#yandere shadowheart

[moonselune]

Hello! Could I request a pregnant reader running away from the Dark ending characters to protect their unborn baby? Sort of an alternative scenario where the dark characters don’t know their darling is pregnant and they successfully manage to run away and hide with their child for a few years before they’re both found again by their yandere?

So glad requests are finally open!!!!!

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Dark!BG3 | Bye, Bye, Baby/Baby, Goodbye

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

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CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader, childbirth, mass murder, arson,

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Song rec: Bye Bye Baby

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Conqueror Minthara:

It had taken every ounce of strength you possessed to leave Minthara, but your pregnancy had propelled you forward. Each moment of your escape was a dangerous gamble, every step a silent prayer, relying on old allies and, for the first time, even the enemies of the Baenre estate to help you vanish into the world above. You'd known the risks, the chance that Minthara’s dark reach might find you anywhere, but when you finally stepped into the light of the surface world, the chill of fear faded, replaced by something warmer, something you hadn’t felt in years. Freedom.

In that quiet, sunlit village, you built a new life. It wasn’t grand or luxurious, but it was wholly yours, unburdened by the constant dread of Minthara’s ambition and possessive cruelty. It was a simple existence, but peace had always been elusive for you, and here, you had finally grasped it.

And when your daughter was born, small and soft and untainted by any darkness, you felt a strength bloom within you that was fiercer than any resolve you had known before. She was innocent, untouched by Minthara’s world, a part of you that you would fiercely protect. In her small face, you saw the promise of a life unshadowed by fear. She became your joy, your purpose, and the villagers who took you in became a family, treating her as a precious miracle. For the first time, you felt safe.

Life became a quiet rhythm: tending to her, letting her laugh at the birds that flew outside your window, and feeling her small fingers tug at your hair as she babbled with wonder at every new thing. In the peaceful warmth of the village, the sounds of morning birds and evening lullabies replaced the echo of Baenre’s cold vicious halls. It felt safe enough, at times, that you dared let yourself relax. You would take small naps in the afternoons, letting sleep claim you while she lay in her cradle.

It was on one of those afternoons, feeling content and unburdened, that you allowed yourself to truly sleep. It was a mistake.

You awoke, not to the warmth of your small bed, but to the touch of silk sheets. No longer were you wrapped up in the knitted jumper your elderly neighbour had made you but the finest robes the Underdark could offer. The comforting scent of home had been replaced by the stale, heavy air you had left behind. Your eyes flew open in panic, and terror surged through your veins as the truth settled over you. The bed, the cottage, the life you had built—it was all gone. You were back within the Baenre estate, its dark silence pressing down on you like a nightmare.

You staggered to your feet, the terror clawing at your chest, but only one thought filled your mind: your daughter. You tore through the familiar, hated halls, shouting her name, your heart pounding as you passed door after door, corridor after corridor, each one empty and devoid of life. No warmth, no gentle light from the village. Only darkness and the cold.

Then, in the dim light of Minthara’s chambers, you saw her.

Your daughter, barely a few months old, sat on Minthara’s lap, her small hands reaching out, curious, to touch the dark fabric of Minthara’s robes. Minthara’s face held a strange gentleness—a softness you once trusted, now contorted into something twisted and terrifying. She murmured to the child, her tone almost affectionate, the sound catching in your ears like broken glass.

"Your mama had a little… lapse. She thought she could leave us,” Minthara cooed, her words soft, her gaze never leaving your child. “But it’s alright now. She’s returned to where she belongs, where you belong, my love."

Her eyes lifted, meeting yours, a cold gleam in them. She gave you a pitying, patronizing smile, as though you were nothing more than a child caught in a foolish game. Your legs felt like lead, each step heavy as you stumbled into the room, desperate and helpless.

“Minthara…please,” you choked, reaching out, your voice thin and trembling. “Give her back to me.”

Minthara’s smile grew sharper, and she shifted your daughter on her lap, as though she were cradling a prize, a possession that was irrevocably hers.

“You weren’t well, darling. Call it pre-partum delusions, if you will. Motherhood…does things to the mind.” Her voice was calm, patronizing, almost soothing, and each word sank into you like a blade. “But rest assured, I’ll make sure this never happens again. You’ll be protected, watched over.”

A heavy, cold weight settled over you as she dismissed everything you had fought for as if it were nothing but a passing illness. She was rewriting your escape as nothing more than a fit of irrationality, a lapse in judgment, the precious life you’d built reduced to a fevered dream. She continued, her tone sharp, each word a stone that buried your resolve.

“Rest assured that I’ve forgiven you. I understand what might have driven you to this… lapse.” She reached down, brushing a strand of hair from the child’s forehead with a delicate hand as though you weren’t standing there, each word diminishing you. "But worry not, you two will never leave again. I’ll see to it myself.”

You took a step forward, trembling, your gaze shifting from Minthara’s possessive hand on your child to her eyes, which held no warmth, only an unyielding, terrible love. “Minthara… please, I was only trying to protect her from—”

“Protect?” she interrupted, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. “You were confused. You were delusional.” Her voice softened, taking on a chilling gentleness. “But I know it was only fear that drove you to such… irrational behavior. Now, our family is whole again. Our baby will grow up in both of her mothers' embrace."

Her voice left no room for protest, and when you tried to step forward again, she shifted your daughter further away, holding her closer, her gaze hardening with an unspoken threat. Your protests died on your lips as you curled in on yourself.

“Now,” she continued, her voice soft, almost soothing, “you will stay here with us, and in time, you will understand that this—this is the only place you need to be.” Her eyes softened with a chilling, twisted affection. “You and our daughter, bound together in this family. You’ll see it’s what’s best.”

A shudder of helplessness ran through you as you realized there was no escape. Not now, not ever. Minthara’s control was unbreakable, her possession over you, over your daughter, as absolute as the stone walls that surrounded you. She had taken everything and redefined it under her own iron will, trapping you within a nightmare disguised as love.

Your daughter gurgled, reaching for you, her small, trusting eyes unaware of the darkness that loomed. As Minthara held her close, her fingers brushing the child’s cheek with a cruel tenderness, you felt the weight of her claim settle over you—a cage you could never escape. And as you looked into Minthara’s eyes, you knew she would never let you go.

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Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The news had settled within you like a quiet revelation, a blooming certainty despite the fog of your fractured memories. You were pregnant, carrying Shadowheart's child. It was surreal and daunting, your memories of her a shattered mirror, fragments of affection and fear intertwined. But as soon as you felt the life stirring within you, something undeniable broke free—a fierce, protective instinct you hadn’t felt before. Whatever your past held, this future, this child, needed something else—somewhere safer than the Sharran cloister’s shadowed halls.

Days turned to weeks as you hid the truth from Shadowheart, burying your own memories further, blending into the routines she expected of you. Finally, in the dead of night, you slipped away, cradling your belly and the life within it, guided only by that need to protect, even as your own mind’s certainty waned. Exhaustion and the pain of fleeing left you breathless, but you pressed on, slipping past the cloister’s walls and through the wilderness, seeking the solace you knew lay elsewhere.

It was through sheer resilience that you found the Selunite community—a hidden sanctuary of gentle souls who embraced you without question, taking you in like the family you barely remembered. Their kindness was a balm, a healing force that soothed you as you neared the end of your pregnancy. And when the time came, their hands and prayers guided you through childbirth, their soft words of encouragement weaving through your pain. Finally, you held your daughter, her small face serene, a spark of light in the world that had been so dark.

Those first few days passed in a haze of wonder and exhaustion, their gentle care enveloping you as you recovered. You felt a faint glimmer of hope as you watched your daughter sleep in your arms, her little face peaceful, untouched by the fear that had followed you for so long. For the first time, you thought you might truly be free.

But then, the peace broke, the night pierced by screams and the clash of steel. Panic surged within you as you heard footsteps rushing through the halls, the murmur of prayers abruptly silenced. Sharran chants echoed against stone walls, a sound you knew too well. Shadows poured through the sanctuary, cutting down the Selunites one by one, the scent of blood thickening in the air. You held your child closer, frantically searching for a way to flee, but it was too late.

A familiar, chilling voice sounded behind you, and your blood froze.

“There you are,” Shadowheart murmured, her voice like silk, threaded with a dark satisfaction. She moved closer, her gaze fixed on your daughter with a haunting reverence, as if drawn by the innocent life you held. “Oh, look at her… what a beauty you’ve brought into the world.”

Her tone was deceptively soft, the twisted affection almost comforting if not for the malice that laced it. She extended a gloved hand, her fingertips grazing your daughter’s cheek with a gentleness that felt all wrong.

Instinctively, you pulled your child closer, your grip tightening, and Shadowheart’s gaze flicked to you. There was no anger, only an unsettling calm, her expression laced with twisted forgiveness.

“You ran,” she continued, her voice almost reproachful, as if she were scolding a disobedient child. ��But it’s alright now. You’ve returned to me, to Shar’s embrace, and you’ve brought with you this… gift.”

Your heart pounded as you struggled to muster any courage to speak, but the words choked in your throat. Around you, the once-peaceful sanctuary was littered with the fallen, the Selunites lying motionless, their sanctuary now desecrated. Shadowheart’s followers moved silently, clearing away what remained of the Selunite resistance, their faces cold, their hands stained with blood. This was their version of mercy—Shar’s mercy, as Shadowheart would call it.

“All is forgiven,” she whispered, her lips curving into a smile that was both tender and terrible. “You see, even the Selunites now lie within Shar’s embrace. They fought so hard, didn’t they?” She reached out, her fingers gently touching your cheek, her gaze softening as if this massacre were an offering just for you. “But now, you and our child are home.”

“Shadowheart… please,” you finally managed to whisper, desperation fraying your voice as you held your daughter close. “We don’t… we don’t belong here. She deserves a life free of this darkness.”

Her smile faltered only for a heartbeat before she let out a soft, almost sympathetic laugh.

“No, my love. This is the only life we deserve—Shar has granted us purpose, blessed us with a future. And you were simply lost for a while, caught up in the false comforts of the light.” Her hand moved to cup the back of your head, her thumb tracing a slow, comforting path along your temple. “But I’ve forgiven you. And now, you willl be home again, and we can forget all about this.”

Your stomach lurched, though you couldn't place why, you just had an instinctual feeling that it had something to do with your broken mind. The remnants of your defiance withered under her touch, your heart heavy with dread as you realized there was no escape. You will return to the shadows, with your child, where Shar reigned, and would serve as your babe's twisted godmother. And there was nothing you could do about it.

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God of Ambition Gale:

The realization of your pregnancy struck you like a fever. Gale’s child—the product of the god of ambition’s indomitable will and your own caged heart—was growing within you. In that moment, you knew with certainty that whatever this child’s fate was meant to be, it would not unfold within Gale’s far-reaching grasp. The image of your child, bound by his ambition, molded into his vision of perfection, was enough to fuel your resolve. Determined to give your child a life beyond Gale's expectations, you tapped into your powers, cloaking yourself from his omniscient gaze and retreating into the mortal plane.

