snugglyticklemonster - Tumblr blog

snugglyticklemonster · 4 months

Text

Astarion's Folly

@angelatmidnight1 and I are very excited to finally share this fic with you! We've been working on this beast of a fic for a couple of weeks now! We hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it. Happy reading, folks.

FANDOM: Baldur's Gate 3 PAIRING: gender-neutral Tav/ Astarion WC: 3,712 WARNINGS: Fic contains some spoilers, swearing, and tickles.

Astarion thinks things are getting a little too friendly at camp. He comes up with a solution, and chaos ensues.

Things were getting too chummy at camp. That wouldn't do for Astarion.

Sure, he preferred when he didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder. But, occasionally, he loved a good bout of debauchery. And, he knew just how to cause some. All he had to do was start with you.

You hadn't had a good bath in months. You finally saved up enough gold to pamper yourself -- you purchased fancy soap and a spell to heat up water. There was a little spring near your camp that you scoped out; it was secluded, the water was pristine, and you happily snuck away one evening. It. Was. Heaven.

You almost didn't get out of the water... until your skin started to prune. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly climbed out, covered yourself with a towel, and returned to your bedroll, where your newly cleaned shirt sat. Well, where your freshly cleaned shirt should've been. You recalled setting it on your bedroll after drying it in the sun all day. Only, it wasn't there. You furrowed your brows as you began tearing apart your camp.

Where the hells...? You straightened out and scratched your head, eyes scanning the catastrophe that was now your area. I could've sworn...

You wracked your brain for any possible reason why it wasn't there. Did someone mistake your shirt for their own? Impossible. It was hand-crafted by a family friend and was pretty unique -- bright green with white embroidery running down the sides. In the middle of your head-scratching, Astarion, who had been lurking in the distance, watched you in amusement. He watched as you continuously ripped apart your campsite, cursing under your breath, your face growing redder and redder with frustration. It was hilarious.

He eventually approached you, sporting his trademark smile. "Looking for something, darling?"

You regarded him with a huff. "Yeah," you continued, rummaging through your belongings. "My shirt. I left it right here..." With growing frustration, you motioned at the area, "Now it's gone."

"Oh, dear. That is quite… the predicament." Astarion schooled his expression into bewilderment; over two centuries of playing pretend, it had its advantages. This was child's play for him. He ducked when you tossed an empty bag out of your tent, biting back a grin. "It wouldn't have been a green shirt, would it? Floral embroidery?"

You whipped around with an expectant look. "You've seen it?"

Astarion shook his head with a frown. "No, I'm afraid not, my dear. I just had it committed to memory. It is a beautiful piece of clothing." He stepped further into your tent, drinking in your form from behind. "But, if you're really unable to find it, would it be so terrible? You look delicious without it..."

Your cheeks flushed, and you fought to conceal your smile as you turned to face him, meeting his flirtatious grin with one of your own. "As much as I'd love to walk around topless for you, it may prove unwise for the battlefield, love."

Astarion put a hand over his chest in mock surprise. "You'd walk around topless, just for me?" His grin widened, his voice turning husky. "Mm, don't make promises you can't keep, darling…" Your face only grew redder, which of course, made that damn smile grow wider.

Despite being flustered, you flicked your eyes down to his lips and closed the gap between you and him, "Maybe I'll keep this promise.." You began, brushing your lips against his. You grinned when you felt his breath quicken, "If you could keep an eye out for my shirt..." You pulled away abruptly.

Astarion groaned, "Oh, you're such a tease." He released an exaggerated sigh, "Fine, I'll keep a careful eye out for it." He agreed. You swore you caught a slight twinkle of mischief in his eyes but thought nothing of it. That was Astarion just being Astarion... right?

The next thing your beloved swiped was your favourite mug. Arabella made it with love after you saved her from the Druids. You adored that cup. Astarion, on the other hand, hated it. To him, it was an eyesore. But you loved it, so he kept his opinions to himself... mostly. You always used it for your morning coffee, washed it, and put it away with your belongings. However, when you went to retrieve it, the damn thing was nowhere to be found. Like before, you tore apart your tent -- cursing yourself for losing such a treasured item. If you didn't have your morning coffee, you were... less desirable to be around. Sure, you could fetch another, but it wasn't the same. Coffee tasted better in your mug.

