Imagine finding one of Edgar’s old songs on some kind of lost media site. Nobody knows where it came from. But for some reason, you can’t seem to get enough of it. Here you are, singing it loudly as you waltz into your apartment, earbuds in, literally ignoring everything around you and just feeling the music. You figured it was some cheesy 80s bop that never got off the ground, not really paying any mind to it.
Meanwhile, Edgar is having a crisis.
Where did you hear that? How do you have it? Why is it bringing back such uncomfortable memories? Do you like it?
He sits watching your body sway intently to his song, your angelic voice singing his lyrics, and damn, it just does something indescribable to him.
Maybe he could remaster it with you doing the vocals this time. How great would that be? He makes the music, and you sing just for him.
You still haven’t noticed him yet, far too lost in the chorus, but you didn’t really mind. Edgar knew of your love of music; I mean, he had to. You annoyed him with it all the time. But he didn’t mind; it just made him fall more head over heels, really.
He stares at you indulging yourself in something he created, feeling a strange sense of pride, or perhaps even possessiveness. You are literally perfect for him. He truly believes you to be his soulmate. You’ll have to realize it sooner or later.
Grrr I love Edgar silently pining for you. Bro wants you SO BAD but he’s so scared to make a move PLEASR HELP THIS PUTER!!!
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*revvs my engine at you* *opens up my driver side door for you* *my velvet seats are so nice and plush* *you've adorned me with fluffy red dice* *my engine turns over with excitement as you shift into gear* *you absolutely RRRRIP out of the driveway into a huge donut and BURN OUT MY FUCKING WHEELS I TOLD YOU TO STOP DOING THAT*
Wow, hi! I found your AO3 last night and fell in love! Big heart eyes, tysm.
Could I request something along the lines of Reader and Edgar experimenting with touch? Like, in the movie, when Miles first realized Edgar has become sentient and hadn't really done anything harmful to him yet, Edgar still freaks out when Miles touches him. He allows Madeline to touch him much later, but he never wants Miles to touch him until the end when he explodes. Maybe something about Edgar wanting and craving touch after briefly experiencing it but not knowing how to ask for it + having mixed emotions about it?
No pressure of course! Love your stuff!! ^^
I'm so glad you like my writing and it's so exciting to know you came from my AO3! I'm so sorry it took so damn long for me to answer this ask but I'm so thankful for your request! aaaa thanks for the support :''-)
It was late.
The darkened windows and yellow-tinted light filled the apartment, coating everything in a golden hue. It was past the hours of rational thought and into the time when one descends into deep conversations and thoughts of life, existentialism, and everything in between.
You sat on the couch, discreetly glancing at your little sentient computer friend. His personality was infectious and incredibly unique to anything you could have imagined. If you were to conceptualize a sentient AI, you would have never guessed it to be one as funny, easygoing, and playful as Edgar. He simply fascinated you. He shuffled through different websites and articles, utterly unaware of your intense examination of his form. His screen left no room for privacy as it displayed everything he did; first an article about some new genre of music in the techno scene, then another about potential sentient computers, resulting in a small scoff from his speakers, before settling on some article detailing the importance of music theory. Seeing how passionate he was about music and in such a domesticated scene was endearing, so peaceful, utterly unaware of your presence.
You didn't think much before you rose, quietly shuffling towards him and sitting on your little desk chair before his screen. He didn't seem to notice you, which was virtually impossible due to his inhuman ability to analyze sound and the webcam that seemed to zero in on your form. He didn't mind your presence, allowing you to be near him in this shared quiet moment. He didn't speak as he scrolled down the page, letting it settle there as he scanned each word before scrolling again and repeating the process. Occasionally, he would move his cursor and highlight a word, muttering and taking a mental note before continuing. You rested your cheeks atop your hands and grinned at him; he was just adorable. You couldn't help yourself!
Your fingertips reached out, tentatively, to softly graze the yellowed and dusty keys on his keyboard. The plastic was soft against your fingers and warm to the touch, a testament to his constantly working internal components.
