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It had been happening ever since you could remember.
It was almost never triggered by something you could name. No stressful events, no danger, no discernable reason for it to happen; and yet, it still did. Your body would overheat, your hands would shake, your head would pound, your vision would swim, and worst of all - it would feel like your lungs had simply stopped working. You wouldn’t be able to draw breath, to get oxygen into your body, and to be completely honest, it felt like you were going to die.
It had taken years before you’d found the phrase to describe exactly what you’d been experiencing: panic attacks. Finding the name was a sort of relief in itself - it let you know that you weren’t crazy, that you weren’t alone. It didn’t ease the terror of the panic attacks whilst they were happening, but it did help you ease the shame that came after.
Telling Loki was the scariest thing you’ve ever done - yes, including any mission with the other Avengers. You’d left it as long as possible, desperate to hide them from him in case he decided you were too much trouble, but you knew eventually he’d find out. Granted, you hadn’t expected it to be in the middle of a conversation between the two of you about breakfast cereal, but in hindsight, you were grateful he knew. You explained to him through painful gasps what was happening, and he was wonderful; reassuring you, touching you without crowding you. It was almost as if he could sense what you needed, and you knew you would never stop being thankful for this apparent sixth sense.
His sixth sense would come in handy once more on a random Saturday afternoon.
As per your family’s tradition (because, whether they liked it or not, the other Avengers - including Loki - were your family), you were all gathered on the common floor of the Tower, various bowls of popcorn, doritos, and assorted chocolates strewn around the floor, an old comedy blasting from the TV. Everyone had claimed a seat somewhere; Nat, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, Thor, Peter, Tony, Loki and you had all somehow managed to jam yourselves into the relatively small area of space from where the TV was visible. You were sandwiched comfortably between Tony and Loki, your head resting on Loki’s shoulder as he stroked his fingers comfortingly up and down the back of your neck.
You’d been feeling… off all day, but you couldn’t really understand why. Not wanting to ruin the day for anyone else, you’d carried on as normal, but as you sat on the sofa, you started to feel the all-too-familiar symptoms of a panic attack creep in. First, your body started to heat up from the soles of your feet to the top of your head. It was an unbearable heat, and your hands started to fidget in your lap as you sat up straighter. A sharp pain assaulted the sides of your head, and as your breath stuttered in your chest, you knew you had to get about before anyone noticed. You couldn’t let the others see, let them see your weakness, show them how scared you were-
“Kiddo, you doing okay? You don’t look so good.” Shit. Tony’s whispered voice startled you out of your self-deprecating spiral. You had to get out.
“All good, I just- I’ll be back.” With that, you stood up and tried your hardest not to sprint out of the room. You heard the sound of Loki standing swiftly to follow you, and despite your body putting up the most valiant effort to shut down, you felt a sliver of relief in the back of your mind. At least you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.
You barely made it to your bedroom before you went into full meltdown mode. The room swam in front of you, and you had the sickening feeling that the floor was moving and tilting beneath your feet. Your heart was pounding so hard you were surprised the others couldn’t hear it despite all the walls between you. It took all your strength to remain upright. You hated this, hated that without warning your body could be reduced to a worthless, trembling mess, but there was nothing you could do; you simply had to wait it out. You bit down so hard on your lip that you tasted blood, and the sharp metallic taste only served to convince you further that you were dying. Perhaps this was it - perhaps this was the panic attack that would finally finish you off. What a way to die.
The sound of the door creaking open - which sounded as though it was coming from miles away, almost completely drowned out by the thumping in your ears - made you jump, and you swivelled around to see Loki stood before you, his hands held up in front of his chest, palms open and facing you in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
“Hello, love,” he all but whispered, his voice a balm to your shot nerves. “Can you talk to me? It’s okay if not.” The thought of trying to force out words whilst you were gasping like a fish out of water made you feel physically ill, so you shook your head rapidly, a whimper escaping you before you could stop it. He took a step further into the room and closed the door behind him. “Shhh, that’s alright, that’s alright. You can nod or shake your head, that’s okay.” You felt the nausea lessen, but your lungs were still burning. You wondered if enough oxygen was getting to your brain. Cerebral hypoxia, you’d read about it before - people dying from lack of oxygen to the brain. It only takes minutes, you could already be dying and it’d be too late.