Astarion had really outdone himself this time. He had snagged the cup from your bag, and with a bit of sneaking, he was able to stuff it into Lae'zel's bedroll. Well, one thing led to another, and now you and the githyanki were at each other's throats.

"It didn't just walk over here, Lae'zel." You snatched your mug from her grasp. "Why do you have my mug? You know how important it is to me!" Lae'zel just so happened to find the mug tucked into her bedroll. You, being the highly noncaffeinated person you were, lost your collective shit.

Lae'zel scoffed, not amused by your thieving accusations. "I have as much use for it as a dragon has for swords, ishtik. I assure you, I did not touch your blasted mug." She fired back, putting one hand on her greatsword. "Now, do you wish to accuse me further, or shall we settle this the Githyanki way?"

You felt a firey rage that rivalled the hells explode inside of you. You summoned a fireball in your left hand and jabbed your finger at the gith, "You know what, you snivelling-nosed--"

Out of nowhere, your pale companion stood between the two of you, "Now, now, as entertaining as it'd be to watch the two of you rip each other to shreds," Asterion held a hand out in front of both of you to keep you at bay. "This is a simple misunderstanding! It's been a very tiresome few days. We're all exhausted. I'm sure you left it out in the open, and our... friend here accidentally took it."

"I do not make mistakes." Lae'zel deadpanned, and Astarion suddenly felt that standing between the two of you was a terrible idea.

"My point exactly! You purposely took my mug! You thieving--" You were cut off by Lae'zel running at you. Astarion narrowly avoided the rampaging gith and stood off to the side with a grin. Of course, seeing you hurt wasn't ideal, but he revelled in the drama.

Thankfully, Karlach broke up the fight before things got too violent. It ended with you calling Lae'zel a thief and a coward and the gith threatening to end your life in very imaginative ways -- Astarion had to remember to write those down for... research purposes.

The final time Astarion stole something, he got cocky and made a mistake. It was dinner time, and you had decided to eat at your tent. The last fight took a lot out of you, and all you wanted to do was curl up in your bedroll and drift away. You noticed you had forgotten something and stood up to quickly retrieve it. You even made a mental note of where everything was, just in case the mysterious thief decided to snatch something of yours again. When you were far enough away, Astarion crept over and grabbed your spoon, his mind churning with all the places he'd stuff it. Unfortunately for him, you returned sooner than he anticipated, forcing him to scramble away.

He stood to the side, doing his best to look as inconspicuous as possible. Of course, you noticed him instantly, and he was acting stranger than usual. Alarm bells sounded in your head as you hurried back to your tent, and lo and behold, your spoon was missing. You scoffed as you recalled the other times your items had suspiciously vanished. He was always nearby whenever something disappeared. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to prove he was the culprit. You had to formulate a rock-solid plan to get a confession out of him. You couldn't accuse him outright -- he'd find a way to worm out of that.

After some thinking, you came up with a brilliant idea. One that was foolproof. Astarion was lounging in his tent, reading a book, looking a little too invested. He glanced up when he heard you approaching. The spawn wore a genuine smile reserved for you and you only. It melted your heart, but you were on a mission, and no amount of smiling or sweetness would stop you from completing it. You slowly approached him, taking a moment to contain the butterflies swirling around your insides.

Once you had some semblance of control over your swirling insides, you slapped on your usual smile and strode straight towards him, "Astarion?"

"Hmm?" He glanced up and grinned as he saw you approach, "Yes, darling? What can I do for you?"

You sighed as you stepped into his tent, "I don't have much of an appetite tonight, and then I saw you, and, well... you look delicious." Your eyes roamed down his body, "May I join you, love? Maybe you can tell me about the book you're reading."

Your flirtatious greeting caught him off-guard -- that was his thing, not yours, "Oh, I suppose I could do with some company. Come here," He scooted over to make space for you, "I won't bite."

You happily accepted his invitation and settled next to him. "Can I cuddle you?" You asked, which threw him off even more. Since when were you this affectionate?

Still, he didn't miss a beat. He masked his surprise with another chuckle. "I'd like that very much, my dear."

You leaned against him and wrapped your arm around him, "So," You slid your hand down his side, "What're you reading?"

"Oh, this?" He gestured to the book with a shrug. "Just an old collection of poetry. Not all that interesting, I'm afraid."

Your heartbeat picked up as your fingers twitched in anticipation, "Perhaps you would like to hear my favourite story, darling?"

Astarion noticed your rapid heart rate and couldn't help but smile. He had that effect on people, especially you. "Of course, darling. I'm all pointed ears, my love.