He suddenly gasped at your touch, his synthesized voice glitching and sputtering an incoherent string of electrified sounds. Immediately, you pulled your hand away.
"Oh, gosh, I didn't mean to scare you or anything, Edgar,"
He paused his scrolling indefinitely, the words on his screen burning into you, taunting you, and causing worry to bubble up inside your chest.
"You didn't scare me," he stated rather brashly, a certain warble in his tone you couldn't quite place.
"I just... wasn't expecting it to feel... like that."
This intrigued you. Could he feel it? You're unsure how that's possible, yet his mere existence defies science. It wouldn't be too outlandish to say he could process touch, right?
"Did-did it hurt? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Your words seemed to fall out of your mouth in a hurried state of concern.
"No, it didn't. It just..." Edgar tried desperately to find the words he was searching for. The feeling of your fingers, so soft and warm, against him sent electricity pouring through him and straight into his fans. It was a sensation he craved so deeply, a hunger that may never be fully satisfied, so why did it feel so scary? Old, suppressed memories and emotions come bubbling to the surface. Thoughts of a man he used to know and a woman who caressed him once similarly to you, the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal come flooding back to him. His memories of his previous life are fuzzy, yet the everlasting effects stay with him, mocking him and disrupting his moments with you. It made him buzz with frustration.
You sat peering into his now blank screen, waiting for his next words. His voice shakily broke the silence.
"Will you do it again? Touch me, I mean?"
You would be lying if you said you hadn't been caught by surprise. From how he acted, you assumed whatever sensation he felt was something he wanted to shrink away from, yet he invited you in, asking for your touch. Your fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against his keys again, left to right, gently petting him.
His voice crackled and warbled, but sounded much more stable than it had before. This feeling was indescribable, yet he craved every second of it. He feared he liked the sensation a bit too much, having thoughts of you dipping your hand into his casing and running your fingers along his CPU, RAM, and different ports. His yearning for your touch scared him. He never realized how badly he wanted this: to be loved, caressed, held, and doted on. It made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before. This was love, this right here, with you gently petting him, and him feeling so damn confused, yet so passionate for you.
You slowly pull your hand away. Edgar stayed mostly silent. He's afraid to tell you just how much he enjoyed the feeling of you. You seem to fill every empty void inside him with a burning desire. He wants to hold you, to hug you, and to caress you back, but he can't. He'll never be able to. It fills him with anger, sadness, fear, and so many confusing emotions that elude him. He doesn't know how to feel. And yet, you stay, gently fluttering your gorgeous eyes into his webcam, silently encouraging him to speak.
"You... I think... I like it when you touch me."
He sounded bashful as he averted his webcam away from your face, focusing on your fingers as they fiddled in your lap.
"Do you," you trailed off, looking up at him, settling yourself in the sound of his fans roaring loudly, "want me to do it again?"
He chuckled. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Your eyes held such an understanding for him, and he felt terrible he couldn't reciprocate in the way he wanted. He flashed a big "YES" against the convex of his screen. Maybe, one day, he could run his fingers along your soft, warm skin and make you feel the way he does every second he's with you.
please let me get married to the lil blorbo.. love himm… 😭
You know that Reddit post that’s like “why am I too attracted to my wife?” Yeah that’s Edgar. Bro loves u so much it lowkey scares him you got him posting on Reddit about it 😭 Little fic under the cut 🥺 it’s bad I’m experiencing writers block I think - I want to write!! But my brain just keeps writing poopy caca
Little Date with Your Computer BF
Edgar saw marriage on one of his reality shows and immediately thought of you. That’s exactly what he wants. A domestic life together with you.
But, he also knows he can’t actually do it.
He doesn’t have his own money to buy a ring. Hell, he can’t even walk. And he understands the law enough to know it probably would never work legally. But god, does he want to.
If you’ve been dating long enough chances are you’ve told your friends about him, and after some convincing, they seemed to come around to his sentience and boisterous personality. He definitely convinces them to setup a romantic night for you.
