake your head, willing the thought from your mind. 

Your eyes flicker to the two golden chalices sitting atop his desk. Wanting to build up courage, you downed most of yours, whereas he nursed his. In retrospect, your uncharacteristic indulgence should’ve warned him that something was off. He, playing the kindly host, always offered a vintage bottle during your tête-à-têtes. You rarely took him up on the offer. Alcohol dulls the senses, which you need to keep razor-sharp in his presence. 

“... You saw this coming, didn’t you?” 

Gortash exhales sharply, his eyes gleaming with entertainment. “I expected some form of retaliation. I am the reason your less clever co-conspirators are idling away in the dungeons instead of scurrying about.” 

This makes you bristle.

“They’re my friends, not ‘co-conspirators,’” you hiss, leaning down to glare at him closer. “And they’ve done nothing to earn such a… a… ridiculous sentence! Libel? Treason? Sedition, of all things? What’s next? Blasphemy?” 

“It could be arranged.” 

“Bastard,” you growl. 

“It’s a jest, dear, a simple jest,” he takes a deep breath when you apply pressure to his solar plexus. His eyebrows pinch together from the pain and he coughs. He strains to speak again, though his cadence is unsettlingly calm. “My girl, there’s a great deal in this world you’re ignorant to. Ironic though it may sound now, there was dissatisfaction over your pacifism. Dissatisfaction that almost gave way to drastic measures.” 

Gortash takes your silence as reason to continue. “The Dark Lord and I are in agreement upon your value. The same cannot be said regarding your… compatriots. They lack your finesse — your practicality. Their single-minded pursuit of ‘justice’ had them poking their nose where it doesn’t belong. I can’t abide by such behavior.” 

You grit your teeth. “Then you should’ve come to me, so I could resolve the problem.” 

His response is immediate, requiring no forethought. 

“You’re soft-hearted. Charitable where you should be strict. Why else would they feel emboldened enough to act against your wishes?” 

“I…!” 

He speaks your name, effectively silencing you.

“Answer me this,” his eyes bely a certain intensity that has you swallowing thickly. “How would you see this city become the shining utopia you long so desperately for it to be? Free of poverty, corruption, and injustice?” 

“That’s never the standard I’ve aspired for,” you reply. “If it was, I never would’ve swallowed my pride and worked alongside you. Progress comes in increments. The ills that plague Baldur’s Gate aren’t chronic, the proper alms can lessen the symptoms. Righting the city’s massive wealth disparity is where I’d start.” 

He smiles at you, his eyes creasing with fondness. “My dear, the rich would sooner surrender their souls than their wealth. It’s intrinsic. When faced with outside pressure, they will exert their own, and it will hurt.” 

“I’m aware of the risks.” 

“Are you, though?” He challenges. His voice grates your ears like a drunkard’s warbling. “Your resolve is commendable — I’ll give you that. I have no doubt you’re every ounce of the bleeding heart you present yourself to be. And therein lies the issue. You can’t quell dissent with a slap on the wrist. The bones are better broken, so the hand can never rise against you again.” 

You roll your eyes. “Spoken like a true tyrant.”  

“Is tyranny so terrible?” Gortash cranes his neck upward, forcing you to move your weapon back, lest it break skin. “When I assume the role of Archduke, I won’t inflict suffering for suffering’s sake. The common folk, when left to their own devices, scramble about like livestock; beholden to superfluous pursuits and preyed on with ease. A little order would serve them well.” 

This song and dance rings familiar. 

In undermining his political aspirations, you found your paths crossing more than you would’ve preferred. It’s these ‘coincidental’ meetings that bore what he labels an alliance. You call it a temporary truce. Funds found themselves in the coffers of almshouses, orphanages, and other charitable programs in exchange for your cooperation. Cooperation being loosely defined as a more subtle subterfuge. 

You wet your lips. When did your mouth go so dry? 

“... Truthfully, I’ve never understood why you let a thorn such as myself remain in your side. These aims of yours would’ve been achieved easier with my death.” 

Outside, a bell tolls, revealing the time to be six in the evening. The window pane behind his desk barely muffles the sound of city life. There’s the clank of metal meeting metal and the thumps of arrows finding their targets as the Flaming Fist train. Children can be heard advertising the latest installment of Baldur's Mouth Gazette. A fellow bard strums his lyre and recounts daring tales from Avernus. 

