are you smarter than a preschooler

Instinct (B.Barnes)

Bucky Barnes


Warnings: angst (possibly a part two if you guys want), swearing

A/N - italicized sections are flashbacks! xo

Part Two!

Bucky sat in the same worn chair for three days, not moving unless it was to use the bathroom but even then he made sure he was back within a minute or so. He had studied the room surrounding him, noticing the black and grey scuff marks on the bottom of the doorway or how the paint chipped faintly where the wall touched the ceiling. 

Three whole days of hoping, wishing and praying that the rhythmic beeps of the machines would continue, signaling that life was still sitting in front of him. His breath hitched every time the dull beep of the heart monitor would slow for a moment, his eyes scanning across the computerized screen as if it held the cure for death.

“You should go rest, you need to get some food in you. I’ll stay here with her if it’ll make you feel any better.” Steve says from the doorway, his eyes softening at the sight of his best friend in such utter turmoil. Bucky shakes his head, not taking his eyes off the girl in front of him. “It wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

The shaggy haired man doesn’t answer that either, but continues to watch the slow rise of your chest with every breath you took. Internally, Bucky’s at a war with himself, so much so that he can’t focus on anything but that and your safety. 

Bucky didn’t know who you were, or at least he didn’t remember. All he knew was that you had been caught in the crossfire between HYDRA and the Avengers and for some reason his first instinct was to take you out of that situation. He didn’t know if you were a HYDRA agent or just a random civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time but none of that mattered because in that moment he felt a sense of familiarity when he saw your face.

Bucky tried hard, so hard to protect you. He would have succeeded too if it hadn’t been for a HYDRA agent shooting at the beams that hung above him, forcing the heavy wood to fall and collapse on the two. Bucky had been unharmed besides a few scrapes and bruises but you weren’t as lucky. The doctors weren’t even sure how you were alive right now with the extent of internal damage you endured. 

“Do you remember her? Did you know her?” Steve asks, sitting in the chair opposite to the other super soldier, placing his backpack on the floor. Bucky shrugs, shaking his head slightly as he rattles his brain for that exact answer. “You wouldn’t just save a random person for no reason, at least not like that. You saved her Buck, you held the beams up from crushing her. She isn’t some stranger, you know her. Maybe you don’t remember, but you do know her. I can tell.”

Bucky swallows hard, looking at your limp form on the bed. You have some bad bruises across your small frame, a busted lip and a large gash across your forehead decorate your face. Your left arm and leg are wrapped into tight casts, hoisted up to keep the swelling down from the multiple breaks in your bones. If Bucky hadn’t put his hand across you, your ribs would have been crushed within an instant. Thinking back to it, Bucky didn’t even have to think twice about moving his arm, almost as if it were second nature.

The slight curve of your face, the sharp point of your nose and the elongated arch of your eyebrow were all familiar to Bucky, he just didn’t know how. He knew you were important, he didn’t know why but he definitely knew you were someone he thought of as high up. 

“I did some digging.” Steve begins, looking at Bucky to make sure he should continue his sentence. Digging into his backpack, Steve rustles through some papers before pulling out a manilla folder, encased in dark twine.

Bucky peers over, cocking an eyebrow at Captain America. “What’s that?” His voice is gruff but he doesn’t expect anything less as he hadn’t spoken a single word in three days except for when he would call for the nurse if he got nervous about your lack of breathing.

“Just look it over, maybe this will spark some memory.” Steve sighs, handing the folder over to Bucky. The brunet takes it and unties the corse twine from around the folder. When he finally tears off the rest of the twine, he flips the folder open to reveal an info page.

Your pictures on the top left, your long (Y/H/C) flowing down your shoulders in waves. The picture looks to be that of a student i.d image, staged and youthful. Your name is splayed across the right column in italicized letters, Y/N Y/L/N.

Bucky reads on, learning your birthday, home address and even the schools you attended from preschool to college. You were smart, smarter than Bucky thought was possible, with a 4.95 GPA and holding the title of Valedictorian for high school and college graduation. 