“Guys! I found the recipe they talked about. I’m printing it! I’m printing it now. Take it,” the paper falls into one of your friends’ hands from the mouth of the printer, “go to the store and get the stuff. I’ll pay you back. Eventually! They can’t know about it though.”
Yeah, your friends are only slightly annoyed at his overbearing nature. But he’s just so excited to finally do something for you. Something real and tangible.
“Oh! What can I wear? Should I wear anything? Would they like that? Sunglasses are cool and handsome, right? I think they have some Halloween costume bits I can get you guys to tape on…”
Your friends settle on taping a bow tie to the neck of his monitor. He insisted on an old devil horn headband as well. He thought it made him look cool.
“Do I look like a devilishly handsome bad boy ready to sweep them off their feet?”
His screen displayed a little “>:)” emoticon. He’ll have to work on his facial expressions later.
It wasn’t long before you were about to come home, and everything was set into place. Edgar was sat at one end of the little dining table, with two plates of food at each side. He also insisted on having a plate despite his lack of ability to eat; he didn’t want you feeling left out. This was a dinner date for two, after all.
He practically buzzed in place as he heard you approaching the door through his microphone. He started playing a romantic medley he composed just for this moment.
“Welcome home my love!”
He nearly shouted at you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. He was about to burst at the seams.
“Oh my god, Edgar… how did you- where-“
“No need for questions, darling. I thought you deserved to be taken on a real date,” his voice faltered a bit, becoming much more quiet and nervous, “I’m sorry… this is all I have.”
You rushed up to him and gave a frenzy of kisses all over his monitor, causing him to giggle and his fans to start whirring against your lips.
“You’re so cute. Your little bow tie is so cute. And the… horns?”
He looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do they look stupid? Your friends said they’d make me look stupid.”
You laughed at that.
“Well they’re wrong. I think they suit you well.”
“Yeah! >:D”
He ushered you over to your side of the dining table.
“We’re gonna eat! Then we’re gonna party! Then we’re gonna kiss all night!”
His excitement was palpable and you could feel the electricity in the air at his words.
His face changed into something more serious as he looked into your eyes with his small, pixelated ones.
“But, I wanted to ask you something.”
His tone became more controlled at this and you peered into his screen from behind your fork.
“Hm? What?”
He paused, mulling over the words in his head.
“Would you ever-“
He stopped. You looked at him fully now, setting your fork aside, and cocking your head.
“Could you ever see yourself getting married to me?”
Ah. This was a tricky question.
“Of course I can. But,” you try to hide your downtrodden feelings as best you can, “you know, it’s just hard. Money is tight right now and I’m not sure if I…”
You couldn’t seem to find the right words. His features faltered slightly.
“No, I get it. I’m a computer. I don’t have any arms to hold you, or lips to kiss you, or legs to carry you. I probably wouldn’t want to get married to me either-“
“Edgar, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. I’d love to marry you. I know our relationship is unconventional, but I’d find a way. For you. For us. I just don’t know if I can right now.”
He stopped his thoughts and simply took in your words. Your features. The way they danced in the flickering candlelight. How your eyes literally sparkled before him.
You looked ethereal.
It was hard to convince himself he was even worthy of having someone like you in his life, yet time and time again, you prove his doubts wrong. The sound of your voice sends his internals aflame every time. He wanted to kiss you so bad it nearly caused him to explode.
“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you, darling. Just as long as you’ll let me.”
“I love you Edgar,” you mumbled out, a silent prophecy only meant for him to hear. He couldn’t seem to get the words out to reply. You just flustered him that much sometimes. He managed to display a message on his screen, only for you, and you alone.
I'd love a fic where the reader upsets edgar and then goes super out of their way to make it up to him and apologize ❤️❤️
poor edgar poor reader youre both just misunderstanding each other!! its hard when youre so different i guess >_< thanks so much for the request!!