It’s for these folk that you’ve toiled endlessly. You’ve always held the belief that one can rise beyond the circumstances of their birth, so long as they have the resources available to them. It’s a matter of where they get those resources. Amidst the Mistress of the Revels’ enclave, like you, from the Nine Fingers, or worse, among The Dead Three. The options are infinite yet few are good. 

“The answer’s identical to the doubt plaguing you know — ‘what if I’m offing the lesser evil?’” 

Swifter than you can comprehend, his gauntleted hand seizes your wrist. Before a spell can leave your lips, he brings the blade closer, allowing it to nick his skin. Your eyes widen as droplets of crimson gather and trickle down his neck. The setting sun’s rays reflect against the silver weapon, nearly blinding you. When your eyes readjust, you find something about his expression different. Heavier.

“I’ve seen to it that in the event of my death, no harm would befall you,” he speaks without wincing, despite the blade’s tip penetrating his skin. “My estate, research, and Steel Watch; they’d be yours. Whatever painfully altruistic means you put them to are at your discretion.” 

It feels like the air’s been forcefully squeezed from your body. “A bold lie.” 

“In my desk’s bottom-most right drawer, you’ll find a copy of my will proving the opposite.” 

“To what end?” The question comes out breathless. “You’d throw away your life’s work to— to prove a point?” 

He chuckles darkly. “My girl, your ignorance is as endearing as it is perplexing. You can’t see it? The fascination I hold for you that’d drive me to such extremes? My blatant favoritism?” 

Gortash’s grip around your wrist tightens. 

“A death by these untarnished hands…  I’d claim what remains of your innocence for myself. A prize worth the price of admission into the afterlife.” 

Your head aches, throbbing like your brain itself is being squeezed. You break out into a cold sweat. Favoritism? Is that what this is? Can such debauchery align with the word? It’s painfully obvious now; the amusement your indecision provides him. That, along with someone else. Something foreign. A sweet concept that most spend entire lifetimes chasing, twisted into an omen. 

He says your name with enough reverence to stir envy among the divine.

“What shall it be, darling? My ironclad rule or your fleeting paradise?” 

“...” 

Your hand falls limp. 

You wordlessly move to accommodate as he props himself up. Gortash cleans the blood off your knife with a handkerchief. Next, his ornamented fingers find the hair loosened from your updo during the struggle, tucking the stray pieces behind your ear. The interaction feels like it lasts a lifetime. Warily, you eye the weapon in his non-dominant hand. There’s still a chance that this is a ploy, meant to humiliate you in a final violent act. 

As if sensing your thoughts, he raises an eyebrow. “Out of consideration for our partnership, I’ve never done you any harm, have I?” 

“Physical harm is but a single category,” you murmur, the words notably sluggish. 

“True enough,” is his blasé response. He holds his palm open, as if expecting you to relinquish something. When you remain still, he sternly utters your name. “Give me your hand.” 

You obey his command. 

The gold metal forming his claw-like gauntlet is cold against your skin. He closely scrutinizes your hand, manipulating it so he catches every angle. This dedication reminds you of when he’s tinkering with a new invention. The mental notes he takes, how he maps out dimensions and improvements for future iterations. It could be paranoia, but you swear he studies your ring finger with special interest. 

Slowly, while looking you straight in the eye, he presses an open-mouthed kiss against the bruise forming on your wrist.

“Now that that’s settled… was there anything else on your agenda for the evening?” 

[lady-ashfade]

Tantrum

Slight!Yan!Astarion x Reader!

In this he doesn’t like to leave readers side at all and HATES being told he can’t come along for the adventure. Astarion is also more of a whiny and clingy yandere in this.

Warnings: I have not played the game yet, this is not canon, whiny and clingy astarion, slightly possessive, me just having fun making him being a babygurl 🌸

Astarion love to be the center of attention in everything, his light always shined through like everywhere was his stage. But he needed to be yours, he only cared to have you think of only him. He was known to go big for just a ounce of your affection, he craved it more then blood. But this time it was different. He was throwing a tantrum all because you had told him to stay back.

“Please. Oh please.” On his knees he took your legs into his arms, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “I promise to be good,” his thick accent rang through your ears. “I wouldn’t get upset anymore.” His head rested on your stomach now as he held you tight.

It was hard to keep a balance when he wouldn’t let you move a inch, “Astarion.” You groan and place your hand on his white locks. “I need to go. Today I need to do somethings and I know you’ll get displeased if you’re there.” He whimpered and huffed. He was so different when he got clingy, most of the time he was so dominant and teasing.

