YESYEYSYESYYEYSEYSYEYYSE YES GOD YES GOD TYSM WHOEVER RRQUESTED THIS IM FLIPPING OUT

Humanization of some toons and twisteds, I don’t know if I’ll ever get around to making the rest

I love them

"but these are all crazy sentient ai computers!" they just all need some love... everyone makes mistakes right guys :[

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I thought it would be kinda cool to put a bunch of characters in one so.... HERE IT IS!!!

A little drawing of Edgar in Somes clothes from the 70s. (he'd like clothes from 10 years ago in my head)

woah, total misplay

Spilled something on my computer and now it's stuck like this, does anyone know how to fix it???

Damn!

Characters: Painter & Reader | ROUTE B is Painter's route!

Tags: Fluff, Heart to Heart, Romance, Confession

Words: 3,2k

Authors Note: I got impatient. But after this, updates will be strictly on thursday for both routes. Take this as a little preview for Painters Route.

Painter’s lips pressed against yours, warm and surprisingly soft. It was unexpected, sudden, and for a split second, your mind went blank. Time slowed, the sound of the rain outside the shop fading into nothing as his kiss lingered. You could still smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, mixing with his expensive cologne.

Your breath hitched as your hands instinctively gripped the edge of the counter, grounding yourself. The world felt off-kilter, spinning in a strange haze of emotions, confusion, and something else you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He pulled back slowly, eyes half-lidded, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I—" He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His usual calm and nerdy demeanor was gone, replaced with a vulnerable uncertainty that you hadn’t seen in him before. His gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for a reaction, something to tell him whether he had just made a mistake.

You blinked, your heart still racing from the shock of it all. What had just happened? You’d come here for answers, not this. And yet, here he was, standing before you, looking both terrified and hopeful, his lips slightly parted as if waiting for a response.

But you didn’t have one. Not yet.

Your mind was still spinning from everything—Sebastian, Allison, the stream, and now this. Your emotions were a jumbled mess, and you weren’t sure which way was up anymore. Painter had been there for you, helping in ways you hadn’t expected, but this? This felt like it had changed everything in an instant.

"Painter…" you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something—fear, perhaps, or regret. He shifted nervously, his fingers still brushing the counter beside you, unsure of what to do next.

"I’m sorry." he said softly, his voice shaking. "I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking. I just… you looked so lost, and I—" He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, or maybe I’m just tired of watching from the sidelines, but… I couldn’t stop myself." He had always been at the edge of the events, seeing you around but never managed to talk to you. He knows so much about you thanks to Sebastian and here you were, barely knowing him in return.

He looked down, guilt washing over his features as he continued, "You deserve better than this. You deserve better than some guy who can’t keep his feelings straight. I’m sorry."

You swallowed, trying to process his words, his apology, and the kiss that still tingled on your lips. It was too much, all at once.

"Why now?" you asked, your voice a little stronger this time. "Why say this now, after everything?"

Painter bit his lip, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again, filled with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Because…" He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread. "Because I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt anymore. Seeing Sebastian hurt you… it drove me crazy. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way, I know he’s my friend, but I care about you more than I realized. And I guess… I thought maybe, just maybe…"

He trailed off, unsure how to finish. The shop felt too small, too quiet, the only sound now the soft patter of rain against the window.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the pain in his eyes, the struggle. This wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment thing. He had been holding this in for longer than either of you probably realized.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of Sebastian. His apology, his confession, the way he had broken down in front of you. The emotions you’d felt then were still tangled up inside, unresolved, confusing. And now here was Painter, adding another layer to the mess.

"Painter." you whispered, unsure of what else to say. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like a weight you couldn’t lift.

"I know." he murmured, stepping back slightly, giving you some space. "I know this is too much, and I shouldn’t have put you in this position. I just… I needed you to know how I felt. Even if it was the wrong time."

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed now. "I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to be honest. You’ve been through enough, and I didn’t want to add to it. But here I am, making everything worse."

You shook your head, taking a deep breath as you tried to find your own footing in this whirlwind of emotions. "You’re not making things worse, Painter." you said softly. "I’m just… I’m confused. About everything. About Sebastian, about you, about what happened today."

He nodded slowly, his expression softening a little. "I get that. I do. And I don’t want to pressure you. I just…" His voice trailed off again, as if he didn’t know how to finish that thought.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. You weren't sure where things would go from here, but you knew one thing—that kiss had started something inside you, something you couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was a crush, or maybe it was something deeper. Painter looked almost divine in his suit, his messy silver hair catching the soft light, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

The way he looked at you, like you were his last lifeline, tugged at something deep within. There was no mistaking the tenderness in his gaze, and that alone made your chest tighten.

