Wilf Life

Guys I swear I’m alive

Anwyays have emo hawks or whateve

this is what i needed after today <3

Hello ! How you doing ?

I noticed that your requests are open, so i'm gonna yap about my favorite Winged Hero: Keigo !

I always think about reader being in a relationship with Hawks, but she feels like she doesn't really belong with him. He is famous, popular and very loved by his fans, meanwhile she likes to live a calm life, only talking and getting involved if someone reaches for her first.

Reader intends to break up with him, but his bird brain got a different message about it: he thinks she just needs more attention and more courting gifts.

So now reader has a collection of shiny rocks, lots of scented blankets and shirts, and a nonstop whistling Keigo around her.

I just really love the idea of Hawks tagging himself as a No refund Partner 🤭

(Feel free to ignore this, if you don't like it. Sending you lots of love, your writting is amazing 🥰)

No Refunds!

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY You fear that Keigo's fast-paced life is too much for you and try to take a step back, but it doesn't seem to work out that well for you. It's just too bad Keigo doesn't believe in refunds.

CONTENT WARNINGS quiet reader, hawks being a literal bird

AUTHORS NOTE hope you all enjoy more of our feather-winged hero because, based on these requests, y'all can't seem to get enough of him!

You’d imagined this moment for weeks—a careful plan to untangle yourself from the wings of a man who seemed to live a world apart from your own. Keigo’s life was a loud one, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, bright interviews, fans hanging on his every word and movement. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he belonged somewhere out there, in the heart of the storm, while you were left holding onto calmness, craving quiet.

So you’d practiced your words, rehearsed in the mirror, hoping to explain it gently: Keigo, you’re amazing, but I don’t fit into this life. You deserve someone who can keep up, who thrives under a spotlight.

But as you sat across from him in the dimly lit corner of your apartment, watching him devour his meal with an unshakable confidence, all those carefully chosen phrases began to slip away. The man was impossible to ignore, so vividly alive in his unbridled energy, his mouth curling into a familiar, teasing grin every time he caught you looking. It was like trying to capture a gust of wind in your hand—the moment you thought you had him pinned, he shifted, always a step ahead, eyes twinkling with that irreverent humor that made your heart ache.

“Keigo, I just…” you began, feeling your courage falter under his steady gaze. He didn’t miss a beat, his fork pausing in midair as he gave you his full attention.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low but attentive, his eyes narrowing with a glint of curiosity that warned you he wasn’t going to let anything slide by unnoticed.

You took a breath, trying to anchor yourself. “I just… sometimes I feel like I don’t really belong in your world,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, and Keigo stared at you, unblinking, as if you’d just told him something in a language he didn’t quite understand. After a moment, he let out a soft chuckle, eyes shining with that familiar, playful disbelief. “You? Not belong with me?” He shook his head, leaning back in his seat with that cocky, amused grin that somehow melted the tension in the room. “I don’t buy that, not for a second.”

Your heart twisted painfully, but before you could explain, he shifted closer, closing the space between you with the effortless grace of a hawk zeroing in on its mark. He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm, a hint of softness underlying his typically mischievous gaze.

“Listen,” he said, his voice a soft murmur, “if you’re worried about keeping up with me, don’t be. You ground me, you know? Not everything has to be about the spotlight.” He leaned in, and his thumb brushed your cheek, a gentle, fleeting touch that left you breathless. “You’re my calm in all the chaos, you know that?”

Your resolve wavered, and all you could manage was a quiet nod before he kissed your cheek, lingering just long enough to leave a warmth behind. As he left that night, your mind kept replaying that look in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability that felt strangely out of place on him.

The next morning, you woke to find something glinting on your bedside table. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and there it was—a smooth, shining rock, no larger than your thumb, with flecks of gold swirling through its charcoal-gray surface. You reached for it slowly, as if it might vanish at any moment, the unexpected gift settling warm and solid in your palm.

