drip-painting

anonymous asked:

Mini prompt if ur taking any: high school /college au! Steve is in art class and he just opened a cupboard to find a tiny tony squished inside who just looked at him and said “shh i’m hiding. I may or may not have blown up the chem labs”

For the record, Steve had only wanted to finish his project.


It had been a long week. He was tired. It was cold. Bucky and Natasha had just gotten (back) together, which meant every night for the past 8 days had been….loud. To sum it all up, he was in a pretty piss-poor mood.

So when Steve heard a dull thud from the supply cupboard, paired with a muffled yell of ‘fuck, paint, fuck, everywhere, son of a whore-”, Steve figured his bad week was just about to get worse. 


Fucking horny teens. Sex in the store cupboard, really? Steve needed to use that, dammit.


Shutting his eyes and letting his head fall against the desk for a moment, he briefly contemplated his life and whether or not he really needed to stay in college, before standing upright. He’d just go in there and tell them to fuck off. Maybe make them pay for whatever damn paint they sounded like they’d spilled all over themselves. That would be fun.

There was another dull crash, and then what sounded like paintbrushes clattering to the floor as the cursing continued. Steve huffed irritably, marching forward. He was pretty much the sole user of the tiny studio, and so he usually ended up purchasing and ordering that stock cupboard all on his own. And now there was someone fucking in there-

“My eyes are shut, so you better put your dick away in the next five seconds and look really goddamn sorry by the time I’ve opened them again, or I’m gonna be so pissed,” he declared, yanking open the door whilst his spare hand covered his eyes.

There was a short silence, and then “Uh, do people usually get their dicks out in this paint cabinet? Is this some sort of exhibitionist trend I’m missing out on?”

Steve frowned, peeking through a crack in his fingers, just for a second. The frown deepened when he saw no-one, but as he glanced downward, he spotted a guy, crouched on his haunches. He was the only person there, and his dick was very much covered.

Steve pulled his hand away, staring. He looked like he was in the process of picking up a stack of paintbrushes from the floor, and he was covered in…glitter? And green paint?

“Yes, I know, I am a disaster,” the boy muttered, running a hand through his green hair, “in my defence, the stocking system in this cupboard is very unreliable.”

“Hey,” Steve folded his arms, offended, “This a perfectly stacked cupboard. It’s a good system.”

“There was no room for my elbows to navigate without spillage of the paints! They should obviously be on the bottom shelf.”

“It’s not catered to short people,” Steve snapped, “it doesn’t bump against my elbows.”

There was another silence, and then an offended huff. “I’m not short. I’m above average, actually.”

“Why are you even here?” Steve asked incredulously, looking at him hard. He didn’t recognise the guy- and it was with a little jolt somewhere just under his stomach that he realised he definitely would have remembered a face like that if he’d seen it around. “You’re not- you’re not an art student.”

“No, but the arts block is like, the furthest away from the labs on the other side of campus, and so it may stand a chance of being just out of reach of Fury’s senses. I hope,” he explained with a wave of his hand, like that made things any clearer, “anyway- amusing as it was to hear, may I ask why the first thing you said to me was an order for me to put my dick away?”

Steve made a little noise in the back of his throat, blushing. “You think this is the first time I’ve caught people getting handsy in my cupboard?”

“Ooh, your cupboard, is it?” The boy grinned, leaning a shoulder against one of the shelves. How he managed to make that look flirtatious, whilst covered in green paint and purple sparkles, was rather a mystery to Steve. “Didn’t know people could claim store cupboards now.”

“I pay for all the stuff in here and stock it myself-” he shot a glare at the boy, who just looked a little sheepish, “so yeah, I’d say it was mine. And you- you just come in here and mess it all up and get paint everywhere, and I’m not-”

They both stopped when they heard the banging of doors being flung open down the corridor, and Steve watched as the boy’s eyes widened. “Uh oh,” he said ominously, “okay, cupboard monitor, shut the door and pretend you never saw a thing.”

