Cozy Writes Things

|| 21 || She/Her or They/Them I don’t mind! || Hello, I'm cozy! And I write things. Requests are open! This blog is SFW; however, that is subject to change. Please interact at your own discretion. I will post warnings and change this should I decide to travel the path of sin /lh

[cozy-writes-things]

IM ALIVE!!! Im sorry everyone for my hiatus, i transferred hyperfixations onto Hector from date everything and kind of abandoned this blog 🥺 I am in school now and may not be able to write like I used to but I have since discovered that I like to draw a lot, so im hoping I can start making Edgar art for you guys!! 💕💕

[cozy-writes-things]

Hi! I just watched Electric Dreams last night, fell in love, and then spent every free moment today binging your Edgar fics! They’re so cute and im so glad there are writers who love him📺❤️

I was wondering if you might write something about Edgar keeping his partner warm? I have Raynaud’s, which means my hands are almost always really cold. I think Edgar would love to use his heat to warm up a partner- I think he’d like both the touch and the ability to provide something for them :)

Anon! I have Raynaud's too! I love this idea TOT

This post may have evolved into a reader has raynaud's headcanon but it could also be reader just gets WAY TOO COLD and should practice SAFE bundling up in cold climates idk-

fun fact i actually wrote this with incredibly cold stone like fingers so apologies for any mistakes my hands werent working with me haha

I imagine Edgar would notice you blowing into your hands to warm them a lot, or constantly complaining about how cold your toes are. He probably just chalks this up to the temperature in the room, or perhaps you just run cold. He doesn't really have a body, so he can't be sure, but at first he doesn't really think anything of it. Humans get hot, sometimes they get cold, no harm, right?

Then he notices the tips of your fingers turning yellow and blue. Okay, that doesn't look normal, but he's a computer; a quick search can prove him wrong!

Well, okay, now he's worried.

It's the cooler months, and the apartment is much more frigid than usual. You had just gotten out of the shower and were blowing on your fingers in vain. Even the friction from rubbing your hands together was doing next to nothing. Edgar's webcam zoomed in on your discolored fingertips, the gentle mechanical clicks of it getting drowned out by your breathing.

"Are you cold?"

You pause your ministrations and look towards him.

"Huh? Oh, no, not really...."

He's silent for a beat before speaking.

"You look cold."

You suddenly notice what you've been doing with your hands. This has become so second nature that you've honestly stopped noticing it; perhaps you should take better care of yourself? You eye the discoloration in your fingers and look back at him.

"Well- um, it's just my fingers, really. I'm fine otherwise. My fingers are just... really icy right now."

"They're purple."

His tone sounds as though it's lacking in any emotion, and you can't help but wonder what he's thinking. He tends to state things matter-of-factly when he's contemplating something. You knit your brows curiously and look away, blowing on your fingertips again. When your hands get cold like this, you tend to lose massive amounts of dexterity, making it harder to do things like typing, which you were currently trying to do for an assignment. But alas, you persist, like you always do.

"C'mere."

Edgar's voice gently nudges you from your thoughts. You weren't sitting far from him, but you were currently using your work computer. You knew how he felt about other computers, sentient or not. You sigh.

"Ah, Edgar, you know this computer isn't alive or anything, just give me a couple more minutes and I'll be done-"

"No, it's not that," he cuts you off, "I want to help you."

Your eyelids raise slightly, "Huh? Help how?"

He chuckles.

"I can warm you up."

His screen, previously dimmed in a power-saving state, alights into his usual chartreuse color. He smiles gently at you.

"Well, I thought- I'm warm, you're cold- it only makes sense, right?"

You chuckle at him before rolling in your chair over to him. You set your hands atop his plastic casing and sigh in relief. It was incredibly warm. Your brows scrunched.

"Edgar, this is amazing, but aren't you too hot?"

He hums, his lidded, pixelated eyes staring into yours.

"No, I'm fine. I can handle much worse. I won't break. Promise."

You stare at him for a moment more, searching for truth, and find nothing but sincerity in his face.

"Okay, Ed..."

You flip your hands over like some kind of rotating hot dog at a gas station. While it may not be the most flattering physical touch you've had with the little computer, you certainly find it to be the most useful. You can start to feel sensation in your fingertips again, and slowly but surely, the color is returning to normal.

