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pupumath57 · 25 days ago

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My TV (Working Title) (Tenna x Reader) Chapter 1

I knooooooooooowwwwwwwwww I really shouldn't start another fanfic but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....ummmmmmmmm......teebeeman cute TwT

I do plan on continuing this but we'll see what LIFE has planned for ME. Secret of the Mimic comes out Friday and I'm sure that'll launch at least 2 new fics for me because I have no impulse control, and I plan on ArtFight in July sooooo don't be surprised if this isn't updated til August. (It'll be on ao3 once it is tho)

Word count: ~4600

Your task: Find a TV. An old one. CRT, ideally. The bigger, the bulkier, the better. Doesn’t need to work, just needs to be big.

Big enough to explode dramatically when hit with a sledgehammer.

You can’t say you fully understand the vision of your friend Jodie’s short film, but she’s paying you to edit it…which means you have a vested interest in helping her film it, which means an interest in helping her get ready to film it… even if she’s not directly paying you for that part of the process. If a day of running around checking thrift stores and pawn shops meant your payday might come a bit sooner, then so be it. You’re technically not strapped for cash just yet, but contract work isn’t exactly steady--one slow month could have you running up a balance on your card that’ll take the rest of the year to pay off.

At least Jodie’s paying for your gas and will pay you back for the TV, so all you’re losing is time…though you hope Jodie will still stick to the agreement when she sees just how many stores you had to hit up.

You can’t remember if this is the fifth stop on your “tour” or the sixth, but you must look tired, for the cashier, a middle-aged woman with her greying hair in a messy bun, winces visibly when you ask about a CRT TV.

“Sorry, hun. Nobody’s donated a working CRT in…probably a decade.”

Yet you perk up, catching something in her wording. “Working? It doesn’t have to work. Just has to be a big, boxy old TV.”

She hums sympathetically. “Well we don’t tend to keep--” She stops suddenly, her face lighting up as she snaps her fingers. “Oh! You know what, I think there is one out back! Or at least there was last night…I assume it’s still there?”

“Can I take a look?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” she says. She grabs her keys from beside the register, walking you through the store and out the back employee entrance to a small alleyway.

The dumpster behind the store is overflowing with donations that had been deemed in too poor of shape to sell, all in various combinations of torn, stained, dirty, and broken. You see a sofa that’s so torn to shreds that most people couldn’t be paid to take it…and yet someone had donated it expecting it to be sold.

“Someone came by with a truckload yesterday. Emptying out an abandoned storage unit, I think,” she says. “Some of it was sellable, this wasn’t,” she explains, nudging the TV with her boot. “Is it about what you’re lookin’ for?”

“Oh yeah, this looks great!” you say, crouching down to look at the TV. It’s pretty dirty--covered in so much dust some of it has actually become caked on. The antennae are folded in, at least mostly--one antenna has a bit of tape on it that prevents it from being fully tucked in. The power cord is so frayed that you think plugging it in might be a fire hazard. But the TV can be cleaned up and made to at least look like it’s in good shape even if it doesn’t actually work.

“Exactly what I need,” you add, picking at a clump of dirt with your nail. You rest a hand atop the TV, leaning on it briefly as you pull yourself to your feet. “How much?”

She laughs. “It’s not sellable. So I can’t ‘sell’ it. But if you wanna bring your car around you can load it up.”

“Free? Really?” you say, surprised.

She shrugs, waving a hand. “The paperwork isn’t worth what I’d end up charging for it.”

“Heh…well, thanks!” you say. Maybe if you tell Jodie the TV ended up being free, she won’t balk at the gas bill so much.

One cordial handshake later, the TV is officially yours. You bring your car around and load up the TV into the trunk and finally head home. When you arrive in your apartment’s parking lot, the sky is tinged yellow from the pending sunset and the shadows stretch long across the pavement.

Getting the clunky CRT into your apartment is a hell of a task. Park close to the door, carry the TV to the elevator, then push it down the long hall to your apartment. It’s too heavy to lift for more than a few seconds at the time, and even the brief walk to the elevator has you setting it down a couple times to rest for a couple seconds before continuing.

But, you’re able to get it up to your third floor apartment at last, and you shove it into a corner of your mostly empty room.

The apartment itself is a two bedroom, though really you probably should have just gone for the one bedroom. You use the second bedroom as an office, and the living room had, at one point, been intended as a place to host guests, but you’ve ended up doing far less of that than you’d anticipated. You’ve even moved your flatscreen into the office, leaving behind an empty TV stand and a living room even less equipped to hosting anyone.

Once the TV’s in place--next to an empty TV stand that definitely isn’t strong enough to hold an old CRT--you glance down at yourself, wincing at the dust and dirt from the TV that’s now all over your T-shirt.

You debate with yourself a moment before deciding to just clean up the old thing a bit. Moving it is difficult enough without also getting streaks of dirt all over your clothes every time you lift it. Besides, Jodie will probably want it somewhat clean for the shot she’s planning.

You grab the kit you usually use for cleaning up your computer--some compressed air, alcohol wipes, and a handful of Q-tips. Probably a bit more thorough than you need for an old TV that doesn’t even work and is going to be destroyed soon anyway….but you figure if you’re going to do it, you may as well do it right.

You’re surprised at how much dust and dirt come away with the wipes, given how much has already come off onto your shirt, but that only solidifies your decision to give it a thorough cleaning. You at least have the sense to cover your nose and mouth with your shirt before getting to work with the compressed air, though once you see the size of the dust cloud that rises from the TV’s vents you wonder if you should have dug around in your closet to see if you still have any N95 masks left.

You use a damp Q-tip to clean around the dials and the edges of the screen. By the time you’re done, the TV looks…well, not new, but at least like it’s been kept in a house and taken care of for the past few decades.

As you’re putting away your cleaning supplies, you wince when you notice how dark it’s gotten outside. There’s still a hint of sun on the horizon, but it won’t be there much longer.

You quickly gather up the trash from your kitchen and head downstairs to the dumpster. You’ve already put off taking out the trash for about two days longer than you should have. You hate taking it out at night, especially since building maintenance has been pretty slow to replace some of the bulbs in the parking lot’s lights. But, you manage to toss the bags away just as the sun slips below the treeline.

Finally, after a day of driving from store to store, hauling a huge TV, then cleaning said TV, you can relax for the night.

Or so you think.

You lock the door behind yourself and step into the living room, where you immediately notice that something is amiss.

Something is very amiss.

Comedically amiss, even.

Where the CRT had once sat, now sits a man. An impossibly tall man with a TV--with the perplexing addition of a cartoonishly long nose--as his head. He’s too tall to even stand up in your apartment--instead he’s seated on the floor, his knees tucked against his chest.

“There you are!” he cries happily in a staticy, showman-y voice. He crawls towards you with a big grin on his face. “My new favoritest Lightner! Thank you ever so much for taking me home and fixing me up and--” He cuts himself off, canting his head. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

Your back is pressed against the wall, your eyes wide and your shoulders tense. Your hands are held up, your fingers curled like claws as your body instinctively prepares to defend itself from the massive creature shuffling towards you.

And he asks “what’s the matter?” as if you’re reacting strangely to a giant TV-headed man in your apartment!

Before you can recover your wits enough to answer, he frowns, tilting his head in the opposite direction.

“Wait…you’re not a Lightner!” he says, his antennae straightening in surprise.

He lowers his head, leaning forward until his nose is nearly poking you in the chest. You close your eyes, covering your face with your hands. You’d probably fall to the floor in a heap if doing so wouldn’t mean colliding with his nose on the way down.

“Hmm…but you’re certainly no Darkner…” he says, his gloved hand rubbing his “chin” in thought. He shifts his gaze to your face and he flinches when he sees how frightened you are.

“O-Oh! ‘Scuse me! Shouldn’t sit too close to the screen! Especially in the dark!” he laughs apologetically as he shuffles backwards, still on his hands and knees. His antennae are almost bumping against the low ceiling of your apartment as it is.

Your knees give out and you slide down the wall, your trembling hands still covering your face.

This can’t be real. It just can’t. What the hell kind of hallucinogens had you inhaled when cleaning that old TV? You’ve clearly lost your damn mind!

The TV man pulls back even further when he sees your distress. “A-Ah!” he says, nervous beads of sweat appearing in the staticy white image that makes up his “face”. “I-I suppose this is…shocking! Me being…like this…outside the Dark World!”

Don’t indulge the delusion. Wait for it to pass. Whatever you inhaled will wear off. Surely you just need to wait it out? You’ll recover or sober up or…whatever…and it’ll all go back to normal!

But you can’t help yourself.

“I-I…have no idea what you’re talking about!” you admit, cringing internally at how meek and timid your voice sounds.

“Aha, right! Proper introductions are in order!” He clears his throat, then raises one hand to his face to push in his nose, flattening his face. The screen goes dark for a half second before loud, triumphant music begins to play, accompanied by some kind of low-resolution video.

“It is now time…for our feature presentation!! (Feacher…!!) Coming straight from YOUR house…coming straight from your house!! COMING! He’s the 1!! COMING!! The KING of ONLY!! He’s groovy! And NEVER glooby! You can’t get this from an egg!! The sensation of your screen! The show that makes you SCREAM!! Say it with him folks!!

Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s T~V~TIIIIMMMMME~!!!”

Once it’s done, the screen returns to the white static that is his “face”, his nose reappearing with a cartoony “pop!”.

The whole sequence does little to ease your confusion…though the fear is at least fading. You lower your hands, adjusting your position so you’re sitting with your back against the wall rather than cowering against it.

“Um…”

“And who do we have the honor of speaking with tonight?” he asks, a microphone appearing in his hand, which he holds out to you.

“E-Erm…” you squeak awkwardly.

“Hmmmm?” he hums in an almost playful tone as he holds the mic just a bit closer. The cartoony smile on his screen is huge but…there’s also a gentleness there. As if he’s trying to coax you out of your shell.

Finally, you manage to speak your name, albeit a bit haltingly.