You found refuge within a hidden sect of your most devout followers, a sanctuary devoted to you in secret, where your faithful tended to your every need. You shielded them from Gale's prying eyes, weaving spells of concealment and drawing from your diminishing godly strength to protect them. You could feel Gale’s influence faintly brushing against your barriers, but for once, it was within your control. Your powers fortified with the growing life inside of you.

Months passed in tense quietude, but at last, your child was born, a tiny, fragile spark of life cradled in your arms. Your followers revered the newborn daughter, honoring the life that defied a god’s ambition and revered you for your defiance, vowing to protect this small, unknowing child. Yet as the days passed, you felt the dread looming over you—Gale’s influence was inescapable. The sense of his presence prickled at the edges of your consciousness, as if he were a shadow waiting to fall.

One evening, as you sat within the dim light of your sanctuary, you looked at your newborn, heart heavy with the choice that lay before you. You would entrust your daughter to your followers, let them raise them in secret and keep them far from the ambitions of her father. It was for her own protection, her only chance at freedom. Yet, as you gazed into your child’s innocent eyes, a new realization crept into your heart: you couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

Tears filled your eyes as the weight of your decision crushed you. How could you abandon her? The life you wanted her to live—untouched by divinity, free from expectation—seemed just out of reach. Sobs wracked your body as you clutched her closer, your resolve dissolving beneath the tidal wave of grief. You wanted to protect her, but giving her up felt like losing a part of yourself.

A gentle touch brushed your shoulder, and you turned, expecting to see your high priestess. But as your tear-filled gaze met familiar eyes, your breath hitched in horror.

Gale stood before you, his expression one of sympathy, yet his eyes shone with a satisfaction that was chilling. Clad in your priestess’s robes, his disguise melted away, revealing the truth you had dreaded. He had been here all along, watching, waiting for you to come to your senses.

"My love," he murmured, his voice like honeyed silk, soothing even as it constricted around your freedom, "you didn’t think I would let you face this alone, did you?"

You shrank back, clutching your daughter protectively, your mind racing with fear not for yourself, but for her. His gaze drifted to the child, and you could feel his mind already shaping her future, his plans and ambitions seeping into the air around you. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, eyes gleaming with pride.

"Look at what you’ve created," he said softly, though his words held a dark undercurrent. "Our daughter. You were merely testing my resolve, weren't you? Testing my devotion to you and to our legacy. My ambition."

The air grew thick with his presence, oppressive and unyielding, as his hand tightened ever so slightly, rooting you in place. It wasn’t a request—it was an assertion, an unyielding truth in Gale’s mind that could not be challenged. He saw your devotion wavering and offered his own hand as a reminder, his grip unbreakable. You saw in his gaze the merciless edge of his ambition, a refusal to let anything—anyone—be outside of his control.

Stricken by fear, you forced yourself to nod, murmuring broken assurances.

"Yes, Gale," you whispered, voice trembling, "it was just… a test. I… I needed to be sure."

Satisfied, Gale smiled, his hand brushing your hair gently.

"Then all is well," he said, his tone rich with the contentment of victory. "Now, return to my realm, and let me help you raise our child as she’s meant to be—she is ours, after all."

Bound by his grip, by the weight of your followers’ lives and the fragile life of your daughter, you surrendered. He led you back, your daughter cradled against you, and you walked in silence, already haunted by the future that awaited her. You had once dreamed of freedom for her, but under Gale’s ambition, you knew that dream had faded into shadows.

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Ascended Astarion:

The discovery of your pregnancy had shaken you to your core. The idea of raising a child under Astarion's rule—within his twisted, blood-soaked world—was more terrifying than any threat you’d ever faced. Quietly, with every ounce of resolve you had left, you’d slipped away from him, vanishing into the shadows of the Underdark, determined to keep your child safe from his corrupted influence. Away from Astarion, you’d managed to carve out a small, hidden life for yourself, filled with the quiet joys of early motherhood. You nourished your child, watched over them, and, for a few precious months, knew peace. You allowed yourself to believe that, maybe, you’d succeeded in keeping them safe.

But that dream shattered the day you returned from gathering food, your child nestled in your arms, only to find Astarion sitting casually at the worn kitchen table, a ghostly figure of elegance against the dimly lit and modest surroundings. His crimson gaze fixed on you as he toyed with an empty goblet, his fingers tracing its rim with a nonchalant menace.

"Darling," he purred, voice dripping with amusement as he looked up at you, eyes flashing with a possessive intensity, "did you truly think I wouldn’t find you?"

He laughed, a soft, dangerous sound that filled the silence. You held your child closer, feeling your heart thunder beneath your ribs as you took in the sight of him, seated in the home you had desperately tried to keep hidden. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to escape, but you knew Astarion far too well. Running now would be useless. With no other choice, you drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"What do you want?" you managed, voice barely above a whisper. He laughed again, standing and brushing down his pristine attire as though your question was absurd.

"What do I want?" he echoed, approaching with that chilling, gliding grace. "Isn't it obvious, my love? I came to retrieve what’s mine." His eyes glinted with a terrible amusement as he drew closer, his gaze drifting to the child in your arms. "Now, let me see them."

When he reached out, you instinctively tightened your hold, taking a step back, your body tensing at the idea of his touch on your child. The defiance only made him smile, a mockery of indulgence flashing across his face. With a small, irritated sigh, he rolled his eyes.

"Please, my dear," he said, his tone carrying an edge of impatience. "I’m not here to harm my heir… or the mother of my heir. I’d expect a little trust."

Unwilling but with no other options, you reluctantly loosened your hold, feeling your stomach twist as he gently lifted the child from your arms. He held them with surprising care, the barest hint of a smile gracing his face as he looked down at the small bundle. A strange light entered his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, there was an almost genuine affection there, albeit twisted by his possessive pride.

"Ah," he murmured softly to the child, his voice low and soft. "Such a marvelous life awaits you, little one. An entire world, ripe for the taking… as soon as your mother," he glanced at you with a smirk, "comes to her senses."

You felt a prickle of fear at his words, understanding the layered meaning beneath them. You took a cautious step toward him, trying to keep your tone steady. "Astarion… please, they deserve a chance at a real life. Not… this."

His smile hardened, his gaze cutting.

"Don’t be foolish," he replied, his voice like a caress tainted with steel. "A 'real life?' You were trying to raise my heir in squalor and shadows." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the patronizing look in his eyes making your heart sink. "I’ll forgive your little rebellion, darling, but don't presume to know what's best."

Before you could speak, you felt something, some spell overtake you, and your vision began to swim. Your legs went weak, your world turning fuzzy at the edges as you felt your consciousness slipping away. The last thing you saw was Astarion’s mocking smile, and the last thing you heard was his cool voice murmuring, "Shh, it’ll all be over soon."

Darkness closed in, and when you awoke, you were back in Astarion’s palace, in his chambers, the opulence surrounding you an all-too-familiar prison. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, of inescapable control, as though you’d never left. Disoriented, you pushed yourself up, your mind racing.

The sound of a soft coo drew your attention, and your heart leapt as you saw your child in a gilded crib nearby, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. Relief washed over you—but only for a moment. The door creaked open, and Astarion stepped in, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of satisfaction and delight. He watched you for a beat, savoring the moment as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with quiet despair.

“See?” he murmured, gesturing to the luxurious room, to the crib. “Isn’t this a better life for our heir?”

You knew better than to argue, seeing the unyielding determination in his eyes. He wouldn’t be swayed by your pleas or logic. Any trace of freedom you’d tasted had evaporated, replaced by a chilling realization: this was your life now, and your child’s.

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Naturist Halsin:

Discovering you were carrying Halsin’s child had ignited a fierce urgency within you, a determination to protect them from the dark path Halsin had fallen into. You’d once loved him deeply, but as his views became increasingly extreme, his disdain for humankind palpable, you could no longer bear the thought of raising a child under his fervent ideology. With a heavy heart, you fled, finding refuge in a small druidic grove whose members welcomed you and promised to shield you from Halsin’s reach.

Months passed, and there, surrounded by trees and healing herbs, you gave birth. The grove offered peace, and you cherished the tranquil days, breathing in the clean air as you held your child close. You’d finally begun to believe you were safe, that your child might actually have a chance at a balanced life, away from Halsin's dominating influence. In this secluded grove, hidden away, life settled into a gentle rhythm, each day weaving hope and new beginnings.

But that illusion shattered in the dark hours of one quiet night.

The scent of smoke drifted through the air, thick and suffocating. You woke with a jolt, alarm shooting through you. Heart racing, you turned to the cot beside you, only to find it empty. A pang of panic sliced through your chest as you frantically searched the room, praying you’d somehow missed them in the dim light. But the cot remained empty, and dread clawed at your throat.

Barefoot and disheveled, you tore through the grove, ignoring the flames licking at branches, the heat scorching your skin. The acrid smell of burning wood and flesh choked you, but all that mattered was your child. You screamed their name into the chaos, your voice breaking with desperation as you stumbled over the fallen bodies of your new druid family, their lifeless forms strewn across the sacred earth.

The world around you blurred, reduced to a single, primal purpose—find your child.

At the grove’s edge, just past the smoldering ruins of what had been your sanctuary, you saw him. Halsin stood there, towering and blood-streaked, his face framed by the firelight. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. In his arms, nestled against his chest, was your child, unharmed and gazing up at him in quiet wonder.

Halsin looked down at them with a serene expression, cooing softly as he rocked them gently, whispering words you couldn’t make out over the roar of the flames. His hands, still stained with the blood of those who had offered you refuge, held your child as if they were the most precious treasure in the world.

Without thinking, you stumbled toward him, heart shattering as you reached for your child. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a strange mix of affection and pity.

“Our little one was waiting for me,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost soothing. “You must know by now—this was always meant to be.”

You were shaking, your fingers numb as you took the baby from his arms, clutching them desperately to your chest as if they were your lifeline. Tears spilled from your eyes, your body wracked with silent sobs as you stared at Halsin, the man you once loved and now feared beyond measure.

“Why, Halsin?” you choked out, voice barely a whisper. “Why would you do this?”

His gaze softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder with the same tenderness that had once comforted you.

“You lost your way, my love,” he said, as if explaining something simple to a child. “But it’s all forgiven now. You and our child are where you’re meant to be. Under my protection, with nature’s blessing. I had to save you from the lies they fed you here.”

You felt his grip tighten ever so slightly, a possessive strength beneath the facade of tenderness. His touch, once reassuring, now felt like a shackle, holding you firmly in place.

“For the greater good,” he murmured, his voice a low, almost reverent whisper. “You’ll understand, in time.”

Your mind felt trapped, your body frozen as you held your child, and all you could manage was a shaky nod. Because deep down, you knew: there was no escaping him now. As Halsin guided you back through the charred remains of the grove, his arm wrapped protectively around you, you realized you had no choice but to submit—to the man who believed he was saving you, even as he bound you to his twisted vision of the world.