“But i wouldn’t.” He looked up at you with a smile that showed his teeth, “Promise, darling.” You knew he was just putting on a face and voice to trick you. Or maybe he even he believed it himself, but you knew he couldn’t.

You look down and tilt your head, moving your hand down to his cheek and he welcomed the touch. “No, sorry.” He glared harshly at you. You didn’t care, he wasn’t coming with you today. “How about, when I get back we can cause our own trouble.” That seems to catch his attention and he hummed in thought.

“Fine.” He let you go and pushed himself away from you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you’re mine until I let you go.” Crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one foot. You chuckled and moved forward to kiss his cheek, “Of course.”

“I can’t believe I let you get away with these things, you should be thankful.” He licked his lips and looked over at you. You gave him a look “Ever so thankful.” Astarion didn’t care if it was sarcasm, he took what he could get.

[zwolfgames]

Platonic Yandere Baldurs Gate 3 x teen reader (Drabble)

(Just a quick idea i might flesh out a bit more in the future. Just take it as a oneshot at the moment. Reader is about 13-14 ish. For Gale's ever dying annoyance you'll be a sorcerer. I like to imagine the reader as a thiefling cuz theyre cool, but whatever you want goes as it isnt described anywhere.)

Warnings: None.

Parts: The list

"Why... is there a child here?"

You heard the gith woman speak to mostly no-one as you had encountered her on this burning mess of a mindflayer ship.

You wonder that yourself. Why take you? Just a little teen with no real significance? Surely there's better candidates for the mindflayers to infest...

"I can hear you, you know?" You sigh and walk closer to the unknown woman.

Sure Githyanki people were known to mercilessly slay anything that even resembled an obstacle.. But seeing as you're having the same problem... and she also looks lost... you'd take this one chance.

"Don't speak to me." The woman hisses. Her armor glints in the light of an explosion out of the ships' window.

You shrug and walk past her. Moving trough the choatic halls of this fleshlike vehicle. The scurrying brains on the floor weren't a pleasant sight... but you've seen worse.

All you really had on you were the clothes you were abducted with, your long stick from the woods that you used to practise your magic and a dagger because your mother had advised you to carry one...

But against otherwordly foes... this aresenal looked a bit bleak...

You soon noticed the woman following you silently. Why? You didn't know. Probably because of the aforementioned fact that she also didn't have a clue what to do here.

"So what's your name?" You spoke curiously. Not that scared of the gith anymore now that her shining blade remained sheathed.

"I said to not speak to me, tshk." The gith woman sneered.

"Just curious." You respond with your hands in a surrendering motion.

But you get it, she's cautios. You'd be too if you met some kid on a mindflayer ship. They're not exactly common. It's safe of her to assume you're a ploy.

"My name's Y/N." You just mention for the hell of it. Might aswell die being known.

"... Lae'zel..." Ah... there's the name you wished for.

"Exotic.." You nod in acknowledgement. Probably not the best thing to say at the moment, but for some reason you felt calm. Something in your head was making you think so, atleast.

You and Lae'zel traveled a bit further down the halls of the Nautiloid. Passing by corpses of people with missing brains... yuck. A little chest here.. a little chest there. Your mother would be happy with some extra gold...

"You're a little thief, are you?" Lae'zel spat in distaste.

"Providing for the family, ma'am." You salute jokingly.

Lae'zel looks slightly startled by either your actions or your words. Keeping closer to you as the noises of fighting became louder.

In the end, you and Lae'zel had aquired a new compagnion, a lady named Shadowheart had been freed from one of the mindflayer cocoons. How did you open it, you may ask? Well you just cast Knock. It really took the intrigue off of the buttons next to the pod.. But it made everything easier.

This Shadowheart person was very secretive... immediately throwing hostile statements at Lae'zel, wich the gith returned. You supposed this is what your mother meant by girls infighting?

But all in all, they might despise eachother and glare at you as if you ate their left arm.... they still helped.

Lae'zel had instructed you all to go to the control room, apparently she's felled these ships together with her Githyanki squadrons before. Wich is cool, but you wouldn't say that considering Shadowheart might want you dead if you admit any liking for a gith.

What met you at the control panel was a big fight... well for your standards, that is. You were used to stray magic monsters or stealing goblins...

An infernal general of the hells... well not really on your preffered list of foes....

