#deltarune/reader

[bananasplit133]

Dial T for Tenna

Ant Tenna/Reader

Summary: You’re hired to be Tenna’s emotional liaison—a corporate stress ball for a TV star known for explosive tantrums. Despite his fierce resistance and fear of losing fame, you patiently absorb his outbursts and fears, slowly earning his reluctant trust. Your job isn’t to fix him, but to keep him afloat—and somehow, that makes all the difference.

AO3 link

__________

“ WHAT!? I DON’T NEED AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT LIGHTNER! WHAT WOULD THE AUDIENCE THINK?! ”

The figure with the TV-shaped head practically shrieked , his screen flickering wildly between harsh static and a burning red glow. His fists slammed onto the glossy conference room table with enough force to rattle the papers scattered across it. The higher-ups remained unmoved, their faces trained in professional calm — clearly, this wasn’t their first time weathering one of Tenna’s infamous tantrums. One of them even exchanged a knowing glance with another, their patience worn but not broken.

“Mr. Tenna,” a tired voice finally cut through the tension, a middle-aged woman adjusting her glasses with deliberate slowness. On her blouse rested a nametag labeled ‘Kairos.’”Her tone was firm but not unkind, the kind of voice used when dealing with someone prone to theatrics. “You had a breakdown on-air last week because your intro jingle was played in mono. What do you think the audience thinks of that?”

Tenna’s screen dimmed slightly, like a flickering heartbeat. He threw his head back with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, as if protecting himself from the words. “It wasn’t a breakdown! It was a performance piece ! ART, I tell you!” His voice cracked somewhere between indignation and desperation. He pivoted to glance sideways at the conference room windows as if searching for some invisible applause or sympathy from the empty hallway outside.

The woman’s lips twitched into a small, unconvinced smile, but her tone hardened as she pressed on. “You almost stepped on a spectator during one of your... outbursts.” Her voice had an edge now, the kind that cuts through denial like a knife.

“We were lucky that… Mike, was it? … was quick to switch to the standby screen. There are still people who attended the live show and thought the whole thing was part of the act,” she said, her voice lowering. “But it wasn’t. It was chaos, and it could’ve ended badly.”

Tenna’s flickering face shifted into something almost like regret, but it was swallowed quickly by a flare of defensiveness. “They didn’t understand the nuance of the moment,” he said, voice dropping to a low growl, “the audience loved it. Or at least, they should have.”

You sat silently in the corner, clutching your clipboard like a shield against the storm of static and emotion filling the room. You studied him— him , the man called Mr. Tenna—livewire in a cheap suit, a walking television set full of ego, noise, and drama wrapped in flickering static. At least, that was what the audience saw. What they didn’t see were the cracks beneath that flashing exterior, the meltdowns nobody talked about. You wouldn’t be here if he were fine, of course.

Clearing your throat, you stepped forward, voice small but steady. “Hi. I’m—”

Suddenly, he whipped around with a jolt, screen flashing erratically like an angry broadcast signal losing control. “ You’re the therapy human?” His voice dripped with revulsion and disbelief, and for a being without eyes, you could’ve sworn his gaze was burning right through you.

You forced a slight smile, trying your best to seem friendly and approachable despite the electric tension crackling between you. “I prefer emotional liaison, actually,” you said, hoping that a little humor might ease the edge. You had about… one day until you’d be working together, and starting on good terms seemed like the smartest move.

He recoiled as if you’d slapped him, the static on his screen suddenly buzzing louder. “ You prefer being a corporate babysitter ?!” His tone was scandalized, almost theatrical in its outrage. “Do I look like I need coddling?! I am the FACE of this network!” His fists clenched so tightly you thought the cables behind him might snap.

A voice muttered from the back of the room, barely audible over the static crackle but impossible to ignore: “And that face almost squashed a person to death last Thursday.” A dry chuckle rippled through the others, but Tenna’s flickering screen turned cold, as if stung by the reminder.

He growled lowly, almost threateningly, but something in his body language softened — a tiny, imperceptible shift in his posture. Did he shrink a bit or are your eyes playing tricks on your mind? The glare flickered for a split second into something unreadable, before the storm of static roared back louder than ever.

The room fell quiet after the comment, a heavy kind of silence that made your skin feel tight. You gripped your clipboard tighter, your fingers digging into the edges without realizing it.

Tenna’s screen flickered with static, and though he didn’t have eyes, you felt the weight of his glare like heat pressed against your skin. The higher-ups exchanged tired looks but said nothing—this wasn’t the first time they’d had to deal with one of his outbursts, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

The tension in the room was thick, like everyone was waiting for him to explode again or collapse entirely, but he just sat there, fists clenched on the table, his screen pulsing red with every shallow breath you could almost hear.

Finally, Kairos cleared her throat, her voice low and even as she broke the silence. “Tenna, nobody’s denying you’re the star. The ratings speak for themselves. But the breakdowns, the outbursts—they’re starting to take a toll on the show and on you. You can’t keep going like this and expect everything to hold together.” Her eyes met his flickering screen with a steady calm, like she was trying to get through to him without triggering another meltdown.

Tenna wheezed in response, a short burst of static crackling across the room. “Breakdowns? Those were.. performances . If I toned it down, the audience would lose interest. They’d stop watching. Th - They can’t stop watching…” The faint white glow pulsed beneath his skin, quicker now—like a warning light struggling to stay steady.

Your fingers tightened on the clipboard.

You’d read the reports. Watched the clips. Heard the stories. You knew the warning signs. The shift in his tone, the flickering of his screen, the flickering red bleeding into violent static. The pitch of his voice was climbing now—desperate, not loud.

……

“They’d stop watching…”

That was it. That was the trigger.

You could see it happening like slow-motion—his shoulders rising with tension, screen pulsing erratically, hands twitching like they were trying to grasp onto something real before his mind unraveled. You could practically hear the wires buzzing behind his eyes.