Flipping the page, Bucky notices the famous HYDRA seal next to your fathers name, a high ranking officer who died in result of the ‘Super Soldier Program’. He almost recognized your fathers name before his eyes widened in horror and he slammed the folder shut. 

Steve flinches and goes to console Bucky before seeing the look of guilt and anger on his features. Bucky remembered everything as if it were just yesterday, memories he either had forced from him or he himself decided needed to be gone came flooding back with no intent on stopping.

“Get her out of here! Protect her at all costs, do you understand me?!” Your father rasped, gripping Bucky’s shirt in his fists while pointing at you behind the enhanced soldiers shoulder. Bucky nodded, placing his human hand on your lower back before shuffling you behind him as he made his was to the exit. 

You watched in horror as your father was thrown to the ground by one of the rogue super soldiers that had been given the same serum as Bucky. “Dad! Let me fucking go!” You screamed, trying to claw your way out from behind Bucky to go and help your only living family member. 

Bucky held tight grip of you, using his metal arm to knock any threat away from you. His mind was set on saving you, the one person he kept his eyes on his entire time in HYDRA’s captivity. 

You had enticed him with your frequent visits to the base, being the only person to offer the man a smile and a wave, even once getting so bold as to brush his hair from his face before your father had seen. Bucky was a person and you felt he should be treated as one, not as a test subject. You were against everything HYDRA stood for but that didn’t mean you could just leave your father, he was your only family and you weren’t going to lose him as well.

Before you knew it, Bucky had you shacked up in a highly guarded room, his eyes bouncing around the almost cell looking room, searching for any danger. “Bucky,” You started, stopping to take a deep breath which caught his attention. You were the only person to ever call him Bucky, though he wasn’t truly sure as to why. “Thank you.”

With that, you collapsed into him, crying into his chest at the thought of losing your family. He had let you cry, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t pushed you away but something inside of him locked on you and only you. 

After a while, the guards had all left HYDRA in search of any survivors. You were fast asleep, your head tucked into Bucky’s chest as you dreamt peacefully, eyes still puffy from crying. 

He doesn’t know why he did this and he’s not sure why he didn’t take you, but Bucky slipped out from under you, locked all the windows and doors around you and slipped out into the dark of night to finally escape his tormentors. With every step he took he felt guilt pang through his chest, knowing that you would wake up in the morning with nobody.

“I left her.” Bucky croaks, his bottom lip trembling. “I loved her and I was supposed to protect her, I thought i was. She deserves someone who can be with her always, so I left her without saying goodbye.”

Wiping his eyes hurriedly, Bucky inhales deeply to shake the emotions that are crawling up his throat. Too wound up in his own emotions, Bucky failed to realize the sudden decrease in the machine noise until he heard a loud screech and nurses began piling into the room, pushing the two men out. 

Buck fought tooth and nail to stay inside, panic sweeping through him as he saw the nurses calling out orders and yelling for doctors. The last thing he saw before he got pushed out was a woman rubbing two paddles together, her face solum and upset. 

Steve looked at his best friend with caution, trying to read the situation. “She’ll be okay.” He says weakly, knowing very well that the odds are not on your side after the accident. 

“I’m losing her!” Bucky hears through the heavy door, his hands shaking by his sides.

Beer and Soul-Marks

Dick Grayson X Reader 

Notes: Soul Mark Universe, where the first words spoken to you by your soul-mate appear in a random spot on your body, on your sixteenth birthday.

Words: 1057

          Dick Grayson lifted his nephew into the air, and smiled as the one-and-a-half-year-old laughed. Lowering him back to eye level, Dick placed a kiss on the boy’s cheek. A minute later Jason steals the boy and Dick can’t help the pit that forms in his stomach at the sight of the family of three. He wants that. He wants what his brother and Bruce have. He wants a family of his own. He’s spent years playing the field; Barbara, Kori, Zatanna, and lots of other nameless women that were there only for a night. So he does what he always does when these feelings arise, he buries them and goes out to find some company.

          His brothers tease him as he walks out the door. They call out the names of past girlfriends, and he takes it with a grain of salt and an easy smile. He’s out on the road moments later, the summer air brushing against his skin as he speeds up his bike. Instead of heading into Gotham, he heads into Bludhaven. He pulls into a bar, it’s a random choice, somewhere he’s never been before. He parks, and takes his helmet in with him. He takes a seat at the bar, and orders a drink.