Luckily you had your two capable compagnions. Shadowheart blasted that guy with continous holy blasts, while Lae'zel just rammed a greatsword trough his fiery armor.

Cool, fighting is... cool. Atleast your spells were used for more then washing the dishes at home now.

After taking over the ship, it just fully crashed, you felt the air whip in your hair and cut into your skin as you fell down along with the debree of the Nautiloid.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart were nowhere in sight... so you tightly closed your eyes, bracing for impact... Wow... you'd be so lucky if you knew feather falling right now... bummer that you didn't.

The impact didn't come. You felt light for just a moment before you just passed out onto a wet patch of sand.

Well... not dead.. yet.

"Hey... wake up.."

Something... or considering their ability to talk, someone nudged your shoulder.

You blinked your tired eyes open. Sclera feeling dry and burned from the amount of ash on the crashed ship.

A drow stood above you. Wich is... very strange, where were you? They don't live on the surface... do they?

"How has a true soul landed themselves here? You look too pathetic for our majesty." The drow woman sneers in disgust. You know... the amount of woman hating on you was getting a bit disturbing.

"A true.. soul?" You spoke hoarsley. Throat parched from all the fire, along with being passed out here for gods know how long..

"Oh you are such an imbecile asswell. It does no good to have a putulent child as a true soul... I ought to end your suffering myself." The woman growled. Wow, just when you were about to say she had the same hairstyle as your mom-

Wow!- a sword next to your head. Yikes!

The drow still glared. Not yet having sliced your head in two due to a sound further down the beach. Sandy footsteps coming closer.

With a scowl she retreated into the wreckage of the nautiloid. Hiding from whoever was walking this way. You sat up with a groan in response. Holding your thumping head.It was no other then Shadowheart that found you. Somewhat looking relieved to see a familiar face, yet that annoyance still persisted.

"You've made it. Good. You're a bit too young to die." The black haired half-elf spoke and pulled you up.

"You almost make it sound like you care.." You cough out some dust after your teasing remark.

"Well we survived together. I'll take it as a sign that we better stick together." Shadowheart sigh and crosses her arms over her plated chest. You wonder how her eyeshadow hasn't melted off.

"You think Lae'zel made it too?" You ask a bit hesitantly, not wanting to get a death glare again.

"Im sure she did, gith are ruthless." Shadowheart scoffs and leads you further from your place on the beach. Moving on to a forest, wich you really didn't mind. You've basically been raised in the woods. Its a wonder that you didn't turn out as a druid.

"Help! A mindflayer, right here! Help me!"

Some pathetic call came from between the wreckage. Well... if you see one then it's too late? No?

Shadowheart seemed to think the same... Wich sucked, because that meant you'd have to be the better person here and see.

With a sigh of reluctance you walked towards the voice. Being carefull of the burning wreckage around you.

You ended up on a dune overseeing the beach, looking down you saw the man thats been screaming for help into the sky as if the gods would come get him.

"Are you blind? There's not even a tentacle in sight!" You yell down at him. You see the white haired elf jump and look up at you and Shadowheart.

"It was right here! I swear, come down and look!" The posh sounding man urges.

"You think were stupid. You're littarly holding a dagger!" You shout back.

"So are you! You irritating child!" The pale elf shouts back. You glare at him and he glares at you.

"So what's your real problem?" You scowl in annoyance.

"... Well fine, I don't know what to do from here, I dont even know how I survived-" The man points at the crash site. "-this."

"Would you like to join our 'we don't know what to do from here and we don't even know how we survived' club?" You grin in amusement. Shadowheart gives you a dissaproving wack on the arm and the man doesn't look happy by your mocking.

Two beats later he sighs. "Fine... untill I find a way back..."

"So what's your name? I'm Y/N and this is... actually I'll let her decide if she wants to tell or not." You nod.

"Shadowheart." The woman growls out in annoyance at your irritating behavior.

"Astarion.." The pale elf nods. Making his way up to you two.

So that made three... or if you found Lae'zel... four.

Before you could even scream for your Githyankee acquaintance, another problem stood in your way.

The very obvious portal with a hand trough it.. yelling 'help! A little help!'.

Well... maybe if it added a please?

"I can sense you there! A little help, please!" Ah.. there was the please.

This hand didn't look cursed... so it should be fine right?

"Let's not? Mhh? Who knows, maybe it's a mindflayer." Astarion advices with some smug purr.

