#yandere shadowheart

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | Back in my arms

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

[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.

[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 )

[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 :)

[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.”

[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.

[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

[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.

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | Found you !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion, forced memory loss,

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

After hiding from your lover due to the person they've become, what happens when they finally find you?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The tranquility of the small, secluded village had been a balm to your wounded, broken soul. Hidden deep within the forest on the surface, it seemed like the perfect place to escape the chaos and bloodshed of the Underdark that had come to define your life with Minthara. For months, you managed to lived in peace, and the horrors of the Underdark and Minthara's ruthless conquest slowly became distant memories. But peace, you learned, is a fleeting, foolish, illusion.

It was a quiet evening when she found you. The sun was setting, casting shadows across the village square. You were tending to a small garden, your hands deep in the earth, when the first screams pierced the air. Your heart lurched, a cold dread settling in your stomach. You looked up to see villagers running, their faces twisted in terror, as dark figures emerged from the surrounding forest.

You immediately recognised them to be Minthara's soldiers, ruthless and efficient, and spreading through the village like a hideous plague. Houses were set ablaze, and those who resisted were cut down without mercy, their bodies quickly put on brutal display, their home, their burning pyre. Panic seized you, and you turned to flee, but it was too late. She stood before you, a dark, imposing figure against the backdrop of burning homes.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" Her voice was a chilling blend of amusement and anger. "There is no place you can go that I cannot find."

Her eyes, once a source of fascination and allure, now bore into you with a cruel, predatory intensity. She advanced slowly, savoring the fear that radiated from you.

"You disappoint me," she said, her voice a venomous whisper. "I thought you were stronger than this, more loyal and that your standards were extraordinarily higher than this."

Minthara gestured with disgust the small homestead you had made for yourself. You tried to speak, to explain, but words failed you. The memory of the person she once was clashed violently with the reality of the monster before you. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

"I gave you everything," she continued, her voice soft yet seething with underlying fury. "Power, purpose, and a place by my side. And you ran away."

Her hand moved to grip your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. "Now, you will watch as everything you tried to build without me burns to the ground."

With a wave of her hand, she commanded her soldiers to bring forth the villagers who had been captured. They were dragged into the square, their faces marked by fear and confusion. You knew them, they had helped you, taken you in, wanting nothing but to see you smile. You struggled against her hold, desperate to help them, but Minthara's grip was unyielding.

"Look at them," she hissed, her lips close to your ear. "They suffer because of you. Because you dared to defy me."

Tears of helpless rage filled your eyes as you watched the villagers, they were killed slowly, painfully. You watched the light drain from their eyes, their pleas for you to do something resonating in your skull. Minthara moved closer to you, her lips trailing up your neck, the touch both intimate and suffocating.

"You will stay with me," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "You will learn that there is no escape from my will. And in time you will love me."

As she kissed your neck, a gesture that once brought warmth now filled you with a chilling dread, she pulled back and looked deep into your eyes. "Do you see now? You belong to me, and no matter where you go, I will always find you."

The village continued to burn, the flames casting flickering shadows on Minthara's face. She smiled, a cold, triumphant smile, and you knew that your fate was sealed. In her eyes, you saw the reflection of your own helplessness, a stark reminder of the power she wielded and the chains you could never break.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the dense forest. You had been on the run for months, trying to escape the clutches of Shadowheart, the Mother Superior of the Sharrans. Her cruelty towards others had finally driven you away, you didn't believe your own excuses for her anymore, and you couldn't bear to see the darkness that had consumed her heart. But no matter how far you ran, you always felt her presence lingering, a shadow that refused to let you go.

One night, while you were sleeping in a small, hidden cave, the best you could do without risking interaction with civilisation, you awoke to the sound of rustling leaves and the feeling of an oppressive force drawing near. Panic surged through you, but before you could react, you felt a cold hand cover your mouth, stifling your scream. Shadowheart's face emerged from the darkness, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" she whispered, her voice a chilling mix of anger and possessiveness. "Did you think I would let you go so easily?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to free yourself, but Shadowheart's grip was unyielding. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and you felt a wave of magical energy wash over you. Your body went limp, and your vision blurred as the world around you faded into darkness.

