#clint 001

[testcsterone1x1]

@douchebagsfortestosterone​

jeffrey gets out of his parked car and stretches, the long drive back home gave him quite the sore back. though, he imagines his strain isn’t half of what his family’s new lawncare guy must be going through. ‘that’s new,’ he thinks to himself as he watches the sweaty guy work for a few beats. outside chores like that were jeff’s responsibility before he moved away for college. he supposed it made since for his parents to hire out since there’d be no way his scrawny, nerdish brother would be up for the task. chuckling as he thinks about how excited he is to see (and josh around with) the little shrimp, he makes his way to the front door, tossing a polite head nod the worker’s way. “don’t work too hard, man,” he shouts over the sound of the engine. it’s just supposed to be a passing interaction, but jeff stops and does a double take. wait, is that glistening, hardworking stud out there his little brother? he’s in so much shock that he doesn’t even know how to react. the boy is definitely no shrimp anymore. “bro, is that really you? i almost didn’t recognize you, you’re so ... different now! get in here!” jeff moves to wrap his younger brother in a bear hug, feeling up his body a bit as if it’s still unreal that the scrawny ankle biter he’s used to is no more. “what the hell have you been eating? i don’t remember giving you permission to grow up so much while i was gone!” he jests.

[kingcfasgard]

Starter >> @hawkoyed​

___ “we have known each other for far too long.” thor turned around and held the bow in a very weird way, trying to get it right but looking almost funny while doing so. “thou shall know by now, that I can’t understand how to do this.”

[vseoni-blog]

debbie cake -- {clint}

@ahawkwardguy

So. Maybe he didn’t actually need to be constantly looking over his shoulder while he was here.

But old habits die hard.

Bucky moves quickly along the aisle, shoulders up, head low. He’d only gone out to try and grab some food; he hadn’t realized it before, but he was starving. How long had he been asleep on that table?

Then again, how long had it been since he’d eaten even before he ended up here?

Hmmm. Good point, brain.

Thank you.

Nevertheless, he’s walking around the corner for the fifth time now with a bunch of bananas, some apples, and a coloring book in one hand and a pack of what looked like Debbie Snack Cakes but weren’t, really, in the other. He’s not really sure which are more easily crushed, but he’d put his money on the bananas, so the metal hand holds the Cakes, because he might be about to crush something.

He can’t. Make it to the cashier.

Usually these places have a self-checkout, and that’s easy. But it’s been a long, nervewracking day, and he just wants to eat and go to sleep (or, more likely, process what his life is now). His tolerance for crowds is fried. There’s so much... casual touching and closeness and it’s too overstimulating when it can come from any time, unexpectedly, from any direction. Breathing on his neck. Bumps into his back.

So he can get in line, but as soon as someone comes up behind him, he has to pretend he’s forgotten something and go back.

He hadn’t even wanted these snack cakes.

There’s a man in line now, and no one has come up behind him yet.

Bucky hesitantly steps in line after him, admittedly struggling a little to hold all his things.

Then he drops the cakes; they fall right between the man’s feet.

Bucky is frozen in mortification.

“Uh. I.” He bends halfway, unsure if he should grab them or just escape again.

Fucking hell.