His grin widens. “I shoulda guessed! A perfect name for a perfect sorta-Lightner!” he crows.

You laugh weakly, your cheeks warming at the bit of flattery despite the situation. “A-And…you said you’re…um, Mr. Ant Tenna?”

He nods. “Tenna to my friends, my friend!” The slight head tilt and the cartoony “pling!” noise that accompanies it suggest he would be winking if he had eyes.

Again it’s hard not to smile at the quip…and the fact that, intentional or not, he’d answered your question before you’d even had a chance to ask it. “A-Alright…Tenna…” you say, slowly starting to relax. You’re not entirely convinced this is real, but…it seems to be at least…not dangerous? “M-Mind…explaining…what’s going on?” you ask tentatively.

Tenna laughs. “Well, it’s quite simple!” he says, holding up one finger and waving it slightly, poised like a man about to explain a complicated topic in three or less easily digestible sentences. “You see--” He freezes suddenly, his mouth fixed in his usual big grin.

Your brows drift slightly upwards.

“...I simply don’t know!” he says, his grin turning mildly apologetic as a laugh track echoes around you.

Your shoulders slump. Maybe this is just a dream…one you’re not creative enough to fill in fully. Still… “Wh-What were you saying before? Something about…Lightners? Darkners? And…a-a…Dark World?”

“Ah! Right!” he says. “I can get you up to speed on that, no problem! Y’see, there’s the Dark World and the Light World, Darkners and Lightners.” He places a hand on his chest. “I’m a Darkner, and you…well, seem to be mostly a Lightner.”

You shake your head. “Um, I’m a human, actually…” you say hesitantly.

Tenna nods patiently, unsurprised by your comment. “Which is a type of Lightner!” he says. It’s almost as if he’d anticipated such a response.

“I…see…” you say uncertainly. “But I’ve never…heard of that. Or Darkners, or the Dark World…”

Another nod. “Most Lightners haven’t! And, since they don’t know about the Dark World or Darkners, they have no reason to think of their world as the Light World nor themselves as Lightners! To them, it’s just the world! And they’re just--” He pauses, his smile looking a bit more like a wince before his bright grin returns. “--NERS!” he declares proudly.

You give a weak laugh, sensing that last bit was a joke. “Right…So then…what’s a Darkner?”

“Residents of the Dark World! The place where light doesn’t reach. Darker than dark, where imagination takes hold and is made real!”

“Imagination…?”

“Imagination made REAL!” he says pointedly, emphasizing the last word. Blue flashing text appears on his screen spelling out the word “REAL!” in bold letters.

“And…I’m now imagining a TV as…a giant TV-headed man?” you ask skeptically.

Tenna’s expression falters and his antennae seem to drop. “...A-A TV?” You can barely process the remark before his bright grin reappears. “I-I mean! Yes! Er, no! Not…you’re not imagining anything! This is how I am in the Dark World! I’m quite real!”

You frown, glancing around despite knowing full well you’re in your apartment. “But we’re not in the Dark World…are we?”

He mimics your thoughtful frown, finally adjusting himself to sit crosslegged, propping his elbow on his knee and resting the bottom of his TV-head on his palm. He has to hunch over to an almost comedic degree to keep his antennae from hitting the ceiling. “No, definitely not! But I’m not so sure it’s the Light World, either…”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, aside from all this,” he says, gesturing at himself with both hands, “It just…doesn’t feel like the Light World…” The showmanship fades from his tone, his voice becoming quiet, almost somber.

“How so?” you ask curiously.

Tenna laughs awkwardly. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you! It’s just a feeling.”

“What’s the Light World like?” you ask, getting to your feet and taking a step towards him.

“Almost exactly like this one,” he says thoughtfully. “In fact…I’m…not even sure how long I’ve been in this world…I was thrown away at some point,” he says with a frown, his shoulders tensing. “Then I…” His frown deepens. “I…I don’t know what happened next. I don’t…even remember how I ended up in that storage unit…” His tone makes it sound like it’s just as much a revelation to him as it is to you. His frown grows more melancholy and his antennae droop.

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. What could you possibly say? What do you say to a living TV that seems to be lamenting being thrown away?

Before you can summon an answer to that question, Tenna’s mood turns on a dime and he brightens. His antennae perk back up and he leans forward towards you. “But I’m sure glad I did!” He touches his index fingers together shyly, red circles appearing on his screen as he glances away with a bashful smile. “If it meant being found by a nice Light--er, human who’d clean me up and take care of me!”

The awkward, almost pained laugh you let out barely sounds like a laugh to you, but Tenna doesn’t seem to notice. Dream or no, you really don’t want to tell him the true reason you’d been on the hunt for a CRT.

“Now! I’ll bet you’re excited to watch all your favorite shows on your brand new TV!” he says in a playfully smug tone. “So, why don’t you whip up some popcorn and I’ll find us something good!” he says. His face begins flickering as if flipping through channels…though all the channels are the same white static.

“I don’t have any--” you start in a faint protest. You pause, frowning up at him in confusion. “Can we even watch TV on you when your cord’s broken?”

“Oh sure! Don’t need electricity in this form, I run on good ol’ Tenna-Watts!” he says cheerfully. His smile fades a bit as he continues flipping through channels. “Although…I can’t seem to find a signal…”

“You’re an analogue TV, aren’t you? They uh…kinda moved to digital like…ten years ago?” you say hesitantly.

Tenna pauses, staring at you. His screen goes blank, which causes his nose to disappear as well. His head slumps forward and he turns away, his antennae drooping. “O-Oh. S-So I. I can’t…I can’t really…I wouldn’t be…very useful…as a TV…would I?”

He’s so dejected that he actually seems a bit smaller as he slumps forward miserably, but you quickly rush over to him.

“H-Hey, don’t say that!” you say quickly, the words spilling out of your mouth before you really think about what you’re saying. “We could buy an adapter--”

His gaze snaps to you so abruptly you have to duck to avoid being beamed by his nose as it reappears. He grins brightly, red circles appearing on his cheeks as he leans forward. “An adapter? You’d buy an adapter? For me?” he asks giddily, cupping his screen in his hands.

You falter a moment. Despite your phrasing, you’d meant the remark as a hypothetical, not a plan…certainly not a promise. You’re still not completely sure this is even real…maybe it is a dream and whatever promises you make actually don’t matter. But…even if it’s not…how expensive can an adapter be?

If Tenna thinks anything of your slight pause--or even notices it--he gives no indication, continuing to beam down at you eagerly.

“Uhm, s-sure…Yeah, I can do that…”

“Oh thank you!” he cries eagerly, clapping his hands while the sound of applause plays. “And in the meantime, if you want to hook up a VCR or DVD player or game console…?”

You stare at him a moment before letting out an awkward laugh.

Tenna’s antennae twitch in confusion. “Oh? Did you have something else in mind?”

You shake your head, smiling weakly up at him. “Not…as such, but…you’re…a…a giant TV-man from another world…a-and this is all so…impossible…”

He scoffs playfully, waving a hand. “Can’t be that impossible if it’s happening!”

You sputter a moment, trying to come up with a counterpoint, but none presents itself. “I…suppose you’re right,” you admit. “But…still…just sitting down to watch TV after all that seems…so mundane…”

“Takes a bit of mundanity to wind down the day, doesn’t it?” he says. “Besides, why go to all that trouble of cleaning me up if you don’t wanna watch TV?” he adds in a smug, cheeky tone.

You manage to stop yourself from flinching too visibly at that question, but you’re sure a brief look of nausea still passed over your face.

“I--I s-suppose…”

“Then it’s settled!” he declares with a clap of his hands. “You go pick out your games or movies or whatever you want and I’ll do the rest!”

“Heh…” you chuckle thinly. “S-Sure, Tenna��” You consider a moment…as tempting as it is to dig out your old SNES and see if the rumors of old games looking better on CRTs is true, you don’t think your brain can handle anything resembling thinking and strategy right now. Certainly not anything involving reflexes either. So perhaps best to stick with a movie. You glance up at him. “What kind of movies are you into?”

“A--!” He stops, his mouth open in surprise and subtle pink blush lines appearing on his cheeks. “M-Me?” He lets out a hearty laugh, waving his hand and shaking his head. “Oh, silly! I’m the TV!”

You pause, regarding him thoughtfully. You…suppose it’s not that weird that he’d truly have no opinion--or that his opinion would be that you should pick the movie--but he’s clearly flattered that you’d asked.

So for tonight, you’ll oblige and make the pick yourself. Tomorrow--

--Would he even be here tomorrow? Suddenly you find yourself hoping he will be.

“...Right,” you say, trying not to seem too deflated as you give him a bracing smile.

You sidestep around him, crouching in front of your empty TV stand and opening one of the drawers. You pull out your PS3 and its wires, setting them atop the TV stand. Your newer consoles are in the office with your TV, but you doubt Tenna has an HDMI port. So, older console it is, even if you’re just using it as a DVD player.

Tenna scoops up the console and its wires and you glance over at him, watching as he plugs the wires into the back of his head and holds the PS3 in his hands.

As for the movie, you grab a couple DVDs of lighthearted cartoons. You close the drawer and get to your feet, and are surprised to see the PS3 already powered on, the menu screen displayed on Tenna’s (once again noseless) face.

“Wh--How’s it on? It’s not plugged in…?” you ask.

“Tenna-Watts!” he chirps proudly.

“Right…” you say again, a bemused smile on your face. You put one of the movies in, then take a seat on the couch, lazily tossing a fuzzy throw blanket over your legs.

Once the disc is in, Tenna sets the PS3 on the floor beside him, then tucks his knees to his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and rests his screen on his knees…more or less acting as his own TV stand, albeit a very tall one.

You find yourself watching him more than the movie, barely paying attention to the plot as you try to process everything he’s said. You suppose “another world” is as plausible an explanation for a twenty-foot tall TV man as any. An old TV turning into a guy is already so far beyond the realm of possibility…how can you say anything except “Sure, why not?” to whatever explanations are given?

