#echostarion

[heylittleriotact]

Nothing like posting a satisfying chapter of sweet fluffy smut and then immediately daydreaming of angst in which Astarion tells Echo he’ll understand if she doesn’t want him anymore after they get rid of the tadpoles and deal with Cazador because he’ll get all of his vampire spawn traits back and she might not want a monster as a partner anyway.

[heylittleriotact]

I hit 100 subs on Open Invitation 😭😭😭

I did not intend what originally started as a one shot of Astarion getting shredded by a feral cat to become a 150k+ word longfic but here we are. It’s been part of me since February when I posted it, and as I’m working through act 3 plot lines now, I know it’s coming to an end sooner rather than later. It’s going to be weird?

It’s not the best written fic - I’m very out of practice having not written seriously since 2017, and it’s pretty grim and depressing and heavy in places. Sometimes I worry that it *is* a bummer and that’s why it doesn’t get the engagement that fluffy cute lighthearted fics get, but those are stories for other people to tell: this one is mine - a story I need to tell - darkness and all. If I don’t tell it no one will, and I’m absolutely mind blown that there exist 100 people in this entire world that want to know when it’s updated.

1 person or 100. They all mean the world to me.

Thank you 🤍

[heylittleriotact]

Open Invitation - Thirty-Two (Watermelon Sugar Hiiiiigh...)

In which:

Astarion annoys everyone in camp

Hot, romantic, sensual period smut because this is a romance fic about a vampire

Ever been to a GWAR concert?

Content Warning: The entirety of this chapter is basically smut centered around menstrual blood so if that's not your thing, best skip this one . Excerpt under the cut🩸

Pairing: Tav (High Elf Feylock) x Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Cycle Breaking, Happy Ending (but not without a lot of pain first), very involved archfey patron.

Disclaimer: Complex trauma delving with direct and implied reference to various forms of abuse, including rape/sexual assault, as well as implied self-harm, including suicidal thoughts/behaviour. Explicit violence. Smuuut.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Excerpt:

It wasn’t a warm night by any stretch, and she could feel the cool air on the sensitive, wet heat between her legs. Some blood was drying on her inner thighs and it made her skin prickle as it tightened in the open air.  She brought up a hand to softly trace the shape of his ear and pressed her lips to his. “Go on then…” she whispered.  He kissed her back and smoothed her hair with a careful touch that gave away the best of him whether he wanted it to or not. “Remember to relax,” he told her, “and I’ll see to it that this is as enjoyable for you as it is for me, my sweet.”  She nodded and took a steadying breath, exhaling heavily. She let her eyes slide shut and could feel Astarion’s weight shift as he began moving downwards, trailing sweet kisses over her neck and belly as his hands roved over her abdomen, pushing her shirt up and exploring her skin.  She felt them slide down to the sides of her hips as her nipples hardened in the cool air, and he whispered, “Lift your hips a little for me, love.”  She pushed her hips up slightly into the air and Astarion’s hands slid beneath her, cradling her pelvis. She shivered when she felt his breath on her skin once again.  “Good girl.” Those two little words in combination with the feeling of his lips on the inside of her thigh drew a whine from her, but it wasn’t one of lust or desire: it was one of barely contained longing. Her heart, her mind, her body… they were so full of affection for this man that she felt as though she may as well have a Netherese orb of her own embedded in her chest, threatening to explode at any moment. “Does that feel good, love?” Echo nodded and murmured, “Yes.”  He passed his tongue over the thin delicate skin again, cleaning away the mixture of fresh and dried blood that had been deposited inside of her thighs during the evening. “Good.” He whispered, and she felt his tongue glide over the blood-coated surface of her labia. Her hips jerked in his hands at the sensation of him worrying at her bloodied skin.  “Relax.” He squeezed her ass reassuringly and ran his flattened tongue over the length of her seam, causing her to bite her lip and writhe against him desperately: every touch left the sweetest fire in its wake and her body could not help but surrender to him in every way. He shrugged his shoulders under her knees so he could free his hands to pin her hips, and sounds of pleasure rumbled deep in his throat as he swallowed the life-bearing blood that had collected between her folds like pristine morning dew between the petals of a flower. Even the gentle waves of his voice vibrating into her hypersensitive pussy was a thrill. 