          He’s halfway through a bottle of beer, and in the middle of charming the woman in front of him, when someone bumps into him. His beer spills forward, and the next words that reach his ears make his heart start pounding.

          You’ve just gotten on shift. It’s not your night, but Gary’s wife had gone into labor, and the manager needed someone to cover. And, well, you need the money. Of course, three minutes into your shift, some douche spills his beer all over the counter. You can’t help it; the sarcasm comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. “You need a sippy cup buddy?”

          He kind of just stiffens, and as you grab a rag and start wiping up, you just figure it’s because he embarrassed. That is, until he says, “No, I’m fine. I’d rather just drink in the sight of my soul mate.”

          You stop mid wipe, and look up to meet his eyes. Your first thought is that the man should be on a runway in Paris, not in this rinky dink bar. You second thought is ‘Oh man, he really is just that cheesy,’ and you third thought is to end this now. So, you unscrew the cap of the beer you were about to give him, and pour it all over his head. Then you take your apron off, drop it on the bar, and walk out. The minute you’re out of the door, you run to your car.

          You’re peeling out of the parking lot a minute later, the sight of the drenched man in your rearview mirror. As you drive, you do your best to forget about him. You don’t need a man, even if he is your soulmate. You’ve been there, done that, and you vowed to never do it again.

          You drown out your thoughts with the radio, and when you pull into the parking lot of your apartment, you let out a sigh of relief. Climbing several flights of stairs, you make your way to the door labeled 406. The apartment is nearly silent, with the exception of the TV, the snoring of the man on the couch, and the scratching of a crayon on paper.

          Smiling, you drop your purse and keys, and then toe of your sneakers. Moving quietly across the floor, you slip down next to the little girl focused on her coloring book. “Hey snooks, did you wear uncle Luke out?”

          She grins, and your heart melts. Charlotte Harper is four years old and your pride and joy, even if her father is a no good asshole. Luke says she takes after you more than him though, and you can see where he’s coming from. She looks exactly like you, but her personality is all her own. At four years old she already has an opinion and is smarter than the other kids in her preschool class.

          Her voice is quiet, and clear, and reminds you a bit of a bell. “I was very good mommy. We had tea party, and he made me a grilled cheese, and then I colored while he talked to Ms. Julie. Be nice, she turned him down… again.”

          “Sounds like a wild night, but it’s past your bedtime. So go brush your teeth, and I’ll be in to tuck you in for a minute.”

          “Okay mama.”

          You watch her go with a smile, before turning to your faker of a brother. Usually you’d flick him, but when you have a story like tonight’s, why not use it? “I met my soulmate tonight.”

          Not even a second later he jackknifes on the couch, “You WHAT?!”

          You can’t help but smile, “Keep your voice down, Charlotte is getting ready for bed. Way to play guardian by the way.”

          “Forget that, where’s the guy?”

          You shrug. “No clue. I poured a beer over his head and left.”

          “Y/N, you didn’t.”

          “I did.”

          “I can’t believe you poured a beer over his head and left. He’s your soulmate.”

          You shrug. “I tried the relationship thing once, I got Charlotte. I’m good.”

          Luke smiles at you. It’s the placating smile that says you have no idea what you’ve done “You’re twenty-one, and Axel was never worth your time. The only good thing that came from that dick, was Charlie. That little girl’s existence is the only reason I didn’t kill him.”

          You nod, “Sure, that and the fact that you’re a pacifist.”

          “I’ll admit that that might have played a part.”

          A knock on the door stops the conversation cold. Smiling, you get up to answer it. “To be continued.” You say with a smile, before going to answer the door. The smile freezes on your face as you come face to face with the guy from the bar. His hair is still damp, and you can smell the beer.

          He just smiles, sticks out his hand and says, “Hi, I’m Dick Grayson. Your soulmate.”

          You’re saved, or perhaps doomed, from responding when Charlotte appears behind you, hugs your legs and says, “Mommy, who’s this?”

