#the honeys vi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bungalowbear · 1 year

Text

The Honeys VI

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2k

A/N: After a long time away from this story here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

In the several weeks since the start of the school year your life in Wormwood has settled into a good rhythm. The last waves of summer heat lingered, disrupted only by whispers of the early autumn breeze.

Life at the cottage was like a domestic fever dream. You were nervous about sharing the small abode with Bucky, but to your surprise he was a model roommate. You imagined that his time in the military instilled his habit of keeping things neat and orderly. The strict schedule he kept was also no doubt a product of his years not only in the Army, but also his time with S.H.I.E.L.D.

Every morning, Bucky rose before both you and the sun. Even on his days off from work at the garage. He completed his workouts in the backyard, which was more like an open field, where he’d found a large tractor sized tire and some sand bags left behind by the previous tenants. After, he went for a run through town and then ended up back at the cottage right as you finished with your morning shower. It was clockwork. While you prepared breakfast Bucky showered, then you ate together and talked until it was time for him to drive you to work.

You appreciated that your routine at Wormwood Academy was consistent until the first bell of the day. After, there were no guarantees about which turn the school day would take.

Though your position as Fury’s secretary prepared you to expect the unexpected, you could admit that even you were a little rattled the day three of your students returned from lunch with stomachaches. You had just barely picked up the phone on your desk to call the nurse’s office when the screaming started. You looked up and saw your entire class had fled to the edges of the room as three of their peers stayed sitting in their seats with sick on the front of their shirts.

You still shuddered at the memory.

Yes, the day could be unpredictable, but every morning you walked through the front doors and relished the short time to yourself. You passed by the front office, seeing Agatha through the slim vertical window frowning at her computer. You made your way up to the second level of the building and headed to the teacher’s lounge for a cup of tea. You passed by Mara’s open door and bid her a good morning before entering your classroom.

You opened the blinds, the sunlight illuminating the bland walls. Mara said you could decorate, but it’s been nearly one month into the school year and you still struggled with fully embracing your new identity. There was no doubt that you adored your students. But brightening the classroom, creating a haven for them in this drab building, seemed like a cruel trick to play. It might be pretty to look at for a time, but you didn’t know how long the illusion would last.

Bucky said there was a general timeframe for this operation, but there were things even he couldn’t predict. If he had his way Freeman would be exposed and detained before Christmas and the two of you would be back at S.H.I.E.L.D., returning to your old positions. However, with the slow progress you’ve made with Phoebe you had a feeling your stay in Wormwood could stretch into the spring. You knew that frustrated Bucky, when things were out of his control, and you felt the same each day you stepped into your classroom. Bucky wore his duty well and suggested you not dwell so much on what has to be done, that it was affecting your focus. But how could you not? This was your first undercover operation. You couldn’t easily take on the new persona like he could.

You sighed and moved to your desk, dropping your bag onto the edge and began setting up for your lessons for the day. The solitude seemed to you short lived when the bell rang. You greeted your students at the door and managed to herd them to their seats within a few minutes.

The first lesson of the day was reading. You had asked the kids to bring in a book they liked that they would then write a report on. You walked through the rows of desks, approving the grade level appropriate book that each student showed you. For a short time they read to themselves. You were thankful that your class size was small enough that you could visit each of them and asked about their books. When the bell rang for recess, you dismissed your class then sat at your desk.

While the students filed out, you noticed Phoebe walking with her friend Chrys, short for Chrysanthemum, and the former’s crestfallen expression. It was as if Bucky’s hand was on your back, pushing you to speak.

“Phoebe?” you called, watching as both girls stopped in the doorway and turned to look at you.

Phoebe answered in a soft voice, “Yes, Mrs. Honey?”

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The girls looked between each other for a brief moment before Chrys promised to wait at the swings. She continued on while Phoebe approached your desk.

“Yes, Mrs. Honey?” she repeated.

“Is everything alright?”

You saw the slight frown for a moment before Phoebe turned it upward in a way meant to convince you she’d perked up. But you spent enough time around Nick Fury to know when you were being deceived.

“Yes, Mrs. Honey.”

Your eyes scanned her face before they flicked over to her desk. Her copy of Charlotte’s Web still sat on top. You had watched her as she read, a frown on her face as she flipped dully from one page to the next.

“I just noticed you didn’t really seem to enjoy the book you picked for your report.”

“I like it.” Phoebe paused. “It’s just…”

You let the silence settle between you, not wanting to pressure her into saying something she didn’t want to. Maybe if you gave her some space she might return to you later with what was on her mind. You were just about to tell her that she could head out to recess and meet Chrys when she suddenly spoke.

“Can I trust you, Mrs. Honey?” Her eyes bounced between yours, searching. “I feel like I can trust you.”

Could she trust you? Wasn’t the whole reason you were assigned to this town, this school, to exploit any information you were given? Again, it was as if you could sense Bucky behind you, an invisible guidance to tell the girl what she wanted to hear.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Instead you nodded your head.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Phoebe said.

“Talk about what?”