“Can you…actually see the movie?” you ask eventually.

He doesn’t move, keeping his screen angled towards you, but you see the lines of his mouth appear over the movie as he speaks. “No, but I feel it.”

“Feel it?” you repeat. “What…what does it feel like?” you ask, intrigued.

He pauses the movie, though his face doesn’t fully reappear. “Hmmm…interesting question! I suppose…it feels like colors. Sounds. Music…it feels like a story!”

You stare at him a moment before giving a soft chuckle. What sort of answer had you expected? “Well…a-as long as you’re not sitting there bored, I guess…”

“Bored? Not at all!” He frowns slightly. “Are you? We can put in something else--you don’t have to finish it for my sake!”

“Oh, no, I’m fine!” you reassure him quickly. “I just…wanted to make sure you were doing alright…”

His antennae perk slightly in surprise and the pink circles that appear on his cheeks stand out starkly against the paused movie. “Oho, you! Of course I’m just peachy! I’m a brand new TV all cleaned and polished and set up for movie night! I couldn’t be better!” he says in a chipper tone.

Your cheeks warm at his enthusiasm and his smile is infectious. “Heh…well, that’s…good…” you say, awkwardness making you feel a bit shy.

Tenna’s grin widens before disappearing, and he resumes the movie, sensing the conversation is over.

Before the movie’s over, you adjust yourself to be laying on the couch, your head resting on the pillowed armrest. Tenna’s height actually makes the position more comfortable--you don’t have to lay on your side or with your head turned ninety degrees to see the TV. You can lay on your back with your head angled only slightly towards him.

As the credits roll, you almost tell Tenna you’re too tired for a second movie, but he switches out the DVD before you can even think about sitting up. So you stay put, letting your eyelids get heavy as the second movie plays.

Maybe hauling the CRT up the stairs and then having your sense of reality severely questioned has taken more out of you than you’d realized. Or maybe it’s just time for the dream to end. Either way, you find yourself drifting off far more readily than you’d thought you ever could under such unusual circumstances…it’s not even a third of the way through the second movie when your eyes fall shut.

Tenna can immediately tell when you’ve fallen asleep. Lightners dozing off in front of the TV is a very familiar sight to him, after all. Still, he waits for the movie to play out and for the credits to roll before turning off the PS3. He unplugs the cords from the back of his head and quietly tucks the PS3 and the DVDs back into the drawer on the TV stand.

He leans forward, shuffling towards you slightly, careful not to bump the coffee table. He picks up the blanket from the floor and carefully spreads it over you as you sleep. You stir slightly, snuggling into the blanket and it’s all he can do not to let out a delighted little squeak.

Blankets knocked askew had always been a sad sight for him. He likes doing what he can to give anyone who falls asleep in front of him a good night’s rest, though those abilities had been highly limited until now. In the Light World, he could only dim his screen slightly and lower the volume just a touch. Sometimes if he really focused he could switch off the screen and let the Lightners think they’d done it themselves at some point in the night.

But the simple act of adjusting some blankets? Absolutely out of the question.

What a wonderful world this must be to let him finally do that small gesture for his dear Lightner! Well, almost Lightner. Basically a Lightner. A Lightner to him.

Tenna smiles softly, leaning back against the wall and watching you sleep. He’s loved all the Lightners who’ve had him, but…there’s something different about you. About this world.

He thinks…He thinks he’ll like it here!

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pupumath57 · 25 days ago

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Forever Mine

—"Don't leave me..."

—In which the television you see in your dreams doesn't want you to wake up.

A/N: Someone needed to make a Yandere Tenna fic and I guess it's got to be me. See my vision, I beg of you.

CW: Yandere, Manipulation, Guilt-Tripping

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The Dreemurr family's divorce is a town wide scandal, the 'incident' causing it forever an unspoken haunt to the townspeople.

To you, however, it's the reason you got this nifty little free TV.

It's cool—works just fine, though it has some parental restriction codes that were quite the inconvenience to get through, but it's free. That's right. Zero dollars. You just visited Miss Toriel one day like you thought any good neighbor would. And luckily for you, she asked if you could take her television off her hands, because no one in the family used it anymore, and it just brought back memories she didn't want.

So you helped Miss Toriel and got a free TV. Sweet.

It sits in your house, affectionately nicknamed "Tenna"—because of its long antennae that almost seem to squirm when you touch them. You know it is far from the most modern form of entertainment, but it is entertainment nonetheless, and besides—you've reluctantly grown attached to this television. Late nights on the couch, just you and it, have become commonplace. Sometimes, you even fall asleep.

And on one of those nights, the dreams begin.

You are in a place so dark it's light again—bright, saturated colors in checkered patterns marking the floors, infomercials everywhere, and tons of little flyers with the same fuzzy TV silhouette your eyes can briefly make out.

Okay, what kind of fever dream this is, you don't even know. Might as well just make the best of it.

You pick up a flyer.

"Coming Straight From Your House—Mr. (Ant) Tenna's Marvelous Mystery Board!"

Some sort of game show- wait, did that flyer just talk?

There is suddenly a spotlight on you.

"That's right!" Continues the voice, with the same chipper yet even timbre of a gameshow host. From the wall behind you pops out-

A man with a television head.

A very hot man with a television head.

You would be remiss not to admit it, really. Sure, he does, well, you know, but the TV-head is really just a bonus! On top of that surprisingly charming suit and nice ass, the TV-head fills your brain with ideas that make you wonder if you are deranged.

You decide not to give them the time of day just yet.

Meanwhile, the man with the television head continues to race about his gameshow.

"Special prizes, physical challenges, and more, only on-"

"I'm in," you say, and for all his bravado, the television man—Mister Ant Tenna from the poster, wait, your TV is named Tenna, wait, are you seriously dreaming about your TV as a hot gameshow host—startles noticeably, antennae going ramrod straight.

"You are?" He says. You nod.

"Uh, yeah. Seems cool."

He claps his hands with excitement, and suddenly, a thermometer appears on screen, immediately cracking with excitement.

"Magnificent! Splendid! The Fun-O-Meter's off the chart folks! Mike, play the applause!"

And pre-recorded applause ensues. You wonder if anyone is actually watching. Except no one is watching, because this is a dream.

You go through the motions—play the games, win the prizes. You get Z Rank, because you have what many would call a massive skill issue. But Tenna does not mind, regarding you with the patience of a saint.

The credits roll, but Tenna seems hesitant.

"Maybe- another round?" He suggests. You nod.

"When I come back," you say, before he can get the wrong idea. "Every good show needs an intermission.'

With that, you leave your dream, certain that it really was just that. A one time dream.

But then, the next late night on the couch comes, and you find yourself in that same dream once again.

Tenna's antennae droop as he speaks to you in private afterwards.

"You sure took a lot time!" He says, trying to sound cheery. It fails, though, considering the way he shrinks in discontent. "It's alright though, I get it. It was fun enough, just me and the board- I've- never been good company anyways, and-"

He's trying so hard to sound alright with it that it just makes you feel even more guilty. His antennae droop, and you avert your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the guilt from stabbing at your heart. It doesn't work.

"You're great company," you say, in lieu of asking how come it was just him and the board when he has all those employees under him. "You know what? I'll stay as many rounds as you want! Seem fair?"

Immediately, he perks up, rapidly growing in excitement, antennae perked back up.

"Absolutely wonderful!" He says. The Fun-O-Meter once again explodes. Applause roars as Tenna starts rambling.

You play and play as many bonus rounds as you can until Tenna is something akin to satisfied. At last, you wake up.

You have slept through the entire day. Angry messages await you, as a result of obligations miserably unfulfilled. You don't even want to check them.

But you do. Typing out responses and making amends.

You wish you were back there, in that dream of yours.

So you stay by the television and fall asleep once more.

And once again, Tenna greets you.

"You came by faster today, darling!" He says. You find yourself liking the nickname, if only because it is him saying it.

You nod.

"That I did."

"Miss me?" He asks, and if he had eyes you just know he'd be batting them innocently.

"No," you start, trying to set up some sort of coy flirtation, but you immediately regret it when he visibly deflates.

"Oh," he says. "I- should have seen that coming. I mean, hah, you're absolutely stellar, darling, and I'm... Just..."

"I- I didn't mean it!" You hastily amend. "I was just joking. Really, I don't even know what I was thinking; I'm sorry!"

He smiles at that, placing a tentative arm on your shoulder.

"You-" he starts, before clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. "You won't mind if I do this, then?"

And before you can ask what he means, he's pressing a fiery, impassioned kiss to your lips.

It's half-loving, gentle, like you are the most precious thing he has ever held within his arms, half an act of possession, like he wants to lay claim to you in a way no one else can. The possessive half is carried out guiltily, you can tell, the way he gently licks at all the bites he leaves, consoles you when you yelp at the little electric shock he gives.

You've never wanted anything more.

The kiss ends, and you find a gutted sob escaping you. Tenna startles.

"Was that not alright, darling?"

"This- This can't be a dream," you say. You feel pathetic, longing for a relationship conjured up in a fantasy like this. A man born from your own furniture, who obsesses over your happiness like it is his sole priority. That can't be what you want, and yet it is. "Please don't let this be a dream."

You suddenly feel a comforting hand on your back, the touch initially sending a shock down your spine."

"It's not a dream," Tenna says, breath tickling your ear. You can only hope he's right.

You wake up with a start, dreading the day.

——————————————————————————

The relationship of your dreams is half fantasy, half nightmare. Tenna is a sweetheart, indeed he is, always fretting over your every concern and comfort, letting your worries melt away with his games and challenges.

And then sometimes he'll snap, scold you or break, and mere moments later, he'll be on his knees, begging not to leave.

"Please stay," he begs you one night, the blow of the wind that should have been pleasant chilling you to your very core. "You're all I have. Please-"

"I will," you nod, gulping. He doesn't believe you, face contorting into its familiar motion, and regardless of having no eyes, it's oh-so expressive that it immediately makes you shoot up with dread.

"Say you love me," he whispers, shaking you with a manic sort of feel. "Say it."