When you awoke, you were back in the Sharran temple, bound to an ornate chair in Shadowheart's private chamber. The room was dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long shadows on the walls. Shadowheart stood before you, her expression unreadable as she looked upwards, muttering incantations, channeling the power of Shar. Her hands glowed with dark energy as they moved and flicked, as you came to you realised the strange sensation in your mind, as if memories were being played and plucked from your consciousness.

"You left me," she said softly, as she looked down at you, her voice filled with a mix of hurt and determination. "But I can't allow that. I won't allow that."

As the spell took hold, the memories of her cruelty and your subsequent escape began to fade. You tried to resist, to hold on to the truth, but the power was too strong. The love you once felt for Shadowheart, the passion and devotion, surged back to the forefront of your mind, overpowering everything else.

"You belong to me," Shadowheart continued, her eyes fixed on you. "And I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side."

Your head swam with conflicting emotions, but the magic of Shar twisted your thoughts until you could no longer remember why you had left in the first place. Instead, all you could think about was your love and adoration for Shadowheart. The memories of her cruelty were buried deep within your subconscious, replaced by a distorted version of reality where she was your everything.

Finally the darkness fully enveloped you, seeping into every corner of your mind, erasing the memories that had driven you away. You felt your resistance slip with it, replaced by a warm, all-encompassing love for the woman before you.

When you awoke again, you were no longer bound, and you were in Shadowheart's arms, both of you tucked under silk sheets in her lavish private chamber. She was holding you close, her fingers gently stroking your hair. You looked up at her, confusion and love warring within you.

"Shadowheart," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "What happened? Why do I feel... strange?"

She smiled down at you, her eyes soft and filled with love. "You had a bad dream, my love," she said soothingly. "But it's over now. You are safe with me."

You nodded, the memory of the dream already fading. You were with Shadowheart, the woman you loved more than anything. How could you ever have doubted her?

She kissed your forehead, her lips warm and comforting. "Rest now, my love," she whispered. "We have each other, and that is all that matters."

As you closed your eyes, the last remnants of your fear and doubt melted away, replaced by the warming love and trust you felt for Shadowheart. She was your everything, and you would never leave her again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

You step into your quarters, the familiar, sacred tranquility enveloping you like a comforting shroud. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room. As you close the door behind you, a chill runs down your spine—a sensation that is both foreign and unnerving in this place of sanctuary.

Then, you see him.

Gale stands in the center of the room, his presence as imposing and magnetic as ever. His eyes, once filled with mortal passion, now burn with the intensity of a god. He claps slowly, the sound echoing ominously in the silence. "Well done," he says, his voice a smooth blend of admiration and something darker. "To turn to Selûne, of all deities. Clever. So very clever."

You stiffen, every muscle in your body screaming at you to flee, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. "Gale," you begin, your voice steadier than you feel. "You shouldn't be here."

He laughs, a sound rich with amusement and irony. "Shouldn't I? You think you can hide from me, even with the Moonmaiden's help? Oh, my dear, it only made me love you more. The cunning, the defiance. It's intoxicating."

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a frantic plea for escape. "I don't want to return to you," you say, the words rushing out in a desperate torrent.

His expression softens, but there is a steely resolve in his eyes. "You don't have a choice. I've carved out a place for you in the heavens, a place by my side. It's where you belong."

Panic surges through you, and you turn, racing for the door. But before you can reach it, he is there, materializing in front of you with a god's effortless speed. You crash into him, the impact jarring, but he remains unmoved, his arms encircling you in a grip that is both tender and inescapable.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "And I know you've missed me, too."

You shove him, your hands pushing against his chest with all the strength you can muster. He staggers back, not from the force of your push, but from the sheer surprise of it. And then he laughs again, the sound filling the room like rolling thunder.

"Is this the game you want to play? So be it." he asks, his eyes alight with a fierce, unholy joy. His power surges, the air around him crackling with divine energy. "Maybe I can show you a bit of godly wrath,"

You back away, your mind racing for a plan, a way to escape the inevitable. But even as you retreat, you know that this is a game you cannot win. Gale's love, his obsession, is a force of nature, and he is determined to claim what he believes is rightfully his. The room darkens, the shadows deepening as his power swells, and you realize with a sinking heart that there is no sanctuary left for you—not from him.