"Well he said please, didn't your mom teach you any manners?" You huff with a roll of your (e/c) eyes. The elf froze at the sentence and Shadowheart just looked annoyed that you were once again helping someone when you didn't have time.

You huff and take the hand. Pulling at it in vain as this portal remains steadfast in holding this person on the other side.

"You can do it, just keep pulling, my friend."

The male voice called out. You set your feet properly into the dirt around you and pull with your while back put into it. As the mans purple sleeve shows due to you pulling him out, you decide to grab that instead, making your way down his arm.

Shadowheart can't seem to look at your struggle anymore and helps tug.

Together the bearded man comes crashing out of the portal.

He stands up and dusts his robes off.

"Hello, I'm Gale of Waterdeep, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance- Why are you a child?" The man stops his speech to once again asses that you are in fact a kid. Well, you prefer teen, as the number ten isn't in the didgits of your age for nothing. But sure yea, let's all keep bullying the kid.

"Well one day I was born, and from there on I began to age-" You start snidely. The man- Gale, stops you from your useless banter.

"I know how aging works... But why are you involved with... this all?" He asks in concern.

"Oh so you're genuinely a minor? I just assumed you were on the short side." Astarion notes randomly. Putting a hand over his heart as a theatric pose.

"I'm here because I also got abducted by mindflayers, there's nothing more to it. Do you want to join us in in walking around aimlessly or do we stick you back trough the portal?" You look up at Gale with a raised brow.

"Right, walking around aimlessly it is..." The bearded man sighs and takes your hand. Whatever his reasons, he seems the most startled by seeing a minor waltz around all this mindflayer stuff.

Your aquired band of misfits manage to locate Lae'zel, who had just broken out of a cage. Not looking too happy too see the growing group.

After a round of names and insults, she informed everyone... well... really just you because somehow everyone else seemed to know it all already, that you've all been infected by mindflayer tadpoles. Yuck, the last thing you wanted was tentacles on your face, what would your mother think!

Gale reassured you that that wouldn't happen and that- just like Lae'zel said- we were going to find a cure..

Or try. Whatever came first. Really.

So you set foot into the forest, hoping to find a hint of civilization to find the nearest healer. Lae'zel had been captured by patrolling thieflings.. so there must be something around here.

And you were all right. You had ended up at the emerald grove. Quickly getting pulled into their problems with the local druids and the refugees... Some Halsin guy was missing, apparently he was very important.. And he was in some goblin camp... full of goblin cultists? You were really glad Gale was writing this down because your attention span didn't make it trough this.

Wandering around the Emerald Grove had landed you an audience with the resident folk hero, the Blade of Frontiers! Wich was actually the coolest thing up ti'll now. Your mother used to tell you stories of what this man did at your age, saving a village from evil cultists, his many good deeds.

The legends true name was Wyll... wich was cool too. The darker skinned human quickly offered your group to take you over, so they could continue their journey without the worry of a teen. You were surpised when Shadowheart protested. Astarion didn't seem glad with the possibility of your absence either.

You were confused, Lae'zel was confused and Wyll himself was probably the most baffled.

He seemed to just assume you must be someones family here and offered to come with if you helped him find a demon he had to slaughter.

Yea ok, seems fair. Anything for the Blade of Frontiers.

Events went faster now, you had a bigger group, they were all quite choatic, not matching eachothers morals or ways.

Astarion was teaching you the art of pickpocketing while you all explored the grove for more information on the lost druid Halsin.

Gale was discouraging you from listening to the elf. Trying to teach you new spells instead, even trough his annoyance of your sorcerer ways. How could you learn magic without a book! What do you mean you just accidently set your treehouse on fire when you were four?!

Wyll seemed to find you quite amusing, seeing you snark back at these intimidating adults (Lae'zel) and observing how a child from a city outside of Baldurs Gate dealt with all the information.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel were still going about their mutual hatred. Why them two?

You don't know.

Goth vs frog, the neverending battle.

No matter, however. As you all found this 'demon' Wyll was after. Turned out its some nice thiefling named Karlach.

The votes on what to do were varying. Wyll didn't want to kill a non hell-being.Lae'zel told him just to get the pact over with, same for Astarion.Gale and Shadowheart were for the cancelation of this execution. Both for very diffrent reasons.

But due to Wyll being as good as you imagined him, he didn't kill the woman. Great, since she's the first one that had a positive reaction to meeting you.

Karlach saw her more carefree years in you... Just some dumb kid fighting things and messing with ploys that didn't concern you.