"I love you."

"I don't believe you."

"I- I love you," you say. "Please."

And like some sort of trance has been broken, his head jerks, the hands that were only just shaking you now cradling with the gentleness you normally know.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, kissing reverently as if that'll prove anything. "Don't leave me. Please."

You know you won't. You can't. You'll keep waking up later and later in the day, letting him take more and more out of your time. He is greedy, absolutely ravenous when it comes to you, and he'll devour you whole if that's what you offer.

And yet you offer yourself whole anyways, because you just can't say no.

Time passes. It's all a blur. You remember less and less of your day to day activities, and more and more of your dreams. Of Tenna, sweet and charismatic and pleadingly manic the next. How he beckons for you to stay even when the ring you now recognize as your alarm screams for you to wake up.

And how could you not, when his kisses are so inviting?

It all comes to a head one night.

"Stay," he murmurs, serving you dinner. You sigh.

"You know I will," you say.

"Not like that," he says. "Stay here. Forever."

"For- ever?"

Your eyes widen as the implication of his words catches up to you all too late.

These dreams- no- they're-

"I have a life back outside," you say, panicking as his antennae twitch in displeasure.

"Then you'll leave me to rot...?" He asks, falsely resigned. You gulp. You know him better by now. You know how intelligent he is. How assured.

He knows exactly what you'll say, that he knows you know but you'll do it anyways, damnit-

"That's not what I mean," you say. He sighs.

"Of course you can tell yourself that!" He says. "I really am insignificant... Just a tryst-"

"I'll stay," you say at last, acquiescing as you always have. He beams, kissing you like a touch-starved puppy, and you forget yourself for a few moments.

As far as any of your friends and family know, you will never wake up again.

But as far as you know, intoxicated by the seemingly permanent love in the air, you are the most awake you have ever been.

871 notes · View notes

pupumath57 · 25 days ago

Text

Giving Tenna an impulsive rebound in his desperate need for attention. Also, nobody else in the crew treats him like a person.

Bonus:

3K notes · View notes

pupumath57 · 26 days ago

Text

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 8

Previous chapter

Summary: After Tenna strips away the little autonomy you thought you had over this place, something inside you snaps. You decide it’s time to bring him back to where he belongs.

8>[ ^)]

Warnings: +18, power play, erection, sexual references, yandere Tenna, fluff (consider this a warning when it comes to Tenna).

Notes: Thank you all for the kind comments and for taking the time to read this fic! I’m so glad to see there are plenty of Tenna fans out there who aren’t afraid to embrace a little toxicity for some of that good dick (???

Word count: 5,6 K

“You better sit down for this, because… you’re about to have the best pancakes of your entire life!” Tenna beamed, his smile crinkling with joy as he poured a generous stream of syrup over your stack.

Taken out of context, the scene might have looked almost sweet, like something plucked from a couple’s quiet morning routine. Tenna had prepared a lovely breakfast, humming to himself as he moved about the kitchen, occasionally checking on you with a soft smile.

But that warmth of the moment felt hollow now, especially in the wake of his recent meltdown. You didn’t even bother putting on a mask anymore. What was the point of smiling or playing along when the man across the table was holding you here against your will?

This sweet domestic charade was just another desperate attempt to get to you. It was Tenna’s way of luring you deeper into a life you never chose. A world built on his own selfish desires. A life imposed on you. No matter how gently it was wrapped, it was still a cage.

And now, this was your reality: a pancake stack with fruit arranged to form a smiley face, drowning in an almost comical amount of syrup. It reminded you of Tenna’s love. It had the same amount of overwhelming sweetness meant to cover up the things that were slowly dragging you down into misery.

“I used to whip these up almost every morning for the crew… back in the golden days! Not that I’m old, mind you!” he quickly added the last part with a chuckle, lost in the fond memory. “But back then? We were running on fumes and caffeine. I had to keep the whole gang fed or they’d be fainting during take two of the morning quiz show!”

He kept the syrup flowing, his free hand gesticulating cheerfully, too caught up in his storytelling to notice the amber tide creeping toward the edge of your plate. However, you didn’t say anything. You just watched in silence as the syrup spilled over the edge of the plate, dripping slowly onto the table. Your thoughts were elsewhere, caught in the terrifying realization that this man, beneath all the charm and goofy theatrics, held far more power than he let on.

“Right, sweetie?” he asked brightly, but you hadn’t heard his previous words.

Lifting your head slowly, your tired eyes met his impossibly cheerful smile. You still didn’t answer. And then, he noticed the mess.

“Fu— uh, I mean… heck. Looks like I’m just as sleepy as you are, sweetheart!” Tenna said with a forced laugh, quickly reaching for a paper towel to dab at the syrup pooling on the table, his movements just a little too quick, like he was a little too eager to reset the mood.

He snatched another paper towel, his frantic dabbing betraying just how badly he needed this day to go exactly as planned.

“Mmmm… Can’t say I blame you,” he said, lifting his head at last, shifting his attention from the sticky mess to you. “It’s been a long night.”

His smile deepened almost instantly, curling with satisfaction at the memory of last night. All the frantic love making, the way you had looked beneath and above him, the closeness and the illusion of something real. If he’d needed one more reason to fall completely in love with you, this was it.

“So…” Tenna drawled, stretching the word out with theatrical flair as he swapped his plate for yours, giving you the chance to add syrup to your own liking. “I was thinking, maybe tonight we finally hit the town for that romantic dinner date we keep pretending not to want. What do you say, dear?”

You took a bite of your food, deliberately ignoring the question. He leaned in a little closer, a wide smile still plastered on his face and clearly hungry for a reaction. Any reaction.

“Don’t want any syrup with those, sweetie?” he asked, his voice light, but a faint strain crept into the edges.

Tenna poured some on for you anyway, just enough to not fuck up again, then clasped his hands together, still waiting for you to look at him.

“Look at me, learning restraint. Who would’ve thought, huh?” He gave a short, awkward laugh, hoping you would play along.

His smile faltered for just a moment before he forced it back into place, and then he leaned in a little closer, voice getting a touch higher.

“How are the pancakes, sweetheart? Are they to your liking? Nice and fluffy? Should I add some whipped cream? I think we’ve still got some left from that first cooking show!” Tenna said, his voice bright and playful, hoping for the sound of your laughter, or even a smile.

But all he got was the sound of your fork scraping not so gently against the plate as you ate.

“What a fun program that was! Good thing Mike, ever the professional, cut the cameras just before I… well, before I said... um... that thing. But hey, I don’t need to remind you, you probably remember it perfectly, huh? Mike, what a guy! Always on top of things. He really gets me, you know? Always there when I need him. Solid guy, really. But don’t worry! He’s not your competition.”

He nudged you gently with his elbow, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tried to coax even a flicker of acknowledgment from you.

“Mike? Pfft. Nothing compared to you! I mean. I’d probably invite him to our wedding. Well, in the f-future of course! Unless you want it sooner… WHICH I WOULDN’T MIND!” he said, each word trembling a little as he desperately filled the silence, giving you a sheepish grin. “Mike has always been there. He has helped me, um, through rough times.... But without you I’d be lost. Totally lost. I’d probably end up living in a trash can down by the Queen’s castle! Hah!” He laughed a little too loudly, hoping the absurdity of the image would get a chuckle from you.

But the words hung in the air, and still, there was nothing. No chuckle, no eye contact. Just the quiet scrape of your fork against the plate.

“But enough of the sad stuff,” Tenna declared, snapping his fingers with flair. “I told you I can be fun!”

Instantly, a burst of jazzy music filled the room. Without missing a beat, he swayed his hips and spun in place with a dramatic flourish.

“Maybe I’ll show you some of my moves, hmm?” he grinned, striking a pose.

One arm thrown behind his head, the other extended outward with fingers splayed and hips cocked to the side in a dramatic way. It was the kind of exaggerated flair that reminded you of Elvis and a game show host having a midlife crisis at the same time.

“Next thing you know, I’ll be chugging energy drinks and riding a skateboard to work, just like the younglings do these days!”

He laughed loudly, clearly aware of how ridiculous he looked, but leaning into it anyway, trying to ride the rhythm and desperate to animate the moment with something. Anything really. But your silence clung to the air and it was impossible to dance through.

Still, he kept moving, extending a hand toward you in a theatrical gesture, inviting you to join him. When you didn’t, when you kept your eyes on your plate as though he weren’t even there, the edges of his smile began to twitch.

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t make such a fuss!” he said with a playful grin, pinching your cheek affectionately, hoping the gesture might finally pull your attention his way. “We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

But you didn’t move.

He tried to laugh it off, to keep the party alive. But every second you refused to meet him on the kitchen’s dance floor twisted the knife a little deeper.

“Fine, fine, party pooper…” he muttered, his tone edged with mock indignation, snapping his fingers to cut the music short.

The silence that followed felt almost accusatory. But then he stepped closer and moved his hands toward your face. He was still clinging to the idea that affection might fix this, that a touch might reset the mood.

“My sweet little bumblebee,” he cooed, cupping your cheeks between his hands and tilting your face toward him, your mouth still full of pancakes. “Come on, it was a joke. I know you can be fun… every now and then.”

His voice lilted with mockery, trying to ease a laugh out of you, to pull you out of your silence through teasing. But as soon as his hands left your face, you turned away without a word, eyes dropping back to your plate, resuming your quiet focus on breakfast as if nothing had happened.

“Tough crowd today,” he said with a crooked grin, gripping the edges of his dressing gown and straightening it like a stage performer tightening his tie before a punchline. “But lovely anyway!”

He moved slowly behind you, placing his hands on the back of your chair before resting his head lightly on top of yours. A soft kiss followed, but it wasn’t tender. It felt more like a subtle demand for attention, a way to claim a piece of you in the silence that hung between you.

“Sweetie, I get it, I really do! You’re tired. Who wouldn’t be after a night like that, huh?” he said, leaning so close like he didn’t care about your personal space, arms braced on either side of your plate. “Whew, what a show we put on!”