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Grand Duke Wyll:

You’d felt a bittersweet sense of liberation the day you’d finally made it out of the Grand Duke’s clutches, a freedom carved out of sheer determination and love for the life growing within you. After months of moving cautiously, you had finally managed to reach Waterdeep, a sprawling city where you could blend into the crowds, creating a new identity for yourself and your child. You’d found a small home, modest yet cozy, and the months after the birth of your baby were a blissful exhaustion—nights spent rocking them to sleep, days filled with laughter and quiet joy. Here, Wyll’s shadow couldn’t reach you, or so you thought.

One lazy afternoon, while your baby napped, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off on the sofa. The next thing you knew, soft cries from the nursery roused you. You sat up quickly, your heart lurching in that familiar pang of maternal worry mixed with relief; your child’s cries were already softening, and you thought perhaps they’d just drift off again.

But as you approached the nursery, a strange, cold feeling gripped your heart. The quiet that greeted you felt unnatural, too calm, too steady. You pushed open the door and froze.

Wyll was sitting in the rocking chair, cradling your child with a gentle sway, his gaze wholly absorbed by the small bundle in his arms. He looked so at ease, as if he had always been here, always part of this quiet life you had so carefully built away from him. He was murmuring softly, his deep voice filled with adoration.

“You’re as pretty as your mother, you know that?” he cooed, his thumb gently brushing your baby’s tiny fingers. “Just as lovely… just as perfect.”

A chill ran through you, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. Taking a steadying breath, you stepped forward, keeping your voice as calm as you could manage.

“Wyll,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, “you need to leave. You don’t belong here.”

But Wyll didn’t look up, his attention solely on the child, his child. He didn’t acknowledge your words—only continued to rock, a faint smile gracing his lips as he murmured to the baby.

“We need to leave soon, darling,” he said, his tone light, almost cheerful. “We have a carriage waiting for us, for our family.” His gaze finally drifted to you, and his eyes softened. “I know these past months have been difficult, darling. Pregnancy, childbirth… it’s exhausting, and sometimes it clouds the mind.” His voice was soothing, patronizing in its gentleness. “But that’s why I’m here now.”

You tried again, fighting to keep your voice calm, though each word came with a barely restrained tremor.

“No, Wyll. I’m not going back with you. This is my home now. Our home,” you emphasized, your hand protectively reaching out for your baby. “You need to understand that we’re not returning to your city, to your… rule.”

For the briefest moment, a flicker of something dark crossed his face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a sympathetic smile. He shifted the baby gently in his arms and rose from the chair, stepping toward you.

“You poor thing,” he murmured, voice thick with faux sympathy. “Sleepless nights, the overwhelming worry… it’s clouded your judgment. But that’s all right. That’s why I came myself, to bring you home, where you belong.”

Each word cut deeper as he dismissed your pleas. He walked toward you, and you tensed, stepping back on instinct. But as you moved, the quiet rustle of armor drew your attention to the door, where two of Wyll’s royal guards stood, their stoic gazes fixed on you, blocking any hope of escape. Wyll stepped closer, his eyes warm but resolute.

“We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.” His arms closed around you and the baby, his touch firm, unyielding, as he held both of you close. “It’s time to go home.”

You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you glanced down at your child, nestled contentedly in his arms, unaware of the tension in the room, of the silent battle being waged.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking as you looked up at Wyll. “Please let us stay. This is what’s best for our child. Can’t you see that?”

But Wyll only smiled, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll have you feeling yourself again in no time. You just need rest, stability… me.” He lifted your chin, his gaze steady and calm. “Now, enough of these dramatics. Your carriage awaits.”

Helplessly, you watched as he signaled to his guards, his arm protectively around you as they escorted you both out. Each step away from the life you had built felt like a surrender, the world you had carved out of hope and freedom slipping further and further away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Oooh this was delicious to write, I love this dynamic and this request was just *chef's kiss* - so thank you so much and I hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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[kiame-sama]

Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.

* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.

~~~~~~~~

The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.

Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.

This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.

"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"

Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.

"Do tell me you are joking, right?"

"No, should I be?"

"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"

"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"

There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.

"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."

Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.

"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."

Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.

"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"

"You know I'm right though!"

"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."

Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.

"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."

Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.

"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"

It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.

"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"

Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.

Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.

[yandere-sins]

i do love to see your view on shadowheart as a stalker. like i think she would really be trying her best to look normal meanwhile her brain is down BAD

I totally agree! She's just so well-adjusted to the role already without trying. Her name screams stalker yandere already, and I think the worst thing is her pining for her darling so massively that she doesn't realize how much it's changing her until it's already too late!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You get along with everyone, and it comes to a head at the tiefling/goblin party. You saved Shadowheart before, have shown her nothing but kindness and understanding even when she opened up about herself, and after traveling for days you have grown more comfortable around each other. So when you come to her—naturally, she's the first step on your journey around camp—Shadowheart invites you for a drink in private.

She's not sure what got into her (probably the wine), but you look so dashing, cleaned up, and grinning from the merry atmosphere. Hard times bring people together, but what she wants is a closeness that gives her goosebumps to think about. She really shouldn't. Every fiber of her being is trained not to want someone to get too close, yet she wants you. Wants you to know more than you should. Be vulnerable around you, even though she knows she probably can't.

Her inner conflict doesn't stop it from hurting like shit when you hesitate, smiling sheepishly before saying you'd rather hang out with everyone, but maybe later you can come over for a cup, or she could join the group. Shadowheart isn't sure she ever felt something as painful as your rejection. Whatever she wants from you, you don't want it.

Not yet, at least.

It's foolish and against everything she stands for. She wants to be tough and dutiful, deadly and unbothered by feelings of the heart. But she can't, not even in the days after the party. Because you are just so stunning, even bloody and sullied, still smiling like the sun even when you almost tumble off a cliff, thanking her profusely for saving you. Shadowheart wasn't trying to be helpful. She just happened to be there and grab you. Nothing more.

Certainly, she's not spending her days watching you. Always being together and traveling makes it hard to be a secretive stalker, and everyone in camp notices her constant and longing stares at your back—except you. Shadowheart picks up things too heavy for you to carry (before throwing them into Karlach's pouch) or is the first to volunteer to spend time with you gathering materials or combing through the loot. She's also the defacto map enthusiast ever since she met you, helping you read the map. Anyone else in the group could keep you guys on track, but she squeezes in between you and whoever is trying to get close to you. She's better at it than the others anyway. You should rely only on her.

Shadowheart is still telling herself it's all for the sake of getting rid of the tadpole.

She keeps you company in the evening, helps you repair equipment, and reads the books you two found, searching for hints on how to get rid of the brain worms. It's hard for Shadowheart to concentrate most nights, however, your expressions so amusing and delightful as you pick through languages you can barely read, misinterpreting them and getting offended. You even make her laugh with you, and you two bond over her translating the texts correctly for you.

Sometimes, your hands touch, or your knees bump into each other. Her heart makes a leap so far that she's afraid it might land in your lap. But you draw away before anything more can happen, and she feels emptier than ever as the awkwardness lays over you two.

She's not sure how to get closer to you. Shadowheart thought it would be enough to travel with you and spend some nights next to each other by the fire. But she's beginning to lose sleep over the thoughts of you—your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes shine—playing on repeat in her head. The feeling of warmth from your body from where you two touched and the way you clung to her when she saved you from a miscalculated jump are burned into her very soul.

Having to resort to unsavory things like stealing your shirts to sleep with and forcing interactions by giving you tasks to fulfill for her, knowing you won't say no, are all Shadowheart can do to keep you close to her and herself sane. She'd prefer a more natural relationship, but you are always hesitant to take it further for some reason. Even though she gives you the signs, you seem undecided. As if you had a choice. 

It makes her even more wary about the others traveling with you two.

Yet, if all she can be is your shadow, so be it. She doesn't mind trailing after you, always in reach but never close enough. It makes her bare her teeth towards anyone approaching you, the hairs on the back of her neck standing when someone dares to touch you, many, like Astarion, doing it just to taunt her. She's like the wolves she hates the most; hungry and territorial. Maybe she'll snap one day, and who knows what she'll do to you then.

But as long as you haven't rejected her completely, she'll be okay.

She'll be okay, she tells herself, even as she pins you to the ground, feeling completely mad with desire. But even with that tinge of fear and hurt in your eyes, you are still the most radiant and beautiful thing she's ever seen. You're her sun, and she can hardly stop herself from wanting to devour you so you may push away the dark shadows of obsession her heart harbors.

[starfall-dream]

Yandere Baldur's Gate x Isekai Reader Concept

I wanted to expand on my concept in hopes that people would be more interested in it. This won't get into every single character I want to write for, in fact this will pretty broad, so please feel free to ask me to expand on any ideas I didn't get into concept.

Also, for this concept, I'm including default (whitedragon, storm Sorcery) Durge, who is the Tav in my concept. I'll be using they/them pronouns for them and reader.

This mainly goes over act one, and if people are interested, I'll explore more of act 2 and 3, so please tell me what you think.

Again please send in any ideas or things you want me to expand on.

---

You didn't remember how you arrived here, nor do you know how the tadpole entered your head, but there was no use lamenting your situation now. All you did remember was going to sleep one night, your head banging in your head, but that wasn't unusual. When you awoke, you weren't on your bed, but instead on a beach, sand covering your body. 

It was lonely, being in this strange new world. From the moment you woke up on that beach, you knew you didn't belong, and you could feel every essence of your being rejecting the notion that you should be here. But despite that, you remained, mountains of responsibility placed upon you from the moment you realized where you were. Your companions, if you could even call them that, were cordial at best. You could tell that most of them didn't believe your story, thought you were crazy, spouting nonsense of other worlds. Some were nice, namely the wizard Gale and the more welcoming and kind Wyll, though you knew that their kindness was due to need rather than genuine feelings. 

The others were distrustful of you, but as their companion they had no other choice but to follow you. Astarion was the worst, at best his words were just petty teasing, while at worst he made you feel useless. You knew nothing, had very little survival skills, couldn't find your way around any weapons, in his words "hopeless." You tried your best to get along with him and your other companions, but it was often for not. 

The only companion you really found yourself close to was Tav, the more leader-like of the group. The best way to describe them is spacey, staring off into the world, often alone with their thoughts. It was difficult getting used to them at first, you've never seen someone like them before, but they were the only ones to accept you in the beginning. They taught you how to survive in this world, helping alongside Wyll in teaching you how to fight, at least with a sword. It made you feel at least a bit more prepared for your journey ahead, and you didn't have to listen to Astarion's judgmental words any more. 

While Tav was more of the leader, you were always more inclined to help people. You liked the Tieflings, especially the curious children, so it didn't take much to convince you into helping them. It felt...nice, having people's hope, helping people, though you didn't truly know what it entailed. Having to protect your companions, keep them away from the danger that seemed oh so attracted to them, it was a lot of work. Part of you wondered if helping the grove, saving these people, if it would prove your worth to your companions, and for some, it did. Shadowheart was appreciative of the work you put in, though she seemed unable to express it. 

In fact, you felt as though you were growing closer to your companions, at least partially. Gale would show off his magic, he loved it. After finding Karlach and learning more about Wyll, he seemed very obsessed with making sure you knew how to protect yourself. It was easy to befriend Halsin, he was so nice and understanding, as well as understanding as he could be. You even started to help the other companions with their personal issues as their trust in you started to get better. You caught Astarion mending some of your clothes one night, you think Lae'zel complimented you fighting style once, but you really couldn't tell, and Karlach was always encouraging. It felt nice, even if it was all very small acts of kindness. 

Though, throughout your journey, you found yourself worried over Tav. They were always more inclined towards violence, they were intimidating, quiet, but they were a friend to you, and so when they confided in you about their violent urges, something they strived to overcome, you vowed to help them. You could tell your words meant a lot to them, and as they promised to protect you on your journey, despite what path they take, the choice of words slightly worries you, but you trust them, and you were happy to have a friend. 

Meeting Halsin was a breath of fresh air, he seemed to genuinely notice the work you were putting in, offering to help you with your tadpole problem and travel with you on your journey. Your companions seemed to like the fact that a confident healer was finally amongst the party, and for once, after saving the grove and helping the Tieflings, you felt at peace. During their celebratory party, you spend most of your time alone, occasionally being checked up on by the animal companions you've found along the way. Zevlor offered you a drink, and in a tipsy daze, you confided in him about your worries and fears, you talked for hours and it was nice and Zevlor seems sympathetic, even claiming to miss you while they were traveling, and made you promise to find him in Baldur's Gate. 

You promised him, and as the Tieflings left, you found a small amount of dread sinking in. Your companions were still wary of you, and now you were traveling into a more dangerous land. You wondered if it would always be this way, but you knew you would have to keep brave, even if you knew you would never belong despite all your efforts. All you could hope for was hope for change, and keep a strong facade for your companions and yourself.

---

A/n: Again, I wasn't able to go into characters like Zevlor or Raphael as much as I wanted to, so please feel free to send in any ideas or headcanons you have about them or any other characters, I'd love to here them :)

[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 )

[zwolfgames]

Goblin camp overtake (drabble) Platonic!Yandere!BG3 x Teen!Reader

(Hopefully it's a bit accurate because ive only played the story twice for now so i dunno all the posibilities.)

Summary: Teen!reader and the squad go take defeat the goblins. Therefore meeting Halsin, and Minthara again.

Warnings: Death (obv), mentions of gore, Goblins

Other related BG3 by me: Intro, Gith creché

The sun was shining, the flowers in the forest were blooming... On days like this, kids like you had been tasked with commuting genocide on the local goblins.

Not that you really cared. They were little shitheads... Stole your laundry once back when you lived with your mom... before all this...

But getting closer to this alleged camp wasn't making you any more at ease. You could already imagine the stench of those sweaty creatures when you have to inevitably walk into that camp. Which you've heard is actually just an old temple.

You've noticed over time that people in your little group have gotten... well, friendlier. For example: Lae'zel was no longer throwing you glares, Shadowheart remembered your name, Astarion has indoctrinated you into his schemes... Yea, the three most hostile people had warmed up to you.

And the other have just... always been quite nice.

Well, Wyll still didn't seem to approve of you, a minor, coming along. But he didn't really have a choice as the others were not allowing him to take you back to the Emerald Grove. Guess they really do find you too funny to lose then.

"Ugh, the stench is disgusting." Karlach waves the air under her nose away.

"It is the smell of a goblin camp. What were you expecting? Tchk. And I myself find this odor quite thrilling. It promises of a good fight." Lae'zel slightly smirks. Clawed hands flexing around the handle of her greatsword.

"Of course you do... Tough the smell of blood has never scared me away." Astarion, in turn, chuckles in that weird posh way. You raise a brow.

"So you're sure you're not a vampire?" You question sarcastically. The pale elf gasps in mock offense.

"Of course not. I merely like the smell." He huffs. Right, so that time you saw him hunt down a boar must have been make belief.

The rest of the party didn't comment anymore as you made your way to the camp.

Gale had thrown his arm around your shoulder to keep you at the back. He excused that as 'magic users stay behind so they can asses the battlefield'. But he probably just didn't want to accidently get Lae'zels sword through his back.

This mission to save some druid calmed Halsin was looking like a total hassle. But hey, why not do side quests while the worm in your head is ready to kill you?

Whatever person lives in your head didn't take kindly to your remark as you heard the voice say they'd protect you.

Right, bullshit. You're just developing pshycosis. A hundred percent that.

"Y/N. If they target you, I want you to run, alright?" Wyll speaks calmly.

"Well, I mean, not that I don't want to but were kind of in this together -" You start nonchalantly.