A small folded note rested beside it, scrawled with Keigo’s messy handwriting: Something pretty, just like you! – K

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, though it came with a pang of sadness. So this was his response? He wasn’t angry or upset; instead, he left a little piece of beauty for you, something that made you feel strangely… cherished. As if he was whispering, See? You’re part of my world. I want you here.

If only he left it at that..

The next morning, as you opened your front door, you found a Hawks-branded bag stuffed with the coziest-looking items imaginable. Luxurious blankets, soft enough to melt in your fingers, with colors that reminded you of his wings—deep crimsons and warm golden yellows. There was a plush feather-shaped pillow tucked inside, soft and inviting, as if he’d tried to bottle the feeling of his own feathers just for you.

Another note, taped to the top of the bag: For when you want a cozy night in, courtesy of your favorite Winged Hero.

In a daze, you pulled the pillow out, feeling the way it seemed to form to your touch, soft and strangely comforting, like you were holding a part of him in your hands. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, though it was tinged with disbelief. Hawks, your Keigo, was attempting to make your space his nest—one soft corner at a time.

You weren’t sure what to think. The gifts kept coming, like waves lapping persistently at the shore, never once relenting. Soon, you had a growing collection of glimmering stones, each unique in color, shape, and size. Some had ribbons tied around them, others were polished to a glassy sheen. By the end of the week, you could open your own boutique: Hawks’ Feathered Finds.

It was almost funny, in a way, how Keigo’s gift ideas seemed to expand. If the shiny stones weren’t enough to convince you of his commitment, the silky blankets and cozy pillows that soon followed would certainly drive the point home.

But as much as the blankets were a nice touch, that wasn’t enough either. No, Keigo’s gifts evolved in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not satisfied with just leaving inanimate reminders of himself, he began to bring his own shirts, freshly washed and scented with that clean, faintly spicy cologne that was unmistakably his. Each time he left one, it felt like he was marking his presence all over again. When you came home one day to find three different button-ups hanging over your chair, neatly folded with another note—“So you won’t miss me too much”—you realized how completely he’d misunderstood your meaning.

And it didn’t stop there.

You started hearing bird calls, from sharp whistles to melodic chirrups, each one distinct and practiced. They’d come at random times during your day, clear and unmistakable, carrying across rooftops or echoing down quiet streets. Keigo would appear out of nowhere with a casual “Hey,” as if he hadn’t just called you over like a sparrow to its nest. Once, you looked out the window and spotted him standing on the rooftop opposite yours, watching you with that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes as he gave a gentle coo that made your cheeks flush.

Then there was the food. Keigo made it a habit to bring takeout on the evenings he knew you were working late, showing up with your favorite dishes and a grin that always promised a good story to go along with them. He’d kick off his shoes like he’d lived there forever, settling in as if he belonged, yet somehow always a little hesitant. You could tell he was waiting, looking at you as if searching for any sign that his gifts were having an effect.

Finally, one evening after he’d tucked a particularly soft blanket around you with all the precision of a nesting bird, you couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly are you doing, Keigo?”

He looked up from where he’d just finished arranging the folds of the blanket on your couch, his feathers twitching at your question. “What do you mean?” he asked, his amber eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Keigo…” you said, trying to hold back a laugh as you gestured around your apartment, now cluttered with glistening stones, colorful feathers, and shirts that still carried his scent. “You’re… making a nest in my apartment.”

His wings fluttered, a small chuckle escaping as he scratched the back of his head. “Guess you could call it that.” He crossed over to where you sat, his gaze growing softer. “But I’m just making sure you know you’re not going anywhere.”

You shook your head, equal parts amused and bewildered. “I… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Undeterred, Keigo leaned in, his head tilting down just slightly so his eyes met yours, the mischief in them mingling with something warmer, something that pulled at your heart. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his tone more serious than you’d ever heard. “But I don’t give up that easily. You don’t just get to decide you’re going to leave, y’know?”

A small pang tightened in your chest. How could someone like him, someone whose life glittered with fame and thrill, expect to keep someone like you by his side? Yet, looking into his eyes, you saw something deeper, even a little vulnerable, as his thumb traced soft circles over your hand.