He took your chin in his hand, tilting your face up with a firm but not unkind grip. But his smile had faded, replaced by a thin line that spoke of his disappointment.

“But let’s not start the morning with cold shoulders and sad little silences, alright? This is a breakfast set, not a drama special!” he said, clearly wounded.

“I’m literally here against my will. I think I’m allowed to act however I want…” you replied flatly, not bothering to soften the truth. Not even the subtle sharpening of his fangs or the subtle shift in his form made you flinch. “Well. Clearly not.”

You pressed your fork into the last bite of pancake, raising it slowly to your mouth, your gaze meeting him as he took a step back. The confidence drained from his face. He looked stunned, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to put them and unsure what to say.

“I… have to go,” Tenna said, voice thin and trembling as though he were struggling to hold back tears.

He pulled his hands behind his back, trying to gather himself into something that still resembled confidence. Then, after a beat, he leaned in cautiously, tilting his head and offering his cheek, hovering just close enough for your breath to brush his skin.

“A kiss?” he asked, trying hard to mask the vulnerability beneath.

He could see you weren’t quite getting the hint or maybe you were, but you weren’t ready to give in. And deep down, he didn’t want to believe that. He needed that small gesture to hold himself together.

“Come on, sweetheart. Just one little smooch. MWAH! A small peck. For luck! Just a tiny little one. You wouldn’t want me to go through the day unlucky, would you?”

You stared at him, too stunned by his desperation to even form a response.

“Fine! Have fun in here you… you… YOU!” The words stumbled out of his mouth, the frustration rising, but it was clear he couldn’t quite bring himself to lash out.

Tenna wanted to shout, to throw every insult he could muster at you, but instead, all that came out was a broken sob.

He turned sharply, almost knocking a chair over in his haste, the sound of his footsteps heavy as he rushed out of the kitchen.

Then, with a deafening thud, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving the tension in the air thick and unresolved.

…

“What got you in such a rush you came here in your pajamas?” Mike joked, clearly stunned to see the big, crumpled figure standing in the doorway wasn’t the Tenna he had seen a week ago.

“I… I…” Tenna’s voice caught in his throat. He stared at the floor, breaths coming in shallow waves, hands trembling at his sides. “I can’t take it anymore, Mike. I can’t. I almost… I almost did something, and I—”

Mike stood immediately, voice dropping into something calm to soothe Tenna. “Okay, Tenna. I’m glad you came here, Let’s just sit and—”

“I tried, Mike. I really tried!” Tenna cut him off, his voice cracking with urgency. “I did everything you said. I stayed calm, I was patient, I was kind! But every time they look at me with those broken eyes…”

His hands shook as he pressed one to his chest, as if to hold himself together.

“It’s like something inside me rips apart. And I don’t know what to do, Mike. I don’t know who I am when they look at me like that. I feel like I’m the villain in their story. Did I do something wrong, Mike? Am I… am I a bad person? Because I feel like…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I feel like I’m a monster. Like I’m the devil himself.”

“I see,” Mike said gently, stepping forward with steady, measured steps. “You’re carrying something heavy, Tenna. I can hear it in your voice and I’m really glad you came to me with it.”

He motioned to the chair beside him, keeping his tone grounded and kind. “Take a seat, alright? Let me get you a glass of water first. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Tenna exhaled shakily and nodded, as if even that took effort. He moved to the chair, clearly too small for his large frame. He waited quietly, watching as Mike poured water into a familiar cup, the one that was always set aside just for him. After all these years, Tenna had come to respect him deeply. Even now, with his nerves frayed and his guilt threatening to boil over, Tenna held it in.

“Thank you,” Tenna murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you for not shutting the door on me.”

“Shut the door on you?” Mike echoed gently as he offered him the cup.

“I know… it’s stupid. You wouldn’t do that,” Tenna said, shaking his head with a bitter laugh.

Then he dropped his head, pressing a hand to his face, his screen going dark for a moment. Mike studied him quietly before speaking, carefully thinking about the next question.

“Is there someone you’re afraid would shut the door on you?” he asked softly, but the question sat heavily between them.

Mike asked as indirectly as he could, but it was clear who he meant. After all, Tenna talked about you constantly and somehow revealed almost nothing.

“Um, well… yes, maybe… I don’t know,” Tenna mumbled, taking a sip from his cup as his other hand absently dragged across his screen. “I’m always talking about them…”

Mike leaned forward slightly, voice still gentle and grounded. “They seem to be a very important presence in your life.”

Tenna simply nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Are you worried they might leave you?” Mike asked.

“No…” Tenna’s tone shifted to something flat. “They can’t do that…”

Tenna looked at Mike hoping for judgement, but instead, he only found reassurance as he always did.

“Could you talk to me more about that?” Mike asked gently, offering the calmest face he could muster, though he could feel the weight of Tenna’s odd energy pressing into the room.

Tenna suddenly pulled back. His arms wrapped tightly around his cup, almost protectively, as if it were the only thing anchoring him.

“Ah, um, talk more about what? About the upcoming show?” Tenna’s words were hurried, nearly tripping over themselves, desperate to change the subject. “Well, that’s gonna be a great one, haha! Really good! You know, it starts in a few minutes, maybe I should—”

“Tenna.”

Mike’s voice was firm, cutting through Tenna’s nervous babble. He had seen enough of this kind of behavior to know when someone was desperately trying to dodge a conversation and it wasn’t going to work.

“You know you don’t have to talk about it if you feel uncomfortable…” Mike’s smile softened, though there was a deeper thread of concern running beneath his words.

He pointed toward Tenna, noting his disheveled appearance: the funky pajamas, the slippers and the dressing gown.

“But something brought you here. Clearly in a rush. And I just want to listen to you. Maybe we can find a way out through this, okay?”

Tenna took a deep, shaky breath, his fingers absently scratching at the side of his screen, as though buying time. His mind raced, weighing the consequences of speaking openly about you. But then his thoughts flashed to the idea of being abandoned. The thought of losing Mike, his only loyal companion in this increasingly unstable world made the risk of speaking openly unbearable.

“Last week I found an old VHS,” Mike suddenly interjected, shifting the conversation’s focus in a subtle attempt to give Tenna some space. “It was so dusty I couldn’t even remember—”

“I’m scared, Mike.”

Tenna looked up at Mike as if looking for answers.

“I’m so fucking scared,” Tenna muttered, his voice shaking as his fingers twisted and fidgeted with his antennae, a nervous tic that had become his coping mechanism. “And it’s not even about being abandoned anymore. I can’t be loved. Not by them. They hate me. They fucking hate me. I made them hate me.”

Mike leaned forward slightly, his tone calm as he tried to bring Tenna’s more logical side back. “Where do you see this?”

“I know what I saw.” Tenna said, clearly agitated as he clenched his fists around his antennae. “The way they looked at me, Mike. You should’ve seen it. Those eyes… The way they fucking looked at me.” His voice broke slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to continue.

Mike stayed silent, giving Tenna the space he needed to piece together why he felt hated. Tenna’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as he scrambled to find any reason that wouldn’t reveal the truth.

“We were about to… um…you know,” Tenna trailed off, still oddly flustered when talking about sex despite his age. “After all, we had a very nice night together and… we wanted to try again. I thought everything was okay. But then I noticed… they were tricking me.”

“So you stopped having sex because you thought they were playing with you?” Mike repeated, though hearing it from him, it sounded more like Tenna had been the one to pull away.

“Well, yes..." Tenna fiddled with his fingers, clearly shy about it. “Said like that, I sound pretty stupid, huh? Really missed my chance to have... a bit of fun.”

They both shared a laugh, the tension easing slightly as the mood lightened.

“Thanks, Mike. Really,” Tenna said softly, genuinely appreciating his care even though his heart still felt heavy.

And just like that, another therapy session came to a close. Mike genuinely thought you liked him. After all, why else would you put up with his quirks and his overbearing attitude? To Mike, it seemed like the only logical conclusion.

The real reason behind your presence was something that remained locked away. There was no way Tenna could confess the lengths he went to, the manipulation, the control, the slow and careful process through which he ensnared you in his twisted little world. Maybe he wasn’t even aware of it.

One thing was sure, he wouldn’t risk showing too much of his self to Mike, not when it meant revealing his darkest thoughts. And so, every time a session ended, Tenna left more delusional than before, clutching to the fragile idea that despite everything you might still care. Despite the way things had gotten, despite the tension between you, he could still fantasize about your love.

The sessions weren’t really about making progress, but they helped Tenna weather the storms and those recurring crises that threatened his life... or someone else’s. And Mike, with his well meaning but utterly unqualified approach, was the closest thing Tenna had to a friend.

…

Tenna stepped back into the studio, already feeling a bit more like himself now that he was dressed in his usual attire. The static in his mind had started to settle, his focus sharpening with renewed purpose.

Today will be a good day.

He told himself that as he straightened his yellow tie and adjusted the lapels of his shiny red jacket, as if the act alone could give him more confidence.

Today will be a good day.

He just had to try harder. Be more patient. Give you space when you needed it. Make himself easier to love. Maybe then, you’d speak to him again.

Yes. Today will be a good day after all!

He’d take you out tonight. Candles, soft jazzy music, a nice bottle of wine and maybe some good old fashioned but not less romantic missionary to finish off the night perfectly. That would fix everything, wouldn’t it?

With that fragile optimism cradled in his chest, Tenna pushed open the door, expecting to be greeted by the quiet hum of preparations and the familiar warmth of routine. But just as he was about to close it behind him, something caught his attention.

Just beyond the doorway, near the vending machine, he heard your voice. You were chatting with that weather bastard, Lanino. Why were you here? And more importantly… with him? Again?????

This was supposed to be a good day…

Maybe the words you said were meaningless, but they ignited Tenna’s insecurity in an instant. Then you laughed without any care and that was it. His body tensed, lips tightening as the sound twisted in his chest like a knife. And just like that, he snapped and started walking toward you.

This was going to be a good day and you fucking ruined it!

