Loba Writes

☾ ⋆｡˚ welcome to my blog ｡˚⋆☽

hi, i’m loba <3

✦ she/her | writer | daydreamer | night owl

✦ enfj-t | 21 | libra

✦ this blog is my safe corner for insomniac fan fiction, and all my hyper fixations in one place.

☾ what you’ll find here:

— one-shots & drabbles (mostly comfort& fluff)

— headcanons & requests always open

— writing rambles and scenarios at 3am

— ns/fw here and there

☾ fandoms i write for:

[marvel] ⋆ [harry potter] ⋆ [dc] ⋆ [twilight]

more could be added later on, I’m always open to exploring new ideas and characters.

☾ current obsessions:

[andrew garfield’s peter parker]

[bucky barnes]

[headcanons]

✧ check out my ☾ [masterlist] ☾ for all current works ✧

☾ Peter Parker College Boyfriend Headcanons ☽

༻ comes to your dorm with flowers, chocolates and small gifts to distract you from all his bruises.

༻ he taught you how to skate, and would take you to his favorite spot for practice.

༻ no matter how busy he was, he always managed to make it to your study sessions, he helps with all the homework that would stress you out the most.

༻ you were so used to seeing him injured you carried small aid kits with you everywhere.

༻ romantic dates on top of rooftops, always the most amazing views.

༻ very protective at parties, frat parties weren’t his thing, but he was never the kind of boyfriend to stop you form going out and having fun, still he prefers being there take care of you.

༻ you constantly remind him of important deadlines, he’s always caught up in saving everyone else.

༻ makes playlist for you, he plays them while swinging around the city.

༻ he always comes to you for aid, you’re the first one he sees when he gets hurt.

༻ always finds the most romantic spots around the city, usually in places no regular human could reach easily.

༻ collects polaroid photos of you in his bedroom, he says seeing your face motivates him to study, and other things too..

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

☾ ⋆｡˚ the moonlight index ˚｡⋆☽

stories written in the quiet

✧･ﾟ: a masterlist by Loba :ﾟ･✧

✦ genres: fluff ⋆ slow burn ⋆ angst ⋆ comfort ⋆ (slight ns/fw)

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ MARVEL ☾

✦ [moonlight and metal — bucky barnes x reader] slight ns/fw ending

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ HARRY POTTER ☾

✦ [george weasley x reader]

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ DC UNIVERSE ☾

✦ [ in the works ]

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ TWILIGHT ☾

✦ [in the works…]

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ Bridgerton ☾

✦ [in the works…]

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

☾ HEADCANONS & BLURBS ☾

✦ [boyfriend headcanons — bucky barnes]

✦ [peter parker college boyfriend]

༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻ ༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺☾⋆☽༻༺

𓆩♡𓆪 reqs open

✧ updated: [october, 2025] ✧

☾ Bucky Barnes Boyfriend Headcanons ☽

some fluff for the bucky girls y’all need it

✧ He always brushes your hair out of your face, even when you’re grumpy.

✧ Sends random texts during missions: “Missing you” or “Coffee later?” all very short because he doesn’t text very often.

✧ Has a favorite t-shirt of yours he steals and sleeps in.

✧ Lowkey competitive during board games, won’t always let you win despite you being his girlfriend.

✧ Wraps his metal arm around your shoulder when he’s feeling protective.

✧Won’t make coffee for anyone else but you.

✧ Kisses your forehead before you get out of bed.

✧ Gets flustered when you compliment him, and doesn’t usually know how to take a compliment.

✧doesn’t care when other men look at you, turn him on knowing others wish they had what he does

Reader x Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Summary: Stark assigned Bucky to watch over you during a small assignment. Unexpectedly, the two of you are forced to stay on the mission longer than expected. smut,and a little mischief.

Author’s Note: still new at writing, here’s some Bucky fluff I wrote at 5am ✦

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~

You took your days off very seriously. The work of a Shield agent was not for the weak, and it was extremely rare to be at Stark Tower with nothing to do on a Tuesday night. In fact, it felt way too calm.