You flashed him a sickly sweet smile, "Once upon a time, there was a handsome elf vampire named Astarion..." You shifted ever so slightly, preparing to pounce, "He had a nasty habit of taking things that didn't belong to him. His beautiful and very patient partner, Tav, loved him very much. One day, one of Tav's things goes missing. They know not where, but they ripped apart their tent for this lost item. Their beloved, who had taken said item, approached Tav, offering his aid, even though he was the one who stole it."

Astarion felt the blood drain from his face, which was impossible. He was dead, after all, "My love, I never stole--"

You placed a finger over his lips, "Hush, darling. I'm not finished," You grinned at the fear in his eyes, absolutely relishing it, "The next item to go missing was Tav's favourite mug. Astarion, with his nimble fingers, placed it in the grumpy Lae'zel's belongings. Why? For the destruction it would reap, of course. Tav's darling Astarion loved chaos. He revelled in it. So, when Tav and Lae'zel prepared to fight each other over this mug. He watched with great amusement..."

"I did try to stop the fight..." The vampire spoke up, only to trail off when he saw your death glare.

You stared him down, daring him to utter another word. When he remained silent, you continued, "Tav's darling dearest made a mistake. He got cocky. You see, Tav gave him the benefit of the doubt. Each time an item had gone missing, he was there to aid them in their search. Which Tav admittedly found odd, but he always offered words of encouragement or offered to keep an eye out for their lost item. So, any suspicions Tav had were soon quashed."

Astarion made an attempt to slip out of your grasp, but you held on tighter, making him flinch, "Darling--"

"However," You cut him off, "One fine evening during dinner, Tav's spoon went missing. No one else stood nearby except for their beloved. Who looked awfully suspicious. So imagine Tav's surprise when they returned to their tent to find their spoon missing. At that moment, they recounted where their darling Astarion had been for each theft. He was there when Tav's shirt vanished, and although him being there wasn't suspicious at first, a slight twinkle in his eye made Tav feel... off. The next odd occurrence was him stepping in-between Tav and Lae'zel to stop them from tearing each other apart. Astarion would never purposefully stop a fight. Then, the third and final time, well, that was just obvious..." You finished your story by digging your fingers into his side.

Astarion yelped and lurched forward to escape the tickly fingers. "WHAAhat do you THIHInk you’re DOHOHOing?” A high-pitched squeal escaped him when you skittered down his side and squeezed his hip.

"I know it was you!" You fired back, pulling him back against you. He twisted in your arms, hands flying around to catch your wrists. "You can't tell me everything I mentioned was a coincidence, Astarion!" He managed to escape from your grasp and went to run, but you tackled him to the ground and latched your fingers onto his sides like leeches, making him scream.

"Whahahat?!" The spawn yelped again when you went for his tummy. After a bit of flailing, he managed to grab your forearms. "Thahat… that prohohoves nothing! I'm guhuhuilty of existing in camp?"

"Not exactly." You straddled his waist while fighting against his grip, leaning in to whisper -- your breath tickled something awful on his incredibly sensitive ear. Astarion's eyes widened, and he sputtered out a curse, shaking his head and madly giggling. "If it wasn't you, maybe you saw who it was. Either way, you know something, and I'll tickle it out of you."

"NOHohohohoho!" He released your arm and covered his ear, and with your newly freed limb, you repeatedly squeezed just above his hip, and he snorted. “Youhuhuhu lihihihttle s-shihihihit! Geheheheht off of mehehehehehe!”

"I'll get off of you if you tell me what I want to know!" You gave his sides a few more squeezes before you finally stopped and gave him a cheeky but expectant smile. Astarion continued to giggle and huffed.

"As I've already said," He squirmed under you, trying to get his footing so he could sit up, "I have nothing to do with your items disappearing! Nor do I know who it is! Have you ever considered that perhaps you're just hopelessly forgehehehtful--!"

You made your way up his ribs, forcing an array of sounds out of him. Astarion open-mouth cackled as he frantically caught your hands and fought to pull them away. "Gods, you're stubborn." You teased. "But that's alright. We can do this all night~." You upped your antics, using your nails to rake up and down his ribs.

In an act of desperation, he bucked his hips, sending you toppling over. He took the opportunity to scramble to the exit of his tent. Unfortunately for him, you were prepared for this. You extended your arm, letting the magic flow through you as you summoned your Mage Hand spell. The hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him towards you.