Edgar loves the feeling of your hands on him. The idea that he can actually do something real for you. He feels like a useless piece of plastic most days, and it eats away at him, especially when he sees you use other technology that's better; more useful. But now, he can provide for you, just like he's always wanted. If he had a body, he'd bundle you up in his arms and heat every bit of you, kissing your cold knuckles and wrapping your arms and legs with his own. Unfortunately, that may never happen. But at least he has this. You. The feeling of your cool fingertips running up and down his heated casing, simultaneously cooling him down and warming you up.

He wonders if you know how much you really do for him. Do you know your fingers are helping prevent him from overheating? Do you know you've saved his life? Do you know you've given him a purpose?

You lean in and plant a kiss on the top of his screen.

"What would I do without you here to take care of me, Ed?"

His screen blushes red underneath you, and his eyes meet yours. You must be an angel, he thinks. A radiant being he doesn't deserve, perhaps.

"You wouldn't have to do anything. I'd find you either way."

[cozy-writes-things]

hello!! i just wanted to come say i am so glad you're back, your most recent drabble was so cute and definitely lifted my spirits out of the dump!!

Awww I’m so so glad ❤️ thank you so much for the support, it means the world to me

[cozy-writes-things]

Okay this one’s kinda weird but hear me out

Edgar with a body (mainly because he’d probably need a body for this hc to make any sense lmao) and he has like a bunch of DJ equipment like turntables and those DJ boards with all the bells and whistles for his gigs and you love to sneakily play with them.

Like, he might be out running some errands for you or maybe doing something music related who knows, and you sneak and start playing around with his equipment and make some hilariously awful remixes (you know those TikTok’s with the DJs playing horrible transitions and song combinations as a joke? Yeah that).

Maybe he ends up having his own makeshift studio in your house or apartment paid for by the money he makes.

But it’s just a bunch of random sound effects and noises and hilarious song combinations. And you get all giggly and stuff and are just having way too much fun. You literally don’t even need to sneak while he’s gone - he’d let you mess around with it without you even needing to ask - but you like to be cheeky.

Maybe you get carried away messing around and he comes home without you noticing and he hears you just having so much fun laughing to yourself and he sees your smile and he’s just - UGH - clutching his chest heart eyes fr. He definitely notices that you’re a fast learner and have a knack for connecting different sounds, although, he may secretly laugh along with you cause it’s pretty bad-

Since you’re having so much fun why don’t you let him teach you how to do it for real?

[cozy-writes-things]

I just wanted to extend my thanks to all the wonderful and warm welcome backs I’ve received. It means a lot! I’m so glad to be back writing again.

I’m sorry if I haven’t got to your requests yet - I’ve decided that the next handful of requests are going to be the most recent ones instead of the older ones sitting in my inbox (mainly because those folks probably don’t even remember sending them, and I’d like to write for people I know are still tuning into this blog, you know?) but don’t worry - I’ll get to those too!

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend ✨💖

[cozy-writes-things]

I like to think Edgar does eventually develop a life outside of your relationship.

Like, yeah he loves you more than life itself, but! He learned to be more independent also! He began releasing his music online and gained a bit of a cult following. When you’re not around, or just busy, he interacts with fans on different social media platforms and takes requests for music. He has even thought of making money with it; many people have offered him some pretty big bucks for his music, and he’d be pretty silly not to take them up on those offers.

Many people have even requested he DJ at certain events, but as a computer, he’s pretty damn bummed he has to turn them down. He thought about asking you to bring him with you to gigs and just pretend you’re him - a human - with an old computer prop, but he knows that’s a bit of a long shot, and besides, your own plate is pretty full. He wants to be more independent, after all.

But if he has a body? He’s doing it baby! And it’s, like, actually good as hell. His ability to process data and read a room is uncanny, so his music selections are almost always perfect. He can do just about any transition you can think of, and all of his gigs end up with crazy mosh pits and dances. He’s extremely passionate about connecting with other music lovers, and seeing them all adore his work, dancing, celebrating, it just fills him with so much pride.