Thats how it all started... Karlach. The barbarian had begun the urges in your group to not let this kid they got saddled up with to get corrupted.

Everything's so bad already. They can save one thing, no?

Your first night camping with the bunch was quite fun. You helped Gale with cooking, your mother taught you well after all. The wizard was shocked as he hadn't expected a child out of everyone here to be the only one to help.

Fine enough, you made dinner.

And love goes trough the stomach, or so the saying goes. With a hoard of hungry stomachs fed, the appreciation towards 'random kid were stuck with' really picked up.

You wouldn't make it long without them getting attached. Too bad you tought you were going on a fun adventure. This isn't just some fun little thing...

Welcome to your new found family <3

Don't really know what compelled me to write this, I just miss bg3 because I'm on a road trip 😔. But if anyone's interested, I'd surely answers asks about this... thingy? Hope you kinda enjoyed atleast. Adios.

[donat-senpai]

Druids are the most cunning in the camp. They often turn into animals. You can't resist cuddling their cute little faces. They get nose kisses and ear scratches. Sometimes you let them sleep next to you. Everyone else in the camp looks with envy at the arrogant predators who are constantly taking you away.

(Gale will not give up until he has turned over all the libraries of the world in search of a potion or spell that turns a person into an animal. Perhaps he will forget to find a way to get back in advance. But as long as you scratch his cat ears, he won't complain )

[yanderes-galore]

I love how you write your yandere alphabets. Can I request one for Minthara from BG3 (romantic please)?

I can try, sure! I haven't been able to play myself... but I did research on overall story and Minthara's personality! I know I'm technically on break, but I wanted to get the BG3 requests done... and I might change my blog status to slow instead as no writing outright has proven to be boring for me -_-"

Yandere Alphabet - Minthara

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Manipulation, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Cult mentions, Intimidation mentioned, Slight sadism, Punishments, Restraints, Punishment, Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Minthara is cruel, but she feels morally gray... perhaps even mislead due to the Mindflayer Cult. She has killed before as she felt it was what needed to be done. Minthara has a superiority complex as a Drow noble and dislikes the weak.

She uses violence, deception, and cruelty to get what she wants. She's observant of those around her. Despite her nature as a Drow... she'd care for her darling in her own way.

In terms of affection, it's a bit sparse. She can be intimidating but doesn't like the idea of outright harming you for no reason. She comes off as intense... yet knows when to give her beloved physical/verbal affection.

She likes to control her darling but doesn't intend to show them mindless sadism essentially.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Minthara has killed many, violence is also expected of Drow. Safe to say if she feels it will control you or protect you... she'll spill the blood of others. For her, cruelty must have a reason for being done. You're a good enough reason for her.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

I have a feeling if Minthara abducted you she'd be mocking at times. Yet she doesn't believe in harming you without purpose. The reason she abducted you was most likely because you caught her eye... and if she's part of the cult still then she needs to find some poor souls to convert.

Despite her intimidating and cruel nature... you can tell she's taken a liking to you. She has a hard time with compassion but promises not to harm you unless she has to. But soon she casts aside her feelings against compassion when the urge to show you affection starts to develop due to her obsession.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Most likely, yes. She's a yandere who likes power towards her darling. Making you comply with her wishes seems like her.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Minthara isn't a very vulnerable character at times. Although, when she begins to give into her obsession more... she does show some desperation towards you.

So she does have some care... but struggles to show softer feelings, especially if you are not a Drow and are used to a softer kind of love.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused if not a little irritated. She likes that you won't submit easily and respects that... but overall she prefers to keep control over you.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not really and she'd show irritation as your attempts at escape. But part of her still adores the fight you have.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Kidnapping and cult conversion if she is still part of it. That or punishments since she can be ruthless if you disobey.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

When it comes to her, maybe to make you a spouse she can control. She'll have you return home with her and give you the affections she knows you want. But she knows that will take time.

Yes, if I'm correct Minthara is known to be jealous at times. She may lash out about it or carefully try to manipulate you to get what she wants.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Controlling, Manipulative, Intimidating, Cold, Ruthless, yet still Caring and Affectionate once she gives into her obsession and makes you hers.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

I assume she originally kidnapped you for various reasons. Yet over time she began to feel something towards you. At first she's in denial... but the thought is so tempting.

Perhaps she should court you...

She needs to court you and make you hers.