“Keigo… I’m not…” you began, trying to find the words. “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for this, like I don’t belong in this world of yours.”

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze gentle but unwavering. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, his wings rustling, “you’re not holding me back. You’re the calm in my storm. And I’m not about to let that slip away.” His hand tightened around yours just slightly. “Besides, I never heard any rule about ‘no refunds’ not applying to relationships. So guess what? You’re stuck with me.”

You looked around, taking in the stones, the blankets, the shirts—this strange, feathered haven he’d created around you, like a nest meant just for the two of you. You hadn’t realized you’d been dating an actual bird until now, and it hit you with a surprising warmth, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you did belong here after all.

TAGLIST:

@surielstea

Don't you guys miss the good old days? instead of trying to silence your crying at night, you cry as loud as you can so you're mom would come into the room making sure you're okay? and she sings the song she learned from her mom, stroking your hair so you can go back to sleep again.

i miss being a kid.

need me some aha joke

If you reblog this you will get a random aha joke in your inbox

Trying to kill your best friend by using his wife as a distraction👍

drew birb lizzie from her wildlife thumbnail :)

based on this:

genuinely one of my fav fics rn 🫶

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 14

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: In the calm of your new days of peace, you spend what time you can with Bucky, who's guarded as ever.

Warnings: Home sickness. Mention of injections.

Authors Note: Getting into post-traumatic domesticity. Please enjoy, comment, and be kind. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist

“The moon landing was fake?” Bucky frowned at you from his seat on the bed. 

“No-” you snickered at his naivety. “I said people theorize that it was fake.” 

In the past few days, you had taken to explaining important events throughout history to Bucky. You had begun to question how much about the world he actually knew about. He explained to you that when he wasn't in cryo sleep, he was only out for a few days at a time. 

For him, the past few decades have been like blinking in and out of history.

“There's actually been six moon landings.” You explained. “So even if the first one was fake, there's been plenty more to make up for it.”

Bucky tilted his head at you curiously. “Why do people think it was fake?”

“Well, there's a few different reasons. Some people think the shadows are off, and that it must be a staged set. In the footage of the first men walking on the moon, they stabbed the flagpole into the ground-” you explained, waving your hands about. Bucky tracked the movements with his eyes. “The flag moves slightly, like there's a breeze. But there's no air on the moon.”

“So why did it move?” He squinted at you.

“There was a second pole sewn into the top of the flag horizontally, to give it a cinematic look for the images. Or at least that's what they say.” You explained, smiling at the ridiculous theories. “Honestly I have no idea if it was real, anything could happen- something I’ve realized recently.” You picked at the edge of the bed sheet that laid on the floor.

“I never thought there would be people to actually walk in space.” He muttered, glancing out the window. 

“Neither did I- and I was born after it was already done.” you chuckled. He glanced back at you, his lip curled in a slight smile. You tried not to show your surprise at the reaction. “You’re so old,” you blurted.

He huffed out a shocked laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I know,” he muttered. 

“So, what was it like? Back in the day.” You pushed, trying to see if it would be too far. 

“What do you want to know?”

“What did the sky look like?” You asked, your eagerness at his openness not hidden very well. “Modern light pollution makes it hard to see the stars. There's places with less light, and the sky is said to be amazing there.”

He blinked at you, not expecting that to be your first question. He relaxed a little, his shoulders slumping. 

“It was…” He hadn’t thought about it in a while. He hadn’t let himself think of the small things, the peaceful strolls at night, or the music festivals, or the trips to the bars with Steve. “It was brighter, I guess.” He nodded to himself. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it much, but it was clearer. You could see the smaller stars a lot better. Like freckles.” He explained.

You grinned softly, nodding along. “I think that’s one thing I would have liked to see, back then. People always talk about being born in the wrong generation, but I think I was born at the perfect time.” You told him, still picking at the blankets threads. “But I would have liked to see the world back then, the sky, the nature. I bet the ice caps were huge then.”

“People want to live back then?” He tilted his head at you. 