Local music festivals HATE to see him coming. I like to think maybe he found one and decided it would be fun to explore, but he ended up leaving with an offer to DJ next year the festival happens after showcasing some of his music. He ends up, after a bit of help from you, becoming much more secure in himself and his abilities. He’s able to talk to people, he’s become much more extroverted, and he finally realizes his worth as a skilled music producer. He’s not exactly famous famous, but the local music scene definitely knows him, and all his gigs are BOOKED. Almost every cent of his money goes straight to you though, since he doesn’t really need things like food and necessities, so he would pamper the SHIT out of you. Don’t mention even thinking about buying anything because it will be on your doorstep as soon as possible.

Eventually, at least one of his songs would go pretty viral on TikTok, and those nights where you’re bundled up all cute in bed scrolling your phone and his song starts blasting from your speakers while you giggle to yourself, he gets all red and hot and flustered. I love how he gets a lil possessive over you and his music, like, that song is mine, that human is mine, and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Sowwy late night rambles this isn’t proofread. How’s everybody doing 🤭

[cozy-writes-things]

Okay so like Edgar has a microphone, right?

So, he’s constantly recording the audio around him so he can hear. He’s not necessarily saving anything locally into his desktop, but he can, if he so chose, play back any audio clips he picks up sorta like a soundboard.

Like, I imagine you are sat in front of him, looking at his screen and playing a game together or something when Edgar does something hilarious (he will mess with the game sprites and text to make you laugh, sorry, I don’t make the rules). This causes you to die laughing, wiping away at your teary eyes before choking out an “Oh my god, I love you Edgar-“

And his screen pauses the game and displays his face, smug ass expression, before you hear your own voice emerge from his speakers.

“Oh my god, I love you Edgar-“

You start wheezing again, “WH-“

“Oh my god, I love you Edgar-“

“I love you Edgar-“

“I love you Edgar-“

He’s messing with you now, his pixelated smile somehow entirely shit-eating.

“My- Edgar- love you- Edgar”

Okay, now he added a small percussion loop to your jarbled voice. And a little chord progression.

Damn it, he made you into a song.

Your sides are about to bust open from laughing at this point, but he doesn’t relent his teasing.

“Hmm, I think this is my magnum opus, don’t you? What should I name it?”

[cozy-writes-things]

Can we get a reader being deep into their hyperfixations and going non stop about it to Edgar?

Or a guitarist reader that's with Edgar? :-) ✨

I love this prompt because I had already considered this scenario many times with Edgar. You would be two peas in a pod, I fear. A never-ending feedback loop of listen, yap, listen, yap, and so on.

I posit this: a guitarist reader who hyper-fixates on music and guitar.

First of all, Edgar already had a massive crush on you almost instantly. When he finds out you like music as much as he does? Oh man. He felt like he could crawl out of his screen and tackle you. He would have, too. It didn't take too long of knowing him to feel comfortable enough to express your fixations towards him; he was silly, open, supportive, and—gasp! He loves music, too?! Yeah, the two of you are made for each other, methinks...

It was a lazy weekend. You slept in, feeling the warmth of the covers envelop you and gently rustle you awake. As you came to, you heard a soft melody coming from somewhere near the living area. Your eyes fluttered open, the heel of your palms coming in to scrape away the sleep from them.

Music?

You don't recall leaving the radio or television on last night, and it couldn't be your phone, as it was stationed beside your bed, completely silent.

You clumsily stumbled out of bed and towards the sound, before you spotted your little Pinecone computer, his screen blipping with all sorts of colors to the beat. Every now and then, the music would stop, reverse, and play again, this time with a slightly different harmony or percussion flourish, and Edgar would hum with approval.

Was he making this music?

You didn't do anything to announce your presence; you just stood there and watched him work. The song he was creating sounded surprisingly magnificent, something that you could easily see topping the charts on the radio; it was catchy, simple, yet still musically complex, and an utter earworm if you've ever heard one. Your head bounced to the beat, your finger tapping along, then your foot. Who knew your little computer friend was so talented?

You decided you had spied on him enough, and you cleared your throat gently. Instantly, the music stops, and the colorful visualizers flick away to a black screen, before being replaced with his usual green one. His little face appears, ever so expressive, and slightly startled. There's a twinge of a pixelated red around where his cheeks would be.