On the job


Shawn x Reader

Word Count: 1375

Rated: PG 

Preview: You work at a preschool and Shawn comes to visit. The kids love him and beg him to sing. 

Working with children has always been a dream of yours. It really has been a reality. You are the oldest child in your family and it is really your responsibility to drive them around and take care of them. Both of your parents work at the local hospital. You dad is a doctor and you mother is a nurse. They both work in the pediatric wing. That’s actually where they met and you are assuming that is where you found your love of children.

You are currently working on an internship at a local preschool. Your high school allows you to take off your last two classes because you have finished all of your credits and you are preparing for college. 

Today you are helping the children make a snowman. Instead of using just circles they have to create the snowman with every different shape they can think of. You thought of the idea yourself because now you can teach the children shapes while they can create something that they will enjoy. 

“Emma can I see your snowman?” You ask Emma, who is the most shy girl in the class. 

She nods and slowly slides over her paper, 

“You have a pink snowman! I love your snowman!” You say excitedly.

“It’s not a snowman.” Emma says “It’s a snowgirl. I am a girl and my not all snow people are boys.”

“Wow Emma. That is really cool!” You say. You learn more from these kids every day. Emma stands up for her femininity. That was more than you have heard from girls you age.

The more and more you spend time these children, the more you want to become a mother. You can’t wait to be a mother and be able to have a small piece of you that you get to watch grow up. The only person that you want to share that is-

There he is.

Shawn, Shawn Mendes. He is your boyfriend of 3 years and he just takes your breathe away. You can’t even finish your thought when you see him. His when you see him smile you can help but grin. When he looks at you, your heart skips  a beat. 

“Hey” Shawn says while walking over to you. 

“Hi” You say before turning back to Emma.

Shawn sits next to one of the boys named Jacob. “What are you making today Jacob” Shawn asks. He wiggles around in the small chair. His face looks uncomfortable and once you meet eyes you giggle. He falls off of his chair and you laugh even harder. 

Shawn pretends to reach for Jacob’s help, but Jacob isn’t even paying attention. Once Jacob looks at Shawn and realizes that he is on the floor, he rolls his eyes and says, “Shawn get up! I wanted to show you the snowman (Y/N) is teaching me how to make.”

Shawn looks at you and then back to Jacob, “I’m sorry. What kind of snowman are you making?”

“My snowman has a triangle and a square and a circle and a parallelelogram.” Josh says, you smile when he tries to say parallelogram.

“Why don’t you try it again Jacob, parallelogram.” You say.

“Parallelelogram, parallelogram!” He cheers once he says it right. 

“Good job Jacob!” You say while reaching over to give him a high five. You catch Shawn’s glance at you as you reach over. He has a small smile an you notice the he can’t keep his eyes off of you. A small blush rises to your face. 

Jacob turns and reaches toward Shawn. He pulls him by the collar of his shirt and whispers, loud enough that you an hear him, “(Y/N) is very smarter than you.”

You stifle a laugh and when Shawn looks at you you pretend to help Emma. Shawn’s look lingers and he turns back to Jacob and says “I know (Y/N) is smarter than me, thats why I love her so much.” 

When he says this he looks up at you. He knows that you are listening. When he is looking up at you, you smile and mouth I love you. 

One of the preschoolers named Angela comes and hugs Shawn from behind. She places her chin on his shoulder and says “Hiii Shawny!”

Angela has a little bit of a crush on Shawn. By a little bit, she has a huge crush on Shawn, but Shawn continuously makes the mistake of playing into Angela’s emotions.

“Hi Angie!” Shawn says while pulling her into his side. 

“Will you sing to me?” Angela asks.

“I don’t know. (Y/N) can I sing?” Shawn asks looking at you. 

Once you step up to her desk she looks up at you. She looks at you from the top of her glasses. “What can I do for you (Y/N)?” She asks while removing her glasses and putting down her pen.

“I was just wondering if Shawn could sing for the kids” You say, “Would that be okay?”

“Of course, the kids always love that! As long as he sings one of the children’s songs and nothing about kissing or sex or anything like that.” She glares at you.