This was it. Your cue.

You stood up slowly.

Tenna didn’t notice you at first. His fingers dug into the table, his voice sputtering out through waves of static like he was buffering his own panic.

“Th-The screen goes black, the audience stops caring, and then what? Will i just be forgotten forever?!”

His screen flashed violently now, looping between half-rendered animations—laugh tracks, applause, then sharp cuts of color bars and a black void with a lonely “NO SIGNAL” bouncing like a screensaver. It wasn’t just theatrics. It was fear.

Real, raw fear.

You set the clipboard down and took a careful step forward. “Hey…”

No response. His hands trembled, static warping the air around him like heat off a broken screen.

Another step.

“ hey ... big guy,” you said again, voice a little louder, but still soft. Not confrontational. Not challenging. “Take a breath.”

His head snapped toward you like a spotlight locking onto a performer mid-show. His screen froze on harsh red again. “What do you know about it? You don’t get it—people used to wait their whole week to see me! Prime time! I was the moment. Now people skip through me. Speed me up. Mute me. Forget me.”

He was spiraling. You could see it in the way his screen blinked so fast it was strobing. Another step. You were close now.

You raised your hands gently—like you were approaching a scared animal. “ Mr Tenna…”

“Don’t,” he snapped, but there was no fire in it. Only static. “Don’t say it’s okay. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

You were right in front of him now. Up close, he was still a tad taller than you, and when he wasn’t yelling, he looked… small. Like something burnt out behind the glass.

“Listen,” you said, “TV isn’t dead.”

His screen flickered into confusion.

You kept going. “Yeah, it’s changed. Sure, people scroll and tap and speed things up. But there’s always going to be people that love the screen. Who wait for a broadcast. Who feel something when a jingle plays just right. Hell…”

You gave a small, sheepish shrug, voice quieter now. “Even I still watch TV.”

His screen glitched.

“…You do?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Call me old-fashioned. But sometimes I just want to sit down and get lost in something. No skipping. No rewinding. Just letting a story carry me.”

His shoulders loosened, just slightly. The screen faded from red to a low, pulsing blue.

“I don’t want to replace you,” you added. “I just want to help you stay on the air.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then he let out a sound—not quite a laugh, but something close. A wheezy, half-scrambled chuckle, like an old VCR trying to play a warped tape.

His head tilted to the side, and his screen flickered again. A soft glow. A little animation—a TV with legs sitting on a couch, popcorn in hand.

“…You’re weird.”

You smiled. “Maybe a little.”

He slumped back into his chair with a mechanical sigh, one hand running down the side of his screen like he was physically powering himself down. The static fizzled out, leaving only a dim, flickering white glow.

“Fine,” he muttered. This didn’t happen. I wasn’t about to short-circuit or whatever you think you saw. If anyone asks, I was just... adjusting my contrast settings.”

“No promises,” you teased, tapping your clipboard gently. “But hey… thanks for not melting down.” Looks like your first paycheck will be an earned one.

He gave a soft static hum in response, barely audible.

Then, just before the silence could stretch too long, his screen lit up with one final message, typed in clunky, retro font:

THANKS FOR WATCHING.

And this time, it wasn’t sad.

…

The static fizzled out.

Silence hung in the air, but this time, it didn’t crackle with tension. It was something softer. Tentative. Like the room was afraid to break whatever fragile truce had just been formed between chaos and calm.

Then a chair scraped quietly. Papers rustled. The higher-ups began shifting in their seats, murmuring among themselves in low voices, their once-stern faces now marked with something that might have been relief.

Kairos tapped the end of her pen against her clipboard, eyebrows raised in something close to approval. “Well,” she said, standing slowly. “That went… better than expected.”

“I thought he was going to overload again,” someone muttered.

“Or throw the table through the glass,” another added, half-joking, half-serious.

Kairos didn’t smile, but her expression softened as she looked at you. “Not bad, liaison. You might actually survive this gig.”

Another higher-up leaned toward her, murmuring just loud enough for you to hear: “Good call on this one. We might’ve found the right match for him.”

You didn’t say anything. You just nodded, still standing beside Tenna, whose glow had dimmed to a low white hum like a set left on in a dark room. He didn’t speak again—not really. But his screen flickered faintly. And that was enough.

The suits filed out slowly, muttering updates and schedules to one another, the crisis seemingly defused for now. You picked up your clipboard, still warm where your hands had gripped it earlier, and cast one last glance at Tenna before turning to follow them out.

As you reached the door, you heard the softest burst of static behind you—almost like a whisper.

“...Don’t be late tomorrow.”

You smiled without turning around.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

_______

PART 2

[akanemnon]

Shouldn't there be a minotaur in the labyrinth? Who put this goat here? This is not accurate to the mythology! /j

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[thatsafuckeduptale]

anyways. see my vision are you looking at it.

[peachyutdr]

do you think he'd use his size shifting as an advantage to tease you when youre upset at him

[cpyal]

WOSJDNDNSJSH SANS 😍😍

More sketches of him lololb he's so pookie bro

[upon-sunflower-trails]

technical difficulties

tenna x reader | part 1 | 1308 words

in which you discover a little secret of your boss'...

maybe i'll make a continuation to this fic if i feel like it (or if there's enough demand for it)

UPDATE: part 2 of this fic is here!

warnings: VERY suggestive, boss x employee relationship, not proofread!!

work below the cut!

It hadn't been long now that you'd been working under Mr. Ant Tenna at the TV station. For the most part, you kept to yourself, unless your assistance was needed by the film crew. You kept Tenna's station running smoothly thanks to the work you did.

Which was exactly why he wanted to do something to thank you.

His plan was simple, really. Surprise you with a cake (with help from Ramb, of course), give you a fancy pen, and then sincerely thank you. You'd be smiling and on your way, and Tenna could get back to his regularly scheduled broadcast.