"That's cheating!" He shouted as he clawed at the ground, desperate to find purchase. Once he realized it was a losing battle, he rolled onto his back and prepared for your attack.

"I will use every advantage I have against you, Astarion!" You shouted as you lunged at him, hands sneaking underneath his shirt, which had become untucked during the commotion.

When your fingers came into contact with his skin, loud, boisterous laughter tumbled out of him like fresh taffy -- it was music to your ears. You had become so accustomed to his fake laugh that when his real one shone through, you had to pause for your brain to process the sound. It was bubbly and wild, so unlike his usual façade. You chased the sound, going up and down his sides, getting the divots between his rib bones, scratching at his belly, digging into his hip bones, just anything to get him to make that delightful sound again. Thankfully, it didn't take much. It was such a beautiful sound; hell, he was beautiful.

Eventually, you slowed your attack enough for him to speak, "I'll ask again, Astarion. Where are my things?"

He lay motionless underneath you, aside from the occasional twitch when your fingers skimmed over a wildly ticklish spot. Eventually, when he realized you had no intention of stopping, he spoke, "I dihidn't take ahanything!" Astarion whined, acting as though you were brutally torturing him.

"Lies!" You shouted, and you made the split-second decision to bury your hands underneath his arm.

The sound that escaped him was equally as hilarious and perplexing. It reminded you of the sounds a rothé would make during mating season, mixed with a dying goblin. You had to hear that again. You called upon your Mage Hand again, and just as he was gasping for air, you pulled his arms over his head and used the hand to keep them in place. Before Astarion could dream of speaking, you went in for the kill. Your fingers found his underarms, and as if things couldn't get any worse, you scooted down to blow a raspberry on his stomach. Much to your delight and Astarion's dismay, he made the sound, followed by another and another.

"Astarion, what in the hells is that sound you're making?" You struggled to contain your laughter, which earned you a scowl, or what you assumed to be one through his tears of mirth.

"I'M GOHOHOHOING TO KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU-- ACK!" He yelped when you blew yet another raspberry over his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Astarion. Could you repeat that? I can't hear you over this loud laughter!" You raised your voice into a shout for added effect, and he was not amused. He had to think fast; otherwise, he feared you'd make good on your promise to tickle him all night.

Just before you could blow another raspberry, he yelled, "Wait! Dahaharling, hold on--”

You looked up and cocked your head to the side. "Yes, my love?" Instead of the raspberry, you traced your fingertips along his stomach, making him shudder and giggle. "Do you have something to tell me?" You arched an expectant eyebrow.

Astarion nodded repeatedly. "Yehehes! Yes, b-buhut you hahahve to stohohp tihihickling me first!” You obliged, but you kept your hand on his stomach. He breathed hard, still grinning from the phantom tickles.

"Thehere we go, see? We can be civilized about this," He fidgeted under you to test your grip on him. You still had him pinned where you wanted him. He mentally cursed, but that didn't stop his mind from finding another means of escape. In the meantime, he'd do the next best thing: sweet talking. "Now, I'll admit, I may have… acquired a few of your things. A harmless prank, really. Keeps the edges sharp as we go about our little adventure, hmm?"

You leered at him. "So, you took my things," you went back to stroking his stomach and sides, making him gasp and giggle. "And you lied about it?"

"Nohoho! No, youhuhuhu wehehere tickling me!” He argued, yelping when you pinched his hips. You stopped before he drowned in giggles, "I wahas under duress!"

You knew what he was doing and wouldn't fall for it. Walking your fingers back up his sides, you moved towards his underarms, and he immediately tensed up. "Last chance, Astarion. Tell me where my things are."

"Alright, alright! T-Take it easy, my love…" He breathed, fidgeting under you again. "Your spoon is in my right pocket. As for your shirt, I left it in the red maple tree where I usually hunt. You can't miss it."

You hummed, more or less satisfied with his answer. You patted his pants until you felt the utensil and fished out of his pocket. You also made a mental note to go and retrieve your shirt. But, it was such a rarity to see Astarion truly laugh. What's more, he did admit he was guilty…

Instead of climbing off of him, which he also expected, you flashed him a mischievous smile that spelled trouble in every language spoken in Faerûn, "Just to be clear, you're saying you did, in fact, take my things, right?"