The room trembles as Gale's godly wrath unfurls, the very air around you becoming charged with his immense power. The ground beneath your feet shudders violently, and you can feel the tremors spreading far beyond your quarters. Objects rattle and crash to the floor, and outside, you hear the distant, terrified screams of innocents caught in the wake of his fury.

Lightning arcs across the sky, its blinding flashes followed by deafening cracks of thunder that shake the walls. The cries of the people intensify. You rush to the window, your heart sinking as you witness the chaos unfolding below. Bolts of divine lightning strike indiscriminately, setting buildings ablaze and sending people scrambling for cover.

"Gale, stop this!" you shout, turning back to him, your voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction. "You're hurting them! Please, stop!"

But his eyes are fixed on you, burning with an intensity that leaves no room for mercy or reason. He steps closer, and the tremors grow stronger, the ground splitting open in jagged fissures. You can feel the raw power emanating from him, an unstoppable force driven by his relentless ambition and obsession.

"Gale, please!" you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "You're killing them! Stop!"

He seems not to hear you, his focus unwavering, his expression unyielding. The room continues to shake, the walls cracking, pieces of the ceiling starting to fall. You drop to your knees, the weight of the situation crushing you, and tears stream down your face as you beg. "Gale, I'm begging you. Stop this madness. I'll go with you. Just please, stop!"

For a moment, the earth stills, the roaring thunder quiets, and the flickering lightning halts. Gale's expression softens as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of triumph and tenderness. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"There," he murmurs, his voice soothing but laced with satisfaction. "Was that so hard?"

Tears stream down your face, your body trembling from the emotional and physical strain. The cries outside have lessened, but the damage is done—buildings lie in ruins, and lives forever changed. He helps you to your feet, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"I never wanted to hurt them," he says softly, his eyes searching yours. "But you needed to understand. You belong with me. And now, you see that."

You swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. The power he wields, the destruction he can cause—it leaves you with no illusions about your fate. With a heavy heart, you nod, resigned to your destiny by his side.

"Good," he says, his smile returning. Placing a tender kiss to your forehead, as if hadn't just thrown a deadly tantrum. "Let's leave this place behind. There's a place I've prepared just for you."

As he leads you away, the ground beneath you begins to heal, the tremors fading into memory. The devastation left in his wake serves as a grim reminder of the price of defiance, and as you take his hand, you know that your life will never be the same.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern was alive with the chaotic energy of revelry—a madness of laughter, music, and clinking tankards that seemed to drown out the troubles of the world. You had sought solace in its bustling atmosphere, hoping the crowd would shield you from the relentless pursuit of your ex lover, a man you used to call your world, now a godling born of malice.

For months, you had managed to elude him, slipping through shadows and distant towns, always one step ahead. But tonight, fate had caught up with you. As you mingled with the merry throng, trying to blend into the sea of faces, a shiver ran down your spine—a sensation you knew all too well.

There he was, leaning casually against a pillar, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a chill through your veins. Astarion, now ascended to a dark power beyond mortal comprehension (or so he kept telling you), exuded an aura of dominance and danger. He wore a smirk that promised both pleasure and pain, and it chilled you to the bone.

You tried to slip away, to disappear into the crowd, but he moved with an unnatural speed, cutting off your escape route effortlessly.

"Running again, my dear?" His voice was like velvet over steel, laced with amusement and a hunger that sent a jolt of fear through you.

Before you could react, he pulled you into the swirling dance of the tavern. Around you, oblivious revelers spun and laughed, lost in their own joyous abandon. But your world narrowed to the commanding presence of Astarion, his touch igniting a familiar fire of longing and dread.

"You won't get away this time," he murmured, taking your hand in his cold, firm grasp. As the dance continued, his grip tightened, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin. "You've made me chase you for so long," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But tonight, you are mine."

Before you could respond, he dipped you low, his lips finding the curve of your neck. The world spun as his fangs sank into your flesh, a sharp pain followed by a heady rush as he began to drink. The room seemed to blur, the sounds of the tavern fading into a distant hum.

Your strength ebbed away with every pull of his lips, the life draining from your body as he fed. When he finally withdrew, his eyes blazed with triumph and possessiveness.

You collapsed into Astarion's arms, the sensation of his cold embrace the last thing you felt before darkness claimed you. He held you close, cradling your lifeless body with a tenderness that belied his monstrous nature

"She’s had a bit too much to drink," he called out to the concerned onlookers, his voice tinged with faux amusement. "Don't worry, I'll take care of my darling fiancée."