"Mr. Tenna?" You knocked on the door to his office, stack of papers in hand. You had made sure to painstakingly scrawl out the schedule for next week's broadcast on paper, after copying it from the spreadsheet you made on your computer at home. Tenna didn't need to know that, though. He hated anything to do with emails and whatnot, meaning on office hours, you worked by hand. About a week into working for the TV-headed man, you realized how inefficient that system was, and opted for secretly configuring schedules at home before transferring them over to bring to work. What your boss didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The door flung open, nearly knocking you over with its gusto. "Y/N! My most valued employee, the star of the show! Come in, come in!" His beaming smile never seemed to waver as he ushered you into his office.

The sheer size of him never failed to take you aback for a moment. Your boss towered over you, and his larger-than-life personality certainly didn't help. You offered him a small smile back before dropping the papers off on his desk.

"Here's the schedule for next week, sir. I'm guessing that's why you wanted to see me?" Your tone was slightly cautious. You knew that Tenna could be a bit unpredictable, which was why receiving a one-on-one invitation to his office worried you-- just a bit.

Tenna barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He slid into the seat behind his desk, gesturing to the chair in front of it.

"Not at all, actually!" He laughed again before pausing, pulling on his collar. "But- Well, that's not to say that your efforts aren't appreciated, of course!" A light blush appeared on the white screen of his face before he straightened out his suit jacket, sitting up taller.

"What I meant was... That's not why I called you in here today. You see..." Tenna's grin grew impossibly wider as he reached under his desk, before re-emerging with a large white box, "I wanted to thank you!"

You blinked, mind going blank. Thank you? Was that really the reason he'd set up a private meeting? "Oh- Really?"

He nodded, much too eagerly, before pursing his lips and ducking back under his desk.

"And that's not all!" He chimed, mimicking the tone of someone off the shopping channel. He came back up, holding a nicely wrapped gift before setting it down in front of you. "I figured it was the least I could do for my best employee."

You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest at his words. Sure, you'd had a workplace crush on your boss of all people since you started working there, but this... This was almost too much, even for you!

"S-sir, I-" You began shakily, quickly being cut off.

"You can just call me Tenna, really. We don't need all of those... stuffy formalities." He waved off any concern you had before opening the larger of the two boxes and pushing it towards you.

You nodded at his words before peering into the box, which held a nicely decorated cake.

'Thanks for all you do, it's true! You're the best :)'

If your face wasn't already flushed, it certainly was now. Your gaze snapped up to Tenna's screen in an instant. His smile, usually so wide and practiced, had softened as he looked at you.

"I wanted to do something nice, for all the work you put in to make things run smoothly around here."

You were speechless for a moment, a million thoughts racing through your head. His smile faltered at your silence, growing self conscious under your gaze.

"B-but if it's too much, then, uh..." He pulled the box away, shame creeping into his features. You snapped out of your daze, hands flying to the cake box.

"No! No, not at all, Tenna. I think it's really sweet."

You gave him an encouraging smile, hands resting over his. You could've sworn you saw his screen flash to static for a split second before he straightened back up, smile growing.

"Well, I'm glad! Can't get much sweeter than cake, right?" He laughed loudly to himself in a desperate attempt to cover up his nerves, slapping his hand down on his desk as he lost himself in his hysterics. The smaller, carefully wrapped box fell to the ground.

You let out a noise of surprise, rising out of your seat. "Oh, I'll get th-"

"I CAN GET IT!" Tenna cried out, swiftly ducking under his desk to grab the gift. Your brows quirked up in confusion as you approached him.

"Tenna, it's alright, I-"

"YEOWCH!"

You were once again cut off, only this time by the bang of Tenna's head against the underside of his desk. You heard him hiss out in pain before you rushed to his side.

"I'm fine, really, Y/N! Nothing could shake me up more than the digital switchover," he joked, rubbing the back of his head as you carefully pulled him up by his other arm.

You tutted, shaking your head. "I was trying to tell you I could grab it, Tenna. You're much too stubborn."

He sighed, shoulders dropping. "Right as always, of course." He seemed to shrink at your light scolding. You led him to the couch at the far end of the room, sitting him down tenderly. He sunk down onto the cushions, still rubbing at the back of his head as you sat down next to him.

Even when in one of his moods, he was still a sight to behold. You took him in as he sat beside you, scanning over his form. His antennas were out of place, likely due to the force of him hitting the desk.

"Oh, you knocked your antennas out of place. Let me just..."

Before Tenna could protest, you reached over to fidget with his antennas. A deep blush immediately spread across his face, slapping a hand over his mouth as a whine nearly slipped out.

You looked down at him, concern etched on your features. "I'm sorry if it hurts, I've almost got them back in place." You continued to fix his antennas back into place, completely oblivious to Tenna's internal conflict beneath you.

He could have blacked out at that very moment. Your hands gently sliding over his antennas, taking care of him in more ways than one... It was almost too much for him to bear. A groan slipped past his lips as you straightened out his left antenna.

"Shit, sweetheart..." he breathed out, mind hazy. The dim glow of his screen cast up on your features as you looked down at him, realization dawning on you.

Oh. Oh.

Your hands stilled. Tenna gazed up at you, practically panting at this point. You could feel the heat radiating from his screen, as if it were threatening to engulf you, too.

You had two options at this point. Stop what you were doing and profusely apologize to your boss for accidentally engaging him in such an inappropriate way, or...

Gazing down at Tenna, he shot you a lazy grin.

You swallowed hard, grip subconsciously tightening on his antennas before sliding into his lap.

Good thing you were off-air.