Maybe it was a stupid decision. Maybe it wasn’t. But before you could overthink it, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It was softer this time, slower—an attempt to understand what you were feeling. His breath hitched against your lips, and then you felt him respond, melting into you like he had been waiting for this, for you, for so long.

His arms wrapped around you now, pulling you closer, but not with urgency—with care, as if he was afraid that you might slip away at any moment, like you were some fragile dream he wasn’t ready to wake up from. You could feel his grip tighten slightly, his hands shaking just a bit, and you realized that he was scared. Scared that this was too good to be true. That maybe you’d come to your senses and push him away.

But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into the warmth of him, letting your hands rest gently on his chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breath. For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of you in that quiet shop. The rain outside, the mess of everything else—it all faded away.

When you finally pulled back, your lips barely inches from his, you saw the way his eyes had softened, glowing with something more than just affection—hope. His breath was ragged, his cheeks flushed, and there was a flicker of disbelief in his expression as if he couldn’t quite grasp that you had kissed him again.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with hesitation but also a quiet plea. He needed to know if this was real, if you felt what he did.

You nodded, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric of his suit jacket. "Yeah." you murmured, your voice soft but steady. "I’m sure."

A relieved smile broke across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle just a little at the edges. He let out a breath he had been holding, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"You don’t know how much this means to me." he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. His fingers brushed the back of your neck gently, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve wanted to tell you for so long… I just never thought you’d feel the same."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "I didn’t know either, honestly," you admitted, your fingers trailing up to play with the lapel of his jacket. "But now… I think I might."

His breath hitched again, but this time it was with a quiet joy, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you back into another kiss, deeper and more assured. It wasn’t rushed, but it held a kind of promise, a new beginning.

The kiss lingered, slow and warm, filled with the sweetness of a love that had been quietly blooming between the two of you. When you finally parted, he stayed close, his nose brushing yours, his lips curled into a soft smile.

“We should leave.” Painter whispered softly against your lips, and only then did you realize how late it had become. The quiet night outside seemed heavier now, and you suddenly wondered if Painter was even able to get home safely in his current state. He wasn’t completely out of it, but there was a fog in his eyes, and you could tell he wasn’t in any condition to drive.

“I’ll take you home.” you offered, gently placing a hand on his arm. He blinked at you, a small, relieved smile spreading across his face as he nodded.

"Yeah, I’d like that." he murmured.

The two of you left the shop, stepping into the night’s drizzle. The rain had slowed to a soft patter, and the city lights shimmered on the wet pavement like scattered stars. Painter stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours as you both made your way to the subway station.

Once you were inside the quiet station, the hum of the city felt distant. It was late, and not many people were around. Painter stood close, his silver hair a little damp from the rain, his suit still pristine but slightly crumpled from your earlier closeness. He leaned against the railing, waiting for the train, his gaze never straying far from you.

When the train finally arrived, the two of you slipped inside, finding a seat toward the back. The subway car was almost empty, the soft hum of the train and the occasional rattling the only sounds accompanying the quiet night. You both sat down, the dim light flickering overhead as the train began to move.

Painter leaned against you almost immediately, his head gently resting on your shoulder, as if he had been waiting for this closeness all night. You smiled softly to yourself, feeling the warmth of him as the train rocked beneath you. His breathing was steady but slow, a sign of the exhaustion weighing on him. You shifted slightly, letting him rest more comfortably, and he instinctively draped an arm over your waist, pulling you closer.

“Thank you…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here. For… everything.” he replied, his fingers tracing light patterns against your side, as if grounding himself in your presence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. “You’d figure something out. But… I’m glad I can be here for you.” you said quietly, resting your cheek against the top of his head. The train continued to glide through the tunnels, and you found yourself watching the blurred lights pass by outside, the world slipping away in the background as you focused on the soft rise and fall of Painter’s breath against you.

The city outside seemed like a distant memory, forgotten in the quiet bubble of the subway. There was something intimate in the way Painter clung to you, as if he trusted you completely in that moment. The barriers between you had been lifted, and all that was left was a simple, honest closeness that neither of you wanted to break.

After a while, you felt Painter shift slightly, his face turning so that his lips brushed the side of your neck. The touch was soft, hesitant, but it sent a shiver through you, and you glanced down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression gentle but still a little hazy.

“I think I’m falling for you…” he whispered, the words barely audible over the hum of the train. His hand tightened around your waist, holding you just a little closer.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. But the feeling that had been growing inside you all night, the quiet, gentle affection, was too strong to ignore.