“That I read harder books,” she explained.

“Charlotte’s Web is a perfectly—”

“Not that one.” She interrupted you, not impolitely, then scurried over to her desk. She bent down to open her backpack and took out a worn paperback book. She brought it over to you and dropped it on your desk. Your brows raised at the Russian name printed on the front cover.

“Crime and Punishment?” you asked, bewildered. How fitting, you thought to yourself. “Is this your father’s book?”

“Step-father,” Phoebe corrected. “And no. This is mine. I’m almost finished with it. See?”

She pointed to the blue butterfly bookmark that stuck out from the pages. It was indeed resting near the bottom half of the book.

“I see,” you said.

“I really wanted to choose this for my book report, but I know I’m not allowed. That’s why I was feeling sad earlier.”

Her expression dropped again and you made a quick decision.

“Phoebe.” She looked up at you curiously and you straightened in your chair. “How do you feel about doing two book reports for me?”

“Two?”

“After you finish reading Charlotte’s Web—”

“I already did.”

“Excellent.” You smiled. “Then how about you do one for Crime and Punishment, too?”

“Really?”

You nodded. “You can turn it in at the end of the week, same as the other. I’ll look over it during the weekend and I’ll have them both back to you on Monday. How does that sound?”

Her expression brightened.

“That sounds wonderful.”

🐝

On Saturday morning you and Bucky went garage sale hunting. This activity had become part of your weekend routine, and it was also the perfect cover for reconnaissance on the townspeople of Wormwood.

The night before, Bucky had been hunched over the local newspaper at the kitchen table. He was always very calculated when choosing the week’s target. A couple notable garage sales you’d been to so far were the Sheriff’s ex-wife’s and the head of Wormwood Academy’s PTA. This week you would be going to see Mrs. Burns, the librarian of the public library.

Unlike the previous garage sales you’d been to where you had a better chance at connecting with the targets, you both decided that Bucky would take point today. He assured you, reluctantly, that older people loved him. You suspected it had to do with shared life experience.

Mrs. Burns was an elderly lady in her late sixties with silver hair and a thin golden chain attached to her glasses. While Bucky spoke with her about the book section of her sale, you wandered off to the edge of the lawn where you spotted a round iron garden table. You traced a finger along the intricate curves of the metalwork. You could envision the table in your garden. On a clear day, sun shining down on you as you wrote your reports or did schoolwork. Breakfast in the mornings with Bucky.

Your daydream was interrupted when you heard Bucky call out to you. With one last look at the table, you walked over and he wrapped his arm around your waist. The action had become so regular that now it was second nature for you to lean into him and snake your arm around him too.

Bucky looked over his shoulder, then back to Mrs. Burns. “How much for the table, Patty?”

Your brows shot up, not having realized he’d been keeping an eye on you. Or that he’d somehow managed to get on a first name basis with the older woman in a short amount of time. Though you should have known by now that Bucky could be very charming. It was part of what he did for a living after all.

“For you Charles,” Mrs. Burns smiled sweetly at Bucky, “I’ll give it to you for half what I would’ve charged anybody else.”

With a light blush on his cheeks, Bucky paid for the garden table and carried it to the car. Mrs. Burns thanked you both and bid you goodbye. Her hand lingered on Bucky’s arm for a few moments longer before you cleared your throat and she seemed to remember you were there.

“She seems lovely,” you commented while you were in the car on the way back to the cottage.

Bucky sighed, eyes fixed on the road. “She was.”

A few silent seconds passed.

“She’s a little young for you though, don’t you think?” You couldn’t help tease him. “About a thirty year gap between you.”

“Ha ha,” Bucky replied dryly. Though you saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

When you arrived at the cottage, Bucky unloaded the table and carried it past the front gate and into the garden. You found the perfect spot and he set it down without breaking a sweat.

While Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon inside, you sat in your garden while you did your grading. You brought out a chair from the kitchen to use for now until you found one for the garden. Bucky said next weekend he’d double check the newspaper for anyone selling one. But for now you were content with your one chair, cup of tea, and the stack of book reports.

You were pleased with each of your students’ work, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t rushing just a little. You purposely saved both of Phoebe’s for last. The report on Charlotte’s Web was well done. She answered all required questions and provided a grade level appropriate analysis. But when you picked up the report for Crime and Punishment you were not prepared for what you read.

It must have been about an hour later when Bucky appeared behind you saying it was time for lunch. He picked up one of the several pages of Phoebe’s report you’d spread out across the table.

“The kid wrote this?” He sounds impressed.

You nodded, focused on the final page.

“This is—”

“Incredible,” you finished.

Bucky made a noise of agreement.

“It’s immaculate,” you continued. “From her grammar usage, to complex sentence structure, and even her penmanship. She’s making connections through the text that you don’t see until college level studies.”

“She’s very smart.”

“More than smart. She’s…” you paused. “Gifted.”

I do not do taglists. This series will be updated every first Friday of the month.

#catalog #the honeys vi #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #matilda au

8 notes · View notes