"Don't listen to the human. It is unhonerable to run from a fight." Lae'zel scolds like a lecturing general.

Well, do you really care about your honor? It's not like you're trying to capture the Avatar here-

"Yea yea, got it, boss." You sigh. The slight stress makes its way to your head. It's just some goblins, right? Nothing a good magic missile can't solve... Right?

You take back your words quite quickly when Astarion smooth talks his way past the outside security to let your group pass. There's like... at least fifty goblins here!

You feel an arm slitter around your shoulders. Looking up, you can see Lae'zels warry face.

She's gripping that greatsword quite harshly, a bit scared, maybe? Tough you doubt it, it's Lae'zel..

You ignore the stink eyes these little creatures are throwing you and walk along with your group.

"My, what a festive place, no? Look, they even have booze." Astarion muses with his typical smug grin.

"We're not here to party." Gale groans. The wizard stares at the goblins in distaste. You note that everyone is on edge

A goblin child sticks her tingue out at you, so you do the same, blowing raspberries for good meassure. This action earns you a dissaproving look by Wyll.

"So where's this druid? I don't want to be here any longer then needed." Shadowheart complains with a little wave infront of her nose to showcase that she thinks this place stinks.. Wich it does.

"Let's ask!" Karlach offers her idea.

"You've got to be the most optimistic person I've met and we have a literal child in the group." Gale groans.

"You can't miss any of the chances you take." Karlach shrugs.

"Let's just gut all of them. I'm sure we can search for the druid in peace then." Astarion smirks.

"For once, I agree with the pale one." Lae'zel sneers.

You watch your group bicker a bit longer as you wander out of the grip you had been put in. Walking around the goblin camp instead.

Mhh, a clear booze tub. They're drunk. Quite ideal.

You scan around the area, a certain tall woman catches your eye, seeing as she isn't a goblin.

Wait a minute, you've met her before! She almost killed you on the beach when the Nautiloid crashed!

The nerve of that woman, she doesn't deserve the same hairstyle as your mother.

Astarion had snuk out of the argument your group of idiots was having right in the middle of the goblin camp. He stuck himself to your side, observing along with you.

"You seem... focussed. You have an idea, do you not?" The pale elf asks smoothly.

"An inkling. They're drinking, and Nettie gave us wyvern poison... I mean...?" You let your gaze travel to the booze tub. Astarions red eyed orbs follow along. You can see a sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

"I just know we're going to be great friends, Y/N.." He smirks and puts a cold hand on your shoulder.

You just smile in satisfaction that your plan is apparently good. Before you know it, Astarions snatched the poison out of Shadowhearts pocket. You watch the man go invisible to presumably go dunk the booze in poison. Or maybe he's gonna drink it... But he never seemed suicidal... So it should be fine.

"Y/N, c'mon, we're going into the temple, the druid should be there." Karlach waves you over.

You nod and join the group again. Getting tucked back under someone's shoulder.

The first leader of the Goblins you had met was a priestess. And oh boy, defenitly not your favourite... She wanted to brand you! Is she nuts!?

So anyways, Lae'zel chopped her head off... Uh... props to Wyll for covering your eyes.

Then there was Dror Ragzlin. Scary guy that one. Almost twice your size, mean face and doing necromancy. Yikes.

Unfortunatly, you did have to help in this fight. There were goblins storming in through the door and well just that beast of an orc.

So you you just started blasting spells at the incoming goblins. Fireball and Ice Knife were a nice combo, no? Make em slip and then steam the ice and do damage? Sounds logical to you. Was anyone else smelling barbeque or just you?

When that got taken care of, Karlach strapped a helmet to your head and lead you back to the group.

The last leader was the same woman that had tried to kill you. Minthara, apparently. You've never seen a real drow, so this was cool. Except for the part where she tried to kill all of you. That wasn't that cool...

Just before she was supposed to just die, Lae'zel had accidently hit one of the wooden beams in the room. The ceiling collapsed right infront of you.

Well, maybe she's dead? Atleast it's not your problem anymore?

After all the goblins inside had straight up been slayed, Astarion joined the group once more, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Where have you been?" Gale asks sternly. Raising an eyebrow in suspiscion. It's still quite annoying that nobody really trusts anyone here..

"Let's just say the situation outside is taken care off." Astarion boasts proudly.

"Really? And you did that, alone?" Shadowheart states in a disbelieving tone. Gods forbid the fancy man does anything impressive.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?" Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Very." Shadowheart argues back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Lae'zel adds.

Wyll and Karlach just exchange glances. Well you know that he did it. So there's no need for your input-

"Ahhh!" You eep in fear as a large man had appeared behind you. Wich is very scary considering every one in this temple was supposed to be dead.

"Calm down little cub, I mean no harm." The large man smiles reasuringly.

You stagger back to Lae'zels side. This man... Elf ears.. Brown hair. Ah, druid attire? Halsin, perhaps?

"And who are you?" Shadowheart asks for all of you.

"Halsin. You were sent here to come chack on me, or are you just lost adventurers?" Halsin asks with that same smile.

"Well, we found him. Back to the grove-" Gale starts walking off before Karlach grabs the rim of his robes to keep him in the group.

"We did come here for you. Have the goblins hurt you?" Wyll asks calmly. Halsin shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle. Why the cub?" Halsin tilts his head at you.

"They're actually an immortal being in the form of a child. Wiser then any of us." Astarion makes up.

Halsin raises a brow. Clearly not believing that.

"Right. But like your little wizard said, we should get back. I am sure the grove has missed me." Halsin hums.

"Don't think so, they're closing it off frol the outside world." You mention calmly.

"What." Halsin stops smiling. You just shrug, that's all you picked up from it.

Halsin frowns and starts walking out. What determination.

Your group eventually exits the dead silent temple after having taken any valuables. Can't leave without some loot, who knows if you're getting paid!

As you walk out the large door, the death Astarion had caused is quite visible, dead goblins everywhere. R.I.P, you won't be missed.

Now that that's taken care of, who knows what adventures await you thanks to this stupid worm in your brain!

Not the best, but it's something. Yan feelings gotta develop trough the story but I'm not fully there yet.

[dilfartist]

Yandere Librarian Gale Dekarios

TW: Blackmail, stalking, dark themes, yandere themes, mentions of objectification, Gale is kind of a creep, Gale has a small shrine of you, heavy topics, possessiveness.

Reader description; Female/GN

Not proofread/proofread

After a while, life as a professor had begun to bore Gale. Magic is a passion of his and will never not be, but Gale yearned for more. As much as Gale enjoyed the little flashbacks of his childhood from how many accidental fires and ruined rooms at the university occurred; they were beginning to become too much. Gale found solace in silence. Back then, when Gale locked himself in his tower with every second of his life near the end, he enjoyed the stillness of his room, book in hand. So when the local library in Waterdeep required a new librarian on the weekends, Gale immediately decided to fill the role.

Gale had worked there for at least three months to test the waters and see how he felt about the job and his schedule. In that short period, he felt confident and decided to keep his job as a librarian.

Gale memorized each customer's face. Riley, the drow with white hair and pink tips at the ends, enjoyed books on nature, and her cat recently had kittens. Aoth, a human fighter part of the flaming fist, only checked out books on the history of Baldur's Gate training since he was still being trained and wanted to do his job right. Then there was Emily, the dwarf who only had time to visit the library on Tuesdays and didn’t stick around to chat with Gale. Then there was you. You were new around here, not only in the library but Waterdeep in general. Gale had seen you searching the shelves a few times but never had the pleasure of speaking with you. You didn't check out anything anyway. You merely looked through the books and then took your leave.

On one particular day, you decide to check out a book. You sauntered over to the main desk where Gale organized the recently returned books. Gale noticed you and smiled. You greeted each other then Gale took the novel you wanted to check out.

“Ah, I’ve read this a couple of times myself. Never gets old.”

You nod in agreement with a smile. Something about you seemed off. You looked on edge, your eyes avoiding Gales and you being awkward. You left after Gale stamped the first page of your book, informing you that it would need to be returned in two weeks.

You started taking home books more often after the encounter, becoming less awkward with the wizard with each interaction. Until one visit, you gained the courage to ask, “You’re Gale Dekarios, aren’t you?” Gale smiles and nods, “I suppose you’ve heard the tale of how I saved Baulder’s gate or my, uh, former condition.” You nod, “I’ve heard many stories of your amazing abilities or just stories of you in general.” Saying Gale was flattered was a bit of an understatement. From there on you and Gale started to chat. The conversation lasted so long that you had to step to the side for irritated customers to check their books out.

You became a favorite customer of Gale’s, possibly the number one. You came by the library more often, always starting a conversation with Gale that would last a bit too long. Not that Gale minded. Gale enjoyed your presence. Most customers would indulge in small talk for a little while and then awkwardly step away after too long, but you stayed and made great conversation.

Gale found himself feeling the same feeling he had with Mystra, the sick puppy love that caused him to be at her every command. The same love that nearly caused him to blow himself to pieces to have her favor again. However, there was something different. While, yes, Gale’s thoughts when with Mystra were mostly of her, his thoughts were consumed by you. Gale thought of it a bit strange but passed it off as possibly meeting his missing part.

Gale’s obsession deepened when you began when you became distant. Your visits to the library have begun to decline in the usual amount. Gale grew worried but told himself you were simply busy with life. When you finally visited the library to drop off a novel you’d been reading, Gale asked about your whereabouts. You grinned and told Gale of the new guy you’ve been going out with recently. Gale could swear his heart dropped down to the pit of his stomach. His smile faltered, and his skin drained of all color, leaving him pale. Gale played it off somehow, and you left vowing to visit your favorite friend more often. Gale felt so hurt. Even angry. Of course not at you, he felt angered by the man courting you. Besides you probably were being polite- that’s just how you are! If Gale gained the confidence to finally court you, you’d say yes out of politeness, and after a while, he’d show you why you ought to choose him as your eternal lover.

Though Gale isn’t proud of this, he has stalked you and your...lover- or could you even call the man that?! The man is too touchy for Gale's liking. He hates to suggest anything improper but the man’s eyes don’t linger on your face much, more on your body. Gale isn’t like that. He adores every part of you, body and soul.

Gale has impulses sometimes. He wants desperately to sneak off with a thing of yours. Of course, he is horrified by these thoughts. No gentleman acts this way to a lady. Despite the urge to walk over and grab the hair tie that dropped from your wrist and pocket it for himself, maybe even use it on himself to tie his hair. That hasn't stopped him from sneaking away with a quill that fell from your bag that he uses constantly.

When you and your...”lover” decide to date, Gale is more than upset. Gale puts a plan into action to separate you too. Sends a few letters to you in your lover's handwriting calling you names. However, it isn’t random insults but rather insults he’s heard from your lover himself said behind your back. When you confront him about the letters, your lover is only baffled you know what he had said, so he thinks twice before responding, which only makes him look worse.

If that isn’t enough, Gale has other ways. Gale sends notes to his subordinates with blackmail on him and some dirty lies. The ruined reputation causes your lover stress. The stress develops into a short fuse that later causes many fights between the two of you. In the end, you couldn't handle all of the negativity and decided to break off the relationship.

You return to the library with your head hanging low. You attempt to greet Gale without your sorrows peeking through. However, Gale was very observant. He gently asks what’s worrying you. Gale is so comforting with his presence, words, and all. You explain your situation to him, to which he listens attentively.

“Don’t worry, (Name). There are many men out there waiting to be there for you. Keep looking, sometimes true love is in plain sight.”

[marmaladespread02]

Yandere self aware BG3 au!

Whenever you try to play multiplayer, your friend constantly gets kicked out of the server/session 👀

[ms-fade]

Baldur’s Gate Kinktober Addition.

* I’m adding two characters into the mix but mostly my little vampire spawn. Been loving the game so far but I bought them game for astarion, since I saw him so much.

Kinktober card 2023

Come and request, if only you want to of course darling. There are rules but that’s all explained on my card page or on my rules.

Characters added:

Characters I feel best doing; Astarion, Shadowheart

Characters that can be requested: Halsin, Lae'zel, Gale.

[random-introverted-blog]

His Star - His Queen [Longfic of Across Stars and Time] - Chapter Index

Yes, a full story, not a Part 2. There was just no way in my head I could cram all of this into a Part 2 and justify it to myself. You will get your fill of Ascended vs Spawn fighting over Tav, with plenty of plot twists.

My editing/photoshop skills are barely passable you get what you get and you don't get upset

Summary: When Ascendant Astarion intercepts you and Your Astarion on your way to murder Cazador, he steals you away to his world. Where your other self has perished, and it doesn’t take you long to see why. He makes it clear you will rule at his side, his obedient, loyal queen. And he will “train” you until you comply.

But not all is lost. Already in pursuit with the aid of a mysterious Elven man and woman, your vampire spawn was coming to the rescue. Without you, his newfound freedom from Cazador was hollow. You were more than a treasure. You were his star. And he was yours. You’d done more for him than you would likely ever realize. You saved him from himself. Now it was his turn to save you.

His Star.

His Queen.

Whichever one will you be?

Link to AO3 page here

Chapter 1 [Originally a One Shot] - Across Stars and Time

Chapter 2 (more of a prologue) - You Beckoned the Stars and they Beckoned Back

Chapter 3 - Tithes To The King

Chapter 4 - What Was / What Is / What Will Be

Chapter 5 - A Lesson in Submission

Chapter 6 ‐ Your Eyes–My Mirror

Chapter 7 - Impromptu Rendezvous

Chapter 8 - Changes

Chapter 9 - Think Twice

Chapter 10 - Hunted / A Heart of Darkness and Shadow