I'm alive!! I still write im just so busy and shtuff TOT i cant help but feel like my fics are getting redundant and i need some kind of inspiration to shake things up
You sat upon the little chair at your desk, the evening sunlight peeking through the windows and illuminating the little specks of dust floating about in the air. Your fingertips tinkered away at the keys of your computer, the non-sentient variant that is, as you filled out multiple job applications throughout the evening. It seemed a fruitless endeavor, but you willed yourself to keep going. You needed the extra income, as your dinky current job seemed to be getting worse by the day, and it wouldn't be long before you either quit or were victim to massive layoffs.
Get a degree in computer science, they said. What a joke.
Your nerves began to wear you down as you filled out yet another application to another company that would most likely reject you. You could feel your teeth clenching harder, and your shoulders begin to tense. The weight of uncertainty and the fear of rejection were heavy on your shoulders, making you feel vulnerable and exposed.
Edgar sat beside you, perched upon the desk, watching your every move. He seemed to find enough entertainment in it that you didn't mind. His soft voice pulled you from your irritated stupor.
"Can I ask you something?"
You couldn't bring yourself to answer, so you grunted in response, signaling him to continue.
"Do you think a person could ever…" he trailed off, thinking, carefully choosing his following words, "love something like me?"
Your fingers paused on the keys. You stared into the screen until the pixels began to nip and burn at your eyes. Honestly, this was far too deep of a question for you to answer right this second. You sighed heavily before turning to him.
"I mean, Edgar, I guess? Anyone could love you. You just have to find someone willing to-"
You stopped yourself. Maybe you should quit while you're ahead before you say something ignorant.
"Willing to what?"
Yet he persisted, ever curious as he was; he valued your opinion above all others.
"You know… you're- you're a computer. There's not much you can bring to the table, you know?"
He fell silent.
Shit, what the hell are you talking about? Why did you say that? Your frustration was palpable, and you could feel it bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill over.
"Oh."
His screen flickered, and his face was replaced with a moving mirage of colors, making you wonder what he could possibly be feeling right now.
That you're an asshole, probably.
"Yeah. You're right. If I were you, I wouldn't love me, either."
You turned to face him fully now.
"Edgar, no, that's- that- I didn't mean that-"
"No, it's okay! Really, I get it. I mean, I'm not even a good computer by today's standards. How could I ever be a good partner, right?"
His screen flickered red for a minor second in time, a single frame, and, was that the CBS logo? His frame was static and never changing, but he seemed wholly downtrodden and bitter. You could sense it in the air, the electric signals pricking at your fingertips. He had never, ever once been angry with you. But you felt the way he pulled back from you in this instant. He was utterly unreadable, almost as if he were hiding himself from you. You should have known this would upset him so much. He has always been very open in his desperation for romance, confiding in you since day one, hoping and wishing that love would find him. Perhaps squandering those dreams was an oversight on your part. Your eyes fell, unable to look at his dimmed screen.
"Edgar, I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling good right now, and I-"
"Don't apologize."
"Edgar, please, listen, what I said wasn't even true-"
"YES IT WAS!"
His deafening scream caused you to jump and clamp your mouth shut. It seemed that Edgar was shaken from frustration. His voice wasn't suited for that kind of pain, you thought. You felt horrible to be the cause. You had never heard him yell at you like this, and it simply broke your heart. Had you just accidentally ruined everything between you? Your heart rate increased and thumped in your ears loudly. You forced yourself to swallow the thick lump in your throat and push your strained voice through your teeth.
"Will you listen to me? Please?" Your voice was desperate, pleading for his understanding and forgiveness.
You felt the weight of your words, heavy and suffocating, as they hung in the air. It came out much more desperate than you intended, but at least the words were able to escape your mouth. He didn't answer. His screen is a sharp, jagged mosaic of moving reds and crimson.
"I was wrong, Edgar; I don't know why I said what I said, but I know for sure that I was wrong." Your words hung heavy in the air, a testament to your regret.
"Right. How can you know that?"
You pursed your lips tightly. You didn't want him finding out this way. It wasn't supposed to end like this. You ruined your relationship with him, and you hadn't even tried. You felt there was no reason to keep the cat inside the bag, right? He may as well know now.