Deciding to make the best of your time you grab a can of beer from the communal fridge knowing you hadn’t bought it but, hey, no one was around, you cracked it open and took the first sip. Immediately, the shuffle of heavy footsteps approached.

“Hey, Stark asked me to-” the tall brunette started.

You made eye contact with the tall and muscular man standing in front of you.

“Is that my beer?” He said while pointing at your hand.

“Um…” caught red-handed, still in your pajamas, and suddenly very aware of it. Bucky raised an eyebrow, tone calm, expression unreadable. “You can just ask next time.”

“Right, sorry, just thought no one was around,” you said quickly, clearing your throat and setting the can down on the marble counter.

Of all people to interrupt your quiet night, Bucky Barnes wasn’t who you expected, but you couldn’t exactly say you minded. You’d been working with the team for months, but the two of you had never really talked. Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you asked, “So, what brings you here unannounced?”

“Stark wanted you to pull some intel on the Hydra hideout we found yesterday,” he replied, voice low and steady. “He sent me to go with you.”

You blinked, trying to process. “Wait- you mean now? It’s an empty hideout. What does he want me to do, Barnes, interrogate dust?”

Bucky seemed uninterested by your mediocre jokes. “Orders are orders.”

You scoffed. “Right, so Stark knows the room is empty, and you’re here as what- my babysitter?” He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t call it that.”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Look, you have a track record of getting yourself into trouble,” he said, eyes flicking from your pajama pants to your bare feet. “I can see why Stark’s concerned.”

You raised a brow. “Are you judging my choice of sleepwear, soldier?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a laugh. “Just saying, might not be field-appropriate.”

“Oh, so you do look,” you teased, grabbing your jacket from the counter.

He sighed, shaking his head, that small grin still there, annoying, magnetic. “Come on, doll. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can get back to stealing other people’s beers.”

Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Whatever. I’m changing, and we’re wrapping up this mission in like thirty minutes max.”

By the time you got ready and headed to the garage, Bucky was leaning against a sleek black motorcycle, gloved hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Your eyes traced the back of his hands, the way his muscles shifted under the jacket, the relaxed broadness of his shoulders. Blushing, you forced your gaze down.

He noticed. “You’re staring,” he said, voice low, teasing but calm.

“I’m… not,” you said, brushing past him as you swung your leg over the seat, pressing against his back longer than necessary.

“Hold on tight,” he said, revving the engine.

“Gosh, if I die in this thing, I’m haunting your body,” you warned, arms squeezed around his waist. “I’d expect nothing less,” he murmured, almost soft this time.

The warehouse loomed ahead, old and rusted, metal walls streaked with grime, windows broken and boarded.

“This is it?” you asked, voice disbelief more than curiosity.

“Yes, ma’am.” He produced a small, sleek key, pressed it into the lock, and the door swung open with a soft click. A musty scent of dust and old paper greeted you.

“Stark wants us to grab whatever looks important.”

You stepped inside, coughing slightly. Boots echoed on bare concrete, sunlight streaming through shattered windows, dust dancing in the beams. Old files, stacks of paper, and broken computers lay scattered.

“Random files… really, this is my assignment?” you muttered. “Damn, lame-ass missions should come with a warning.”

Bucky’s gaze swept the room. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s work. Sometimes the boring stuff matters most.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please do not give me a Steve Rogers motivational speech right now. Doesn’t suit you.”

“Noted.” He smirked, subtle, infuriating.

Scanning piles of trashed documents, your eyes drifted to his metal arm, tracing the contours beneath his gloves. Suddenly, his deep voice stopped you.

“I can feel you staring.”

Blushing, you cleared your throat and pretended to look busy.

After hours of searching, you were ready to leave, stretching and rolling your shoulders. “Finally. Done. Can we go home now?”