Chapter 11 - [Drafting/Outlining]

A friendly heads up that if you're actively reading here on Tumblr, or are from AO3 and following/checking for updates, to bookmark or save the link to this post. I use it like an order tracker and will update/edit it to keep you up to date on where progress on the next chapter is

Warnings/Advisories: Violence, a ruthless, sadistic joker level tyrant, ascended astarion will do a lot of questionable/noncon/straight up wrong things because he believes he has to "teach you" and "show you sense", references to prior suicide, references to prior SA, implied SA, suicidal ideation (did your past self leave a spare disintegrate scroll behind for you to use too?), this will be less "scary violent smack you around" Ascended Astarion and more a twisted, creepy, "cute little princess, thinking you can say no" soft yandere

Hope this lives up to the high expectations. I'm posting it now because I'm an impatient undercooked, plain with no syrup pancake

[bonechillen]

Tav's Chosen - A Yandere Interpretation of Dark Justiciar Shadowheart

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Shadowheart x F!Tav

Summary:

When you love something you hold onto it as tightly as you can, even if that means snuffing the life from it.

TW: Dubcon

Story below the read more!

Things had been turbulent in your cloister for sometime, but you rose to the challenge. Ruling suited you. You were never meant to follow the bleating orders of Viconia or trail behind Tav like some lovesick pup; you were born to don the robes of Mother Superior, guiding countless lost souls to the abyssal embrace of Lady Shar. And you were good at it.

Something you’d learned over the passing years, was that Tav was not suited to rule. Even waltzing through her life, she was careless, thoughtless even. More than once had she appeared on your doorstep, begging for your caress and healing hands after yet another adventure gone wrong. From fallen friends, to razed villages, Tav had taken on so much grief once you’d parted ways.

The spark in her pale eyes had all but left, leaving hollow mockeries of the mirth once held there. Tav’s visits became less frequent too, over the years. It had left you wanting, waiting for something satisfying again. Sure, acolytes threw themselves at you, and occasionally you’d sampled their flavor. However, nothing could compare to the taste of Tav’s reverent benediction to you, when your lips met in harmony.

Perhaps Tav hadn’t sought you out with the explicit intention of providing her with relief from the memories, but you’d simply had enough of watching your favorite bed chamber companion shamble back into your arms, less and less herself each time.

So you’d done it; you’d whetted her appetite with promises of a scandalized tryst deep in the bowels of the cloister, dulled her wits with a particularly savory vintage, and lured her into the depths of the chamber of loss.

Tav was pale upon entry, insisting you carry out your dalliance elsewhere, guilt written all over her features as she passed through the empty chamber. You scoffed, bewildered at what could be bothering her so, and insisted she follow. Like a pet to its master, she’d complied.

It wasn’t until she was before the mirror that she’d begun to buck against your command. She’d kicked, screamed, threatened and begged you not to touch her memories. Futile attempts to your better nature were made, only to fall on deaf ears. She may not have understood, but it certainly wasn’t a punishment - you were protecting her from herself, her reckless choices. A firm push to her knees, and hand into her hair, forcing her gaze upon the swirling depths of oblivion, was all it took.

You’d cooed sweet nothings into her ear, as the mirror relieved her of the tragedies in her heart, leaving only the fond memories of you in her pretty little head.

The following morning, when she awoke in your arms, planting kisses along your jaw, you’d known you’d made the right choice. The spark you’d come to miss was back in her eyes, reminding you of the way she’d looked under the beating blue sky of the Sword Coast, plucking you from the Nautiloid crash.

There was a part of you that thought things could carry on that way forever. You pictured a life falling asleep in her arms each night, and rising still within them. Her scent would always cling to your robes in that life, reminding you that you were more than Shar’s chosen - you were Tav’s chosen as well. And she would be yours, ever at your side, a stalwart companion and defender. You need not carry on your arduous duties without comfort.

After all, Lady Shar had shown little sign of disapproval, you’d been able to retain your memories of your companion. Perhaps the blessed Nightsinger saw some use in the adventurer, who spent more and more of her time minding the beck and call of the head of her church.

Your hopes of a life with Tav, a life where you both lived in service to Lady Shar, were dashed when you returned to your chambers to find Tav donning her armor again, poised to make an exit. She’d greeted you with a warm smile that made you yearn for the days trudging along with your merry band of tadpole infected friends, the sun beating down on all of your backs.

She’d thanked you for your hospitality and promised to return it in kind with the finest vintage she could find on her travels. You watched in dismay, a thin smile pressed to your perfectly painted lips, as she left - not even a kiss in her wake.

Months droned by, tensions rising in the cloister as your mood soured by the day. Soon, the whispers of your inability to properly lead the cloister began to fly. Your frustrations grew by the day, and by the time Tav returned, they’d boiled over.

The adventurer had the nerve to make you wait, and wait, then wait some more before returning to you. Then, when she’d stood before you, it was bearing a cloth bandage over her right eye. She admitted sheepishly that she’d lost it in a skirmish with a particularly nasty Flind, offering a pathetic laugh with her explanation.

Your heart turned stormy in your chest, nostrils flaring, and eyebrows furrowing. You’d demanded she cease her foolish adventures and stay by your side where she was safe. She countered that you could join her, leaving the dark cloister behind in favor of a glistening horizon - you’d laughed.

Something…Happened after that. You couldn’t recall what the next morning when you’d woken next to Tav again, naked, and holding you firmly in her arms. You smiled at the way her powerful arms enveloped you, but felt a sense of impending loss as you knew they’d slip out of your reach yet again. Then, an idea came forth. Tav wouldn’t leave.

You would keep her at your side, a loyal guard dog by day, and obedient pet by night. It wouldn’t be a hard future to mold - Tav was already wrapped around your finger. A removed memory here, subtle manipulation there, and she’d be yours to keep as long as Lady Shar kept her gaze elsewhere. You suspected an influx in fervor from your cloister, and a tightened grip of Baldur’s Gate would go a long way in keeping the Lady of Loss from reaping Tav from your grasp. Besides, what could be the harm in honing your skills in manipulation and control on Tav?

The next time Tav foolishly got the notion that it was time to leave, you informed her you were going on a dangerous mission, and needed her help to watch your back. You’d batted your eyes and thrown your braid behind your back, knowing she loved when you played the damsel in distress. Tav had chivalrously agreed, insisting there was no one more suited to watch over you than her.

Tav didn’t like the Nightfall Ritual that had unfolded. She’d watched in horror as your clergy cut down a Selunite village as though it were nothing. You had guided Tav to the burning temple of Selune, hand in hand, and instructed her to strike down any fleeing heretics. Tav had blatantly refused, but when the first Selunite burst from the temple, their crossbow sights set on you, she’d done just as you bid her.

When all was said and done, Tav knelt in the ashen wasteland that had once been the rebuilt remains on Moonhaven, razed again. She looked in horror at the pathetic Moonbitch followers she’d cut down and wept.

You felt an ache in you seeing her in such a state, however, you had to remain strong. All things worth having required work and conviction, in which you had spades.

Lifting her from her fallen state, you offered sweet tidings of release, to which she happily agreed to.

Then you were behind the mirror again, a hand coiled in Tav’s thick hair, and another stroking her strong shoulder. She stumbled behind you slowly, back to your chambers.

Tav was…Quiet after that. She kept to herself within the cloister, finally coming to accept the place you’d made for her. Tav’s lumbering form always followed close, a few steps behind, and solemn. She never interrupted your dealings, nor did she judge. Even when you had to part skin from body when guiding acolytes in the art of interrogation, Tav stood stoically behind you.

Although, when you’d return to your chambers, the woman was anything but solemn.

You’d allowed her to have her way with you each evening in the privacy of your quarters, which you now shared with the other woman. Heavy was the crown of the woman who ruled the cloister, and only in her tender embrace could you lay down your burdens and be free.

It had been hard work, but eventually, Tav had embraced her life, and stopped trying to return to her life on the road. You’d gotten your desires and begun to grow complacent. Soon enough, your pet began rattled the walls of her cage again, gilded as it was.

It had begun with her finding some sort of book, a book she came to each night under the candle’s glow. Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you when Tav was sleeping beside you. You slipped from her powerful arms and sought out the leather-bound book that absorbed her so.

Balduran The Sailor

You scoffed in disapproval, a waste of time to be sure. Still, you thumbed through the pages with finesse until you found something of note.

Among the margins of the book lay a scrawling text, written in Tav’s messy handwriting.

One entry read - She’s taken my memories again - among the aged pages of the thick book. Baffled, you flicked through the pages for more. It didn’t take long for you to find another note in the margins.

Another Nightfall. More dead. Three by my own hand.

Your eyes narrowed at the scrawl. Thoughts ripped through your mind like a raging tempest. Why had Tav kept these notes? What was she planning? Certainly she wouldn’t try to leave, right?

Paranoia began to swell within you when you continued rifling through the side of the bed Tav took for herself, searching under the feathered bed, then under the frame.

Sure enough, your fears were validated when you looked under the frame. A leather pack, filled with healing droughts, weaponry, a map of the Sword Coast and camping gear sat awaiting you.

Tav was planning to leave. Tav was planning to betray you. After everything you’d done to mold her into the perfect version of herself, she was still going to leave.

Your internal diatribe was interrupted by the opening of your door. You quickly shoved the items back in their place and stood to face Tav as she entered.

“Shadowheart! I didn’t expect you!” Tav said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Nor did I, you. But here we are.” You said, approaching Tav with a sway to your hips, and a wicked smile on your lips.

“Here we are.” Tav replied, offering the crooked grin of hers that you had become desperately infatuated with.

Moments later, you were standing parallel to each other, Tav gazing down on you with the same soft devotion that always seemed present, even when your little disagreements frightened her. Her calloused hands fell to the slits in your dress, resting upon the exposed skin of your hips.

You inhaled sharply, enjoying the familiar sensation. Standing on your toes, you reached up to pull her into a deep kiss, one Tav pressed further, lifting you onto her solid hips, and guiding you to the bed. Her betrayal felt worse when her tongue was wrapped around yours, poisoning your very essence with her wavering loyalty.

Tav’s blind faith in you was what kept you going through each poisoning, each attempted coup for your position, and each further test Lady Shar laid before you. Tav was meant to be the reward for everything you’d given to Lady Shar, not another lesson in the fleeting deceptive nature of love.

As Tav laid you down on your silken sheets, she climbed atop you, lodging a powerful thigh between the swelling sex betwixt your thighs. With your dress pulled up around your waist, the woman atop you rubbed your sensitive core with her powerful thigh, further arousing you. As she leaned down to press another passionate kiss upon your lips, you met her puckered lips with a violent bite, drawing blood from her pretty pink lips.

Tav groaned in pain, yet her eyes glazed over in obvious pleasure. Tav pressed the kiss anyway, filling your lips with the warm, coppery taste of her blood. The saliva slicked blood smeared against your lips, drawing your hips closer to her as arousal threatened to consume you. Grinding her muscular thigh against your cunt, Tav grunted against your lips as your nails found their way under her shirt. Brutally, you wracked your nails up her powerful frame, earning a pleased sigh from the other woman.

You would enjoy this while you could, for after her betrayal was answered, there would be no passion shared between you for quite some time.

When she woke from her post-coital slumber, she was surprised to find herself no longer in your inviting quarters. A quick sleep spell had put the powerful woman into a deep and lasting sleep while you had her moved to her new, personal quarters.

Some might call it a cell, but that would be a gross overstatement. Sure, the walls were the same harsh stonework as your cloister’s cells, but it had far nicer features. Tav had her own bed, complete with lush blankets to keep her in comfort. A decent collection of Sharran literature to help adjust her thinking adorned the small bookshelf you’d had Nocturne add, as well as a comfortable chair for her to sit in while she read.

Aside from the fact that Tav wasn’t permitted to leave, and would be kept under lock and key, it was hardly an imprisonment at all.

Tav had to learn her lesson, have her will to leave broken down until she was the obedient pup you’d fallen deeply in…Into a bond with.

She had begged you not to leave her there, ushered promises of loyalty, but you would not be swayed. This had to be done to regain your trust in her. The mirror wasn’t enough anymore, drastic measures were needed if you were to be adored by her again. All it would take would be a few ten days, maybe several months, and Tav would be just how you needed her to be again.

Things may be turbulent between you and Tav, but you always rise to a challenge.

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | Back in my arms

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Coercion, murder, forced memory loss, toxic relationship, power imbalance

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Now you have been found, your lover enjoys having you back in their arms, even if you don't.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Dragged back to Minthara's grand house, you fought and defied at every point, your spirit a fierce flame that refused to be extinguished. The opulent halls, adorned with trophies of her conquests, were a stark contrast to the dungeon you were thrown into for your persistent misbehaviour, you believe the last straw was when you pushed her top commander off of a balcony when they instructed you to get ready for dinner. Dark and cold, the dungeons echoed with the tortured cries of Minthara's other victims, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with despair. Minthara would often visit you, asking if you had were ready to submit to her wholly and every time you kicked dirt at her, that answer enough.

