Punk (Chap. 4)
Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.
Word count: 1878
Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….
A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I needed some time. I’ve got the next few chapters just about ready to go…and I’m gonna try and make them hurt ;) yay angst!
After Natasha successfully slammed you to the mat for the sixteenth time in a row you finally cried ‘uncle’ and ended the hour long workout/torture session. You’d come here to kickbox and beat the holy hell out of a bag but a certain spider had other ideas.
“I deserve this,” you groaned. Your chest heaved as your lungs strained for breath. The amorphous blob of a sweatshirt you insisted on wearing while exercising was soaked with sweat and made you feel as if you were slowly cooking in one of Hell’s saunas. “This is why I hate exercising.” Nat extended a hand to pull you to your feet but you shook your head dramatically on the mat. “No, just leave me here to die. I quit. You go out and fight the good fight. I’ll save my skills and start a nice, quiet dart league or somethin’.” Natasha rolled her eyes and kicked your leg. “No, seriously. I retire my knives to you. My guns, throwing stars, all of it. Take care of Ferd for me. Tell him his mummy loved him,” you wailed with a huge fake sob.