Astarion's brows furrowed in confusion as panic rose inside of him. He slowly nodded as his mind frantically came up with a plan. Your spell, Mage Hand, required you to maintain concentration. He could escape if he somehow found a way for you to lose it. The question was, how would he make you lose focus?

"I see... well, lucky for you, I only tickle thieves." You smirked as your fingers found their way back to his underarms. Astarion screamed as his body flopped to the side; no amount of pulling would free his arms.

"NOAHAHAHA!" Astarion cried out and thrust his hips. You were a little too invested in your tickle torture, you hadn't accounted for his sudden hip-thrust. Which resulted in you falling off him and feeling rather startled by the change in scenery.

That was the key to breaking your concentration. The spell broke, freeing Astarion. He rolled away from you, scrambled to his feet, and sprinted. You took a little too long to collect yourself, you weren't able to grab him before he escaped. You shouted his name as you got your feet underneath you and took off after him. You chased him for a good while before you both collapsed under the same tree where your shirt was hanging from.

All in all, it was a productive day. Astarion got a hefty dose of his own medicine, and you vented your frustrations without raising your voice. Bonus: you got to hear his adorable laughter.

185 notes · View notes

snugglyticklemonster · 5 months

Text

Viper's Venom

The info for this fic is here! TLDR: this is my Squealing Santa for @angelatmidnight1! It was very fun to write and I hope you enjoy! Goodness, I hope I haven't forgotten something-!

Word Count: 2,193 Reading Time: ~17 minutes Warnings: Mentions of death, tickling Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader (Implied romantic)

"Fresh blood oranges, right from the tree!" Y/N Sand shouted. The announcement of goods and their prices, along with many other varieties of speech, filled the Dornish bazaar, which made it very hard to hear oneself think. Luckily, Y/N has spent the last decade of their life training their craft in this place, selling their family's blood oranges and making a lot of money from it, too.

Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, with its warm climate and scent of fiery peppers, always brought peace of mind to Y/N. They wore an orange robe to match the fruit they sold, with a golden necklace around their neck that glittered like the sun. They always loved it when the wind blew through the market because the sweet smell of her blood oranges could travel far.

A man in a yellow cloak appeared in the crowd, whose saunter caught Y/N's attention. He approached the stall, picking up an orange and inspecting it closely.

"This is fine fruit," he said, more to himself than the seller.

Y/N smiled at such an opportunity landing in front of them. "You have a good eye! These are among the finest blood oranges in Dorne. Can't be beaten within a hundred miles around by the gods!"

He looked up from the orange in his hand to look at Y/N thoughtfully. "I have had enough of blood for a while." His accent was distinctly Dornish, his face was sharp, and his eyes were piercing. "In short, I am not interested in your wares."

"I'm sorry to hear that, friend. Another day, perhaps!"

The man leaned over the counter. "I never said I was leaving," he said softly. A tense minute of silence followed as each studied the other's face. Finally, the man smiled, mumbling, "You are a Sand."

A blush of embarrassment crept up Y/N's face at the mention of their low birth. "You have a better eye than I thought," they said, trying to keep a grin on their face.

"Oh, do not be ashamed, sweet thing. Sands are my favorite." He smiled with all his teeth. "My absolute favorite."

Finally, a flash of recognition came across Y/N's face as they realized the man's identity. "You're Oberyn Martell- Prince Oberyn Martell!"

"I am, yes. And you are?"

"Y/N Sand. I'm glad to see you're doing okay. You didn't announce your arrival?"

"I do not like entourages."

"Then why have you come here? Were you seeking to find something?"

"I was seeking to find someone, and now I have."

"We were all worried when you heard you were fighting in the trial by combat, especially for the Imp. How did you-"

The prince quickly put a hand to Y/N's lips. "Shhhh, sh, sh. Enough talk. Would you like a visit to the Water Gardens?"

"Your palace? I could find the time." Y/N smiled shyly, touching their necklace.

Prince Oberyn smiled with his teeth again, holding Y/N's hand as he led them away from the busy market.

As they walked together through the streets, Y/N continued asking questions, keeping their hand on their necklace the whole time.

"So, how did you win?"

"Hm? Against Gregor Clegane?"

"That brute. The Mountain that Rides. I heard he was nine feet tall!"

Oberyn chuckled. "Closer to eight, by my estimate." Another silence followed. "I poisoned my blade. That is all I need to say about that."

Y/N touched their necklace again.

"Why do you keep doing that? Your necklace."