The tavern erupted in good-natured cheers and applause, the patrons none the wiser to the sinister truth. Astarion carried you towards the door, the night air cool against your skin as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Did you really think you could escape me, little love? You belong to me forevermore. The gift I am about to give you will ensure that."

His voice, filled with dark promise, was the last thing you heard before the world went black.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The rhythmic clattering of the factory machines was your lullaby and your solace. The industrial din was a constant reminder that you were safe, cocooned in the heart of Baldur's Gate, far from the forests and nature that had once felt like home. Now, those same woods were a nightmare, haunted by the shadow of the man you once loved.

Halsin had changed. His belief in the balance between nature and civilization had twisted into a dark crusade. What had started as a noble cause to protect the wilds had turned into an extremist vision, with Halsin determined to return the world to a primal state at any cost. You had watched in horror as he resorted to violence, razing villages, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Unable to reconcile the gentle druid you knew with the monster he had become, you fled.

Baldur's Gate was your sanctuary. The bustling city, with its stone buildings and cobbled streets, was the furthest you could get from the greenery Halsin now worshipped. You threw yourself into your work at the factory, rarely leaving its grimy confines. The city's heart was far from the forest's edge, making it the safest place you could be.

You awoke in a jostling wagon, the familiar scent of the city replaced by the earthy aroma of the countryside. Panic surged through you as you realized you were on the outskirts of the forest. The attendant, a kindly old man, noticed your distress but dismissed your fears, assuring you that everything would be alright.

"No," you rasped, your voice filled with desperation. "You don't understand. It's not safe here."

The attendant patted your hand, his smile meant to be reassuring but only deepening your sense of dread. "The healer is just a little further. You'll be well taken care of."

As the wagon continued its journey, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind set your nerves on edge. You knew Halsin would find you; he always did. The wagon eventually came to an abrupt halt. The attendant frowned and stepped out to investigate, despite your urgent pleas for him to stay.

"Please," you begged, your voice trembling. "Don't go. It's dangerous."

"Nonsense," he replied with a chuckle. "I'll just see what's blocking the path."

He vanished from view, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any noise. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, each one a reminder of the peril you were in. You strained to hear anything - footsteps, voices, anything that could tell you what was happening.

A sudden rustle outside the wagon snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see a massive figure emerging from the trees, cloaked in green and brown, a silhouette that was both familiar and terrifying. Halsin. Your heart pounded in your chest as he approached, his eyes dark and intense, the very embodiment of nature's wrath.

The attendant's scream was brief, cut off by a sickening crunch. You felt a wave of nausea, but there was no time to dwell on it. You had to get away. The door of the wagon creaked open, and a towering figure filled the doorway. Halsin's once gentle eyes now burned with an intensity that made your blood run cold. His presence radiated raw, untamed power, and the forest seemed to respond to him, the trees whispering and shifting as if alive.

"There you are," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "I have missed you."

You shrank back, pressing yourself against the far side of the wagon. "Please, Halsin, don’t do this. I had to leave. You’ve changed."

"You shouldn't have run," he said, his voice a dark, velvet caress. "You belong with me, in the wilds."

"No," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Not like this, Halsin. Please."

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. "The world must return to its natural state," he murmured. "And you will be by my side when it does. I won't let you go, my heart, not again."

You tried to pull away, but your injuries and his strength made it futile. He wrapped you in his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You felt a mix of despair and a twisted sense of comfort in his embrace.

"You’ve been hurt," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I will take care of you."

You wanted to fight, to scream, but your body betrayed you, too weak to resist. As he carried you into the forest, you looked back at the wagon, the nice old man lying lifeless beside it, plants already making their home in his corpse. Tears blurred your vision. You knew there was no escape now. You were back in Halsin's world, a prisoner of his love and twisted vision for the future.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Something a bit different, but enjoyed writing it, let me know if you want more dark bg3 ! - Seluney xox

P.S Polite reminder that inbox for requests are closed but if you want to just drop in and say hi that fine!

