Can I please a tickle fic of Lee version 1 and Ler! Brightney. Where brightney repairing vee and vee gets all giggly but has to keep in due to her gameshow hostess status
(OK last one of the day, don't worry I'm only have like 3 more request to get through, sorry if this is taking a while but I'm doing the best I can to get these out!! :3)
💡 “Technical Difficulties” 📺
(Lee!Vee, Ler!Brightney — soft tickly repair-scene fluff)
“Alright, Vee,” Brightney said gently, setting her toolbox down beside the broadcast chair. “Just sit still for a moment, and I’ll get your circuits checked.”
The TV-headed Toon crossed her arms, still glowing faintly in the dim light of the studio. “Hmph. This is completely unnecessary, you know. My systems are perfectly fine.”
Brightney’s bulb glowed with a friendly flicker. “You’ve been glitching every five minutes during your show, dear. You froze mid-sentence and replayed your own joke twice.”
“That was for dramatic effect, thank you very much,” Vee replied, nose in the air.
“Mm-hmm,” Brightney hummed as she gently unscrewed the side panel of Vee’s casing. “Dramatic effect doesn’t usually involve sparks.”
Brightney’s light softened as she leaned closer, her tone sweet but businesslike. “Now, this might tickle a little. I need to check the wiring under your front panel.”
Vee blinked, her glow flickering nervously. “Tickle? I—I don’t see how that could possibly— hhHh–!”
The moment Brightney’s careful fingertips brushed a wire beneath her screen, Vee jolted, a stifled static squeal escaping her speaker.
“N-NohOoh!” Vee’s voice glitched, her tone shooting up an octave. “It dihidn’t— hhhnk—! That’s just—pfft— fine! Continue your wohohor–khhhk–work!!”
Brightney tilted her lampshade in amusement, her bulb glowing brighter with a giggle. “Vee, are you… giggling?”
The screen Toon’s pixels flickered in embarrassment. “Pfft–no, that’s– thahat’s jusstst– hhhahhhhAHaha! S-stohohop it!”
Brightney smiled softly. “I’m hardly doing anything! You’re just sensitive.”
“Hhh–n-not the wohohord I’d use!!”
She traced the small brush in her toolkit along the inner edge of the panel, cleaning dust and residue. The bristles grazed delicate sensors and—
“hhHHHhhhehehe!!” Vee’s laughter burst out through scrambled static, bright and uncontrollable. Her screen flickered with a green glitch effect shaped like a smile. “B-Brihihightnehehey!!”
“Hold still, I’m almost done!” Brightney said between laughs of her own, trying to keep her hand steady while the TV Toon squirmed in her chair.
“Yohohou’re nohot evehen tryhihing to be gentle—!!”
“Oh, I’m trying,” Brightney teased, voice dripping with good humor. “But these circuits are awfully ticklish, aren’t they?”
“hhHHHHhhgh–!! Yohohouh’re the one tuhuhalking abouhuhut professionalism—!!”
“Professionalism doesn’t mean no fun, dear.”
After another moment, she reattached the panel with a soft click. “There. All fixed.”
Vee slumped back in her chair, panting, screen still glitching faintly with residual laughter pixels. “Thahat was... cruhehel.”
Brightney smiled, wiping her gloves. “You sound much clearer now, though. And might I say—your laughter is quite lovely.”
Vee’s antennas perked, the tips sparking faintly. “I—w-what?! I’m a host, Brightney! I can’t be— hhhehehehe–!!”
Brightney leaned in conspiratorially. “Maybe not on camera,” she whispered with a wink, “but between friends? It’s refreshing.”
Vee’s glow dimmed bashfully. “…You’re lucky I can’t blush properly.”
“Oh, I think your screen did that for you.”
Brightney only giggled, giving the TV a soft pat. “Come on, superstar. Let’s run your diagnostics again. Without the giggles this time.”
“No promises,” Vee muttered, though her pixelated smile refused to fade.
romaincrisis
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