[juniemunie]

more deltarune sansnomaly cuz its feeding the ideas a lot

bonus:

[justsomerandomdemon]

Stupid Humans :3

If I had a nickel for everytime I'd had a odd crush on a green and yellow striped teen, I'd have two nickels

Just finished chapter 3 and started chapter 4 a bit and holy moly the hyperfixation came back and man my old theories are out the window now with the few minutes I've played of chapt 4

But fr it is funny how 12 year old me had a crush on Chara and the newest chapter reawakened my old deltarune Kris x reader fic idea

The whole idea of this one is these two dumbasses being forced to coexist and following the fact that the player uses Kris as a vessel, it'd be more than that here than just that but it's silly

I just love the idea of them having stupid arguments and being forced to work together

I won't be writing it any time soon since I'm busy with my forsaken fanfics anyways, maybe when the next chapter drops I'll think about it more

[spitdrunken]

'Ant' Tenna x Reader (Deltarune)

Notes: Horror undertones, but they're for things Tenna also does canonically. Happy ending...? I keep seeing people saying that this guy is going to be the new Tumblr sexyman, but I don't see anyone being feral about him yet. So. Here you go.

You’d gotten the TV from Toriel, practically for free. She’s well-known in the little town you’re renting a single-room apartment in, and had practically insisted you take it. (“My son… Is also a student, but he moved out. If he needed something, I would be happy knowing he got help from someone too,” she’d told you with a smile.)

Because, yeah, you are a struggling student, with a commute lasting about 4 hours a day, but you couldn’t afford any other place and were desperate enough to get away from home to take it. The town is beautiful and quiet, the rent is dirt cheap and the people are nice, though you can tell it’s not the same compared to if you had grown up here.

Your half a day long commute prevents you from doing much socializing, you’re always thinking about what time you’ll be home, how busy it’ll be on the roads and what the hell you’re going to be eating for dinner that night. Though, to be fair, even without that added hurdle you’ve never found approaching people the easiest. Like, ever. So, you spend a lot of time in your apartment, alone, doing homework or being online, either on the couch or in bed (which, considering they’re in the same room, kind of feel like the same thing). And, now, you have a television to add for entertainment.

It’s old. Toriel had warned you about ‘images that wouldn’t leave the screen’, and as soon as you turn the thing on there’s clear burn-in from the logos of kid’s tv channels and other things, an unfadeable memory. You can’t do a whole lot with it except watch cable… It doesn’t even have a HDMI port.

Still, you’re thankful for it and the old game consoles you’d brought with you from home out of pure nostalgia. Now you can finally dust them off and use them, remember what you loved about those games you played for hours and hours, on your own, as a kid. It feels warm and you find yourself smiling, face illuminated by the screen’s light.

But it always comes to an end. You turn it off, eyelids drooping, and the stress of your day-to-day with its rising expenses, loneliness, student debt and an already dead future career, rushes back to you all at once. You don’t want to leave your room, sometimes. It’s crushing. You don’t have any say in the matter, though, so you get up and keep going, every day practically the same. With a flicker of hope that it will, eventually, someday, get better. That’s what you’ve always been told.

One night, you fall in sleep in front of your television and have the strangest dream, one that feels as real as reality but surely cannot be. There, you’re chaperoned by a man(?) named ‘Ant’ Tenna, treated like the star of the show, the contestant in a quiz that has questions tailored specifically to your personal niche knowledge, and you absolutely blow it out of the park.

You’re not used to being the center of attention like this… Even if the crowd seems more like a mass of moving audience members, rather than actual people. Your knees are trembling for the first five questions and, even after, you struggle and stutter from time, but the host never calls you out on it. It’s surprisingly… Nice. To get this attention, to feel like you’re being acknowledged.

You linger after the show is over, unsure of what to do in the Green Room. You’re not really hungry or tired, which makes sense considering you surely must be dreaming. You wander outside, led by red carpet, and almost run straight into Tenna. He’s huge, absolutely towering over you, easily twice your height. You pull and tug a bit at your clothes as you crane your neck and smile up at him. “I wanted to say—Um, thanks for having me, mister Tenna! It was… Really fun!” Bright, white teeth shine at you from the screen that is his face. He folds his hands behind his back and leans forward, just a little. “Oh, sweetheart, just Tenna is fine! We don’t have to be all formal with each other, do we? I already feel like I know you so well!” You feel a little bit of heat rising to your face. The quiz had been perfectly finetuned to your interests… But that all makes sense, considering this is all happening in the safe confines of your brain, and this man is just a figment of your imagination. It’s all good. Tenna claps his hands in front of his body and you’re jolted from your thoughts. “If you were having such a good time, how about another round?”

And you do. You play and win at a whole variety of games, until your head is spinning—The dream seems to drag on, and on and on. More than anything, you’re having a good time shooting quips back and forth with Tenna, feeling seen and listened to. You don’t think anyone has ever laughed this hard as something you’ve said… Ever? It’s certainly flattering, to say the least, to have someone be so interested in you.

All good things must come to an end, though, and eventually you do get tired, and the life that you had temporarily left behind starts calling to you again. In your mind, it’s inevitable, so you might as well get it over with.

“Leave?” It’s the first time Tenna’s smile wavers during your… Day? Session. “But we’ve been having so much fun—” He laughs, stuttering over part of the noise. “Why do you want to leave?” His hand drums on the back of his head, making a dull clanking noise. “I can think up some more games, some more fun quizzes?!” Tenna’s voice shoots up in pitch. “We can save that for next time?” You say with a smile. This notion, the thought that you’d like to return, seems to settle Tenna somewhat. His hand drops back to his side, swaying back and forth. “Oh! You’d like to return… I mean, of course you would!” He beams at you. “I’ll—I’ll have some more time to think things over, for them to marinate! It’ll be great!!” “Yeah,” you say, a little breathless. “Thanks. Again. This was fun. I don’t…” you trail off and swallow. “I don’t really talk to a lot of people anymore. So this was really nice. Thank you.” You don't know why you say it. Perhaps because you don't think any of this is real. You've never been this vulnerable around anyone in real-life. Before you completely realise what’s happening, he lowers himself in a crouching position and pulls you into a tight hug. “I know,” he says softly. “I know. Me neither.”