“Yeah, it’s a personal opinion people have. A lot of people miss older traditions, or the state of society back then. The politics, the economy. Or even just for the clothes. It’s something a lot of people talk about.”

Bucky squinted, chewing on his bitten lip. “Mm,” he hummed in acknowledgment. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head. You realized then, that he probably felt the exact same, in his own way.

The past was his home, and more than anyone, he probably wanted to go back.

But he couldn’t. He could never go and see his childhood home, or his family. He couldn’t go visit the places he used to, even if he was free to do so.

It was all gone.

“Do you miss it?” You whispered the naive question.

“I wouldn’t belong there, even if I could go back.” He turned his gaze back to the window. To the stars. To the sky that was once so familiar. 

To the one thing that hadn’t changed.

★

Bucky sat with his hands in his lap, his gaze lingering on you as you moved around him. “I guess it slipped my mind, with everything going on, but I should have checked a lot sooner.” You mumbled, stepping out of the bathroom.

“When was the last time you had a dose of the serum?” You asked, standing before him now. 

“A few days before Washington.” He told you. You glanced down at the crook of his flesh arm. 

“Any side effects? Muscle spasms, headaches, shakiness?” you reached a hand out. “Can I?” Bucky nodded, tugging his shirt off in response.

“No, no side effects.” He told you, setting his shirt in his lap. 

You took his arm and began gently pressing your fingers to his pressure points, waiting to see if he had the appropriate reactions. You moved up his shoulder to his trapezius muscle. “Any tenderness?” you walked your fingers down, then prodded gently between his ribs.

He shook his head, his gaze glued to the side of your face as you worked. 

You’d noticed his staring problem a long time ago. It used to make you nervous- and god does it still. 

“Okay, hold your arm out to the side.” You waited for him to obey. “I’m going to push down, don’t let your arm fall, okay?” He nodded in response. 

You placed an arm on his forearm, and one on his bicep. You tried a slight push at first- he didn’t even budge. You then pushed down hard. Once again, he didn’t even shift. Out of sheer curiosity, you tried with all of your strength to shove his arm down. Bucky watched, amused, as you put all your weight on his arm. 

Your feet left the ground for a moment. His arm acted like a steel pole. 

“Jesus-” you huffed, letting go. “You’re actually- I mean, wow.”

His lips curled at the edges in a soft smile. “Can I lower my arm now?”

You nodded, setting your hands on your hips. “Did you have to try at all?”

He shook his head, setting his hands back on his thighs. “No.”

“Well- that's great then.” You nodded, trying not to flush at your outburst of curiosity. “I didn’t think you’d fail the test- but it's a necessary one.” You gestured. “Usually, if someone’s muscles are degenerating, or even just concerningly weak, they can’t stop their arms from falling under gentle pressure.” You explained. 

He nodded, tugging his shirt back over his head. “So, does this mean your serum worked?”

You nodded, sitting back on the mattress. “I think so, but I can’t be sure. It could still just be a temporary fix. It could be working as an annual vaccine type of thing, so the effects might wear off after a while.”

He nodded, his metal fingers fidgeting absently on his knee. 

“Or it could be permanent. I’d need to run your blood and do some scans to know for sure.”

“I can accept that.” 

“I can’t,” you huffed. “I wish I could take you to my lab- or a doctor here- just something.” You grumbled. 

His gaze flitted to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He straightened, his brows furrowing. “Don’t be.”

“I just-” you pulled your knees up to your chest. “I wanted this to mean something.” The solemn feeling hit you quickly, washing over you like a bucket of ice water. You were taken to help him, and if you couldn’t do that, then it was all for nothing. Your life was upended, stolen from you, for nothing.

“It’s not your fault.” He told you, his voice softening. “I don’t care if it didn’t work.” Your gaze flickered up to him. “If I get sick, then I get sick. That’s not on you.”

“It’s not fair.” You tell him.

He tilted his head at you, his expression softening bitterly. “Nothing is.”

A/N: Hope this doesn't bore you guys. More stuff and excitement to come!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983

IT'S BIRD BOY'S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stupid art warm up.