“I… promise.” You say hesitantly, a little offset by her accusation. After that point you walk over to Shawn and say, “She said you can sing, but you have to sing a kid song.”
Shawn laughs and says, “Good, I was getting sick of singing my boring old songs. I’m going to go and grab my guitar from my car. I will be right back.”
You begin to set up the chairs on the rug and Shawn walks in. “Okay come on we are going to sing with Shawn!”
“What do we want to sing first?” Shawn asks while he pulls his guitar out of the case.

“I want to sing ‘Fruit Salad’!” Angela yells.

“From the Wiggles?” Shawn asks. Angela nods her head ferociously. Shawn begins to look at you before he begins to play the first few chords of the song. “Everybody sing!”

As Shawn begins to sing with the kids your vision kind of blurs one again. You just focus on Shawn sining to the kids once again. Every now and then he glances up at you and when you meet eyes your heart flutters. They way that he interacts with the kids gives you a little sight into the future. You love her more than anything else in the world. You are only eighteen and you want to spend the rest of your life with him. That says a lot. After a few more songs you check out with Mrs Parker and head home with Shawn. 

While Shawn puts his guitar in the back of his Jeep you sit in the passenger seat. He then comes into the car and kisses your cheek. “Thank you for singing today.” You say.

“Of course, singing with kids is even more fun than singing with a bunch of screaming teenage girls.” Shawn laughs.

“I loved watching you with them.” You say to him, you trace small shapes on his arm. 

“I saw you staring at me.” He taunts. 

“I couldn’t help it!” you laugh, “Its mesmerizing.” When you say this your eyes widen as you joke with him. 

“It’s okay, I stare at you.” Shawn says in all honesty.

“That’s creepy!” You laugh. 

“Whatever I like you so I like to stare at you.” Shawn says simply.

“You only like me?” You say, pretending to be hurt. 

“You know I love you.” Shawn laughs.

“Whatever, come here.” You say quickly before you reach over the center console and pull him from the back of the neck. He smiles quickly before closing his eyes and embracing your kiss. You kiss for a few quick seconds before he pulls back and starts the car. Once he gets onto the road he places his hand on your thigh. The warmth from his hand radiates through your jeans. You can’t wait for your future. 

I was thinking about what you said last time. She is pretty tough, isn’t she? Strong, too. I still feel bad, but maybe she’s stronger, smarter even, than all the rest of us, because she has to find new, maybe even harder, ways to do all these things we can do so easily. So maybe I shouldn’t feel so bad for her, you know?

-a 6th grade boy learns the difference between sympathy and empathy while watching a preschooler with Spina Bifida


A couple of weeks ago, the 3-year-old girl I take care of in the preschool was going for a walk in the hallway with me, using her new walker to cover a distance she’d never attempted before. As we neared the 6th grade classrooms, a boy walked out and promptly started making gagging noises.  "I can’t hardly stand to look at her!“ he exclaimed. "Ugh! How can she walk like that? How can you watch that?”

The little girl stumbled to a stop, just staring at the boy, as I tried to explain to him, albeit briskly, that there was nothing wrong with the way she was walking. In fact, I asserted, she was doing the best job she ever had done.  Unfortunately, in spite of my answer, the damage had been done.  The only way to get the girl moving again was to encourage her to prove him wrong. Prove there was nothing wrong with the way she got around the school. Prove that she could do anything she wanted to, despite her condition.  As soon as we were out of view, she sat down and insisted on getting back into her wheelchair. The moment had been ruined.

Today, that same little boy was out in the hallway, washing his hands as we came out to get her coat and backpack. She didn’t acknowledge his presence beyond picking up speed in her bear walk, just to prove she could.

“I feel so bad for her,” he said. 

“Don’t,” I answered before calling to the girl, who had outstripped me in the race to her locker. “‘Cuz you’re tough, right?”


And then the boy said the above.  He was talking to me, but I know the girl heard it.  He ended with a murmured, “And maybe that’s actually pretty cool.”

“That’s it. You’ve got it exactly right.”