Steve paused, looking incredulous. “What? What are you even- I have no idea what is even happening-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the boy rolled his eyes as he whispered, and then before Steve could even finish, hands were grabbing at his collar and tugging him into the darkness of the cramped cupboard. He swore in surprise, feeling the boy lean over him and shut the door behind them with a quiet click. “You’re really terrible at reacting quickly, aren’t you?” He whispered.

Steve opened his mouth, and was surprised to find a hand immediately cover it. It was stupidly cramped in there for two people, and so Steve felt the boy, right up against him. “Pretty pretty please just be quiet, for like, 6 seconds.”

Steve, completely baffled by that point, just nodded. The hand was still over his mouth.

They both listened as the footsteps got louder, and then another nearer bang as the door to Steve’s studio was flung open.

The boy bit his lip and winced, fingers curling tighter into Steve’s jacket for a second. Steve just stood there, wide-eyed, wondering who the fuck appeared to be hunting for the person in front of him.

“Goddamn it, Stark, you can’t run forever,” came a gruff growl, and then they heard the door shut with a slam and footsteps fade down the corridor.

The boy- Stark- breathed out, and drew his hand away from Steve’s mouth. “Phew, that was close,” he said quietly, giving Steve an absent pat on the cheek, “well done for not giving us both away immediately, by the way.”

“I can react quickly,” Steve burst out defensively, “I can. You just- caught me off guard.”

Stark raised an eyebrow. He was very close in the cupboard- Steve could only see the vague outlines of his face in the darkness, but the initial image he’d seen upon throwing open the door had been somewhat burned into his mind, so it was easy to image what he looked like. “Sure you can, cupcake.”

Steve watched him, frown creasing his forehead. Stark didn’t seem unduly scared, and when Steve had seen him, he didn’t look all that injured. But that didn’t exactly explain why there appeared to be someone doing their best to hunt him down. 

“Do you need help?” He asked in the end, cocking his head a little, “Do you- if someone’s after you, I can make them go away. Not like- not in the murdery sort of way, but- uh- I mean, if someone’s threatening you or something, me and my friends are good at- that. ‘That’ being making them fuck off, obviously, not the threatening stuff, why would you want me to threaten you too, that would be dumb-”

He broke away when he heard s soft tinker of laughter underneath his chin. It was a nice laugh. Very melodic. “You’d do that for a guy who just broke into your store cupboard and held you hostage there?”

“I’d do that for anyone who needed it,” Steve said, shrugging, “I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it, that’s all.”

He felt Stark’s eyes scour up and down his body, then, and guessed the face he was wearing looked pretty disbelieving, so he he added “I didn’t always used to be so…”

“Tall?” Stark said helpfully, and Steve nodded. “Yeah. Tall.”

Stark grinned, and Steve saw the white of his teeth. “Well, I’d really love for you to knock on Dean Fury’s door and punch him out, but I feel like that would be asking too much of someone I only met two minutes ago. Also the manhunt is, perhaps, ever so slightly justified.”

Steve opened his mouth, and then shut it with a clack. He cocked his head, looking down at Stark and re-folding his arms. “Why the fuck is Dean Fury hunting you down?”

Stark looked a little guilty, feet shuffling on the floor. “Uh. Well. You see- there was a very very slight incident with some flammable chemicals and an unsuspecting laboratory a few hours ago. No one was harmed, except Bruce’s pizza, so I guess I’m also hiding from him too. But- hmm, how do I put this- the lab has sadly reached its untimely demise?” he finished with a nod.

Steve paused. “So you blew up a lab,” he said eventually.

“I’m going to get them a new one, obviously.”

Steve wondered how much an entirely new lab would cost. “Obviously,” he repeated dryly, “and you’re going to buy me some new paint. And then tell me how excellent my stacking skills are.”

Stark smiled again. “Darling, I may be an arsonist, but I’m no liar.”

Steve huffed, shaking his head. He realised absently, that they were both still pressed together in the darkness of the store cupboard. And just like that, suddenly all the horny teens who fucked in broom closets didn’t seem quite so stupid after all. In fact, Steve thought they were onto something. That was- yeah, he could certainly consider that, in the future. Or now. Whatever.

