Staring Into Your Own Face.

Staring into your own face.

how about a fic where edgar listens to the reader’s heartbeat for the first time?

Thanks for the request!! Sorry it’s short I’ve been quite busy :(

This was a silent evening.

Edgar sat at his little desk, flipping through some of his internal games, fighting with himself and winning. The ball tinked around his screen as he once again beat himself in a game of Pong. He kept his eye—or camera—stationed on your form, curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone.

He loved watching you in moments like this.

The way your chest gently rose and fell in a slow-paced rhythm; the way your eyes fluttered about, illuminated by the screen, sparkling like constellations. The little puffs of air you let out through your nose when you stifled a laugh. He could watch you for hours, he thought. You’re so… natural. Organic. Real.

It amazed him.

“Hey,” he gently called out to you, “won’t you come do that over here? It’s lonely.”

His screen displayed a little, meek frown. How could you say no to that? He’s quite adorable.

Without saying anything, you heaved yourself up and trod over to his little desk, plopping into the seat.

“Hi.” He all but whispered.

You blew air out of your nose again.

“Hi,” you said back, eyeing his screen. He paused his game. “What are you up to?”

He synthesized a sigh. “Nothing. That’s the problem. I’m bored. And I missed you.”

You rolled your eyes a little, a small smile adorning your lips. “Well, Ed, I never left. I was just on the couch-”

“Yeah, but I missed talking to you. And I miss it when you don’t touch me,” he whined.

You quirked your brow.

“What does that mean?” You chuckled at his words. Sometimes he said the darndest things and didn’t even realize it.

“I like it when you pet me.” His matter-of-fact tone only made this more confusing.

You cocked your head. “Can you even feel it?”

He paused, mulling over your words, letting the curiosity in your eyes carry him forward.

“If I didn’t feel it, I wouldn’t miss it, would I?”

You stifled another laugh. Sometimes, he wished you didn’t try to hide that angelic sound.

“Will- will you hold me? Please?” he muttered. He sounded abashed. To him, this seemed to be crossing a threshold the two of you hadn’t crossed yet. He always adored your feathery touches, but to flat-out ask for them was uncharted territory.

Was he coming on too strong?

You stuttered over your words a bit, eyeing down all of his components: his monitor, base, keyboard, mouse, webcam, microphone—there were just too many wires connecting to him. You knit your brows.

He seemed to sense your apprehension.

“I won’t break. It’ll take a lot more than your touch to break me,” he promised, though he knew it was a lie; simply the sound of your voice could send him reeling into a forced restart, but he’d never let you know that.

You relaxed your tightly wound features and gave in to his gentle and coaxing voice.

“Okay, but I’m not unplugging anything, and I’m not walking anywhere.”

He hummed. “That’s okay, I just want to be close to you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. He sounded so gentle and charming. Ironically, you’ve never had someone show this much genuine interest in being close to you like this, much less a sentient computer. You slowly lifted his monitor into your arms, cradling it, and awkwardly grabbed at his webcam and microphone. You wanted him to be able to see and hear, so you balanced them in your arms, angled up against your chest.

Edgar stayed silent.

He seemed to warm in your arms and you worried you might be covering one of his vents before his voice tore you from your thoughts.

“Wow…”

Damn it.

“Really, Ed?”

You pointed his camera away from your chest and towards the ceiling.

“I don’t even— you can’t just— Edgar, you don’t stare at people like that.”

You chided as he snickered in your arms. “But I look at you all the time. What’s the issue?”

You groaned. “Do you want me to drop you?”

“You wouldn’t. You like me too much! In fact,”

He paused, a more serious tone reverberating through his voice. “I can hear it.”

Silence filled the space between the two of you as you cradled the monitor in your arms. He seemed to opt out of displaying his usual face as his screen danced with reds and pinks in your hold. The colors slowly started to morph, bumping and beating to a silent sound.

“What do you mean?”

His screen continued to move to this sound before he gently muttered, “Your heartbeat. I can hear it. It got faster and your arms got hotter. See?”

His screen turned into a makeshift heart monitor, a pink line dipping, going down, and shooting up to the thumping of your heart. You could see and feel how he kept time perfectly with your own rhythm.

“Woah…”

“You’re telling me…”

He was enamored by you. Your body was a perfectly well-oiled machine, working constantly to a rhythm to keep you alive and warm. It was so fascinating and beautiful; he almost envied it. The way the little thumps told on you was adorable to him and simultaneously reminded him how you’re not so different. You both have precious components running internally to keep your systems stable; however, yours had a certain natural beauty to it he did not believe he had.

He wished he had a heart, so you could hear it, beating, only for you.

Mettaton 🩷🩵

The new live laugh love

warmth of a bear

EDGAR’S VOICE IN THE EARLY ELECTRIC DREAMS IS SOOO CUTE!!

“Think you can give me a hand?”

“Hehe, do I have one? :)”