Loki’s voice cuts through the fog like a lighthouse.
“-back with me, come on, look at me.” You looked up and noticed he’d moved to sit on the bed, close enough to where you were standing to make you feel safe without smothering you. His expression was one of calm understanding, and you could’ve wept with relief. “There you go, that’s it. All you have to do is nod or shake your head. Did something happen to trigger this?” His voice was firm, and you found yourself shaking your head, your body responding instinctively to his gentle command. He smiled, and held out a hand. You didn’t take it; you couldn’t quite get your limbs to cooperate just yet.
Undiscouraged by your stillness, Loki continued his questioning. “Can I touch you, love? You can say no, I won’t get angry.” How did he always know exactly the right thing to say? A part of you ached to reach out, to beg him to wrap you in his arms and take it all away - the pain, the panic… You wanted him to make it all stop. But you couldn’t. It was all too much, too overwhelming, and you felt tears running down your face as you rocked back and forth on your heels, an even louder whimper bubbling up and escaping through your gritted teeth as you shook your hands as if trying to dry them. That noise prompted a pained look to flash over Loki’s features before he schooled his face into something more comforting.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright… Sweetheart, you’re alright, deep breaths. You’re safe, I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear it. I won’t touch you.” That statement caused a fresh round of tears, which Loki noticed with some confusion. Hesitantly, he took a chance. He moved to the centre of the bed, crossing his legs and opening his arms to you.
All your doubt withered in you like an unwatered plant. You needed him.
You flung yourself onto the bed and into his lap with such force that you were surprised that he didn’t topple over. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you with just enough pressure, and simply let you try to bury yourself in his chest. The tears started up full force, and your breath was stuttering in and out your chest so fast it sounded like one continuous wheeze. Your hands were scrabbling at his back and you were sure it must be uncomfortable for him at least - painful at the worst - but he showed no sign of moving away or letting you go. He just placed a soft hand at the back of your head and guided it under his chin, rocking you both back and forth as the flow of reassurances continued.
“You’re doing so well, that’s it, match my breathing. Can you feel my heartbeat, dove?” You shifted your head in some semblance of a nod. “Good. Give me your hand.” A hand found its way into his, and he rested it against his face. “I’m right here. You can feel me. Take a breath in, and let it out as slow as you can.” You complied, your breath coming a little easier now there was a constant, reassuring pressure surrounding you.
You slowly but surely felt your body calm down to a tolerable state - you were still dizzy, and the fear lingered, but your temperature had gone down and it no longer felt like each inhale might be your last. You shifted slightly in Loki’s arms, and he released his grip on you slightly, pulling you gently away from him to make you look in his eyes. You resisted at first, but a cold hand on your cheek made you look up. Your eyes met soft green ones, full of love, and you could’ve buckled under their weight. God, you would never stop being grateful for Loki.
“It’s over now, love. It’s over, you’re safe.” You nodded once, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks as your tears started to dry. You hated this part, when you would come out of an episode and start to feel the embarrassment of being a grown woman sobbing on your boyfriend’s lap creeping over you. You picked at the skin around your thumb, eyes flitting downwards. How could Loki even stand to look at you after that? He was a God; he’d lived a thousand years, seen a thousand tragedies play out, and yet he was the one comforting you - you, who broke down over nothing, who couldn’t keep yourself together enough to watch a stupid fucking comedy with your family.
“Stop,” Loki said, the hand on your face taking hold of your wrist. “I can practically hear you thinking. You do not need to be ashamed for something like this, do you understand? I could be offered all the treasures in the world, everything I’ve ever longed for, and every time I would choose to sit here with you instead. There is no one I would rather spend my time with. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you choked out, your voice hoarse and your eyes welling up again. Loki smiled at you, and it felt like coming home. He gathered you in his arms bridal-style and stood up off the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
“Come, my love, let’s retire to my room. Perhaps I can even be convinced to sit through another one of those Disney movies you so love. Which was next on our list? The one about the girl with a fish tail?”
You nodded, a laugh bubbling from your chest. “The Little Mermaid.”
“The Little Mermaid it is, my queen.”