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[yanderelovlies]

Note: I know in my heart of hearts Halsin wouldn't be a Yandere, but like 😳😳

Warning: Slight NSFW and yandere tendencies

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character: Halsin

Pairing: Halsin x gn!reader

At camp, he would watch you interact with all the companions. He never said anything, but there were few he didn't like around you, afraid they would corrupt you. When you weren't in eyesight, he hoped thoughts of you would subside, but they never did. If anything, he thought of you more, especially when he is alobe in his tent at night stroking his cock to said thoughts of you.

When you had saved him from the goblins, helped the Grove, and helped him bring the shadow curse to an end. Halsin knew you were good. He would even go as far as to say you were too good for this world. The light and warmth you brought to the world was something deemed that needed to be protected at all costs. So he joined your cause, throwing himself in any danger to protect you. To make sure some absolute cultists or Gith didn't take you.

While traveling, he always sizes up who you're talking to for both intentions and weakness. He immediately steps in if he doesn't like where the conversation is going or the intentions of the person. He has to use all his strength not to butt in or lung when talking with Orin and Gortash. He loaths the emperor even more.

These protective and obsessive behaviors were new to Halsin. He always believed himself to be like his bear counterpart. Never mating for life, always roaming, and yet... When he sits at the campfire watching you play with the owlbear cub and the dog Scratch under the stars he can't help but want to keep you for himself.....away from anyone who wants to taint the pure goodness in you.

Eventually, his actions began to mirror his thoughts as he began to occupy all of your attention in and out of camp. He would even get the help of the Owl bear cub, scratch, and some local critters from wyrmscrossing and Baldur's Gate.

Shadowheart wants to share a bottle of wine with you? Not anymore, the Owl bear knocked it out of your hand, trying to get you to play with him, which he was successful with. Astarion wanting a little late night nibble from your beautiful neck? Not any more if scratch has something to say about it. Gale, trying to talk to you? Oh well, he was till a rat climbed up his trousers.

Anytime you tried to spend with any other companion was redirected most times in Halsin's direction. If not his, then Owl bear and Scratch. They are the only ones Halsin trusts. The other companions take notice but are unable to approach you to question or point out. They can barely get a word in during a fight.

Eventually, Halsin tells you his more domestic feelings. "You are all my heart wants. All it desires. Please tell me you feel the same." Anxiety rolls off of him as he waits for your response. What will he do if you reject him. He, of course, will respect your choice, but...He can't let you go....can he? The longer he waits, the longer his thoughts spiral down a dark path he was never treaded before.

When you accept his face lights with joy. His dark thoughts long forgotten. All he can think about is kissing you. So much so that he forgets to ask before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. It was better than he ever imagined. He was becoming addicted.

Halsin had to pull away before he lost all control and devoured you on the spot. "It's makes me so happy to hear you feel the same my heart..." His large callous hand holds your soft face as he rests his forehead against yours. It was at this moment that he swore to Silvanus that after the defeat of the Absolute, he was going to take you away. Away from those who wish to take advantage of your kindness. Away from a world full of cruel beings. Away to were he can cherish and love you without fear.

You will be safe and tucked away like all of Silvanus's special gifts.

[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

[kiame-sama]

More of druid Tav with Yan companions+ Raphael

Warnings; gender neutral Tav/reader, druid Tav/reader, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, injury, threat to life/limb, yandere companions, spoilers for act 1 companions, slight spoilers for a bit of the act 2 side quests,

~~~~~~~~

"This deal is with your vampire spawn friend, not you. I don't want you getting involved in this matter."

"I am the unofficial leader of this group and I refuse to let a cambion tell me I can't protect my companions."

~~~~

Raphael frowned deeply as he thought back on the light spat he had with the defacto leader of the illithid anomaly group. He had plans for the druid far beyond the defeat of the Absolute and their cultists. One could even say that he had formed an attachment to them far beyond what he should when it comes to the pawns of his game. To think, the powerful cambion- master of the chess board of life- has formed an affection for one of the pawns on his side of the board. Or perhaps, it would be better to assign them to the king piece. If his precious druid falls, so too does all of Baldur's Gate and the rest of the Sword Coast. He cannot afford to be put in check, least of all check-mate.

The Orthon he had set the group after had already appeared in his House of Hope as agreed upon. Now, he stood waiting for the group to return to their camp to hold up his end of the bargain.