The sound of his footsteps were loud enough to be heard by you, but you didn’t turn. Lanino, however, recognized those angry footsteps instantly. His calm expression shifted, the smile faltering as his eyes opened just enough to reveal concern.

Tenna came to a halt beside you both, inserting himself between you and Lanino like a physical barrier. His presence was clearly saying that none of this was welcome here. And when his screen went blank, it was obvious he wanted Lanino out before he changed his mind and ripped his ribcage apart.

“What are you doing here?” Tenna asked, voice flat and cold as he lowered his dark screen to meet you at eye level.

You blinked once, as if just now registering his existence.

“Oh. It’s you,” you said, not bothering to hide the disinterest in your voice. “Hi, Mr. Tenna.”

Tenna’s screen flickered back to color as he processed what you said, revealing a stunned expression that was impossible to hide.

Mr. Tenna?

The name echoed in his mind like a slap. It was too cold and professional for someone who had buried his cock deep inside you, over and over again until you were swollen and his cum was dripping out of you.

His screen buzzed erratically, like a broken TV struggling to hold a signal.

Just last night, you were moaning my name between my sheets, taking me so well, acting like you really fucking loved me.

But before he could speak, you went on as if he wasn’t even standing there, your attention still fixed on Lanino.

“Good thing things are back to normal,” you said, brushing some leftover chocolate from your fingertips. “I couldn’t stand seeing her all sad on the weather broadcasts.”

You bit off the last piece of your candy bar, chewing slowly. You wanted to keep talking to Lanino, but he chuckled nervously, clearly aware of the tension thickening in the air around him.

Lanino’s eyes darted between the two of you. He wasn’t a fool. He could feel the edges closing in.

“I’m gonna go now, good luck!” he said quickly.

His gaze flicked to you, then back to Tenna, where it lingered just long enough to stir his fear.

“And... bye, Mr. Tenna,” he added hastily, offering the words like a peace offering.

He turned and walked off with efficient strides, too fast to be called casual. And then it was just you again. You and Mr. Tenna.

He stood there, silent for a moment, the white noise of his screen filling the space between you.

“What were you doing with that—”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about it,” you cut in, already sounding bored. “Not again.”

His mouth pulled back slightly, revealing the tips of those absurdly pointed fangs. Even if there was nothing funny about the way his breathing was growing louder by the second, you kept toying with him.

“Don’t be so jealous now,” you said, nudging his arm playfully. “Elnina and Lanino are back together for another weather broadcast.”

“They’re... together?” he repeated, his voice almost distorted but at the same time he sounded relieved.

“Yes, you heard that right,” you said airily, spinning on your heel like you were already halfway gone. “Oh! Also, I borrowed some clothes from your closet. How did you even know my size? These fit like a glove!” you asked playfully, casting a glance over your shoulder.

“You like it?” Tenna asked, his voice tinged in awe, lost in the way the fabric seemed to hug your body in the right places.

He had bought those clothes for you long ago, imagining how they would look on you, but you looked far better than he had ever pictured. Absolutely stunning. Yet, if only you had known him back then, it wouldn’t have felt so… unsettling.

“They’re not really my style, I’m afraid,” you added, lips curling into a playful mockery. “But they’re somehow perfect for my show.”

You didn’t even look back. Didn’t need to. You could feel him growing behind you. Literally. Even smoke hissed from the corners of his screen, as if the glass itself was burning from the inside. It crept toward you, acrid smoke tickling the edge of your nose.

“Wh-what? Your... s-show?” he stammered, his voice quickly turning sharp with anger again.

“Yes, everyone agreed,” you replied coolly, smoothing the wrinkles from your outfit like nothing. “I should be going anyway.”

You rose on your toes, leaning just close enough, cheek turned ever so slightly toward him.

“A kiss for luck?”

A twitch ran through Tenna’s body and his screen flashed violently, glitching between distorted color bars and snarling white noise.

“No, n-no… NO!” Tenna’s voice cracked sharply. “This is supposed to be my show! MY show! It’s time for Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s TV Time, not yours—AAAH!”

Suddenly, you grabbed his tie and yanked him down. The motion silenced him instantly. His feet shifted uneasily, thrown off balance by the force of the motion, hands twitching uselessly at his sides as you pulled him close enough to bring him to eye level.

“What, Mr. Tenna?” you cooed.

Tenna’s mouth parted in shock, trying and failing to form a response. The sharp lines of dominance in your posture made something stir in him, his anger disappearing in an instant as he was back where he belonged.

“You wanted me to wait for you, hmm?” you went on, low and slow, your hand still curled tight in his tie. “Sitting alone in your dusty little house, watching your stupid excuse for a show on that old TV, wiping down the windows while you’re out pretending you’re a star?”

His breathing grew erratic, his frame twitching, but he wasn’t even trying to pull away.

“And then what?” you continued, tilting your head slightly, your grip still tight on his tie. “You come stumbling home with a bucket of roses or fucking poppies, because that’s your twisted idea of romance? Oh, and then we fuck missionary style to finish off the day!”

His voice, when it came, was weak and trembling under the weight of both desire and humiliation. “I... I... What is t-this, sweetheart—?”

“Don’t you sweetheart me!”

You let your gaze drift downward, noting the prominent bulge straining against Tenna’s pants. A slow, knowing smile curved at your lips as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, feeling the tension in his legs as they wavered, barely able to hold him upright under the weight of the sensation. Tenna’s breath caught in his throat, a tremor running through his body as your fingers lingered near the waistband.

“You want someone who is always there to suck your cock, hm?” you murmured, your hand trailing lower and deliberately slow, just to feel the tautness of his clothed erection under your touch.

“Ngghgh... wait, aaah!... That’s not what I—” Tenna stammered, his breath catching as his color bar blush intensified.

“What is it then, Mr. Tenna?” You pulled him closer, your lips hovering just above his, so close that his shaky breath mingled with yours. “I thought you wanted an obedient pet. One who’s always ready to do what you want and be used.”

“My love…” His head darted nervously from side to side, his body trembling with a mixture of restraint and desire. “Anyone could hear you…”

“Or see you like this…” you whispered, your hand closing firmly around the bulge straining beneath his pants. He lifted slightly with the motion, a sharp breath escaping him, as if wrestling for control.

He looked down at your hand, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard, the pressure building within him. As always, Tenna was barely holding onto control after just a hint of teasing.

“Please, d-dear… my sweetest,” he breathed, his voice low and thick with desperation. “Come to my private room. Right now. We can be as loud as we please there.”

He closed the distance between you, his fingers brushing your hand away from his tie with a slow movement that hinted he wanted to be back in charge.

“Ah-ah, Mr. Tenna…” You smirked, a teasing note passing through your voice as you pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.

You held your ground, your gaze sharp and unyielding, your lips curling into a challenge, as if daring him to push further.

“You really think I’d abandon my show… for just a taste of you?”

“Come here, you… you…” Tenna growled, his breath ragged as his hands gripped your arms and pushed you against the wall, the heat of his body seeping into you.

He pressed himself against you, his lips crashing into yours in a desperate attempt to end the teasing. And for a moment, you let yourself give in, relishing the taste of his lips once again and the sight of him all desperate for you, rubbing his hard cock against you as if nothing else mattered. Not that it mattered to him at least, considering you were in the middle of the main hall, where anyone could walk in to get something from the vending machine and catch you both in the act.

"Woah, there!” you laughed, tilting your face just out of reach, though the tension between you both hung in the air. “Weren’t you the one who was worried about being heard?”

Tenna’s body shifted, trying to keep his composure, fighting against the rush of desire that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I… I d-don’t know anymore,” he gasped, tugging at his belt as if it would help him think more clearly. “You really enjoy playing with me in every fucking way, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Maybe…” you purred, fluttering your lashes just enough to make his breath catch. “But I’ve always had a weakness for rewarding a good boy. Especially when he knows exactly how to behave.”

“Oh, um… I… am I? W-was I?” he stammered, his voice catching as he fumbled with his collar, unsure whether he was nervous or just a little too eager to hear your answer.

“Keep acting like this, Mr. Tenna…” you murmured, letting a finger glide slowly along his tie, as if offering a subtle promise and a hint of what was coming. “…and I might just give you something far better than a kiss on the cheek before we clock in for today’s program.”

Tenna stood there, caught in the tension of the moment, torn between his desires and the restraint he wasn’t sure he wanted to maintain. He could already feel the pull of his fantasy, his cock throbbing at the mere thought of taking you to his private studio, bending you over his mirror table and watching your reflection moan his name as he claimed you.

But just as quickly, the thought of silencing that urge and being the good boy you seemed to want made him hesitate. The silence stretched, and he wondered if staying still and holding back would somehow bring him closer to what he truly craved.

He had to admit that there was an undeniable pleasure rooted in him in the control you held over him. And if the way to keep you content was to surrender, to give himself over completely to your desires, then so be it. As long as you stayed close and continued to feed that insatiable hunger for your attention, he would gladly be yours. Your attention starved pet. Willing, waiting and entirely at your feet.

#i love this style of writing😭

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pupumath57 · 26 days ago

Text

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 3

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Summary: It’s time for another one of Tenna’s entertaining shows! (keeping it short to avoid spoilers!)

Warnings: Evil sexy Tenna (is this a spoiler?). I’m really trying to take the slow burn approach, but the influence of pornification has taken its toll on me. I can’t seem to help but make these chapters feel more sexual than intended. So... 18+

Notes: I can’t decide if I want him to be completely unhinged or a sweet cutie patootie, so I think I’ll stick with this mood swinging version of him. Honestly, I think it suits him pretty well.

Word count: Almost 4K

Blending in was an impossible task. After all, you were the only one here who even remotely resembled a human. Every strange creature turned its gaze as you passed, their stares making you feel even more exposed than when you were under the gleaming lights of Tenna’s show.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from behind. “I was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

You turned to see who it was and it was none other than that sunshiny man, his glow still nearly blinding as before. But this time, something was different. He seemed dimmer somehow, as if the light he carried was weighed down by sadness.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t tell my boss…” He clasped his hands in a feeble attempt at an apology, but his eyes were elsewhere, clouded with worry. It was clear his job was the least of his concerns.

