Tom Hiddleston One-Shots

Loki- Show Me The Stars

A soft, gentle breeze drifts in from my bedroom window, open a crack so as to allow air flow through the screen. It provides relief to the stifling summer humidity, and fills the air with the airy, fresh scent that follows heavy rainfall. I've always loved the way nature looks after a rain storm, rejuvenated and the brightest green imaginable.

Sporting grey, plaid PJ shorts, a black tank top and unruly, dirty blond hair, while scrolling through my Tumblr dashboard, I sit cross-legged on top of a plump, forest green bed comforter. A chill shudders down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Suddenly plagued by the odd feeling of being watched, my head slowly lifts. Only, when my eyes sweep the dimly lit space, there's nothing there, much to my disappointment. I dip my head, closing the laptop and picking it up off my bed.

Setting it down on my oak desk, pushed against the wrought-iron footboard of my queen-sized bed, I pick up the book I've been reading the past two days and open it to page 213.

Roughly ten minutes pass, until I experience an odd sense of premonition yet again, and I doggy-ear the corner to keep track of my place. I slip out of bed, crossing the room to my window, and stare out at the shadowy London skyline, the night sky polluted by artificial lights of all colours and levels of brightness.

Goosebumps rise on my bare arms and legs, and I freeze in place. My muscles tense, and my spine goes rigid, anticipation deepening my respiration. Cautiously, I turn around, and it takes a moment for the impossible sight towering above me to sink in.

A tall, thin man stands on the far side of the room, at least six foot two, and directly beside my bed. My eyes grow wide, travelling upward from a pair of knee-high, black leather boots, to snug, black leather pants wrapped around long legs, and finally to a broad chest criss-crossed by more strips of black leather and an upside-down, half-circle accent of gold on his hard, black chest plate.

Decorative silver scales are sewn into the outer sides of his leather-clad thighs and just below the plate, and the lapels of his archaic, vest-style overcoat are a deep, gorgeous emerald green, to match the colour of the woven material banded around his arms.

His slicked back, soft raven hair skims the stiff, high collar of his black top underneath, providing a startling contrast with his flawless, pale skin. His handsome, angular features are made all the more attractive by his high, prominent cheekbones, and his thin, pink lips are pressed together in a hesitant smirk.

Holy... Shit. This can't be real. It just... Can't be. Am I dreaming? I must still be sleeping, that has to be it. Either that or someone put something in the tea I drank earlier tonight.

"W-who are you?" I stammer, swallowing a nervous lump in my throat. My heart is hammering against my ribs, desperately trying to beat itself out of my chest, as a smile begins to spread across his gorgeous face.
"You and both know the answer to that, now don't we, darling?" Loki replies, his eyes glinting mischievously in the warm glow of my bedside table.

His posture is sophisticated and refined, his hands clasped behind his back and his chin held high. His beautiful voice nearly stops my erratic heart; silky smooth, the words rolling off his silver tongue with velvety eloquence.

My eyes drink in his slim build and strong, squared shoulders, as he advances upon me, drawing ever closer with slow, deliberate strides. Not overly muscular, but with just enough toned, lean physique to get my pulse thrumming even louder in my eardrums.

He moves with such confidence, such proud grace and self-assurance, my breath catches briefly in my throat, and at long last, my eyes find his.

Our gazes lock, and it definitely becomes a struggle to keep myself from drowning in the icy, cool oceanic blue of his intelligent, bottomless eyes.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my voice barely above an anxious whisper.
His dark eyebrows furrow, surprise crossing his expression. "Why am I here?" He repeats, confusion lacing the innocent question. "Oh, my sweet girl, have you forgotten all the times you whispered and moaned my name? Begging me to come, to touch you, to make you mine?"

Loki smiles tentatively, moving steadily closer. "I've been listening, my dear." He stops mere inches from me, reaching for my hand, and I, in far too much shock to protest, allow him to take it in his own. His soft, slender hand cradles mine, bringing it to his lips. "And I'm here to make your wish come true."

Directly after uttering those words, he presses his lips to my knuckles, kissing them gently, and all the while refusing to break eye-contact. His touch gives me shivers, although his skin is quite warm.

Fighting to regain my voice, I clear my throat in the silence, as he lowers my hand.
"Will you accept?"
I study him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Accept?"
"Will you come back to Asgard with me?" A small, adorable smile quirks up the corners of his mouth, and he leans down, placing his lips by my ear. "I could show you the stars..." He murmurs. "Claim loyalty to me, and I will give you what you need."
His sultry, seductive rasp and the intimate, intoxicating proximity of his body to mine makes me woozy. Weak in the knees, my heart hammering erratically against my ribs, I find myself whispering: "Yes."

My breath hitches in my throat, as his hand slips around my waist, drawing me into him as he presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to my racing pulse. He smirks against my neck, feeling the jump of my heartbeat, and chuckles, a dark, wicked concoction. "Oh yes, my darling. That is exactly the answer I was seeking."