The girl grinned the entire way out to the bus.

anonymous asked:

Read that female noble and pirate captain Q & A, and my mind immediately went to the OUAT fandom: Emma Swan is a royal heir, but grew up in the real world foster system, so she knows guns and self-defence, possibly knives, due to her job, but has only been taught sword fighting for a very short time (6 months? more like 6 weeks), while Killian Jones aka Captain Hook, has been around for 300 years most of which has been spent suviving the deathtrap called Neverland. So yeah.

Well, one could assume it was a question referring to Once Upon a Time. However, the Lady and the Scoundrel (noble or otherwise) has been a fixture in the Romance sub-genre for a long, long, long time. Pirates, specifically, have fit into this role and if you wandered over to the Romance section or even just the Fiction section of your local bookstore you’ll find at least a dozen books featuring a dangerous sexy pirate as the romantic lead. In fact, the popularity of the noble pirate is a large part of what The Princess Bride (both book and movie) is poking fun at, but we can take this one all the way back to Robin Hood and Maid Marian (and further). Sometimes (often) our hero is a down on his luck/exiled/poor nobleman/gentleman trying to make the best of his situation but despite his scoundrel ways he’s a honorable man. Sometimes, he’s Jack Sparrow.

In fact, here are some lists.

Historical Pirate Romance Books from Goodreads

Popular Pirate Romance Books from Goodreads

Best Pirate Historical romance from Amazon

Best Ship Captain & Pirate Romance Novels also from Amazon

Pirate Romance from Paperback Swap

Off the top of my head:

Captain Blood (1935) Falsely confused of conspiracy with rebels when he’s caught treating a wounded man, Doctor Peter Blood (Errol Flynn) is condemned in the English courts and sentenced to be sold into slavery in the Caribbean. Bought by the headstrong and compassionate niece of a local plantation owner (Olivia de Havilland) before he is sentenced to the salt mine. The two flirt and then as chance would have it, Port Royal is attacked by the Spanish. Blood leads a revolt among his fellow English slaves and they steal the galleon while the Spaniards are occupied taking the town. They then take to the high seas to make their name as (honorable) pirates.

(You can pretty much repeat this formula for most of the Flynn and other swashbuckling heroes in the Hollywood Golden Age. Both the The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) and The Seahawk (1940) fit as variations on a tried and true method i.e. noble lady falls for noble bandit/scoundrel/pirate/privateer.)

The Star Wars Trilogy Han and Leia, obviously.

The Princess Bride

Multiple Disney movies, including: Tangled, Aladdin, The Lady and the Tramp, The Aristocats, etc, which all fit into variations of this formula.

Fables, Snow White and Bigby, the Big Bad Wolf.

So, Once Upon a Time is only the most “recent” in a long line of novels and media the previous question might have been referring to. It’s true that pirates haven’t been as popular in media as they were sixty to seventy years ago, but the scoundrel has never really drifted far from the public media consciousness.

However, this question brings up a common problem that usually gets associated with our treatment of nobles which is that they are “naturally better”. The historical advantage the royalty and the nobility had over everyone else in Europe is education. They were generally better warriors because they had the training and the necessary time to devote to their training. They had the money to raise their castles and afford better mercenaries, better equipment i.e armor, weapons, etc. You start a child training when he or she is six, you will turn out with a better product. For example: when I was in Kindergarten, I was always bored because while the class was practicing our ABCs, I was already reading full sentences. Was it because I was smarter than the other kids? No. The reason I was reading was because my parents read to me constantly as a baby. They spent time with me and regardless of intelligence, it was the luxury of a good preschool and parents who had the time to be attentive and saw the value of education. We tend to discount the importance our backgrounds play in shaping who we are, especially if we come from privileged ones. Knowledge is power, after all.

Anyone could be as good as a noble or a royal, provided they had the time to spend all day in the dueling clubs, to practice their jousting, and the money to buy land and take part in gentlemanly pursuits instead of working the fields to feed their family. Other than being horribly inbred, there is no genetic or natural superiority that separates the rich from the rest of the human population. This is the reason the rise of the middle class scared the ever-loving bejeebus out of them because their entire position was built on the ignorance of the general population.

I’ll leave my  discussion of OUAT below the cut.


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