Days turned into weeks, and your defiance remained unbroken. Every time Minthara descended into the darkness to see you, her presence exuding a blend of anger and twisted affection, she would ask if you were ready to behave.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" she'd inquire, her voice a cruel mockery of concern.

And every time, you would glare at her, your voice hoarse from yelling abure at the guards but nonetheless unwavering. "Never."

She would sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement in her eyes, before leaving you to the darkness once more. She wouldn't tell you this but she wanted you more to herself than she did you wasting away in the dungeons, but she had a point to make.

The conditions in the dungeon were harsh. The damp, the cold, and the lack of proper food began to take their toll. You grew weaker with each passing day, your body starting to betray you even as your spirit remained defiant. The illness came slowly at first—a persistent cough, chills, and then fever. It grew worse, until you could barely move, your strength sapped by the relentless sickness.

When Minthara came to see you one evening, her expression shifted from cruel amusement to something akin to concern. She stood at the threshold of your cell, her eyes narrowed as she took in your weakened form.

"You look terrible," she said, her tone almost gentle. "Are you ready to behave now? To be treated with the care and comfort you once had?"

You managed a weak laugh, shaking your head. "I'd rather die, iblith."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she turned and left without another word. The days that followed were a blur of fevered dreams and agonizing pain. At the worst of times you would picture the village burniung and at the best of time you remember when you and MInthara were blissfully happy. Though you were starting to confuse the two.

The cries of the tortured around you became a distant hum, replaced by the overwhelming ache of your own suffering. When Minthara next appeared, you were too weak to even lift your head. She knelt beside you, her fingers cool against your burning skin as she checked your pulse.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "You're no use to me dead."

She sighed and stood up, her eyes never leaving your face. You breaths came in choked sputters. Sweat dripped from your brow.

"I can heal you, you know. I can make all this pain go away. All you have to do is obey me, my love. Just submit. Be my wife again."

In your delirium, her words seemed to echo in your mind. The word wife, burned into your brain and the pain, the suffering—it was all too much. You wanted it to stop, you wanted to go back to your fever dream. For the first time, you felt a flicker of desperation, a desire for the agony to end.

As she turned to leave, you pushed your pride aside and found the strength to reach out, your fingers brushing against her boot.

"Wait," you rasped, your voice barely audible. "Please..."

Minthara paused, her eyes widening with surprise and satisfaction. She knelt beside you again, her hand gently lifting your chin so you could meet her gaze.

"Are you ready to behave?" she asked softly. You nodded weakly, the fight draining out of you.

"Yes," you whispered. "Just make it stop. Please."

A triumphant smile spread across her face as she scooped you up effortlessly in her arms, a d as Minthara carried you from the cold, damp dungeon, your body felt like dead weight in her arms.

The journey through the opulent halls of her grand house was a surreal contrast to the darkness you had endured for weeks. Candlelit chandeliers cast flickering shadows on the marble floors, and tapestries depicting her conquests adorned the walls like trophies. You oculdn't help but melt into her arms. The way she held you so securely, the way you nestled into her chest to shy away from the harsh lights of the upper echelons of the house. Despite your weakened state, you couldn't help but notice the admiring glances and whispers of her servants as she passed by, triumphantly displaying her captured prize.

You were taken to a lavishly appointed chamber, where a large marble bath awaited. Minthara gently lowered you into the warm water, the soothing heat seeping into your chilled and feverish body. You leaned back against the edge of the bath, your muscles relaxing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Minthara knelt beside the bath, her hands cupping water to pour over your hair, washing away the grime and sweat that clung to you. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that seemed at odds with her usual ruthless demeanor.

"I've missed you," she murmured, her voice low and filled with a mixture of possessiveness and longing. "You have no idea how much."

You closed your eyes, the warmth of the water and the rhythmic motion of her hands lulling you into a state of semi-consciousness. The lines between past and present blurred in your fevered mind, memories of happier times intermingling with the pain and suffering of recent weeks.

When the bath was done, Minthara wrapped you in a soft towel and carried you to the large bed at the center of the chamber. She laid you down gently, arranging the pillows behind your head so you could rest comfortably. She sat beside you, her hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"You're going to be alright, my love," she whispered, her voice a soothing murmur as if she hadn't inflicted this upon you. "I'll take care of you."

You looked up at her, seeing a vulnerability in her expression that you hadn't witnessed in a long time. It was a stark reminder of the complexity of her emotions, the love and possessiveness twisted with a fierce determination to keep you by her side.

As you lay there, weak and vulnerable, Minthara continued to tend to you. She fetched a healing potion from a nearby table and gently helped you drink it, the magic within it working to ease your fever and heal your weakened body. Her touch was gentle yet possessive, her fingers lingering on your skin as if afraid you might slip away from her again.

"You are my wife. You belong with me," she murmured, her voice a fervent declaration. "You always have and always will."

Her words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the bond that had once been between you, now twisted and tainted by pain and dominance. Yet, in your decrepit state, her presence offered a strange comfort. You were no longer fighting against her, but surrendering to the inevitability of her love.

As Minthara climbed into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of you, she held you close, her arms a protective cocoon around you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back, a reassurance of her presence.

"I was a mess when I heard you had ran from me," she whispered in confession, her lips brushing against your ear. "But despite all your misgivings, my love for you has only grown. I can assure you, you will never leave my side again."

Minthara pressed a firm kiss against the side of your head and continued ot hold you. You closed your eyes in resignation, exhaustion finally overtaking you. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you saw flashes of the village burning, of the dungeons and the pain. But with every whisper of affesction and possession from Minthara, the memories blurred before being dispelled completely as you finally submitted to slumber.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

You stirred beneath the silk sheets, your sleep fractured by nightmares you couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Night after night, these dreams clawed at your subconscious, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread and unease.

One particularly restless night, the nightmare was more vivid than ever. You dreamt of dark corridors and whispered voices, of a cruelty that left you breathless with terror. You felt the cold hand of a specter covering your mouth, the oppressive force of its magic twisting your mind and plucking at your emotions like strings on a harp.

You woke with a start, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Shadowheart, ever alert, was immediately at your side. She gathered you into her arms, holding you close as you sobbed uncontrollably against her chest.

"Shh, my love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe now, with me."

Despite her comforting words, a gut-wrenching feeling of unease gnawed at the edges of your mind. You couldn’t shake the sensation that something was profoundly wrong, though you couldn’t place what it was. Your memories were a foggy haze, filled with gaps and inconsistencies that you couldn’t quite grasp. Shadowheart's fingers stroked your hair gently, her touch both possessive and reassuring.

"Everything is okay," she whispered. "As long as you stay by my side, nothing can harm you."

Her words, though meant to comfort, felt like a cage, a reminder of a confinement you couldn’t quite remember but instinctively felt. You tried to push the feeling away, to focus on the warmth of her embrace, but your mind kept returning to that sense of flight or fight, that primal instinct screaming that something was amiss.

"Why do I keep having these dreams?" you asked, your voice trembling with confusion and fear. "Why do I feel like this?"

Shadowheart tightened her hold on you, her eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "I do not know my love," she lied softly. "But I will protect you from those fears. You belong here, with me."

You nodded, trying to absorb her words and let them comfort you. The love you felt for her was undeniable, an all-encompassing emotion that overshadowed the lingering doubts. Yet, the dreams persisted, and so did the feeling of unease, like a dark shadow lurking just out of sight.

"Do you trust me?" Shadowheart asked, her eyes searching yours.

"Yes," you whispered, though the word felt heavy on your tongue.

"Then rest, my love," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I will keep you safe."

With a sigh, you allowed yourself to be lulled by her soft whispers and tender touch. The warmth of her body against yours and the rhythmic motion of her fingers in your hair slowly eased the tension in your muscles. The unease lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t deny the comfort of her presence.

As you drifted back into a fitful sleep, Shadowheart held you tightly, her eyes filled with a possessive determination. She knew the power she held over you, the magic that had twisted your thoughts and memories, binding you to her. And she would use that power to keep you by her side, no matter the cost.

The nights would continue, filled with fragmented dreams and a gnawing sense of unease. But as long as you remained in Shadowheart's arms, you would be safe - you assured yourself. And in the darkness, as sleep claimed you once more, you clung to the love you once felt for her, unaware of the true nature of your captivity, bound by a spell you couldn’t remember but couldn’t escape.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

In the realm Gale had created, a place of grandeur and opulence, you found yourself a minor deity—lesser in power and influence, a mere reflection of Gale’s omnipotence. He had promised you a place beside him, but this was not what you envisioned. Your divine essence was that of a muse, yet not the sweet inspiration of art and creativity. Instead, you embodied a point of fixation and obsession, an eternal prisoner of Gale's ideals, your cage gilded and beautiful, yet suffocating.

Gale often held you in his arms, a possessive embrace that felt both tender and imprisoning. Together, you would listen to the prayers of mortals seeking inspiration, productivity, and more than they deserved. These prayers, driven by greed and selfish desire, seemed to amuse him greatly. He relished the thought that many mortals yearned for you, desired the touch of your divine influence, yet you were his alone.

"Listen to them," Gale would murmur, his voice a smooth blend of affection and pride. "They all want you, but they can never have you. You are mine, forever."

You would nod along, feigning agreement, but your heart ached with every passing moment. You were more than just an object of Gale's obsession, a trophy to be displayed. As you listened to the endless stream of prayers, you began to discern a different kind of plea. Hidden among the voices of greed and ambition were the prayers of those trapped in their own gilded cages—mortals who sought freedom from their obsessors, who yearned to break free from the chains of fixation.

In the quiet moments, when Gale's attention wavered, you would grant these desperate souls the strength they needed. You whispered words of encouragement, sent subtle waves of resolve, and instilled a sense of determination within them. You helped them find the courage to fight for their freedom, to succeed where you could not. Each act of defiance against their imprisoning forces became a silent rebellion, a spark of hope that you nurtured from afar.

Gale, in his ambition and arrogance, never realized the true extent of your influence. He was too fixated on having you in his arms, on possessing you completely. He reveled in the knowledge that you belonged to him, oblivious to the silent rebellion you fostered within the hearts of the mortals.

One evening, as he held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin, you heard the prayer of a young artist, a woman trapped in an abusive relationship with her mentor. Her plea for strength was raw and heartfelt, a cry for liberation. You closed your eyes, focusing your divine power on her, infusing her with the courage she needed to break free.

"What is it, my love?" Gale asked, sensing your distraction.

"Just a prayer," you replied softly, your voice steady. "A plea for inspiration."

He smiled, satisfied, and pulled you closer. "Good. Let them yearn. Let them desire. They will never have what I possess."

As he drifted off to sleep, his grip loosening, you continued to listen to the prayers of the desperate, the trapped, and the yearning. You granted them strength and resolve, knowing that each act of defiance against their obsessions was a victory, a step toward the freedom you could never attain.

Your existence had become a paradox—a muse of fixation and obsession, yet a silent liberator for those who shared your plight. Gale, blinded by his own ambition and desire, never saw the true extent of your power. He believed he had you completely, but in your heart, you knew that your true legacy lay in the strength you bestowed upon others.

And so, you remained in Gale's arms, a gilded prisoner in his realm, but your spirit roamed free, a beacon of hope for those who dared to dream of liberation.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern had become a distant memory, a fleeting glimpse of your former life. Now, you found yourself in a dark, opulent chamber, draped in silks and shadows, a testament to Astarion's newfound power and status. The room was a blend of elegance and darkness, its decor reflecting his taste for the finer things and his ever-present thirst for control. He had claimed you, his most favored spawn, and bestowed upon you the title of his dark consort.

Days blurred into nights as you resisted the monstrous hunger that gnawed at your insides. Astarion indulged your refusal to feed, amused by your stubborn defiance. He offered you the finest blood, collected from the most exquisite of donors, but you turned away each time, determined to cling to the last vestiges of your humanity.

"Such a stubborn little thing," he would murmur, his voice filled with a mixture of irritation and admiration and he would grab your jaw and tilt your head, "But I do love a challenge."

One night, as the full moon cast its eerie light through the tall windows, you found yourself growing weaker. The hunger was a constant, gnawing ache that left you trembling and light-headed. Astarion watched you with a predatory gaze, his patience wearing thin. What was once an amusement turned into an annoyance, you were not fun to play with, collapsed on the floor.