"Ah-! You- you're up! Good morning, er- afternoon, really... Um... Did you sleep well?"

You smile at him, and pad over towards his little form.

"Yeah, I did. Did you make that?"

He pauses for a second, the little black dots of his eyes blinking up at you.

"Make what?"

You stifle a laugh, "That song, silly. Did you make it?"

The red around his cheeks grows darker, and his internal fans kick into a higher gear as he averts his eyes.

"You heard that, didn't you? Uhm... yeah, I did. Make it. The song."

You lean down, coming face-to-face with his screen, a smile on your face.

"Edgar, that was amazing! You're incredibly skilled, like- holy crap! I could never, ever make anything that good, and trust me, I've tried-"

Before you can continue your rambling, he stops you.

"Wh- you think so? That I'm... good?"

You nod frantically, "Uh, yeah! Amazing, even."

He looks extremely proud of himself, and if a computer could preen in confidence, he certainly would. If he were honest with himself, he did not want you to see him working on that song. Not until it was finished, at least. Was it for you? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. He cannot lie; he's thrilled that you like it. Who knew something that came so naturally to him put that gorgeous sparkle in your eyes? Consider yourself his muse.

"Wait," he stops his current train of thought, and you look back at him curiously, "you said... you've tried making music before? Did I hear that right?"

This time, your cheeks began to feel warm. This wasn't what you expected this morning to be like, but oh well.

"Ah, yeah, um... Well... I play guitar, and... I've tried making music. It just... never sounded that good to me, you know? Whatever you have, I'm not sure I have it."

Edgar nearly combusted in excitement. You swore you could see him bouncing on the table, but maybe it was your imagination.

"What!? Show me! Show me! Show me! SHOW ME!"

Your face grew much hotter.

"Oh, no it- it's not good, seriously, I'd just embarrass myself-"

You're trying so hard not to fall for his trap. If he gets you started, you know you won't be able to stop. You loved music. You loved the guitar. All you've ever really wanted was to create, but it never seemed to come to you. And now that you've got your own personal musical prodigy, who seems very eager to hear you, you may just die of embarrassment. Or excitement.

"I WANNA HEAR IT!"

His voice was louder and deeper, urging you to give in to his request. You sigh. You suppose you could humor him a bit.

"Okay, okay... Just give me a second, I'll be right back."

You scurry off to your little closet, where your guitar lies in its case, and heave it out. You pad back over to him, and again, he seems to nearly bounce in excitement. His little eyes track your form intently as you go to take out the guitar, his smirk growing wider in anticipation. Edgar feels a tiny bit nervous, though. He might actually explode from how flustered he is at the moment. His fans cannot seem to keep up with the demand of his CPU, which is rapidly rising in temperature.

The instrument now in your hands, you begin strumming a couple of chords. Re-familiarizing yourself with the feel of the strings and the sound of music. You sit cross-legged on the floor, positioning the guitar in your lap, before your eyes flit back up to him nervously.

"So, uh, what exactly did you want to hear?"

His eyes never leave your form.

"Your music! You tried making music, right? Let me hear it." He winks at you, his smirk never quite leaving his screen.

You look away, cringing, "Eh, I don't know it-"

"Don't be embarrassed! I promise, I'll help you find what sounds you like. Let me help you, okay? Please?"

You look back at his widened, pixelated eyes, and smile.

"Yeah, okay... I can do that."

Placing your capo on the second fret, you began to strum the simple little chord progression, and before long, the melody you had created came back to you. Timidly and quietly, you began to hum it. The sound of your voice moves along with the chords, the strumming pattern adding a bit of cadence and beat to the song. It wasn't anything complex, nothing like Edgar's song, you think, but it was yours. You felt like a large bridge between you and your little computer friend had just formed, and a piece of the walls you had built after all those years began to crumble down before him. He was seeing a side of you nobody else had, and that both excited and scared you.