[heylittleriotact]

Open Invitation - Thirty-Six (Plot-Twist)

In which:

We learn that Echo is a property owner

Guess who's back, back again - Senna's back - tell a friend

Senna and Echo chat rituals

Senna drops a bomb on Echo

All hurt, no comfort

Seriously though

Excerpt:

“Remember how I said Cazador was now on my list way back when I first learned of him from Astarion and it turned out that you knew of him too?”  “I do.” Senna nodded. “Well he’s been bumped to the top. He needs to be destroyed before we deal with the Absolute, because if we wait until after the fact and the tadpoles are gone, Astarion is vulnerable once more, and I’m not keen on that for obvious reasons.”  “Terribly practical of you.” Senna stretched out his legs and surveyed his fingernails with disinterest.  “If we don’t kill Cazador - if he’s able to get his hands on Astarion again, he will die.” Echo said. “As it turns out, apparently Cazador wasn’t simply interested in enslaving a few spawn for his own sick interests. Astarion, along with the other six spawn Cazador created, are materials to be used in a ritual…”  Senna’s eyes flicked to Echo’s at mention of the ritual. “A ritual that will fulfill the terms of a contract with none other than Mephistopheles.” The verdant eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at the archdevil’s name.  “Astarion will be destroyed as part of the sacrifice demanded by Mephistopheles, and in exchange Lord Cazador will become an entirely new kind of creature - a vampire of untold power who is not beholden to vile hunger, nor afraid of the light of the sun.” Her voice shook slightly despite herself. “I need to stop him. Yesterday. And I need your help to do it.” Senna considered her with that same unnerving intensity she had become accustomed to over so many years.  “And what of the vampire lord’s little ritual?” He whispered, eyes unblinking and fixed on hers. “Astarion will take it for himself - if he chooses to do so…” She drew a deep breath. “And I won’t stand in his way if that’s what he wants.” Echo was surprised when Senna’s flawless, pale face widened in a massive smile and he laughed, his eyes still searching her face as he giggled.  “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Grinning madly, his eyes wandered. “You have, haven’t you?” The table that was between them was gone, swept effortlessly aside by long limbs to shatter against the wall on the other side of the room, and she was on her back beneath him, shards of glass cutting into her back as liquor seeped into her hair. He held her fast with the long fingers of his hand around her throat, his palm crushing into her windpipe with calculated pressure. Gasping, she raked her own fingers against his hand and his wrist, struggling for purchase as she reeled in shock.

 Pairing: Tav (High Elf Feylock) x Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Cycle Breaking, Happy Ending (but not without a lot of pain first), very involved archfey patron.

Disclaimer: Complex trauma delving with direct and implied reference to various forms of abuse, including rape/sexual assault, as well as implied self-harm, including suicidal thoughts/behaviour. Explicit violence. Smuuut.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[heylittleriotact]

Open Invitation - Thirty-Seven (Pandering Self-Indulgent Fantasy.doc)

In which:

Echo's subconscious gives her a break (it's a smutty break)

Inappropriate Use of Spider Climb (tm)

Featuring Booktok Daddy Dom Astarion

We round things off with a much needed and incredibly serious conversation

Big hurt/comfort feels

Excerpt:

He had started to dip between her legs, his intentions clear, but she stopped him with her bare foot on his hairline. Her eyes burned into his and a wry smile took her lips. “I don’t think you’ll be needing those.” Her eyes drifted over his clothing - the regal doublet and finely tailored breeches.  He stared back at her, silence emphasizing her sheer audacitty - her belief that she could be the one issuing commands. She almost felt frightened by the intensity of his red eyes as they continued to illuminate faintly from within. Almost. The fingers of his right hand found the buttons at his neck and he began to slowly unbutton them. Too slowly. He was taunting her… The second button slid free and his left hand pulled her foot from his soft curls as he leaned back on his knees and drew the flat of his tongue over the bottom of it, his eyes never leaving hers as he continued to work at the buttons. A third… why was he taking so long? Echo whined - partly in frustration, partly in bliss - when his hot, wet tongue laved over her cool toes. He peppered them with kisses and engulfed three of them, sucking on them and driving a wave of pleasure through Echo’s system that went straight to her aching cunt.  Four buttons. He had four undone now, but that fucking doublet… she whined again as he rubbed the ball of her foot with his thumb, trailing passionate kisses up her ankle and calf - still staring at her intently.  There had to be a dozen buttons on the fucking thing. “Astarion…” She all but whimpered, now staring ravenously at his cock, still exposed and half hard again.  He looked at her from behind her own foot, his expression coy. “What is it, my treat? Is something the matter?”  Oh he was the fucking worst.