Bucky approached the door. He fiddled with the handle. “Huh… that’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” you asked, expecting a joke.

“The door… it’s locked,” he said, calmly, deadpan.

You laughed. “Bucky… seriously? You’re joking, right?”

“Seriously. Not kidding.”

Suddenly you’re hit with a wave of desperation, you make your way up to the door and meet with Bucky who keep trying to twist the small key inside the lock.

”I keep turning it but it won’t budge” He mutters while twisting the key repeatedly. You shove him aside with your arms and attempt to twist the keys, except this time you push with so much force that the small key snaps in half. “You can’t be serious” says bucky with a blank expression on his face.

The next hour and a half was spent by searching for any way out of this old room, all proving to be useless attempts, the door wouldn’t break down, the windows were shattered but not enough to fit both of you, and just as you start to loose hope you hear a loud thud across the room.

You see bucky with a dusty box of canned beer.He shrugged, glancing around. “Well, might as well make the best of it.”

“Wanna get shitfaced? Meant to be my day off anyway.” You don’t know where the sudden confidence came from to even ask such a thing to your coworker, but given the circumstance you don’t know how much longer you had to spend in a room. Ever since you met Bucky you’ve had an interest in getting to know him, this had to be your best chance.

He raised a brow. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

You both cracked open cans, laughter filling the musty warehouse, teasing, bumping shoulders, stealing sips from each other’s cans.

Then, slowly, deliberately, you found yourself inching closer. Your shoulder brushed his. Your leg grazed his under the table. Every accidental touch sent a thrill through you, every glance lingering too long. He leaned in, ever so slightly, and the heat radiating from him pressed against your side.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low, “I think you’ve been staring at me more than your drink.”

“Am not,” you said, though your chest betrayed you, pounding in time with your pulse.

Bucky’s smirk deepened. He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingertips grazing your cheek. “Not even close,” he whispered. The closeness made your knees weak. And then he kissed you. Slow at first, exploratory, teasing, testing boundaries you hadn’t even realized existed. Your hands found his jacket, clutching him closer, while his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. Each gasp, each murmur, was a spark, igniting a fire between you.

Your lips moved against his, hungry now, demanding, sliding over his in heated rhythm. He groaned softly, pressing his body against yours, fingers tangling in your hair. You moaned quietly, the sound muffled against his mouth, heart hammering as his hands traced every curve you could reach.

Before long, the heat became impossible to contain. Bucky’s hands slid lower, gripping your hips, guiding you onto the old wooden table nearby. The rough surface pressed beneath you, cold against your skin, while he loomed over you, lips and teeth marking your neck and collarbone. You arched into him, lost in the sensation of him, the taste of beer, the warmth of his body, the danger and thrill of being caught.

He kissed you with more need, hands roaming, and you couldn’t get enough,every thrust of his hips, every whisper of his voice pressed into you, driving you wild. The warehouse disappeared, replaced by the heat and friction of skin on skin, gasps and moans filling the space between the dusty boxes and broken crates.

Just as the rhythm deepened, a metallic click echoed through the warehouse.

“Stress signal,” Steve Rogers’ voice rang out, calm but wary. “Thought I’d check on you two.”

Both of you froze mid-motion, flushed, sticky with sweat and beer, scrambling to regain composure while still pressed together in the aftermath of your reckless, desperate lust.

Bucky muttered under his breath, smirk tugging at his lips. “Could’ve warned me you were coming, Cap.”

And that was how your day off turned into one very, very memorable mission.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~

✦ Tags:

- Fluff

You had hardly slept the night before. The thought of finally getting out of the school and spending some time in Hogsmeade during the best time of the year just had your heart racing with excitement. The snowy streets filled with the glittering shop windows just waiting for you, you were practically counting the seconds to jump out of the bed and head into the town. When the morning came you were practically bouncing to get your scarf into your bag, gloves and all the galleons necessary for a large shopping spree.