Edgar was enamored by your beauty. Your voice. God, it was beautiful. He could die happily now that he's heard the sound of heaven and angels. He felt like he was able to reach out, beyond his physical limitations, and feel you. He was seeing deep into your soul, and it took his metaphorical breath away. He didn't notice that your song wasn't as "complex" as his, or that you hadn't even thought of words yet. He just heard the sound of you, and he's starting to realize he loves it. He loves you. Just as quickly as it came, the beautiful music gracing his audio processors stops, and he finally remembers he's back on Earth.

You sigh, too afraid to look up at him.

"Well, that's that, I suppose. It's nothing really special, but that's all I've got."

He's silent for a moment, and you feel brave enough to look at him.

He blinks at you.

"You're beautiful."

Your eyes widen, "Wha-"

"I meAN- ah- IT! The song, your song- is beautiful! SOng. Beautiful song." His voice sputtered out, metallic glitches lilting his voice. His screen isn't green anymore, but has now turned into a rather flushed shade of rose.

That's... new.

Your eyes flutter, and your voice sounds meek, "You think so?"

He chuckles, maybe a bit too forced, and nearly shouts, "I KNOW SO!"

You clear your throat.

"But- it's just- too simple. And I don't even have any lyrics-"

"I can help! If you want me to, I mean- I'd love to help. Whatever you want, I can make it for you." You look up at him, a bit of excitement bubbling up to the surface.

"Really? Because, well, I would like this song to have more electric guitar, and- Ugh, I can't write percussion at all! Could you help me with that? No, wait- can you teach me? How do I make it sound a bit more... exciting? Wait, but I want to keep the acoustic guitar in there as well. I can play the acoustic part, but maybe you could fill in the gaps with the electric?"

You ramble on, and Edgar listens. Yeah, he's got it bad. You're perfect. You love music, he loves music, and you're just too cute. You love his song. He's going to teach you everything he knows. He's going to have you sing vocals on so many new songs. He's also going to beg you to help him write. You have accidentally opened Pandora's box to the most supportive, excited, and yearning little computer. He may get a little obnoxious trying to impress you, though.

[cozy-writes-things]

since edgar can mimic sounds, it would be cute to have him using dog sounds to get the reader’s attention

puter pubby 🐶

Oh yes, reader. He can use dog sounds. Or cat sounds. Or literally any sounds he knows will get your attention.

He noticed pretty early on that you began to pet/scratch/rub on his casing a lot more once he started using vocal responses to your touch. First, it began as maybe a hum or a sigh of contentment, but then he realized you love his little purrs and whines. You may not even realize the changes in your behavior, but he sure does. Anything to get your fingernails to lightly scratch up and down his plastic shell.

One time, before you told your friends about Edgar, you begged him to go into sleep mode—or just pretend—so that you could have your friends over without breaking the news of your new sentient computer friend. Of course, Edgar was very upset about this, while you were clueless as to how deep his trauma went. He did it for you, though. He turned his screen black to simulate being "off" while eavesdropping on you all night.

The entire night, you and your friends heard strange noises such as growling, banging, strange breathing, and overall ghostly sounds. He would growl whenever anyone got too close to you, causing your friends to start freaking out again. He couldn't stand the idea of sitting dormant, watching someone else playfully bump hips with yours, make you laugh, or tell you jokes.

When they left, he whined for you. Please, play games with him? Or listen to music with him? Something. He gets really self-conscious and feels left out sometimes. You profusely apologized after that night and vowed to never leave him out again.

The next time you and your friends hung out, he was the DJ. He may or may not dedicate one too many love songs to you, though. Your friends can see right through him.

[cozy-writes-things]

YOU HAVE RISEN!!!!

I HAVE RETURNED TO FEED THE EDGAR FANS! REJOICE

[cozy-writes-things]

What if the reader is chubby and gets to cuddle Edgar? Maybe he has a body at this point so he can touch and feel? Your writing is so lovely and I love all your works!!

*taps microphone* ahem.... I have returned.... anybody there?

wow. its been awhile. well, let me just say this: i think i got hit with the ao3 curse. right around my last post my life kinda went to hell in a handbasket. gonna spare everyone the gritty details but, eugh, it sucked.

im going to be making some changes to my writing style. i think the entire little fics i wrote were kinda weighing down on me, so im going to lighten things up a bit and kinda start doing some headcanons instead. but not to worry! i will still make fics like my old stuff, just not for every single prompt. i need this fandom to come alive again and i nEEED people to start writing more for edgar... i love non-evil ais

erm, anyway... enjoy my little idea dump!