 Pairing: Tav (High Elf Feylock) x Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Cycle Breaking, Happy Ending (but not without a lot of pain first), very involved archfey patron.

Disclaimer: Complex trauma delving with direct and implied reference to various forms of abuse, including rape/sexual assault, as well as implied self-harm, including suicidal thoughts/behaviour. Explicit violence. Smuuut.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[heylittleriotact]

The feminine urge to just write stomach churning fluff of Echo and Astarion instead of writing a story with an actual plot.

[heylittleriotact]

Open Invitation - Twenty-Three (Nothing Bad Happens)

Content warning: This chapter contains explicit descriptions of violence/blood/gore/character death.

In which:

Nobody feels good about the previous night’s events

The gang meets a goddess

Nothing bad happens at all definitely don’t bring tissues

Excerpt:

“Just a moment,” Astarion said, getting up from the rock he’d been sitting on. “Our dream visitor is living inside the artefact? In here?”

Echo looked up at him. Her contained rage didn’t lessen the dullness of her eyes, and he was forced to avert his gaze - looking at her meant confronting the reality of how exhausted she was and feeling like he was responsible for it, and he stubbornly refused to accept that responsibility.

“Oh, our dream visitor not only lives in it, she claims she stole it from Vlaakith, and that she can completely destroy her legacy with what she knows about her. So apparently I have competition now in the business of destroying legacies, and she continues to dance around the truth of who she is with infuriating grace. So d’you want to know what really pisses me off?” She didn’t wait for an answer to the clearly rhetorical question before turning back to Lae’zel. “We’re going to pop back out of the godsforsaken prism and right into the créche, where the Inquisitor and all of his chums are waiting for us - and then they’re going to fucking bump us off under the justification of some absurd reasoning of how we’ve spurned ‘Vlaakith’s sacred bidding’ and I will have stabbed that annoying bitch for nothing!”

Pairing: Tav (High Elf Feylock) x Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Themes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Cycle Breaking, Happy Ending (but not without a lot of pain first), very involved archfey patron.

Disclaimer: Complex trauma delving with direct and implied reference to various forms of abuse, including rape/sexual assault, as well as implied self-harm, including suicidal thoughts/behaviour. Explicit violence. Smuuut.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[heylittleriotact]

It’s Wednesday. Have a WIP.

“If we’re able to find Thaniel’s other half, we may be able to convince him to become whole again.”

Grateful for the return to the subject of Thaniel, Echo said, “Do you have any idea where to begin looking?”

“He could be anywhere.” Halsin sighed and resumed his carving, the rasping sound of metal on wood filling the silence that hung between them. Echo tried to make out what it was he was carving, but his large hands concealed too much of the shape for it to be clearly seen. “But he is a strong spirit and the corruption would not have been able to take him completely. There will be signs: if we look for indications of life in this place - fresh blooms and the like - we will be able to follow them.”

“I suppose some colorful flowers would stand out in a place like this.”

“Again, thank you for this. I regret that I can’t be of more help with the parasites, but you have my word that I will aid you in whatever capacity I can for the duration of your journey.”

“Oh. Uh… that’s very thoughtful.” Echo felt her cheeks heat and concealed her face by pretending to scratch her head. She had actually been hoping to speak with the druid about something else. She looked around, making sure no one - especially not Astarion - was within earshot. “I’d been meaning to ask you… uhm…” Gods she couldn’t believe she was doing this… “Because no one else would know - I don’t think - and fuck maybe you don’t either, but ah… are you at all familiar with vampire physiology? Spec-specifically whether or not they’re ah… fertile?”

She was certain that if she could see her face it would rival Karlach’s natural shade of crimson, and she realized with horror that she was resting her hands over her lower belly. She tore them away hastily and occupied one by feverishly gnawing on a fingernail - a terrible habit, but a favored fallback in times of extreme stress.

Halsin frowned as she finished her question, and Echo wanted nothing more than to be sucked into a hole in the ground.

“You fear that you are with child.” It wasn’t a question: it was an observation. “Astarion’s child.”

“Yes, I fear that I am.” She hissed, immediately feeling defensive at the perceived implication of sympathy: she wasn’t looking for that. She was looking for someone who was capable of confirming whether or not she should be worried about this in the first place, because if she should be, she needed to figure out a way to deal with it as soon as possible.