“I,” Steve declared, hand jumping to the door handle and twisting it hastily, because they were definitely not the kind of thoughts he should be having about a total stranger, “am too tired for this.”

Stark raised his eyebrows and blinked as light flooded into the room. Steve remembered the paint when the guy’s hair pretty much assaulted him with colour. “And you should probably shower,” he added.

Stark looked upward, fingers playing with some neon strands and then letting the paint drip on his fingers. There was a second in which he just stared at it, and then the fingers jerked forward and pressed into his cheek, smearing green across his face. 

Steve yelped in surprise. “Hey!” 

“Now you need a shower too,” Stark shrugged, swaying forward on his feet and grinning up at Steve, “how about we save water and share one?”

Steve sputtered. Stark just looked at him with a little smirk on his face and a light in his eye. “I-” God, that offer sounded good right now, “I actually have a project that I- I can’t afford to put it off any longer.” He sighed, waving a hand over to the half drawn sketch covering his canvas and steadfastly refusing to turn and face it, lest he be bombarded with the physical representation of all the crushing pressure he was currently doing his best not to think about.

Stark peered over his shoulder, leaning in again as he did so. Steve could smell paint and coffee. “How long is it going to take, do you think?” He asked curiously.

Steve shrugged. “Too fucking long, that’s for sure.”

Stark looked as if he was debating his options. His eyes flickered over to the door, but then landed back on Steve. “Well,” he pulled a face, “it’s not like I’m gonna be doing much other than being yelled at once I leave, so I might as well stay and keep you company.” A pause, and then “That’s- that’s alright, right? You’re not secretly screaming at me to leave you alone in your head right now?”

Steve chuckled. “No screaming. You- I’d like you to stay, You seem like you have excess energy. I could use some of that right now.”

“What, you just gonna absorb the energy via osmosis?” Stark jumped backward onto one of the desks and swung his legs, leaning forward and grinning up at Steve. He really was beautiful- if a little green.

An usual burst of bravery overcoming him, Steve leaned down and took Stark’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. Underneath him, he heard a little noise fall from the other boy’s mouth, but he caught on quickly, hands going around Steve’s waist and pulling him in close.

Steve pulled away, placing an extra peck on his lips for good luck. “There,” he said with a smile, “I’m feeling more energised already.”

Between his hands, he felt the smile as Stark laughed. “Wow- smooth talking, handsome, it’s a wonder you’ve not been snatched up already,” he mused through his little bursts of laughter.

“My name’s Steve,” he stroked a thumb over the cheekbone that was covered in a patch of glitter. He stopped for a moment, and then shrugged. “Although sugar’s fine too.”

Another laugh. Steve was fast beginning to develop a bit of an addiction to that laugh. He wanted to hear it more, far more. “I’m Tony,” was the response he got, “Tony Stark.”

“Do you usually set off explosions and then run from the consequences of said explosions, Tony Stark?” Steve murmured, tilting his head and letting his hands slip around the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony’s fingers grasped at Steve’s shirt and pulled him down for another kiss. “Wanna find out?” he breathed when they broke away for a second, and Steve did, apparently- very much so, if the hands that curled into Tony’s hair and the mouth that worked open Tony’s own was anything to go by.

“Mmf,” Steve said, in a mixture between a moan of pleasure and irritation, “you’re getting paint all over me and I really, really need to- hmmm, God- work. This is very distracting,” he muttered, making no efforts to break away as he leaned forward and curled his hands under Tony’s thighs, pulling him as close as he’d get before falling off the edge of the desk entirely.

Tony giggled. Fuck, Steve had known him for five minutes, why was that laugh making him feel so stupid and pleased for- “I’l pay off your professor and make them give you an A,” he said seriously, peppering kisses across Steve’s throat, and fuck, okay, yeah, Steve was… the project wasn’t going to get finished tonight, not now Tony had come in and seduced him with his stupid painted green hair and ripped jeans and mouth, goddamn it, Steve was only human.

He’d just finish the project tomorrow. Yeah. He’d have time.

