#loki op

After a grueling journey, you find solace in the curve of Loki's massive horn, discovering a softer side to the enigmatic giant.

yall when i tell u ds man is sooo damnn fineee~

loki x gn!reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, size difference, loki being a little shit, wholesome, ooc(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe, and akward © dollywons for divider word count: 2.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden haze over the jagged cliffs of Elbaf. The island’s terrain was as unforgiving as its reputation, with rocky paths winding through towering forests and steep inclines that seemed to mock your stamina. At just over five feet tall, you felt like an ant trudging through a world built for giants. Your legs ached, your boots were caked in mud, and every step sent a dull throb through your calves. Hours of walking had left you teetering on the edge of collapse, and the weight of your pack seemed to grow heavier with every passing minute.

Ahead of you loomed Loki, the infamous giant prince of Elbaf, his colossal frame dominating the landscape. At sixty-seven meters tall, he was a walking mountain, his presence both awe-inspiring and intimidating. His long, magenta hair swayed in the breeze, the twin braids framing his face neatly while the rest spilled messily down his back. Bandages wrapped tightly over his eyes, giving him an air of mystery, though you’d learned by now that he didn’t need sight to navigate the world with unnerving precision. His massive steps shook the ground, yet he moved with a grace that belied his size, each stride deliberate, almost performative.

Loki’s personality was as towering as his stature. Arrogance dripped from his every word, his sharp tongue weaving taunts and clever quips with ease. He reveled in trickery, delighting in outsmarting anyone who dared cross his path. There was a cruelty to him, too—a penchant for toying with others, pushing their limits just to see how far they’d bend before breaking. Yet, in the weeks you’d traveled with him, you’d glimpsed something else beneath the surface: a flicker of compassion, rare and fleeting, like a star obscured by storm clouds.

“Keep up, little mouse,” Loki called, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. He didn’t turn to look at you, but you could hear the smirk in his tone. “Or do you plan to collapse and make me carry you like some fragile trinket?”

You gritted your teeth, forcing your legs to keep moving. “I’m fine,” you huffed, though your voice betrayed your exhaustion. “And I’m not that small.”

Loki chuckled, a low, resonant sound that vibrated through the air. “Oh, but you are. A speck, really. I could flick you into the next island with a twitch of my finger.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to muster a proper retort. The banter was familiar by now, a strange rhythm you’d fallen into during your journey. You weren’t entirely sure why Loki had agreed to let you tag along—or why you’d chosen to follow a giant with a reputation for chaos. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the way his rare moments of kindness caught you off guard, like finding a warm ember in a pile of ash.

The path steepened, and you stumbled over a loose rock, catching yourself just before you faceplanted. A frustrated groan escaped your lips. Loki’s steps slowed, and for a moment, you thought he might turn back, but he only tilted his head slightly, as if listening to your struggle.

“Pathetic,” he drawled, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Do humans tire so easily? Or is it just you?”

You glared at the back of his massive head. “I’ve been walking for hours, Loki. Not all of us have legs the size of trees.”

He snorted, a sound that sent a flock of birds scattering from a nearby tree. “Excuses, excuses. Perhaps I should leave you here to become bird food. They’d probably find you tastier than you look.”

Despite your exhaustion, you managed a weak laugh. “You’d miss me too much.”

Loki’s steps faltered, just for a fraction of a second, and you wondered if you’d imagined it. He didn’t respond, which was unusual. Normally, he’d fire back with some biting remark, but this time, he just kept walking, his massive hands swinging casually at his sides.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The air grew cooler, and your energy was fading fast. You’d been traveling since dawn, searching for a rumored artifact said to be hidden deep in Elbaf’s mountains. Loki had his own reasons for seeking it—something about proving his cunning to the other giants—but you suspected he was also chasing the thrill of the hunt. For you, it was a chance to see more of the world, to step out of your small life and into something grander.

But right now, grandeur was the last thing on your mind. All you wanted was to stop moving.

“Loki...” you called, your voice weaker than you’d intended. “Can we… rest? Just for a bit?”

He stopped abruptly, and you nearly collided with the back of his massive boot. He turned his head slightly, the bandages over his eyes making it impossible to read his expression. “Rest?” he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. “You’ve barely made it halfway up this pathetic hill.”

You gestured at the steep incline ahead. “That’s not a hill. It’s a mountain, and I’m not built for this.”

Loki’s lips twitched, and you could tell he was fighting a smile. “Weak,” he muttered, but there was no real venom in it. He crouched down, the ground shaking as his knees hit the earth. Even crouched, he towered over you, his face level with the treetops. “Fine. Five minutes. Don’t expect me to coddle you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Dropping your pack, you sank to the ground, leaning against a boulder. The cool stone felt like heaven against your aching back. You closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. The sound of Loki shifting nearby was like the creaking of a ship, his massive form settling onto the ground with a low rumble.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of some unknown creature. You peeked one eye open, watching Loki as he sat cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees. His head was tilted slightly, as if he were listening to the world around him. The bandages over his eyes gave him an almost serene appearance, though you knew better than to trust that illusion.