“I wasn’t planning to and don’t worry, I can handle myself just fine.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed, though it was hard to tell if it was genuine. “Maybe I should try some of that independence too! Yes, I don’t need her!”

“Are we talking about Elnina?”

His smile faltered, and in an instant, he was sobbing like a child.

“Don’t mind me,” he choked out between deep sobs. “I’m just going to cry for a little while.”

“Are you... do you need anything?” You glanced around, scratching your neck awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice surprisingly sincere. “My boss said I should assist you.”

“Well then,” you said, quickly thinking of a way to get rid of him. “I need you to be well rested. So, I suppose that’s my first request. Go have some fun, or get some sleep. Whatever you prefer.”

“Really?” He seemed a little less sad after hearing you. “Maybe we could go somewhere? Grab a drink... talk.. maybe hug… and cry.”

“I was actually thinking about getting some fresh air,” you replied, taking a step back. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“I understand, I’m sorry... I’m just a little desperate. I’ve never really known how to be alone, and Elnina just left me and—” His voice caught and he broke down, sobbing once again.

As if it were your responsibility, you pulled him into a hug. It took a long time for him to calm down. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of this place grow heavier and more real with each passing moment.

Is this really a dream?

You gently patted his back, but just as you did, a cough echoed from somewhere nearby.

You half expected it to be his girlfriend (now ex) Elnina, and braced yourself for one of those dramatic telenovela moments you secretly loved. But instead, it was Tenna, and his smile seemed a bit... off.

You were surprised to see him there, out of the program, but the paper cup of water in his hand hinted he was on a break.

Tenna’s TV head darted between the two of you, that odd smile tightening at the corners of the screen. You could practically feel the jealousy radiating off him. It was ridiculous, considering the two of you hadn’t even had your first date. Still, the way he looked at you, it was as if he had caught you cheating.

You stopped patting Lanino’s back, suddenly self conscious under Tenna’s presence. Lanino noticed the change immediately. He turned, saw his boss standing there, and quickly took a step back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his blue coat.

“Boss,” Lanino said awkwardly, still avoiding looking at Tenna. “I’m afraid the weather broadcast has to be suspended. Lanina and I... we broke up.”

Tenna barely registered the words. The weather broadcast? He couldn’t care less. He could handle that himself. More screen time for him, anyway. No, what stuck in his mind was the image of you and Lanino hugging. Too close. Waaaaaaay too close.

“It’s not like people just decide break up,” Tenna said flatly, not bothering to soften his tone. “There’s always someone who starts it. Someone to blame.”

Lanino glanced at you, then back at his boss, visibly trying not to cry again. Your jaw tightened as you shot Tenna a sharp glare. Showing a little respect to his employees wouldn’t kill him.

“Maybe,” you said firmly, clearly willing to defend Lanino. “But it takes two to tango, so don’t just dump it all on one person.”

The air thickened between the three of you, charged and uncomfortable. You could see the tension in Tenna’s posture. His shoulders were rigid, fists clenched tightly behind his back like he was barely holding himself together by force alone. His form was changing, expanding steadily until he loomed over the two of you, larger and more imposing with every shaky breath that escaped his mouth.

“Ah, yes... it takes two to tango,” he echoed, his tone dry and tight with sarcasm. “But it only takes one to shred the life aspirations you built together!”

Lanino flinched, and you felt the heat of Tenna’s attention return to you, almost suffocating now. His smile stretched just a bit too wide, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a pair of sharp fangs.

“Well, if one of them was forced into a life they never asked for...” you shot back, “...what exactly were you expecting?”

“It’s not their fault if they can’t keep their promises!” Tenna snapped, his antennae twitching with rage as he crushed the paper cup in one hand, water spilling between his fingers.

Somehow, the argument had veered into something deeper, more personal. The words coming out of your mouths barely matched the topic of Lanino and Elnina anymore. It felt like you were both defending yourselves against people you didn’t want to put a name on. Maybe even ghosts from your past.

“Hey,” Lanino said softly, his voice small and uncertain. He fiddled with his fingers, eyes flickering nervously between the two of you. “I think I’m just going to go apologize to Elnina.”

Before you could say anything to Lanino, he was already gone, leaving you and Tenna alone in the awkwardness of the moment.

Tenna took a slow, deliberate breath, pressing his hands together in something like a prayer. He was trying to calm himself and to his credit, it seemed to be working. His form shifted subtly, shrinking just enough to make him seem a little less monstrous.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said calmly, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I got carried away.”

The apology wasn’t especially heartfelt, but something about his softened tone and the fact that the fangs were no longer visible told you it was smart to stay on his good side, at least for now. If you wanted to escape this place, Tenna wasn’t someone you could afford to make an enemy of.

“I could say the same,” you replied, taking a cautious step closer. His form felt a lot less threatening now. “I just want to forget all of this… and enjoy our date.”

“I wish we could just go now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and tired as he gently took your hand. You could still feel the dampness from the cup he had crushed. “But I have to finish the program.”

“I’ll wait for you then,” you said with a gentle smile, taking his hand in both of yours.

“Ah-ah!” He raised a finger, wagging it with a sly smirk. “It wasn’t such a great idea to leave you alone, was it?”

His smile faltered, the mockery fading to reveal the frustration simmering beneath his playful exterior.

“You’re coming with me.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, dragging you down the hallway with an urgency that was almost too forceful. Anger radiated off him with every step, each movement charged with barely contained agitation. Before you could find the words to calm him, you were already behind the curtains, waiting for the next part of the program.

“We’re starting in a minute. It isn’t any more difficult than what you’ve seen. So just stay calm. You can do this.” He said it all with a rush, his words lacking the enthusiasm they had when you first met.

What was the program about?

Fuck. If only you had stayed in his studio.

You flashed a smile, hoping it looked convincing, and prayed he wouldn’t ask you anything too specific. You’d have to play along, trusting you could improvise your way through whatever he had planned.

“Remember what I said at the beginning of the program?” His voice was sharp, laced with tension. “I’d like you to say it with me at the same time.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, his tone making it clear he expected you to know exactly what he meant and that you should already be prepared.

You simply nodded, trying to hide the fact that you had no idea what he was talking about.

“So, 3... 2... 1...” he counted, his smile almost too enthusiastic to be believable. “It’s TV time—”

“It’s TV time!” you blurted out quickly, forcing your voice to match his energy.

But he wasn’t a fool. The moment the words left your mouth, his smile twisted knowingly. In this mood, he could detect lies better than any polygraph ever could.

“You haven’t watched the program, have you?” His voice faltered as he turned his back to you, a flash of disappointment crossing his face.

For a brief moment, his form seemed to shrink, as if the weight of the moment had deflated him. He looked defeated, like his favorite contestant had just let him down.

“Does no one watch TV anymore?!” he cried, the anger in his voice barely masking his pain.

Tenna moved without a word, his footsteps almost too quiet. He opened a nearby closet and pulled out a spotless apron, the kind meant more for a show than for everyday life. Stepping behind you, he slipped it over your head with more exasperation in his movements than necessary.

Then his hands found the straps at your back. He pulled them tight into a ribbon until the fabric hugged your waist snugly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his anger.

“Do we say it’s TV time as soon as we walk on stage, or… wait a little?” you asked, uncertain, stepping closer to Tenna, who was rummaging through the closet for another apron.

“Forget about that,” he said, turning to you with a serious look, an apron dangling from one hand. “Just try to play along.”

He quickly tied on a leather apron for himself, then glanced at you with something like disappointment before disappearing behind the curtain.

What is wrong with this man?

You’d realized, perhaps too soon, that beneath the confident stage persona was a deeply insecure man, unsettled by the mere thought of not being the center of attention. And even though you hated the thought of being anything but sincere, you knew you’d have to turn the right dials to get out of here. You had seen it earlier, how he melted under your compliments like a starved dog, desperate for affection.

So this is how things are going to be like? Fine. Fuck it. If that’s what he wants, I’ll make him beg for attention.

You entered the set a moment after Tenna, but he was already in his element, running the show like he’d been born to do nothing else.

The transformation of the set caught you off guard. Where there had once been flashing lights and a giant TV screen, there was now a cozy kitchen. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of colorful spices and neatly stacked bowls. A soft, golden light spilled across the kitchen counter, giving everything an almost homely glow. The air even smelled faintly of cinnamon and something sweet you couldn’t quite place.

Tenna moved through the space with practiced ease, speaking to the camera like he’d never lost control for a second. With a dazzling smile and a baked pie already in hand, he glided around the kitchen like it was his stage.

“Well now, folks, I know you’ve been waiting patiently for the next step in our delightful culinary adventure,” he purred, his voice smooth and sweet like sugar. “But first, I’d like to take a moment to introduce someone very special and clearly too good looking to be kept behind the scenes..”

He turned toward you with a theatrical flair, gesturing like a magician unveiling his assistant.

“If you’ve been tuning in today, and I do hope you have...” he said, voice dropping on the last line. “You might recognize them from our quiz show earlier!”

You matched his energy with an equally grand bow, playing the part to perfection.

“Ladies and germs, give (Y/n) the kind of welcome only a live studio can deliver!” he said with a playful lilt, clearly enjoying himself.

The audience cheered like they were getting paid for it.

Tenna took your hand and guided you to center stage, positioning you behind the counter like a co-host who’d always been part of the program.

“And now,” he continued, slipping effortlessly back into his presenter voice, though his face was fixed on you, as if you were the real ingredient he was savoring. “Onto the toppings.”

Tenna smiled charmingly, as if nothing had happened or maybe he was just masking his anger with the practiced ease of a seasoned actor. With someone as unpredictable as him, it was nearly impossible to be certain.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, voice low and smooth beside your ear. “I’ll make sure you get every step just right.”