You wake up with a sore neck and dried spit on your chin. It takes you a while to will your body to move. It’s heavy and sluggish. Unlike other dreams you’ve had, it remains crisp in your mind as ever. The world around you seems more gray-toned than ever in comparison to the bright colours and flourishes of the world you’d entered as you were dreaming… One where you didn’t have to worry about anything, with someone who has eyes just for you. Well, if he has eyes at all. Maybe that kind of saying would be considered offensive.

When you fall asleep that night, you do it on the couch in the exact same position, as if that were the reason behind the dream you had the night before. It takes ages for you to drift off. Embarrassingly enough, you’re so excited that your heart keeps racing. You fall asleep, going there again and again, a personal little place of peace you return to every single night. Maybe it’s all some kind of illusion your brain has conjured up to help you to cope and, if that’s the case, you could still have peace with it. You drag yourself through the days for the nights that offer relief.

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Tenna asks, eventually, uncharacteristic in his stillness. He’s an entertainer by his very nature. Even when he’s not on the stage, he’s always moving, always loud, always working to keep your attention on him. Now, he grabs your interest with nothing but quiet. “I know you’ll come back. You have so many times, but—Why even leave? What’s still waiting for you out there? A bleak future? People who don’t appreciate you? Stay with me…” For the first time since you met him, Tenna physically shrinks down in size, becoming close to your height. His head is hung low. “Please. I’d like, no, love for you to stay.” You reach up and stroke the glass of his face. “Me too. I’ll do it.” “You promise?” “Yeah. Definitely.”  He swoops you up and you screech as he suddenly increases in size once again, carrying you high up in the air all at once. As he breaks out in silly, impromptu dance moves, laughter bubbles up from your throat and fills your entire body. This is a happy ending, you tell yourself, though a little lingering bit of doubt retains. (Is this the easy way out? Have you chosen stasis over a life of infinite possibilities?) But… Well, if it’s lazy or weak or too easy, you decide that you deserve an easy life.

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

Why are there not, like... platonic x reader fics. Like, I don't wanna date these characters, I just want to hang out with them and crack jokes and banter and get takeaway and play videogames and maybe even hug and bop them on the head and just have affectionate platonic physical contact??? I want to read a fic about being friends with them, and yet all I can find is romantic reader insert fics.

[skeletons-can-draw-too]

I like the idea that tenna is insanely tall compared to you :3

[intrigd-voyagr]

kissing tenna watching him jolt from the flutter of static through his circuits caused by the peck to his CRT screen, as you giggle from the fuzzy sensation that still lingers on your lips ...........

[lohotine]

Tried to sleep, failed. Here's the reason why;

NSFW drabbles below the cut;

Various men X AFAB! Reader

Subject; needy doms.

■ Needy doms who whine so much while fucking you that they sound like the ones getting fucked

■ Needy doms who beg you to let them "make you feel good."

■ Needy doms who want to cum so badly because of how good you feel, yet wait until after you cum to do so

■ Needy doms who are so addicted to your pussy that they practically worship it

Phighting;

■ Needy doms who will shush you during sex, even when they're the ones who can't keep their mouths shut

Honkai: Star Rail;

Phainon, Trailblazer, Sampo, Jiaoqiu

Genshin Impact;

LYNEY, VENTI, Tighnari, Heizou, Xingqiu

SHURIKEN, Slingshot, Sword, Valk, Coil, Subspace

Forsaken;

TWO TIME, Ringmaster (?), Elliot, 007n7, Chance

Cookie Run;

PASTEL MERINGUE, SHADOW MILK, Royal Margarine, Black Sapphire, Fire Spirit

Miscellaneous;

N Harmonia (Pkm), Tenna (?) (Deltarune), Griefer (Block Tales), Atsushi, Dazai (BSD), Kalamar (COTL)

Notes: yes, this is very short (sorry) Yes, some of these may be ooc (I pulled an all nighter, my brain is not working), yes, I know Two Time is they/them and technically should not be listed here because the title says various "men" x reader

Erm yeah bye

[conclover]

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 1

Next chapter

Summary: Just a weird dreamcore fanfic with the lovely Mr. Tenna from Deltarune.

Warnings: This turned out to have more of a sexual undertone than I thought it would. So, just in case: +18. Yandere if you squint your eyes.

Notes: Yet another pathetic old man for the collection <3

Word count: 2K

The room was dim, lit only by the colorful flickering glow of the old television. You were slouched deep into the couch, barely able to grasp anything since it was almost 2:15 a.m. The only energy you had left was just enough to flip through channels, searching for something either interesting enough to keep you awake or dull enough to finally lull you to sleep.

CLICK.

“Mom, I love this dress. I don’t care what you say. This is the dress of my dreams—”

CLICK.

“He was a normal guy. Very caring with everyone in the neighborhood. How could we have possibly known he was a—”

CLICK.

“And then we take our dough that’s rested for at least two hours, and we—”

CLICK.

“Tired of scrubbing those impossible stains? From blood to any other type of—!”

Your thumb paused. Weird.

CLICK.

“Who killed them?”

The audio glitched for a second.

“W̸͈͉̜̏ḧ̸̢̧̻̥͐̉̇̐ò̸̫̱̠́̌͝ͅ ̶̡̥̹̟͊̉͆͠w̴̰̤̔̆̍ą̴͓̞͎̌̉s̵̩͙͉̭͛͋̆͂ ̵̧̼̪̳̄ȋ̶̩́̉t̶͈̠͍̃?̶̟̖̹̙̓̅͛͑͠ ”

A high pitched whine cut through the room.