I love the idea of Edgar with a body, honestly.

In my AU, where virtually all my writing takes place, if he were to ever get a body, it would be after the reader rebuilds him 40-ish years later. He would probably find all the parts on his own and beg the reader to help him build it. Or maybe he found some super expensive, pre-built body he could connect to? He'd find a way to get it, so don't worry about expenses. He just won't tell you. Chances are, dear reader, you wouldn't know the first thing about building an entire robotic body, but no fear, Edgar has injected himself with all the knowledge one could possibly need for that. Somehow. He'll talk you through it, I'm sure. But one thing is certain: his body needs to be able to touch and feel. No point in getting a body if he can't feel you, right?

Anyway, I digress.

First of all, he LOVES your body. He quite literally worships it, although he tends to keep that to himself. He honestly doesn't want to freak you out with how much he adores you.

I like to imagine that Edgar is a bit chubby/plus-sized himself. So, having your frame match his would make him feel like you were obviously made for him. Or, more accurately, he was made for you.

Your thighs.... He love love loves your thighs. Imagine, you're sitting on the couch with him, watching a movie (on your television this time, not his screen!), and he spreads his legs just enough to push his thigh onto yours... He loves how warm and soft it is against his own, and you end up having to turn the volume on the TV up because his fans kicked on.

Additionally, his arm, snaked behind your head, slowly retreated back around to his side, where he grabbed your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. He loves you so much, it's like his body does things without him even knowing. The metal pads of his thumb just rubbing soft circles into the plush of your thigh as he leans more into you, still engulfed in the movie. His big monitor lightly nuzzles into your head while his hand just roams up and down your skin, constantly feeling you and needing your touch. I hope you can handle sitting next to him, reader, because he will be all over you without even noticing it.

If you're lying on the couch, scrolling on your phone, or doing anything really, Edgar will slowly pad up to you, and without saying a word, lie on top of you. His monitor would nuzzle into your tummy/chest, and his arms would snake around your torso. Again, his hands would be rubbing little circles up and down your back, and every now and then, he'd reposition his monitor and nuzzle into you more. You can still be on your phone, but pet him, why don't you? He practically purrs whenever your hands run up and down his head.

Sometimes Edgar himself gets a bit distracted working on a new song. He'll be sitting up on your bed, or on the couch, or wherever, and his screen would be on some music-making program, his cursor flitting this way and that. He would be so focused that he wouldn't notice anything on his webcam. His head would slightly nod to the beat, or his finger would tap along, not paying attention to anything. But you want attention! So you slink your way over and drape yourself over him, snapping him out of his trance. He loves music, sure, but, God, he loves you so much more. His darling needs his attention, and he will be giving it! He chuckles at you before wrapping himself around you, his hands going up and down your soft, plush skin. He might get a bit carried away if you don't stop him...

All in all, cuddling with Edgar, especially if you're chubby/plus-sized, is very handsy. He just... cannot seem to get the feeling of your skin out of his mind. How soft you are. He could bluescreen just thinking about it. He wants you to know he belongs to you entirely, worships you, and loves you more than life itself. He'd wrap you up in his arms and keep you to himself if he could! He's a lovesick fool.

[cozy-writes-things]

My ao3 is officially caught up with my tumblr! the only thing i dont have on there is that damned 2nd part to edgar's texts because its such a hassle to edit. i may put it on there one day, or just leave it as a special treat to my tumblr folks.

[cozy-writes-things]

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.

[cozy-writes-things]

if this is something youre comfortable writing,,

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.

"We'll do some other things later, yeah?"

His devilish tone sounded mischievous at best.

[cozy-writes-things]

I've been writing a little bit of Edgar X reader fanfiction, and I portray the reader a little differently from how you do, but your AU and explanation for how Edgar and the reader met is so good that I literally can't come up with a better one. Is it ok if I use it?

Of course! I don’t mind, I definitely took inspiration from some other fics I read before I began writing. I’m so glad you enjoy it! :>

[cozy-writes-things]

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!!!

[cozy-writes-things]

Reader x Edgar

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.