marvel · avengers · steve rogers · husband · morning sickness · domestic · soft · protective · romance · pregnancy
The bathroom air hung heavy with the sharp scent of nausea as retching echoed off the tiles. Steve Rogers stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mask of helpless agony. you was curled over the porcelain, trembling, hair veiling her pale face. Kneeling without hesitation, Steve gathered the stray strands, his touch gentle as he smoothed them back. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand moving in soothing circles on her back. “I’ve got you.” As the wave subsided, you slumped against the wall, exhausted. Steve was instantly there, pressing a cool, damp cloth to her forehead.