He moved behind you, closer than necessary. You could feel the heat of him at your back and the soft rustle of his apron as he leaned in, clearly ready to guide you through the process.

“Could you grab the bowl with the heavy cream, sweetheart? he murmured, his voice husky and warm.

His warm breath caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The way he said it made something as simple as picking up a bowl feel suddenly intimate.

“You’re doing great, darling,” he complimented, his hand settling lightly on the small of your back, a gesture far too familiar for someone you barely knew.

His touch lingered in your skin even after he pulled back and you couldn’t help the flutter of nerves rising in your chest.

Maybe, just like Tenna, I crave this kind of attention too.

His hand reached for a mixer and passed it to you, not without accidentally letting his fingers brush against yours, though it felt just a little too intentional to be a mistake.

“And don’t forget, folks. Your heavy cream needs to be extra cold, just like your ex’s heart!” he said, turning to the camera with a practiced smile.

H̸͚̦̀́̊̕A̷̢͎͒̍A̸͎͎͒͋́͘a̶̞̜̳͌̓̿a̷͇͍̣̗̎Â̵̛͙̌̕H̸̠̑͋̏̊A̶͍̟͠H̵͓̪͊̉͒͗Ą̸͑H̴̩͙̲̩̃A̷̫̼͊̊͜A̶̰̺͖͓̽̿̓a̸̺̪͇͐͒a̴̜̹͛̾̆͠A̶͙͉͚̩͗͝À̵̤́͘A̵̟̭̜͛̇̿̏͜ḧ̷̙̩͙̯́̌̓̔á̵̖͌͘?̴͔͒̄͜͝??

“You’ll know your cream is ready once you start seeing those nice, stiff peaks!” Tenna announced, his attention focused on the camera, but off screen, behind the counter, his hands were slowly traveling down your waist.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the dinner and flowers first kind of man? Maybe it was the camera that gave him the confidence he lacked off screen, like a stage to become the man he wished he was.

You were still a little lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch lingering, distracting you from the task at hand. It wasn’t until he gave your hip a gentle squeeze that you snapped back to reality.

“Darling, um...” he murmured, his voice still soft as his lips brushed just near your ear. “I think you forgot to turn the mixer on.”

BZZZZZZZZ (don’t worry, if there’s ever a chapter with sex toys, I promise I won’t use this sound effect)

The low hum of the mixer vibrated through your fingers, through the bowl, through you.

“Lovely, just like that,” he whispered, his hand resting gently on your waist. “You’re doing great. Don’t stop.”

His breath ghosted against your neck, his body too close behind you and the sudden nearness made your grip falter.

Maybe it was the words he’d chosen that threw off your focus just enough that your fingers slipped. The mixer wobbled in your grasp, then sputtered.

With a sudden spray, whipped cream splattered in every direction: your hands, your apron, the counter, and even a bold streak across your cheek.

“Well, dear,” Tenna purred, his grin slow and shameless, his voice just soft enough to pretend he wasn’t coming on to you. “That’s definitely one way to whip it... though I usually save that kind of energy for more intimate settings.”

Still holding your waist, he turned to the camera and adjusted his tie with a jittery motion, as if trying to mask his flustered state.

“Mike, can we even air this, or will the censors come for us? Because I am equal parts horrified and incredibly turned on.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, lips twitching. It wasn’t funny, except it absolutely was. The absurdity of it all cracked something open, and before you could stop yourself, you laughed. A genuine laugh. Loud and without control, coming from somewhere deep.

Tenna moved beside you to face you, then smiled. It was softer this time, less of the camera perfect grin and more vulnerable.

“There it is,” he said, his hand gently cupping your face in a reassuring way. “I was wondering when I’d get to hear that.”

He gently brushed a streak of cream from your cheek with a towel, clearly savoring the rare intimacy of the moment. You watched him, only to realize his screen was just as splattered, streaked with creamy smudges.

“I don’t know whether to be mortified or impressed,” you said, your eyes still on him as he carefully cleaned you off, his attention entirely focused on you.

“I think you should be impressed,” he teased, his tone almost affectionate now. “You’ve got a talent for making a mess look dangerously interesting.”

You smirked, still a little flustered by the way his words carried that unmistakable flirtation.

“Well, someone has to balance out your perfection, right?”

His voice hummed with a quiet chuckle, so real it was almost too sweet to believe.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, booping your nose with a playful grin. “But I’ll take the compliment, sweetheart.”

His hand moved to untie the ribbon at your back, slipping the dirty apron off with ease before he turned back to the camera or rather somewhere off screen. With a sharp gesture, he signaled for the filming to stop.

“Mike!” he called, his voice louder than necessary. “We need backup with this whipped cream situation!”

From the shadows, you heard a muffled, incomprehensible murmur.

“What do you mean there’s no more heavy cream?” he snapped, his hands landing firmly on his hips in mock indignation.

a̷̼͙̖͕̦̦͉̣͓̱̱̹̜̿̽͋̂̃̎̋͗͑f̷̛͔̹͓̀̈̌̓̌́̄̿̀͒̀̿͠͝d̶̛̲̗͆̀̿̏̏g̷̬͙̮̞̺̤͓͇̼͎̫̋̀̂̈́̂̐͐̅͐̍̎̈́̏̚̚ḩ̸̨̛̪̯̫̰͚̜͉̒͋͆̀́̅͌͗̓̅͒̀̉̋f̶̱̩͎̳̋͐̎̀̾̽̋͠ǧ̴̭͕̭̬͙̦͈͈̟͙̲͙̈́d̸͚̺̫̝͓̭̰̞͓̔͊̔̂͛͝f̷͕̻̩̹̩̜͙̜̯͊͒́̅͘̕̕s̸̨̺͉͕̜̙̙̮͖͇̤̫̻̈́̀̔̋͂̀͊̌̓͝ͅã̴͖̝̑̆́͐̐̃̍͑̒̒̚̚͜d̴̡͇̦̼͔̒͐k̶̙̜͇̋̃͐̈́́́̓̄̃͘ḩ̷͇̯̯̆̏̀g̶̦̀͂͑f̶̯͈͕̳̼́̅͠͝j̶̧̭̖̦̞̘̝͓͎̍̽̋̔͐̅̐̊̀̽̿͋̕h̷̡̜̦̞̯͔̟̩͕̝̟̞̭̳̊́̀̌͊̈́ͅg̸͓̾̄̋̔͗̔̕͝f̷̛͍̫͉͖̂͐̂̓̀̓d̴̨̨͖̲̹̠̬̟̩̱͉̙̹̃͒̾̃́͋è̴̩͚̱̀̑͑͆͌̐͘w̶̢̧̮͔̜͙͎̙͇͑̂͆̈́͋͆́̾́̽͆̄̔͜t̵̗̝̫̠̎̈̿̐͘͝͠͝͝ͅr̵͙̤̖̀̑͠y̴̹͇͐̕h̴͕͓͊f̶̝͌̒̌̂̆̓͒̍̍̀̽̕ŵ̴̭̘͚̥͚͔͉̭̩̣̲̐̽̔͑̅͘͝ͅe̵̛͇̜̐̑͊̈́̓̐̌͑̑͛͆̔͝f̸͙̲͚͇̪̻͔͈͚̅͋̍̑̐̐͋̃͋̃͜͝g̸̨̡̫̝̙̥͍̙͈͚̫̮̖͖̐̐͝

“Okay, okay…” he sighed, clearly resigned to the fact that the pie wouldn’t be happening. “Then just play some random VHS after the commercial break.”

With that, Tenna slipped off his apron and left it on the counter, leaning against it casually.

“Look,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, though a smile curled at the corners of his lips. “If you couldn’t wait for our date, you could’ve just said so. I would’ve played the VHS before baking the pie.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle the smile that tugged at your lips. “And here I thought you really cared about the program.”

Tenna leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “With a date with you on my mind, it’s hard to care about anything else.”

Suddenly, Tenna pulled you closer into his body, squeezing you tight in an embrace. He breathed in deeply, clearly relaxed and happy, as if the future with you was full of promise and excitement.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?” he murmured, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his pointy nose, clearly lost in the affection of the moment.

But before you could reply, Mike’s strange voice cut in from the shadows.

Tenna’s antennae, which had been resting loosely, sprang upright with a sharp jolt. He hadn’t realized Mike was still there.

“Give it a rest, Mike, and get yourself a life!” Tenna barked, his head snapping toward Mike with an furious glare.

He whirled back to you almost immediately, his expression shifting into something far more controlled, as if trying to recapture the moment.

“Where were we, my dear?” he asked, voice quiet and tender as he brushed his knuckle gently along your cheekbone. “Ah yes. The date. How could I forget?”

You smiled, a sense of relief already blooming in your chest at the thought of finally seeing what was out there and maybe enjoying it all under the glow of candlelight in the company of this strange, charismatic man.

“Um, how do I put this,” he backed away slightly, his expression turning a bit more serious. “It’s quite late in the night and I don’t think any restaurants are open.”

Tenna strolled over to the fridge, peering inside with an exaggerated level of scrutiny. He clicked his tongue, then moved to the nearby shelves, rummaging through boxes and tins like he was on a mission.

“But worry not, my dear,” he said, spinning on his heel with an armful of ingredients: packets of noodles, a few vegetables, and some spices. “I have a backup plan.”

You stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said cheerfully. “This will be a night to remember.”

You’d already made your culinary skills known earlier, and judging by the determined curve in his smile, he wanted to impress you. Maybe even surprise you.

“Wait for me in the movie room, sweetheart,” he added, fastening his apron with a quick tug. “I won’t take very long.”

There was an edge to his words, like he was warning you. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Where is that?” you asked, silently hoping it was far from the stage.

“It’s close, actually. Just out this door and to the right. Can’t miss it!”

He clasped his hands with enthusiasm, as if the idea of a more casual date was even more exciting to him.

You gave him a smile and nodded, but as you turned to leave, his hand suddenly closed around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh, and before you go,” Tenna said, his voice now lower, laced with a faint buzz of static. “I hope you don’t get lost this time...”

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