“Merlin, you’d think she was packing for a three day holiday”, one of your friends teased, giggling with some of the other gryffindor girls in the room. To be honest you were too caught up on your own excitement to even care or give them any reaction.

Before all the students in your year had to gather in the courtyard you decided to head down to the common area for some morning tea. You grab a seat near a window and admire the view as you pour yourself a warm cup of what felt like a perfect hug. As you gather your things and head outside with the rest of the students you look for your friends to chat with, you felt the crisp sting of winter in your cheeks and it brought a chill to your spine. Through the corner of your eyes that was when you noticed him, George Weasley, standing with Fred and Lee Jordan, whispering furiously among themselves. You quickly look away, convincing yourself that you’d imagined the three seconds of eye contact you felt. But your friends were more quick to notice.

“He keeps looking at you” one of them whispered, elbowing you.

“They were probably just talking about something stupid”, you quickly say, brushing it off. Because that’s what he had always done.

Hogsamadw was everything you hoped for, snow covered roof tops, magical music everywhere, and air thick with the smell of sugar and butterbeer. You wondered through Honeydukes, passing through glass jars of fizzing sweets, when you caught sight of George again. He was on his way to the exit shortly after you had entered, shoulders brushing yours as he passed. For a second his scent lingered in the air, a familiar cinnamon smell you couldn’t get out of your head.

At Zonko’s he was there too, whispering with Fred in the corner, though this times his eyes trailed after you too long, observing you from top to bottom. At the Three Broomsticks, he walked so near you could hear his laugh, warm and rough, before his brother and friends dragged him away.

By the third time your chest felt that coincidence only went so far.

Were they following you on purpose….? Watching you ?

It happened outside of the Three Boomstricks, towards the end of the trip your friends agreed to all meet up for some drinks. Seeing as you were the first to arrive you go up to the bar and order some butterbeer, at that moment your friends walk in and begin to greet you. Distracted by the conversations your hand reached for the nearest cup on the counter, in the background you faintly hear the voices of George and Fred muttering about “switching the cup before-“ But before you could understand them, you place the cup to your mouth and gulp down the foam. A second later purple smoke explodes from your lips in a puff so dramatic, everyone in the vicinity turned to stare.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, You could hear Fred’s horrified “Oh, bloody hell,” but all you could think of, was of course. The whispers. The looks. And the utter humiliation of being the joke.

You sharply grab your bag and storm off, you friends wondering if they should chase after you, when before they can decide George starts to make his way behind you.

“Wait! wait !”

George caught up with you near the edge of the village, his breath clouding in the cold air. His face seemed flushed, but not just from the running, something more desperate, more raw.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you” he blurted. “That wasn’t- it wasn’t for you. I swear.” There was a strong silence that lingered in the air as he had more and more difficulty keeping eye contact with you.

You folded your arms, not trusting the voice in your head. I mean of course he would say it wasn’t meant for me after humiliating me in front of everyone, like the whole school doesn’t know them as the biggest pranksters around.

and just like he could read your mind he continues to speak

“I’d never-“ he ran a hand through his hair, words tumbling over themselves. “I’d never make you the punchline… because I like you.” His voice cracked on the last words, unpolished but devastatingly sincere.

For a moment all you could do was stare. His ears were scarlet, and his eyes flicking between your face and the ground as if he waited for you to laugh at him.

Instead you felt your cheeks flush, and your stomach a familiar sensation. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it” you said softly

His expression showed a sense of relief washed over him, a crooked smile across his face. “Give me another chance? Let me take you on a proper date yeah?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Alright just no butterbeer, not for a while”

He laughed, soft and unsteady, like he could believe his luck. Then, as if the words had loosened something inside him, George leaned in… he paused just close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against the cold air. His eyes reached yours, asking without speaking.

Your heart hammered, like it was about to burst out of your chest, but you didn’t pull away.

i love she wolfs so much i had to write about it.