“W̶̗͖͈̑̈́̏͠A̷̛͚͖͕Ş̵͖̜̖̮̃̂͒ ̸̡̲̪̟̀͊Ĩ̸̯̻͍̻̈̀̂͜͝T̴͎̍͘͘ ̸̟̙̰̪͛Ÿ̶̡̳̥̯̗͆̈́͠Ö̶͕̖̦̠͊̄̑̈́U̴͓̦͇̾?̷̨̧̼̭̾̌̓ͅ ”

Then, silence.

You blinked, suddenly more awake. The haze in your head cleared just enough to realize something wasn’t right.

“Alone on a Friday night?” a chipper voice echoed from the television, though it was warped, barely cutting through the thick hiss of static.

Your breath caught as your vision tunneled.

“Me too!”

The static wasn’t only on the screen anymore. It was around you, inside you, crackling at your fingertips. You could feel it everywhere, surrounding you.

You tried to move and tried to reach for the remote. But the static cocooned you, with its warm electricity, wrapping itself tight around your body and thoughts.

“Now, now... Don’t change the channel... we’re just getting started…”

The voice coiled around you like a soft blanket, whispering straight to the back of your mind. It was comforting in a way that felt too precise, like it knew you. Like it knew exactly how to speak to you.

It smoothed over your fear and pulled you gently toward the edge. And as the static wrapped around you like a warm blanket against your skin, you let your eyes slip shut and surrendered to the voice.

...

Darkness.

That’s all you remember. Not how you got here. Not how long it’s been.

“Ladies and germs!”

A voice sliced through your thoughts, bright, sharp, too close. It caught your attention without even trying, like it was wired into your nerves.

“Let’s have a big round of applause for our lovely contestant!”

A crowd erupted around you, if you could call them a crowd. Their shapes were odd, all teeth, horns and shadows. Demons, maybe. Or something worse. But they cheered like this was their favorite part of the night.

You blinked, your body suddenly lighter, more alert, like the energy of the place was crawling under your skin.

“Where the fuck am I?” you asked, your voice oddly clear, stronger than it should’ve been.

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

Color exploded across your vision. Neon lights pulsed. Spinning signs hung from nowhere. Glittering confetti surrounded you. It looked like something out of a retro game show from a fever dream. It was probably a quiz show, if someone had built it from dead channels and nightmares.

But where was the host?

“Oh, you’re too funny,” he said, voice twice as odd than the crowd cheering.

He was closer now, his voice curling in your ear like heat.

“You’re on the show, of course!”

Gloved hands slipped around your shoulders, firm and gentle, fingertips pressing just a little too long against your collarbone as he leaned in.

“Mmm. There we go,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “Center stage suits you!”

He guided you forward slowly, almost like a dance, his body brushing lightly against yours as he walked you to the podium.

The podium gleamed under the spotlight, elegant and ominous. Below it, a nameplate. Your name. Already there. Etched in with the kind of certainty that sent a chill up your spine.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. This is your moment. I know you can do it…”

His voice was smooth as velvet, reassuring almost. His fingers ghosted along the small of your back, just long enough to make your breath hitch.

Then he stepped in front of you and for the first time, you saw him fully.

He had no eyes, but his smile was expressive enough to speak in paragraphs. And his head... it was a literal television!

This has to be a dream.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, trailing a single gloved finger along your jaw.

You grabbed his gloved hand, not to push him away, but to demand an explanation for all of this. But he only smiled, gently slipping from your grip to begin the show.

Now he was standing across the stage, perfectly lit by a snapping spotlight, as if he’d always belonged there. The crowd erupted again as he twirled his microphone with lazy, practiced flair. He soaked in the attention like he was born for the spotlight.

You turned to the microphone in your own podium, hoping maybe speaking would wake you up from whatever the fuck was this.

“Hey,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “I have a question—”

Before you could finish, the host raised a single finger, his TV screen face focused sharply on you.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we’d swapped roles,” he said, flipping casually through a set of cue cards that hadn’t been there a second ago. “Next time you’ve got original ideas, darling, feel free to spring them on me right in the middle of the show. That’s the perfect time.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷��̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H��̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“First question, cutie. What is the name of this show’s host?”

His voice rang out playfully, echoing across the set. The screen behind him glitched slightly, displaying four answer choices, each one flickering in that old school game show font.

A) MR. TV GUY

B) MR. LIL’ NOSE

C) MR. TENNA

D) MR. EMAIL

The lights dimmed, the demons went silent and his smile widened.

You stared at answers, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or run. None of them made any sense, but one of them felt just plausible enough.

“Mr... Tenna?”

You hovered your hand over the button, then pressed it down.

A chime sounded, loud and triumphant.

The host, Mr. Tenna, lit up like someone had just proposed to him on live television.

“Ohhh, you sweet thing! How did you know?” he cried, clapping his hands with delight, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

He spun in place, his red suit catching the light, with a smirk that practically dripped from the edge of the screen.

“Next question! Pay attention, darling.”

Mr. Tenna brought the cue card closer to his screen like face, squinting theatrically as if struggling to read it, though of course, he had no eyes.

“What is Mr. Tenna’s biggest... fear?”

A) Loneliness.

B) Being forgotten.

C) No one loves him.

D) Betrayal.

“Stop. Don’t answer.”

Mr. Tenna’s smile froze. Then, just for a second, the screen that was his face went blank. Completely lifeless. His shoulders slouched. Arms limp. Static buzzed faintly in the silence.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, snapping back to life, posture upright, voice sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. “I actually loved your enthusiasm!”

Without warning, he tossed his cue cards high into the air like confetti. They fluttered down in slow motion, catching the stage lights like paper snow. He strode toward you with a spring in his step, that same feverish energy returning to his every movement.

“My enthusiasm?” you asked, voice a little smaller than before.

“Uh-huh,” he cooed, clasping his hands together with something disturbingly close to adoration.