"Ah, it was given to me by a handsome merchant a few years back for my help with some errands. He said it made me more attractive, something about magic."

Oberyn brushed a lock of Y/N's hair behind their ear. "I don't know about magic, but you have plenty of good looks without a necklace."

The fruit seller blushed and looked away, making the prince laugh.

As the pair entered through the gates of the Water Gardens, the sound of raucous laughter fluttered through the air. The artificial pools and rivers before them were filled with splashing and play.

"Children. My brother adores the sound. Come, let us go to a more sequestered location." Still holding their hand, Oberyn led through a courtyard. Through another, finally ending in a smaller, more sheltered area with an orange tree in the corner, casting the spot in a warm shade and a minor waterfall feature forming a little brook that trickled through the grass.

"It's beautiful." Y/N stepped through the grass, smiling at the cool breeze and the shade of the orange tree.

"I have come here many times with many people." Oberyn walked forward with his usual strut, taking off his cloak and setting it on a bench. He wore a bronze-colored tunic underneath.

"This is an honor, my prince. I-" Their statement was cut off by Oberyn's laugh again.

"Have you ever spoken to a prince?"

Y/N huffed and looked down at the grass. Suddenly, two of Prince Oberyn's fingers tilted their chin to look him in the eye. "I am asking you a question."

The action made Y/N blush. "I'm a bit out of practice." They liked his laugh. It was rich and infectious, filling any room he was in.

"You will learn again. For now, though, here." With that, he gently sat Y/N down against the tree on the grass. "You are as delicate as a flower. I mustn't be rough with you." Again, he spoke more to himself than Y/N.

"May I ask why you brought me here?"

"You may."

A brief silence followed before Y/N, giggling, said, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Such a lovely laugh. I brought you here because I've spent the past week on the road, traveling through the desert wastes, all hoping to get home and spend the day with a pretty little dove. I am home, have found a pretty little dove, and am perfectly satisfied."

"Are you this flirtatious with everyone you meet?"

"You must know enough about me to know I am - not to suggest you do not deserve every word." He sat down beside Y/N, facing them. "Take your sandals off, you silly dove. How often have you felt grass between your toes?"

Giggling again, Y/N removed their sandals, smiling at the sensation of the cool earth under them. "You're very sweet despite everything your reputation makes you out to be."

"The infamous Red Viper of Dorne, sweet? This is new."

Y/N grinned cheekily, boldly saying, "You're not a viper; you're a milk snake."

Oberyn's eyes widened in surprise, staring at Y/N. "Would you like to repeat that, little dove?"

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N stuck out their tongue. "A milk snake!" they said with a laugh, which turned into a yelp when they saw Oberyn move toward them. Y/N jumped to their feet, backing away.

The prince stood as well, smiling. "Oh, no, no, no! You cannot leave now! You have committed a reprehensible wrong against my name! I must have my justice, you know."

"W-wait, just stay away. I didn't mean it!"

"But you said it all the same. I am afraid I cannot have you leaving to tell everyone Prince Oberyn is the Milk Snake of Dorne, now can I?"

"I'm sorry! You're a viper, a vicious red viper!"

"And I'll make sure you remember that!" With those words, the prince lunged toward missing Y/N by a hair as they ran, leaping over the brook, laughing as they looked behind them to see a very evil-looking Oberyn at their heel. Y/N ran from the courtyard into a hallway, dodging down halls and around corners, hoping to lose the prince in the maze.

They turned a final corner, and ahead, they saw a pretty courtyard with an orange tree and a waterfall feature. Before they could think, they ran right into Oberyn's arms, scooped right off their feet as he carried them bridal-style back to the shade of the tree.

"My little dove returned at last to face their punishment! How noble and brave you must be!" Oberyn kissed Y/N on the brow, setting them on the grass. "If you try to escape again, it will only worsen for you."

Y/N Sand nodded, keeping their mouth shut.

"Good! I would punish you now, but I have chosen a different approach. I will let the gods decide your fate. I demand a trial by combat."

"What! C-combat?!"

Oberyn stood a few paces away, grinning playfully. "To your feet, my dove." Y/N jumped up, and the prince rushed forward, ducking under Y/N's arms and knocking their legs out from under them. Flat on their back, Oberyn straddled their waist. "You are not very good at this."

"Noho, I'm not! Now let me up! You've made your point."