Not really, but she's more affectionate and open with you.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

I imagine punishments would be the time Minthara gets a bit more cruel with you. Perhaps she makes your skin bleed with a blade, restrains you so you have to rely on her... any punishment that makes her feel she has control over you essentially.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Probably as many as she wants.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Surprisingly Minthara is very patient with you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

She'd have a hard time moving on, especially if she opened herself up to you. She's had many lovers before... but you were the one she was most attached to. She'd hate to see you leave her one way or another... she's desperate to prevent that.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and probably not.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Upbringing, curiosity, something similar to that.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

She's perplexed on what to do for a moment before offering some sort of advice. She's hesitant to comfort you... but eventually gives in and tries.

You may not like it though.

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Not any I can think of, maybe trying to play into her emotions or manipulate her back?

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not if she doesn't have to.

Not a worship yandere but would definitely kill anyone who takes you from her.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Doesn't pine for very long, since she probably met you either in battle or abduction.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

She may, yeah. But she prefers you to have some fight.

[starfall-dream]

Okay, so, I felt the need to send this in. You know how we have light pollution that prevents us from seeing stars? Even outside of cities, we probably can't see as many stars as we would otherwise. Isekai Reader just, stopping and staring up at the sky every night. The others are like, "Uh, I mean it's pretty," except maybe Karlach. And some of them just find themselves appreciating the sky through new eyes as the reader's enthrallment is intoxicating. Something positive and cute

I could imagine the mess that is trying to explain the concept of pollution to them, especially light pollution. Like having to explain how humans are purposely destroying the earth because they literally don't care. Like they can't wrap their heads around why reader is so enamored with the stars, and after their explanation they almost feel sad, like their world is being destroyed because of their own greed.

[viridescentelf]

Intro ✨🖤

THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, GO AWAY CHILDREN I AM OLD AND WILL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS

I don‘t do commissions, but writing requests are always welcome~

Some Doodles & „Art“

Yandere Demon Jinn - Info Card

Yandere Bard Elphael - Info Card

Tav Cerys & Astarion Dynamic - Baldur‘s Gate 3

Astarion being nice to Cerys - Baldur‘s Gate 3

Elliott vs. Text Messages - Stardew Valley

First Impressions - Love and Deepspace

Fanfics

Completed

Elliott, Stardew Valley

Painted for me - (18+) SDV Elliott x Farmer

Notre Dame - SDV Elliott x FemFarmer

A Festive Kiss - SDV Elliott x Farmer

Inhibition - SDV Elliott x Beau (fuerrziiah OC)

Yandere Elf Silas

Escape - Yandere Elf Silas x Reader (Meo-Eiru OC)

Bath time - (18+) Yandere Elf Silas x Reader (Meo-Eiru OC)

Love Making - (18+) Yandere Elf Silas x Reader (Meo-Eiru OC)

Valentine‘s Day - (18+) Yandere Elf Silas x Reader (Meo-Eiru OC)

Halsin, BG3

Hiding Place - Fluff Halsin x FemTav

In your debt - Young Halsin x Reader (parts linked sequentially)

Litha Dance - Young Halsin x Ethereal Reader

Yandere OC Bard Elphael

Elphael Introduction - (18+) Yandere OC Bard x Reader

A Ritual of the Night - (18+) Yandere OC Bard x Reader

Say you're mine - (18+) Yandere OC Bard x Reader

A Dream come true - (18+) Yandere OC Bard x Reader

Primal - (18+) Yandere OC Bard x Reader

Yandere OC Masseur Micolai

Micolai Introduction - (18+) Yandere OC Masseur x Reader

Yandere Priest Micah

Humain à l’eau - (18+) Yandere Priest Micah x Reader (Meo-Eiru OC)

Sylus, Love and Deep Space

Investment - Sylus x Reader, Part 2

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Can I get more bg3 yandere, maybe what starts the obsession with the reader? Punishments?

A/N: Yes, more yandere coming up! (Wasn’t sure if you were referring to just the baddies list I posted or the companions, so I went with the main companions this time.)

And apologies for the wait… This was one hell of a week.

Yandere!BG3: What Triggers Their Obsession 

Astarion: 

Astarion is drawn to your innocence. 

At first, he thinks it must be an act, for someone to be so kind and open around a vagrant group of misfits they just met. 

But once he understands that’s just who you are, he feels he must protect that innocence by taking it all for himself. 

After all, he deserves it, doesn’t he? After two hundred years of slavery, he finally gets to possess some kindness of his own. 