“I think… I’m falling for you too.” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his silver hair as you held him close. It didn't mattered from where the feelings came from or if they were only temporary, Painter made you happy at the moment.

Painter’s grip on you tightened, his head nuzzling against your shoulder as if he needed to hear those words again. And for the rest of the ride, neither of you said anything more. There was no need. The quiet, shared understanding was enough, as you sat together, letting the city pass by outside.

When the train finally reached your stop, Painter reluctantly pulled away, blinking groggily as he sat up. You helped him to his feet, your hands lingering on his arm as the two of you made your way out of the subway station, the night air cool against your skin. He leaned on you slightly, still tired but smiling softly as you guided him home.

As you walked through the empty streets, your steps echoing in the stillness, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between you. Something real, something undeniable.

When you arrived at Painter’s apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback. The place was big—far bigger than you imagined. The minimalistic design contrasted sharply with the luxury of it all. The open space, high ceilings, and large windows that overlooked the city gave it an almost ethereal feeling, like you’d stepped into some kind of modern sanctuary.

But despite its elegance, it was Painter who remained the center of your attention. He still leaned on you, his exhaustion clear as you guided him inside.

Once the door clicked shut, Painter turned to you with a lazy grin. Without warning, he pulled you toward the bedroom, his arm slipping around your waist with an ease that made your heart race.

"Come on… just… let’s rest." he murmured, his voice low and slurred with exhaustion.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the sudden closeness, but you managed to keep your composure, pulling back slightly. “Wait. You’re soaked.” you said, glancing at his damp suit. “You need to dry off first.”

He blinked, as if realizing it for the first time. “Ah… yeah, guess I’m a mess.” he chuckled softly, swaying slightly as he stood there.

“I’ll help.” you said quickly, heading to the bathroom, after searching for it quickly, to grab a towel. When you returned, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his hands, watching you with those tired but adoring eyes.

You knelt down beside him, gently dabbing the towel against his damp hair, careful not to mess up the silver strands too much. He closed his eyes, letting you work in silence, his breathing slow and steady now. There was something intimate in the act of caring for him like this, something that made your heart beat just a little faster.

As you moved the towel down to his neck, your eyes landed on the open collar of his shirt. His chest was exposed, skin smooth and still slightly damp from the rain. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard, but Painter didn’t seem to notice your nervousness.

"You’ll catch a cold if you stay like this." you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

With trembling hands, you undid the rest of his buttons, carefully peeling the wet fabric away from his chest. Your breath hitched slightly as you took in the sight of him—lean, toned, and so effortlessly handsome. His skin felt warm under your fingertips, and you could feel the heat rising to your face the longer you looked.

Painter watched you through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Like what you see?” he teased, his voice soft but still carrying that playful edge.

You quickly looked away, your face burning. “I’m just trying to help.” you mumbled, focusing on drying him off as best you could.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. “I know.” he whispered, his voice suddenly serious again. “I appreciate it.”

Once you had finished drying his chest and arms, you hesitated again, unsure of how to proceed. His pants were still wet, but you weren’t exactly sure how to… help with that.

“I… uh… I think you can handle the rest.” you stammered, your eyes darting away from his bare chest, still feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips.

Painter smirked, clearly amused by your flustered state. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it from here.” he said softly, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment before he stood up, wobbling slightly but managing to keep his balance.

You busied yourself with straightening out the towels and giving him some space, but every now and then, you caught glimpses of him from the corner of your eye. Even in his tired, slightly tipsy state, there was something about the way he carried himself that drew you in—something magnetic. It was impossible to ignore.

„You should dry off as well.“ He called out. „Feel free to take something from my clothes.“

When he returned, he had slipped into dry clothes, he wore a shirt but it was unbuttoned and left an excellent view on his chest and the lower parts of his abdomen right above his v-line, and his hair still slightly damp but looking more refreshed. He smiled softly at you, who also managed to change in the meantime, his expression warm and filled with something that made your heart flutter.

"And thanks for taking care of me." he said quietly, stepping closer until he was just in front of you. He didn’t touch you this time, but the closeness was enough to make your pulse quicken. "You didn’t have to… but you did."

"Of course." you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m always here for you."

Painter’s smile widened, and before you knew it, his hand was on your cheek, gently caressing the side of your face. His touch was tender, comforting, and in that moment, everything else seemed to melt away—the rain, the exhaustion, the world outside.

He pulled you again, gently and with care till you landed on top of him on the bed. Your body was pressed against his as his hand stroked your back affectionatly, he was beyond touch starved.

„Maybe I should tell you something.“ His voice hums, inviting you to relax.

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