He approached you with a deliberate grace, his movements fluid and precise. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, your weakened state rendering you powerless to resist. Though you tried to protest he simply mocked you and carried on forward. He took you to his throne, an imposing structure of dark wood and velvet, and settled you on his lap. Your head resting against his chest as his cold hands caressed your face, tracing the lines of your jaw with an almost tender touch.

"You've tested my patience long enough, my darling," he said softly, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "If you won't drink from a golden chalice, then perhaps straight from the source will suffice."

Your heart raced as you realized what he intended. "Please, Astarion," you pleaded, your voice a trembling whisper. You tried to get away from him to move, but your hunger strike had led you powerless and Astarion held you in his arms with ease. "Don't do this."

Astarion's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. He beckoned, and a young adult human was brought before you, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resignation. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, and your resolve wavered.

"Drink," Astarion commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "You need it, and I will not have my consort wasting away."

The human extended their wrist towards you, the pulse of their heartbeat a siren call to your starving senses. You hesitated, but the hunger was too powerful, too overwhelming to resist any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you grasped the offered wrist and sank your fangs into the tender flesh. The taste of warm, rich blood flooded your mouth, and you drank hungrily, your body reviving with every drop.

Astarion watched with a mixture of satisfaction and possessive delight. His hand stroked your hair as you fed, his touch both comforting and possessive.

"That's it, my dear," he cooed, his voice a dark lullaby. "Drink your fill. You are mine, and I will ensure you are always well taken care of."

As you drank, the human's life essence seeping into you, you felt a twisted sense of relief. The hunger was sated, if only temporarily, and the strength began to return to your limbs. But with it came the inescapable knowledge of your predicament, the realization that you were bound to Astarion in a way that went beyond mere affection or loyalty. You were his, and he would never let you go.

When you finally released the human, they unceremoniously crumpled to the floor, quickly dragged off to be sloppy seconds for the others under Astarion's thrall. You tried to get up to move, but a lidded satiation overtook you as your body took in what it had desired for so long. Astarion pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple in a mockery of tenderness.

"See how good it feels to accept your place, my little love?" he murmured. "You belong to me, and I will always take care of you."

Despite the horror of your situation, a part of you couldn't deny the comfort of his embrace, the seductive pull of his dark promise. As you nestled against him, the room fading into a blur of shadows and silks, you wondered how much of yourself you had lost, and how much more you were willing to surrender to the man you once loved, now a godling born of malice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

Days turned into weeks as you settled into the new grove, a pristine yet haunting reflection of the wilds that Halsin now commanded with a fierce and unyielding grip. The routine you adopted was one of quiet resignation, a means of finding solace in the monotony of daily tasks. You busied yourself tending to the grove, your hands working the soil and nurturing the plants that thrived under the druid’s watchful eye. The other druids kept their distance, their silence a tacit acknowledgment of your unique position in Halsin's domain.

Animals, ever-present and vigilant, became your constant companions. Their eyes followed you wherever you went, a silent network of spies ensuring that Halsin always knew your whereabouts. It was a constant reminder of your captivity, their gaze a chain that kept you bound to this new life.

Despite the isolation, you found small moments of escape in the pages of a worn book you had managed to keep hidden. When your chores were done, you would steal away to a secluded meadow, its vibrant flowers and tall grasses offering a brief respite from the ever-watchful eyes of the forest. One afternoon, you lay down in the soft grass, the book resting on your chest as you closed your eyes. The gentle hum of insects and the whisper of the breeze through the trees lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

Hours later, Halsin prowled the grove, a growing sense of unease gnawing at him. He had not seen you for some time, and though his spies assured him you were safe, his heart ached with a fear that you had somehow managed to escape again. His steps quickened, his eyes scanning the surroundings until he finally reached the meadow.

There, nestled among the flowers, he found you. Your face was serene, free from the usual tension and fear that had become your constant companions. Halsin's breath caught in his throat at the sight, a mix of relief and a deep, possessive tenderness washing over him. He approached silently, his movements as fluid and graceful as a predator stalking its prey.

Carefully, he lay down beside you, his arms encircling you with a possessive tenderness. The warmth of his body against yours stirred you from your sleep, and your eyes fluttered open. Panic surged through you as you realized who held you, and you began to struggle against his embrace.

"Hush," Halsin whispered, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "You’re safe, my heart. I’m here."

Your resistance waned as the exhaustion of your efforts and the gentleness of his voice overpowered your will to fight. You settled back into his arms, your body tense but no longer struggling. Halsin’s fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, a touch that was both reassuring and a reminder of his dominance.

"I worry for you," he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. "When I can't find you, my mind races with fears of losing you again."

"You don't own me, Halsin," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

He sighed, a sound filled with both frustration and affection. "I don’t wish to own you, but to keep you safe. The world is harsh, and I have seen too much destruction to risk losing what I love most."

A heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the distant call of birds and the rustling of leaves. Despite everything, a part of you yearned for the gentle druid you had once known, the man who had loved nature without resorting to violence.

As you lay there, the meadow’s tranquility enveloping you both, Halsin tightened his hold, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Rest, my love. I will watch over you."

And so, you closed your eyes once more, surrendering to the inevitability of your situation. In his arms, you found a twisted semblance of peace, a fragile illusion of safety that masked the underlying turmoil. The meadow's beauty was a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed Halsin’s heart, and as you drifted back to sleep, the boundaries between love and captivity blurred, leaving you in a liminal space of conflicting emotions and quiet despair.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Did some more Dark!BG3 to warm up my wiritng skills before tackling my inbox. Arranged Marriage! Minthara will be my next piece of own writing up.

Also massive thank you and hello to all of my new followers, I was so worried that going away would cause a quick death to my channel but all the love and support I have been receiving - gods I could cry. Apreciate y'all and hope you enjoyed this - Seluney xox

[sorcerous-caress]

Ngl I've been having alot of feelings for the harpies. Take me to your nest please - Shadowheart anon

I feel like they'd be yandere-ish by nature. Stealing your stuff, annoying and screaming at anyone who tries to take you away. Better yet, luring them in to drown with a beautiful song as they hold you close and make you watch.

Like those videos of people training crows to get them stuff in exchange for food, instead it's you and a gaggle of harpies women who made a direct nest on your house and started drowning your neigbours for their amusement and to gift you their belongings after as a "mating" gift.

Making you groom their feathers, insisting on pulling you up to their nest to cuddle each night. Surrounded by women with heavenly voices and bare chests as they squeeze against you, their lovely voices telling you to stay here where you belong.

[madschiavelique]

Could I request nsfw headcanons for poly tavrem where everyone is jealous of some guy trying to flirt with female Tav but she's doesn't know it's flirting at all please?

ohoho they maddd (not proofread)

content warnings : jealous bitches, mayhaps a bit yandere if you squint, voice kink, knife play, biting, pnv sex, hair pulling, cunnilingus, they're all feral word count : 1.1k

you had stopped at a tavern to treat yourself to a well-deserved meal after a busy day killing enemies. knowing everyone's orders like the back of your hand when it came to their drinks, so you volunteered to go to the counter and order for everyone, leaving the rest of your group to sit at their table. however, while you were standing by the counter waiting to be able to place an order, a young man came up to you, and all pairs of eyes on the table found themselves riveted on you both.

wyll didn't appreciate the way he introduced himself, the young man coming to grab your hand to bring it to his lips without ever taking his eyes off you as he presented himself to you and you nodded. you weren't specifically attentive to his behaviour from what he could see, just smiling politely, but the idea that this fool's simple saliva could have a place on your body led wyll to grip the scabbard of his sword hard.

shadowheart wasn't keen on the fact that he was trying to get so close to you, to have a conversation while his eyes were roaming the length of your body a little too freely for her taste. how dare he gets so close to you? her nose wrinkled in anger when he came to whisper in your ear, and that as he stepped back you were laughing softly.

gale crossed his arms over his chest, frowning and huffing a breath of mockery while the young man performed a meager beginner magic trick to impress you and created a flower that he came to place in your hair. he could do better, he had shown you, even made you learn much better, and the tips of his fingers tingled as he itched to cast a spell on him to turn him into some kind of critter that he could crush.

karlach's body was spitting and crackling little flames of frustration as the fool ran his fingers through your hair, smiling at you when he probably wasn't listen to a single word you could say to him. until recently, the idea of being able to touch you for her was only an idea that she could never reach, and the mere thought that he would allow himself to touch you so simply made her engine growl.

astarion bit the inside of his cheek when the young man had the indecency to approach his hand to your neck, tracing with the tips of his nasty fingers the two marks that the vampire's bite had left on you the night before. what a nerve he had, to let his disgusting mitts approach where he had kissed your skin and whispered praises to thank you for the gift you offered him every night.

lae'zel could not prevent a tchk from escaping her as he pointed to one of your daggers and asked you to show it to him, its blade that she herself had sharpened passing over his unsightly fingers. your blade was far too beautiful to end up in the hands of a microbe like him, and if he pursued this way, it could soon make him discover the taste of the metal of her own sword.

halsin was not jealous by nature, otherwise he would not be able to relish in the relationship that you all had, but there was something in the young man's attitude that deeply displeased him as he put his hand on your shoulder. he had the urge to get it out of the way, to simply stand and walk up to him so that his size alone could lead him to step back from you.

minthara was already imagining how she could capture him and give it as a pittance to her spiders when he took a piece of paper and began to write on it his room number for the evening and he passed it to you. did he think that you were just a body to add to the list of his nocturnal conquests? that you could be worn out like a vulgar puppet for his good pleasures?

the order finally arrived, and you found yourself carrying a huge tray of all kinds of drinks. the young man suggested his help to you, but you refused it as you returned to your companions' table and put down the tray.

“I didn't know they made men as annoying as that anymore,” you sighed before taking a loaf of bread and taking a deep bite from it.

everyone at the table smiled, relief taking them as they all toasted and their frustration subsided, but they were not about to let this go so softly. once you'd came back to the camp, clothes had been thrown off the minute you had settled.

wyll's lips were all over you, kissing your every knuckles and fingers individually before he came to kiss you lips, nibbling the skin of your lower lip as he hummed in relief. if he had to cover the entirity of your body with his own mouth and saliva, he would.

shadowheart was kissing your ear, whispering sweet nothings to you and taking great pleasure to the way your skin covered in goosebumps by the simple sound of her voice and the effects her words were having on you.

gale had made vines grow to hold your body right for them all, your wrists and ankles tangled in plants which perfumes' made you feel all fuzzy and soft and needy for any touch they might provide you.

karlach's hand combed through the hairs on the back of your neck before she pulled on it, arching your back so good for her while her hot tongue licked your lips and jaw with hunger.

astarion's fangs grazed the soft skin of your inner thighs, biting relentlessly and leaving in the trail of his mouth marks after marks that he knew only him and his partner would see and touch on you.

lae'zel had taken your dagger, trailing the new cleaned blade on your body, the cold metal kissing your skin and making you shudder. she covered the handle of it with your slick, thrusting it in you as your back arched.

halsin halsin towered over you, his massive hands keeping you in place by holding your waist and shushing you down as once the dagger got removed his own length took its place.

minthara's tongue was lapping at your cunt, curling around your clit in madening circles before she came to suck on it, her eyes never leaving yours as her nails digged in your thighs.

[starfall-dream]

A thought occurred to me... We all like the companions protecting the reader, but what if we flipped the script and had the reader protecting their companions? I'd imagine it'd be Act 2 or 3 when the reader is more confident in their fighting abilities. What do you think?

I imagine later on reader does this a lot actually. I honestly think it's because they're fed up with their shit ngl. Like they look down on reader, they view reader as weak, and at best, they ignore reader and their pleas for companionship. So reader just takes it upon themself to get stronger, mostly with the help of more welcoming companions like Wyll. I imagine this is sometime before defeating Kethric because reader want to prove that they deserve to be their leader. and they do desire to protect their companions.

[donat-senpai]

Everyone in the camp is ready to fight for the right to go to bed next to you. Hugging your warm body in sleep and listening to your breath. They have fights every damn night. You're so tired of all of them. You just fall asleep, cuddling comfortably with the Owlbear and Scratch while the idiots quarrel