He expected them to return quickly and they did exactly that, what he didn't expect was the group to return in a frazzled and rushed state. None of the odd group even glanced in Raphael's direction as the Githyanki and the Tiefling grabbed several bedrolls, laying them out on top of the other. The rest of the group was not far behind as they hurried into the camp, the human waving forward the rest with a frantic gesture.

"Come on, Astarion, hurry!"

"I'm fucking hurrying, Wyll! You try running with your arms full like this!"

The spat between the two made Raphael raise a brow, wondering just what all of the fuss was about. It wasn't until the vampire spawn lay what was in his arms on the bedrolls that Raphael even realized the weight of the situation. Laying limply with blood-marred skin was the beloved druid, clearly having suffered some kind of serious wound. Raphael knew the tell-tale jagged edges of the open injury on their soft body, one that could only be caused by an Orthon.

The half-elf cleric and the burly elf druid kneeled on either side of their unconscious leader, trying to use their various magics to staunch the blood flow. None of what they did seemed to be working and Raphael knew he would have to act or risk losing his precious druid permanently to the cruel hands of death. He was quick to shove the half-elf aside so he could access his favorite mortal and try to prevent the rapidly approaching end.

"Hey," Shadowheart snapped at the demon, "what the hells are you doing!?"

Raphael didn't even give a response to the upset woman, setting to reversing the damage done by his soon to be reformed minion. He had half a mind to just flay the minion that dare put such a wound on his precious druid, but he also knew others may take it as a sign of weakness. All he could do for the time being was try to help his little druid survive what- to most- is a mortal wound. Luckily for sweet (y/n) they had a powerful cambion lord on their side who could actually heal an Orthon caused wound.

For most, a direct attack from an Orthon causes death. Usually only a powerful cambion could reverse such a wound, lucky for them that Raphael was certainly a powerful cambion.

Where the healing efforts of the cleric and other druid had done little for the large wound, Raphael's touch managed to close the injury within moments. It had certainly been something that would have killed his favorite misadventurer and they had near infernal luck to survive up until reaching Raphael at their camp. Their sallow skin made his chest tighten as he searched for any sign of true recovery before he noticed their deep breaths, relaxing almost instantly.

"How did this happen?"

Raphael spoke in an even tone, but the hard edge to his words was not lost on those present. He wanted an answer and he expected nothing but the truth from them.

"It's our fault, really."

Gale spoke up, his tone bitter with resentment towards himself and the other companions responsible for allowing such an injury to befall the beloved druid. Where they had not inflicted such a wound, they were still the ones their leader was injured protecting. They all felt there was blame to share as they had not heeded the wise words of their leader and their leader paid the price for it.

"(Y/n) instructed us to not group up on the edge of the platform, but... we did anyway. That Orthon intended to shove us all off to the floor below and kill us, but (Y/n) blocked the attack with their own body, using themselves to absorb the attack."

Raphael felt a spark of annoyance flash in his mind, but decided to let it go in favor of focusing on his darling druid. They were slowly waking from their brief brush with death and seemed rather disoriented with the world around them. Their slowly trailing eyes fixed first on Raphael, a dazed and kind smile pulling at their lips as they reached out to him. He didn't pull away but watched in slight confusion as they rest their hand on his cheek.

"Raphael... thought angels were supposed to greet me when I died?"

Raphael couldn't stop the affectionate chuckle that escaped his lips, laying his hand over the druid's.

"Well, angels don't tend to save or greet the living."

"Save..? The Orthon magic... I figured it would take a devil to heal devil magic."

"If you figured as much, why didn't you call for me?"

"I doubt you would have shown."

The smallest wince from Raphael drew the attention of the onlookers, it only now dawning on them that Raphael may feel attached to (y/n) too. Some were in furious disbelief at the simple idea of this cambion bastard going after their dear leader. Some were impressed that their leader had ensnared the heart of a cambion. Even the cambion didn't want to believe how much he had begun to adore the druid that entranced all others to trust and adore them.

"For you, my favorite misadventurer, I will always show. Rest now, your body has healed but your mind will be fighting the Orthon influence for a days time. I will do what I can to ease your rest."

He was quick to wave a hand over the druid's head, quickly sending them into sleep before they could reply to his confession. Now he had to face their loyal pack and get them to concede to allowing the devil a fair chance at winning the druid's heart.