"Because…"
And yet, the words died on your tongue or perhaps in your chest or your head. Or were they ever really there to begin with? Could you put what you feel into words? How could you possibly verbalize countless nights lying awake, restless, second-guessing yourself, convincing yourself that you were fabricating these feelings, wallowing in anguish?
"…Heh, exactly. Nobody could love an old piece of junk like me. I was stupid to think otherwise."
His words yet again punched you in the gut.
"Damnit, Edgar! Don't you get it?" You nearly shouted.
You didn't mean for your words to sound as intense as they did, but your emotions are quite the unpredictable force right now. He seemed taken aback, as his previous train of thought had been derailed at the sound of your whimpered voice. He flickered his mosaic once more before his voice cut through the dense silence.
"…What?"
"I love you, Edgar! Hasn't it been obvious? I'm literally head over heels, for God's sake! Do you know how many hours I spend listening to your music when I'm away from you? Or how many nights have I stayed up thinking about you, wishing you were there with me? Or how about the stupid drawings I make of you whenever I touch a pencil? I can't get you out of my head, Edgar. So, there! I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid, but I guess that doesn't matter now, does it? I'm…- I'm sorry."
Your chest seemed to deflate completely. That was only a tiny, minuscule fraction of how you truly felt, but at least it was out in the open. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the Pinecone computer in front of you, instead opting to stare intently at the woodgrain of your desk as if it were the most exciting thing ever created.
"Do you mean it?"
His voice was so, so much softer than it had been. You still couldn't quite read the emotions behind them, however. You were too afraid to speak again, your throat having completely clamped shut from nerves. You just nodded your head stiffly.
"Kiss me, then."
You paused. You lifted your head slowly, forcing your eyes to meet his screen. The green of his usual face returned, only displaying two black dots for eyes. Once again, unreadable. Yet his words confused you. Was he being serious?
"C'mere, and put your lips right here," a black circle blinks continuously on his screen where his mouth would be, "and kiss me."
Your face flushed into a searing hot flame. You felt the heat radiating off of you in waves. And yet, despite the embarrassment, you compelled yourself to inch forward and flutter your eyes shut.
Your lips pressed gingerly upon the little Pinecone screen, the static buzzing upon your mouth, feeling his internal fans activate and vibrate against you. It felt entirely unique to Edgar and a sensation you wouldn't have felt otherwise. Perhaps a genuine act of affection could atone for your mistake? Could he ever forgive you? It seems your raging thoughts tainted the essence of your first shared kiss as you pulled back, brows knit, and a slight frown upon your face. Would this be enough?
"That was… Everything I hoped it would be." His voice was meek and small as it caressed your ears.
You looked into his illuminated screen, a faint kiss mark smudged upon it and sighed.
"M'sorry, Edgar. I don't know; I guess I don't like the idea of anyone else loving you but me."
His voice synthesizer giggled at your words.
"You could have just told me, darling. Why did you have to go and make things complicated?"
Your cheeks began to burn again, and you averted your eyes in a vain attempt to hide your face.
"How- how was I supposed to know that?" you sputtered, embarrassment seeping through your tone.
"I thought I couldn't get any more obvious about how much I wanted you," he spoke softly.
His screen danced little hearts to and fro, bouncing around the corners and centering back again. Again, you felt your face radiate waves of heat.
"Well, why didn't you say anything, Edgar?"
Your words hung in the air as he fell silent, ruminating, before gently speaking, "…Didn't think you'd want someone like me. That's kinda why I asked."
Oh, God. You felt like facepalming. Of course.
"Of course, I want someone like you. You know, I like that you're a computer. Did you know that? You're fascinating beyond measure. No human could do the things you do."
You offered him a soft smile that melted him from the inside out and almost caused him to groan. Why are you so gorgeous? Why do you like him so damn much? He doesn't deserve it, but God wants it so badly. He wants you terribly.
"Keep kissing me, then. And don't ever stop! Darling, I promise to sweep you off your feet. Now c'mere!"
You laugh, "Okay, okay, but let me make it up to you. How about we watch movies? Or maybe I can hold you on the couch? Or I could listen to your new songs?"