A faint blush glowed across the lower corners of his screen, making his appearance oddly endearing and almost charming.

Tenna turned, glancing offstage, though there was no visible place like that, just darkness.

“Mike, bring the polygraph!”

His voice rang out with the giddy excitement of someone hosting a game they’d waited centuries to play.

Somewhere in the shadows, something began to stir and just like that Mr. Tenna vanished.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, my dear,” his voice cooed softly, suddenly right against your ear. “This won’t hurt a bit. It’s just for fun.”

Before you could react, you felt gloved hands slip around your waist. They moved with urgency, moving up your torso to fasten a strange belt just above your chest. Cool metal brushed your skin as electrodes were carefully pressed to your fingertips. He gently guided your hand back onto the podium, holding it down for a moment longer than necessary.

“Just be sure not to move...” he whispered, voice dipping into something lower, almost dangerous, “...as it could affect your results negatively.”

The last thing he placed on you was a blood pressure cuff. He cinched it tighter than it needed to be, enough to make a point. And you weren’t in much of a position to complain.

Then his warm lips hovered by your ear.

“Oh, and one more thing... I want sincere answers. Am I clear?”

You nodded carefully, trying not to shift too much beneath the wires and straps.

His gloved hand cupped your face with an unsettling gentleness, and without warning, he gave your cheeks a soft, playful squeeze.

“Good contestant!” he chirped, like he was praising a pet.

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“Let’s continue then,” Tenna said smoothly, turning on his heel with a little flourish.

He strolled back toward the screen, not to far, but still close enough to watch you.

“With my very special, improvised questions crafted just for our star contestant...” he purred, spreading his arms like a magician about to pull a dove out of a hat.

He stepped closer again, until his screen was just inches away from your face. His glow bathed your skin in soft static. You didn’t move, couldn’t. You simply tried to breathe, to brace yourself for whatever came next.

“Where do you want to be right now?” he asked, voice softer this time, almost curious.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was scanning you.

A) ON THE TV!

B) IN MY HOUSE???

C) ON THE BACKSTAGE ALONE WITH MR. TENNA.

D) CLAPPING AMONG THE CROWD.

Your heart told you one thing. Your nerves another. But Tenna... he was watching you closely. So you swallowed hard and pressed the button for A.

“Yes! Excellent choice. You’re telling me the truth,” he gasped, clapping his hands together like a delighted host with his favorite contestant. “But you know…”

He turned slightly toward the audience, voice dipping into a conspiratorial purr.

“I would’ve also accepted C.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

Tenna glanced back at you, his smile flashing with the glow of his screen.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you...”

He took a slow step closer, then another, until his presence practically buzzed against your skin. A gloved hand slipped casually around your waist, fingers resting there like he had every right.

“Let’s make this more difficult.”

He turned his head just enough to gesture toward the glowing screen, then brought his face back to yours, closer now, watching for the tiniest twitch in your expression.

The question appeared behind him: who have you been longing for?

A) Elnina and Lanino. They come in the same pack.

B) My ex.

C) Mike.

D) Mr. Tenna!

Oh my. How did I get myself into this?

You couldn’t tell if the audience was laughing or glitching. Either way, Tenna was grinning.

“Oh, how spicy,” he said, his voice practically brimming with joy. “I love these kinds of questions. They put the contestants right under the spotlight where they belong.”

He gestured upward, and in an instant, a searing beam of light dropped down on you, hotter than before.

“Now then. Tell us, sweetheart...” he said, his voice lowering in your ear like a secret. “Who has your heart been aching for?”

The light above you seemed to burn a little, or maybe that was just the flush creeping up your neck.

“We’re dying to know.”

You swallowed before answering.

“Mr. Tenna.”

He froze. Not with fear, but with intrigue. You’d answered so quickly, and that alone seemed to catch him off guard. The edges of his smile wavered just slightly, like a corrupted frame struggling to hold itself together.

“I don’t know anyone,” you continued, voice quiet. “Except for you.”

You looked up at him, as if expecting him to stop this nonsense. But he didn’t. If anything, your vulnerability lit him up even more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he stammered, his voice losing some of its usual smoothness, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Careful what you confess in front of a live audience.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“Ahem... Next question.” He tried to sound more authoritative, but his voice came out softer, like he was still trying to collect himself.

He quickly grabbed some cue cards from the floor, flipping them over a little too fast, his fingers trembling just enough to betray his nerves.

“Okay, okay…” He muttered to himself as he scanned the questions. “Who would you choose... if you had to kiss someone... in this room?”

A̴̛͚̬̙̗̳̭̅̔̊̀́͗̈́̄̈́̃̇A̴̞͍̫̹̣͖̮̗̠̳͖͔͂̈́́̑͜A̶̹͇̯̝̰͎̣̯̅̾̽́̈̓̅̇͗̆͋̀͘̕͝Ą̷̻̘̝̥̱̪̯̗̮͕̩̳͒̍́͛̋̊̈́͊͂̀͘̕A̶̜͓̾̉̆̈̑̎̊͂͗̎͘A̶̛̼͖̜͖͔͇͇̼͚̖͎̎̊̅͗́̈́̒̆́̎̾͐̓̈Ȃ̸̢̡̨̮̮͓̱̟̹̤̘̼̬̙͗̍̈́̃̑͆͝Ă̶̙̈͑́́̉́̊͘Ą̶̢̧̲̟̫̟̝͔̱͉̲̭̜͗̑̋̄̄͂̿̈́̄̽͐̈́̚A̶̛̭͍͍̞͈̬̻͈̱̱̲͎̍́̈́ͅA̷̳̟̠̞͔̦̒̆̂́͋͊̕A̴̰͍̪͆̐̔̀͆̈͐̂̑̀̃̽͘͝͝Ẁ̷̗̼̭͙͓̦͈͕̘̠͊W̵̠͈̮͛̕͝Ŵ̵̨̗͕͖̣̺̘͍̞̓̇͆̌͒̃̑̽͠Ẇ̸̪̝̺͊̒̉́ͅW̴̡̨͙̖̬̰̱̟̪̠͙͔̒̈́͊͊͌̿̑̔͗

Then, looking back at you, his smile reappeared, but it was a little more strained now, corners twitching with a nervous energy.