“They won’t ever think to search for you in the apartment of some random art major,” Steve breathed, and Tony made approving noises underneath him, “I’d just like to say, though, that I deny all plausible accountability if you get caught.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony pulled on his earlobe with his teeth, and Steve felt his breath hitch and his eyes roll, whoops, yeah, he’d probably not be able to finish the fucking project for days after this- too distracted by the goddamn memory, stupid Tony, “cruel words- throwing me to the wolves so easily? After all we’ve been through?”

“I met you five minutes ago.”

Tony waved a hand, “and we’ve bonded irredeemably. No going back now, Steve, if I go down, you’re coming with me.”

Steve smiled, curling his hand around Tony’s jaw again. “You know what, I don’t think I’d mind that all too much,” he admitted, before making a face, “although I could do without the green paint and glitter.”

“You’re just not imaginative enough,” Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back, “how far away is your place?”

“Depends how legally we get there.”

“I’m already a fugitive- might as well go all out,” Tony slid his hand into Steve’s pocket and squeezed, and Steve barely resisted the urge to just lean over him and get his pants of right there on the fucking desk, God, there was paint everywhere, why was this not horribly gross?

“Two minutes, then,” Steve answered, searching blindly for Tony’s hand and then locking their fingers together, “come on.”

Tony jumped off the desk enthusiastically, and Steve tugged them out the door, both of them giggling like five-year-olds as they ran through the corridors and hid from any professors that might be out for Tony. Which happened to be all of them. 

“They’re all under Fury’s web of control,” Tony whispered conspiratorially into Steve’s ear, a hand curled around his shoulder as he peered around the corner and watched a professor wander innocently over to the water cooler, “look at him. Look at that plotting face. They’re all out for me, Steve, all of them.”

Steve just rolled his eyes and pulled Tony out the door. After some heavy making out against the wall (Tony said it was because physical affection made people uncomfortable and so wouldn’t look at them, but Steve just thought he was a handsy bastard. Not that he was complaining, mind.) and a brief detour to the nearest corner store to buy cereal, Steve finally got them both back to his apartment.

Bucky looked up as he walked in with Tony, and his eyebrows shot up. Tony winked. Steve just looked smug and gave him a salute, before pushing Tony into his room.


Time to show him how it felt to be on the other end of those thin walls.

Back at it again with the headcanons! Message me anytime for OTP requests.

Buying the first house/renovation AU:s

*

•person A finding the ugliest most run down shack of a house claiming “it’s haS PoTenTiaL B!!”

•person B regrets every choice they’ve ever made when they see the house.

•arguing in the Home Depot over what paint color to get.

• “I see now, you don’t really love me this was all a trick”

•JESUS A I just want to paint the living room *color a hates*“

"IVE BEEN BETRAYED”

“Shut up drama queen”

•paint fights. It starts out as accidentally dripping paint on the other person and ends up with both people on the floor laughing and covered in paint. Not much gets done that day.

•rebuilding the shitty parts of the house and arguing over the “right” way to do it.

•"hey babe, I kinda want to nail you. Get it? Nail? Cause we’re hammering"

“I’m leaving you.”

•being so proud of what they built together and finally having a place they could call their own and build a life together

•building IKEA furniture.

“DAMMIT A I know what I’m doing!”

“No you don’t! The instructions are in Chinese!”

“I CAN GOOGLE IT.”

“You’re hopeless”

•person a accidentally hurting themselves lifting something heavy/putting up drywall.

“OH MY GOD A ARE YOU OK”

“I’m fine!”

“YOURE BLEEDING”

“MAYBE IM JUST DEDICATED TO THE WORK B.”

•being sweet and cute the first night in the house. No furniture, no power, laying on an old Mattress in the living room floor, but being happy that they finally have their own house.

•Person a makes friends with all the neighbors while B makes sure there aren’t any creeps in the neighborhood.

•impromptu karaoke while painting. Usually to really bad music.

•when they finally finish the house person B wants to carry A over the threshold.

“But we aren’t married.”

“Yeah but it’s symbolic”

“Yeah, to MARRIAGE.”