“You’re staring,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence.

You flushed, quickly looking away. “I’m not.”

“Liar.” He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “What’s so fascinating, hmm? My stunning good looks? My overwhelming charm?”

You snorted, despite yourself. “More like your overwhelming ego.”

He laughed, a genuine sound that made your chest feel oddly warm. “You wound me, little mouse. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Friends?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve threatened to flick me into the sea at least three times today.”

“Details,” he said, waving a massive hand dismissively. “I threaten everyone. It’s part of my charm.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Despite his arrogance, there was something about Loki that made it hard to stay mad at him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know when you were struggling, even if he hid his concern behind a barrage of insults.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and you stifled a yawn. The boulder was comfortable enough, but the thought of lying down somewhere softer was tempting. Your gaze drifted to Loki’s massive form, specifically to the curved horns protruding from his head. They were enormous, each one thicker than your entire body, curling gracefully like the branches of an ancient tree. An idea sparked in your mind, born of exhaustion and a touch of delirium.

“Loki,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… try something?”

He tilted his head, the movement sending his braids swaying. “Try what? Don’t tell me you’re planning to climb me like some ambitious squirrel.”

You laughed weakly. “Not exactly. Just… trust me?”

He raised an eyebrow—or at least, you assumed he did beneath the bandages. “Trust you? That’s a bold request, coming from someone who can barely walk straight.”

“Please?” you pressed, giving him your best pleading look.

He sighed dramatically, the sound like a gust of wind. “Fine. But if you fall and break something, don’t expect me to play nursemaid.”

You stood, wobbling slightly, and approached his massive form. Up close, he was even more intimidating, his presence overwhelming in a way that made your heart race. You reached out, placing a hand on the smooth surface of his horn. It was cool to the touch, polished by years of wind and weather. The curve was gentle, almost inviting, like a natural hammock.

With a deep breath, you began to climb. It wasn’t easy—your arms trembled with fatigue, and the horn’s surface was slicker than you’d expected—but determination kept you going. Loki remained still, though you could feel his curiosity radiating like heat. After a few precarious moments, you reached the curve of his horn and settled into it, your body fitting snugly against the smooth, cool surface. It was surprisingly comfortable, the gentle slope cradling you like a bed.

“Well,” Loki said, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You grinned, letting your head rest against the horn. “It’s perfect. Like a giant hammock.”

He huffed, but there was no malice in it. “A hammock. You’ve reduced the mighty Loki, prince of Elbaf, to furniture.”

“Comfy furniture,” you corrected, closing your eyes. The exhaustion was catching up to you, and the gentle sway of Loki’s horn as he adjusted his position was oddly soothing.

For a moment, he was silent. Then, you felt a subtle change in his breathing. It slowed, becoming deep and measured, the rise and fall of his chest like the tide. You realized he was doing it on purpose, keeping his movements steady to avoid jostling you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

“Loki?” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks”

He didn’t respond right away, and you thought he might ignore you. But then, softly, he said, “...Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled, letting the warmth of his words wrap around you like a blanket. The world faded, and you drifted into a peaceful sleep, cradled in the curve of a giant’s horn.

When you woke, the sky was dark, speckled with stars. The air was crisp, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and earth. You blinked, disoriented, until you remembered where you were. Loki’s horn was still beneath you, steady and unmoving. You shifted slightly, peering over the edge to see his face.

He was awake, his head tilted slightly as if listening to the night. The bandages over his eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, giving him an ethereal quality. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness to it, a quiet contemplation you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low. “I was beginning to think you’d sleep through the entire journey.”

You yawned, stretching carefully to avoid slipping. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You drool, by the way.”

“I do not!” you protested, though you wiped your mouth just to be sure.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his horn and sending a pleasant vibration through you. “Whatever you say, little mouse.”

You sat up, hugging your knees as you looked out at the starlit landscape. The mountains of Elbaf stretched endlessly before you, their peaks shrouded in mist. It was beautiful, in a wild, untamed way, and for a moment, you felt small but not insignificant. Loki’s presence grounded you, his massive form a reminder that even the smallest things could find a place in a world of giants.

“...Why do you let me stick around?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop it. “I’m just… me. I’m not a warrior or a genius. I slow you down.”

Loki was quiet for a long time, long enough that you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, he spoke, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re… persistent. Annoyingly so. And you see things others don’t.”

You frowned, unsure what he meant. “Like what?”

He tilted his head, as if choosing his words carefully. “You see me...Not the prince, not the trickster. Just… me.”

The admission caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. For all his arrogance and cruelty, Loki was letting you glimpse something real, something vulnerable. It was a gift, one you didn’t take lightly.

“I think you’re more than just a trickster,” you said quietly. “You’re… complicated. And maybe a little kind, when you want to be.”

He snorted, but there was no edge to it. “Careful, little mouse. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night. For a moment, the world felt perfect—just you, Loki, and the stars. You leaned back against his horn, content to stay there a little longer, and he didn’t protest. His breathing slowed again, steady and calm, lulling you into a sense of peace.