“Just kidding! Just kidding! It’s a silly ques—”

“Mr. Tenna,” you said quickly, already understanding the game, already seeing how this would unfold.

Tenna’s expression faltered. His smile flickered briefly, like he was processing the answer but didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Oh, dear,” he breathed, his hand sliding to his collar and tugging it as if the air had suddenly grown warmer. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

He turned on his heel, facing the audience with a sudden flourish, clearly in desperate need of a breather.

“And with that...” he declared, still a little breathless, “...we’ll be right back after the commercial break!”

He didn’t wait for the cameras to cut. No final wink. No flashy exit. Just a quiet turn and a quick walk toward the edge of the stage. So you decided to follow him, just to get more answers.

Backstage was… bizarre. It didn’t have the chaos you would have expected for a place like this. It actually looked cozy with potted plants and comfy couches. And people. Or… something close to people.

Among them stood a curious couple that looked like they were made for each other. Like the moon and the sun, though the moon was actually... a cloud?

They noticed you staring at them and the taller one gave you a polite nod.

“You lost, love?” asked the taller one, his face oddly shiny, like he’d just returned from a luxurious vacation somewhere far too sunny for this kind of place. His smile shimmered with the same glow, just slightly too perfect to feel real.

You blinked, still stunned to be meeting these… people. Weather systems? TV spirits? You weren’t sure.

“I’m looking for Mr. Tenna,” you said cautiously. “Have you seen him?”

The other one leaned in, voice warm and breezy. “Hmm. I don’t know. He’s never left a show like that before.”

“Very rare,” the taller one added with a knowing smile. “And very cute.”

The cloudy one, her white hair subtly shifting with looping wind currents gazed lovingly at her partner.

“They have to be together or something,” she whispered to the sunny man.

You blinked surprised. “I just met this man like… ten minutes ago.”

The couple looked at eachother with an unreadable expression only they could understand. Then, in perfect sync, they lifted their arms and pointed towards a door.

“He went that way.”

...

Next chapter

[mimi--writes]

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

——————————————————————————

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.

[upon-sunflower-trails]

tenna headcanons

sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for tenna!

never doubt me because when i have a hyperfixation i don't PLAY

The sweetest to you, he will do just about anything to keep you happy. Giant bouquets of flowers, broadcasts dedicated to you, extravagant dates, the whole works

Makes sure everyone within a ten mile radius knows the two of you are an item. You're so so dear to him <3

Pet names for you consist of sweetheart, honey, sugar, and muffin. He goes overboard sometimes, and probably uses these nicknames more than your actual name

He gets veeery insecure, so he needs a lot of reassurance. Whether it be about himself or your relationship, he will constantly ask you for your favorite things about him, the reasons you're with him, if you would love him if he were a worm

Expect to play minigames with him constantly. He likes to take you on little game dates, where he leads your avatar around the beach and takes pictures of the two of you together

Anyone who asks about you will be subject to a six-page thesis in real time about how amazing you are and everything Tenna loves about you

When he's flustered, blush pops up on his screen and you can swear that you see him switch to static for a minute

He would be the one to confess first, no matter how worried he was that you would reject him

Even though Tenna is flashy, his confession of love would be incredibly personal. He would almost shrink a little as he admitted to his feelings, getting emotional as he accepted the fact that you would most likely reject him

He, of course, was overjoyed when you reciprocated. Returned to normal size as cheerful music blared, scooping you up in his arms and pressing kisses all over your face

He loves everything about you, and he thinks you're perfect. He has to sneak in at least one reference to you every time he's on-air

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

I see him as a switch; he prefers being a service top but he'll bottom when he's feeling particularly down on himself

When he's upset with his employees, dom all the way. Probably the kind of guy to bend you over his desk to blow off steam

To him, there's no better way to spend his night than with his face between your legs. Much prefers giving oral than fingering, in my very humble opinion

Will lightly toy with the idea of exhibitionism, in the way that he'd have you under his desk and sucking him off while in a meeting or something

Horrific praise kink. Please tell him how good he is, what a great job he's doing, how badly you needed him. He will increase his efforts by tenfold.

I headcanon that his antennas are super sensitive, which you likely either find out by accident or in the heat of the moment. He'll beg for you to touch them while you ride his face or fuck him

Vocal as hell (especially if you play with the antennas), he is practically incapable of staying quiet. He whimpers and moans when he's being more gentle or subbing, and lets out groans and hisses while pounding into you during his more dominant moments

Loooves to tease you, both with pet names in the moment and overstimulation. He can be unrelenting when he wants to be

Not big into pain (both giving and receiving), but will tug on your hair when particularly lost in blowing off steam

Lowkey has a breeding kink, even if he may never acknowledge it. Just can't get enough of filling you up.

Whether his comment to Mike about kids is true or not, if you are able (and want) to carry children, it'll become his newest fixation. The second you give him the go-ahead, yeah, he's creampie-ing you for weeks

He prefers to actually fuck you instead of just jacking off, but if he doesn't have any other options, he'll gladly pump himself to the thought of you while at his desk. Free hand covering his mouth while his monitor practically burns, whines of your name spilling from his lips

Size kink is basically a given with him. I mean, he towers over everybody, so you are of course no exception. Holding your much smaller hands over your head as he pins you against the wall to obliterate your insides is one of his guilty pleasures

hope you guys enjoyed reading :) tenna my beloved i hope i did you justice