“Shut up and let me carry you.”

•person B proposes that night.

Feel free to add more!!

Star spangled brushwork

Summary: You need help painting your apartment, and the weather and Bucky Barnes are both hot. Sniping and sexy times ensue.

Characters: Bucky x Reader
Word count: 3,220
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Seriously. If you’re not of legal age, go away, this is not for you.

A/N: It’s my first attempt at smut and smut is hard (no pun intended). Any advice and/ or feedback is always more than welcome. 

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by maddiekittenlover

After years of saving pennies, working multiple jobs, and one too many nights of boxed wine and Ramen noodles, you had finally, finally, saved enough money for a down payment to buy your own apartment. Sure it was small and on the top floor of an elevator-less building, but it was yours, and that’s what mattered.

In a bid to save money like a responsible homeowner, you also decided to paint the place yourself, and with a little cajoling and a little blackmail concerning that time you filmed him singing ‘Beauty and the Beast’ while he made a PB&J, Bucky grudgingly agreed to help as well.

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Every dog needs a pack. This is true, and woe to the lone dog who walks without a single friend. Still, there are those that do, and long ago an odd wolf wandered from his pack in loneliness as an outcast. He cried and cried in the wilderness, until at last his call was heard by a dog. “Sing with me, wolf.” Said the dog. “We both sing songs of loneliness, you and I will sing better together.”

And so they did, and soon their song grew louder and attracted a jackal and a fox and all manner of forsaken lone dogs. “See how many the outcasts are in number! We could be a pack of our own.” Said the wolf. “Yes,” said the jackal, “we have a song to sing together though each of us wears a coat of a different color. We should have a mark for ourselves, so the world can see that we have made a pack of one another.”

And the animals agreed, and gathered paints and mud and pigments into pots. Each dog was painted with the color of his neighbor’s fur, until each of them was full of different colors and dripping in paint all over. The painted dogs still hunt together, and still wear their coats of many colors, that match and yet do not. They are a strong pack, though they were built and not born, for family runs deeper than blood.

DIY Tropical “Low Poly” Geometric Mural

Altogether, this took about 11 episodes of Lost. 

Supplies used below: 

  • 5x 3in Paintbrushes ($1.48/each)
  • 5x Glidden Flat White Paint 1qt ($8.98/each)
  • >White, Lucious Lime, Splendor Gold, Bella Vista(Blue), Intrigue (Red)1x Ultramarine Blick-brand acrylic paint ($3?) for toning the blue above
  • 4x 1-inch Masking Tape ($5/each)
  • Cheap dollarstore plates for mixing colors.

Before


I looked at a ton of low-poly images before deciding how to paint the triangles.


A bit better view of the colors here. Very tropical!


Before and After, with furniture.

Here are some lessons learned:

  • I probably could have bought sample sized paints and saved $20
  • I should have laid down some newspaper - there were a couple drips of paint (but good thing its just painted concrete, right?)
  • I ran out of blue masking tape briefly and switched to white so I didnt have to go out and brave Irma. Bad idea. Couldnt see my tape at all and slowed me down.
  • I probably would have rather mixed some colors in larger swaths than using plates, but clearly this wasn’t a terrible mistake.
The Night’s On Fire

Originally posted by igot7-love

MATURE

Warnings: Underage drinking, drunken sex.

You feel the bass pounding beneath your feet the moment you step out of the car. The massive house is overflowing with college kids (and brave locals), stumbling around with red cups in hand. You can see strobe lights flashing and smoke from the smoke machines drifting out of the open door and you know that this is not the place you want to spend your night.

“Smile, sweetheart,” one of the brothers slurs as you wait by the door for your roommate, “you’re at a party!”

Before you can retort, one of the more sober brothers working the door shoves him inside. “Sorry about him. He’s a new brother. They’re finally allowed to drink and he’s gotten a little out of control,” he explains. “I was going to ask over or under but because there’s vodka in your cup, I’m assuming over. Don’t tell me if I’m wrong.” He holds his hand out for yours and scribbles a circle on the back with a grin. “Enjoy the party.”

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