"I have not won yet!" Y/N felt a hand slide inside their robe, gently squeezing a spot just above their hip, and they began squealing. "A squealer! I should have guessed!"

"H-hehehey! Nohohohow wahahhait juhuhust a mihihinute!"

"I will do no such thing! I must clear my name in the sight of gods and men!" Oberyn's fingers danced expertly, precisely finding every ticklish spot on his poor victim.

Y/N squirmed and laughed uncontrollably, their protests lost in powerless laughter. "T-tihihihickling! Thihihis ihihis ridihihihihiculous!!!"

The prince's nimble fingers moved to Y/N's sides, squeezing like a baker kneading bread. "I will tell you what is ridiculous, my dove. Insulting the name of a prince in his palace while being so very ticklish. I cannot imagine what would bring a silly little dove like yourself to such absurdity."

The teasing elicited more squeaky giggles from the poor merchant, who kicked their legs helplessly. Oberyn's hands moved up to Y/N's ribcage, wriggling over each little rib.

"So many vital organs in here. Maybe if I wriggle my fingers here enough, I can tickle them, too. Do you hear that, little dove? I think your heart wants to be tickled as well! Nobody wants to be left out, right?"

"THihiHIHihis ihIhIHis CruhUhuhUel! StoHoHHop TehehHEheheasing!"

"Cruel? That is a title I will not deny. Now, I must get a confession out of you, dove! Did you insult my name?" Oberyn smiled with his teeth again, genuinely pleased by the adorable sight before him. "Come on, sweet one, say it." His hands moved up finally to Y/N's neck, scribbling around.

"OohOHOhohoberyn!! MeheheEHhehercyyhyy!!!" Y/N squealed.

"I'll give you mercy! You must first confess! Did you insult my name, yes or no?"

"Ihihihi cohohonfehehess toho nohohothing!"

"A bratty little dove you are. Fine then! Feel the bite of the viper!" With that, he curled his pointer and middle fingers to look like snake fangs and drilled them into Y/N's sides, eliciting a defeated shriek from the small merchant.

"FUHUHUHUCK!! GEHEHET OHOFFA MEHEHEHEHEEE!!!"

"You should be feeling my venom coursing through your veins by now. Rather potent, I'm afraid. Is it making you feel all squirmy and blushy? I think I can see it taking effect!"

"YOUHUHU'RE SUHUHUHUCH A JEHEHEHERK!!! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OUHUHUT!!!" Y/N was in hysterics, writhing and cackling.

Surprisingly, Oberyn stopped, leaning back with a smug expression. "Will you confess? Confess, and I'll send you to the Wall! I do not want to kill you, you know!"

Despite every single brain cell screaming at them not to make things worse for themselves, Y/N giggled and said, "You're such a milk snake, hisssssEEEHEEHEEEEK!!!"

Their cheeky hissing was cut off by more 'viper bites' before Oberyn turned around. "Very well! I, Prince Oberyn Martell, sentence you to death by tickling!" he giggled, keeping Y/N's feet pinned. "I knew I made the right call by telling you to take off those sandals."

"N-noHohohoho! Wait, wait, hold on! Can't we negotiate a pardon?"

"Absolutely not, my dove! Justice is a significant thing to me, you should know. Now, I hope you aren't ticklish here, for your sake."

Unfortunately, Y/N was very ticklish there, which Oberyn quickly learned once he began scribbling around on their soles. The prince's fingers explored every inch of Y/N's feet, marking each spot. However, when he got to the toes, Y/N's laughter turned silent, a sign it was time to stop.

Oberyn got up, quite pleased with himself, and sat under the orange tree. Y/N regained their breath and looked up at him, a blush and a giddy smile plastered on their face. They crawled up next to him and wrapped an arm around his torso. "Monster," they spat playfully.

"Careful, dove," he chuckled, wiggling his fingers again, making the merchant bury their face in his chest. "Get some rest. From my experience, trials are entirely exhausting." He yawned to prove his point.

"Ihihit wasn't your trial!"

"I've never been on trial. Well, except for that one time." He chuckled, rubbing Y/N's back. "A story for another time. For now, though, rest. I promise you will not find a more peaceful place than this in a thousand summers."

Oberyn was right. It didn't take long for Y/N's eyes to begin drooping. Little by little, they fell asleep, a smile still on their face, cuddled into the arms of what must be the most charming prince in Westeros in the shade of an orange tree.

#tickle fic

69 notes · View notes