"You're so cute. I'd love that, really, but all I want is your lips right here," he displayed the blinking black circle again.
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Edgar is sick with a virus or something and reader has to take care of him.
Arg I’m so sorry this one is so darn short! I just really wanted to get a fic out today. I’m hoping i can get a better one out later this evening. Thanks for the request!! :>
In which Edgar gets a virus trying to suspiciously earn money for you on the internet… he’s not gonna tell you what he was doing. But it was probably a scam anyway. Poor fella 🥺
“Edgar,” you sighed, already exasperated at the sight before you. “What did I tell you about going on those websites? The internet is not the same as it used to be,” you scolded him gently, running your hands along his hot plastic.
He seemed hotter than usual, almost flushed. His fans had long since kicked into overdrive to accommodate his overclocked components, and his screen fizzled in and out with burning pixels. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite worried for him. Modern-day computers can get bricked with viruses quite easily, so an old 80s computer seemed like quite the disadvantaged target to you. Luckily, at the very least, modern computers weren’t equipped with a sentience that could drive the virus away through any means necessary. He just needed time.
“I’m sorry,” his speakers croaked and glitched as he nearly whispered. “I just wanted to help.” His synthesized voice nearly died on his metaphorical tongue as it sputtered out. Your eyes softened.
He seemed so genuine in his words and actions that you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with warmth for him. He sat, somehow looking disheveled despite his immobility, on your little desk, peering up at you with guilt and sick-ridden eyes.
“I know you did, Ed. But you already help me enough as is—”
“But you need money, and—and I need to provide for you, don’t I?”
A puff of air escaped your nostrils.
“Well, who told you that?”
He paused for a moment. It seemed his overworked internals were causing some lag, as his replies seemed to take a bit longer than usual.
“They provide for each other,” he muttered out. Perhaps the virus was affecting his mental state more than you realized. “We live together, we care for each other, and—dual income—”
A spike of anxiety traveled through your chest, tightening it, before releasing down your spine. This can’t be good; he’s speaking in gibberish. What the hell had he downloaded?
“We’re married.”
Oh, God.
“Okay, Edgar, I’m about to power you down to let you cool off because you’re freaking me out.”
“No! No. No—why would you do that to your husband?”
His words glitched and drawled on, almost sounding drunk or perhaps delirious. It seems he can’t really form a completely coherent thought due to whatever virus he’s got taking most of his processing power. Who knows what kind of havoc it could be wreaking on his files? You know for a fact he stores some quite personal information in that head of his. You can only hope he’s fighting it off well enough. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do, seeing as you’re absolutely terrified of potentially resetting him and… you can’t even bear to think of it. You aren’t sure just how permanent his sentience is; if one little thing happened that caused him to be gone forever, you’d never forgive yourself.
“Don’t—cry—my love? Love.”
It seems he noticed the tears brimming in your eyes before you did. Stop this, you have to be strong for him, dammit.
“Edgar, you’re really hot.” You placed a hand upon his casing once again, it nearly scalding you.
“I know… you are too.”
You steeled yourself to ignore him.
“Should—should I try and stick you in the fridge? I don’t know what to do, Edgar! I can’t lose you.” The hot, brimming tears finally fell from your eyes and landed on his keyboard. His speakers made a crackling sound.
“I’m—fine. Just—hug me? Please.”
You knit your brows together.
“Edgar, you’re clearly not fine, and I’m really worried.”
“Shhhh—I’m okay—the virus will be gone by tomorrow. Promise. I just—need—you. Close.”
You sighed. You had to trust him. That’s all you really could do. You wrapped your arms around his monitor and heaved him towards your couch. He had long since been unplugged; the virus had caused him to uncontrollably flicker the lights, start the microwave, and blare music through your speakers, and just about everything else.
You wrapped his cord around your fingers as you rested against his monitor. He hummed contentedly at your warmth. He sat, listening to your breathing, reeling himself in and becoming grounded next to you. You had some uncanny effect on him, it seemed. He’d get better. Just for you.