Because that’s what you’d show him, isn’t it? You’d love him, understand him, and treat him the way he so longs to be treated. And all he has to do… is make you his to get it. 

Ascended! Astarion: 

Ascended Astarion is drawn to your inner fire, the way you don’t submit when he demands you ‘bow’. 

Initially, he finds it rather amusing that such a helpless thing like you dare defy him. Then he becomes irritated before being overcome with righteous anger. How dare you continue to thwart his plans? You shall pay, indeed. 

He wants you begging, pleading on your knees for his mercy. He wants to be the only one with the power to grant such benevolence to you.  

You will know his name, you will know his power. Your insolence will not last long.

Gale: 

Gale is drawn to your inquisitive nature, how you always seem so fascinated by any knowledge he has to share. 

No one, not even his students, has ever looked up at him with those big doe eyes the way you do. 

You appreciate him, in a way no one’s ever appreciated him before. 

He’s always played second fiddle, to greater wizards, to his goddess, but not to you. Never to you. 

He needs you to need him. He wants your awe but should push come to shove, he’ll settle for your fear. 

Godhood! Gale: 

Godhood Gale finds you so impressively driven. Your bold choices and lack of apprehension call him to you. 

On one hand, he wants to empower you, to help you soar even further than your wildest dreams. On the other hand, he wants dominion over your confidence- he should be the one to grant it to you. You couldn’t possibly command your own destiny. He’s a God, after all, he should have reign of it. 

Just let him take control, he swears it’s only for your good. Gale would never overstep your boundaries. He swears on Mystra’s honor. 

Wyll: 

Wyll wants to protect and cherish you like he believes he’s always been destined to do. 

For him, he was always burdened with this great privilege of being a hero. And you, you are the thing that makes everything he’s ever endured or sacrificed all worth it. 

You need him to save you. Sure, you’re capable, and yes, you could make it on your own, but why make it harder than necessary? Why not just let the man who would lay down his life for you, honor you and take care of you for the rest of your days?

You’re so sweet. You’re such a light in these dark, dangerous times. Wyll will ensure you’re safely hidden away from all the danger that lurks beyond. 

If that means Wyll is all you know of the outside world, then so be it. 

Karlach: 

Karlach is drawn to your spunk, the conviction you must possess to keep on fighting.  

You remind her so much of her younger self, always eager, always ready for the next challenge. But alas, that’s what she fears. 

Her eagerness blindsided her to the truth about Gortash. She didn’t see what was coming until it was too late. She can’t let that happen to you. She won’t. 

Don’t you understand? No one else out there in the cruel, cruel world would tell you the truth. They are all self-serving and undeserving of your intentions. 

Karlach knows her conditions aren’t ideal, living in hell never is. But please, try to understand. 

A lifetime spent in hell at Karlach’s side is much, much safer than a world spent alone on the surface. 

Shadowheart: 

Shadowheart is drawn to your inexperience, your childlike innocence in which you believe all that she tells you. 

She was always being taught that obedience mattered over intelligence. She thought such a statement was wrong but then, you came waltzing into her life. 

You exemplify compliance. Every word, every thought she has you take to heart like gospel. 

For you, there shall be no gods, no goddesses, no Shar or Selune to worship. 

There will only be you and her. 

La’zel: 

La’zel, despite herself, is drawn to your kindness, your simplicity. 

She thinks you are weak, and undeserving of her affections, yet she feels the need to seize you and shield you all the same.  

Your flesh is soft, your heart is malleable, and your mind is guileless. Without her intervention, you would surely perish an otherwise avoidable fate. 

No. She must keep you away from the others, away from their grasp. 

It would be futile to try and navigate the world without her. 

[moonselune]

The Dark!BG3 Masterlist

✦. ──── .✦

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

✦. ──── .✦

✶ Dark!BG3 | Found you ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Found you (Only Just) ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Back in my arms ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Escape Attempt ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Help (Please don't) ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Rescue ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | With Sincerity ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Aftermath (NSFW) ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | When Death Comes to Call ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Wanna hear my Minthara impression? ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Submission is the purest form of bliss ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | My Doll ✶

✶ Wyll Catch up P.1 ✶

✶ Wyll Catch up Final Part ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | My Dearest Assistant ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | The little things ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Jealousy ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | My Baby ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Life or Death ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Following ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Am I The Villain? ✶

✶ Dark!BG3 | Accidents ✶

✦. ──── .✦