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The mission was supposed to be easy. At least, that’s what everyone had said. A simple recovery operation. Get in. Retrieve the stolen Stark technology. Get out. No major threats expected.
No injuries expected. No problems. Unfortunately, missions had a habit of ignoring plans. “Stay close,” Natasha said through the comms. You rolled your eyes. “I know, Mom.” “And don’t roll your eyes.” Your mouth fell open. “How did you know I did that?”
“I raised you.” A second voice crackled through the earpiece. “And I can literally read your emotions,” Wanda added. You groaned. “Having two superhero moms is unfair.” “Correct,” Natasha replied. “Very correct,” Wanda agreed.
The mission continued smoothly until it didn’t. One second you were helping Peter secure a shipment crate. The next second an explosion tore through the warehouse. The floor shook violently. You heard shouting. Metal screamed. Something hit you.
Hard.
Then everything went dark. The first thing you became aware of was pain. A sharp ache pulsed through your side. Your head felt heavy. The sounds around you were muffled. Distant. Like you were underwater.
“…found them!”
“Move!”
“Give me space!”
The voices slowly became clearer. Then one voice cut through all the others. A voice filled with terror “Y/N.” Mom. Wanda. You forced your eyes open. The blurry red glow surrounding you slowly came into focus.
Wanda was kneeling beside you. Tears streamed down her face. Actual tears. Your stomach dropped. Wanda almost never cried. Not anymore. Not after everything she’d survived.
Yet here she was. Shaking. Terrified. “Mom?” The moment she heard your voice, she let out a broken sound. “Oh, thank God.”
You tried to sit up. Instantly, another pair of hands stopped you. Natasha. She looked calm. Almost. But you knew her too well.
Her hands were trembling. Natasha Romanoff’s hands never trembled. “You don’t move,” she ordered. “I’m okay.” “No.” “I’m literally talking.” “No." You blinked.
“That’s not how injuries work.” Natasha ignored you completely. “Wanda.” Red magic immediately scanned your body. Wanda’s face went pale.
Paler than normal.
“No.”
Natasha’s expression hardened.
“What?”
Three words.
Three horrifying words.
“Internal bleeding. Broken ribs.”
The entire room froze.
You watched something dangerous flash behind Natasha’s eyes.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Rage.
Pure rage.
“Who.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a threat.
You had heard Natasha use that voice exactly twice in your life.
Both times ended badly for the people involved.
“Mom—”
“Who hurt you?”
You pointed weakly toward the unconscious mercenary currently handcuffed across the room.
Natasha looked at him.
Then looked at Wanda.
The silent conversation between them lasted less than a second.
You immediately knew someone was about to have the worst day of their life.
Steve stepped forward.
“Natasha.”
“No.”
“Wanda.”
“No.”
Tony sighed.
“Guys.”
“No.”
The two women answered simultaneously.
⸻
The ride back to Avengers Tower was somehow worse.
Because both of your moms refused to leave your side.
At all.
Wanda sat beside the medical bed holding your hand so tightly you wondered if she planned on permanently attaching herself to you.
Natasha paced like a caged tiger.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The Quinjet felt too small for her anger.
You finally spoke.
“Mom.”
Natasha immediately turned.
“What?”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I will be.”
“You have three broken ribs.”
You paused.
“How do you know that?”
“I memorized the medical scan.”
Of course she did.
⸻
The moment the jet landed, Bruce was waiting.
He barely had time to speak.
“I need to examine—”
“No.”
Bruce blinked.
Natasha folded her arms.
“You may examine them.”
Bruce nodded.
“That’s literally what I was saying.”
“But carefully.”
Bruce stared.
“I am a doctor.”
“And?”
Bruce sighed heavily.
⸻
The next twenty-four hours were ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
You couldn’t stand up without supervision.
Couldn’t walk alone.
Couldn’t even reach for water.
The second your hand moved, one of your mothers appeared.
Like magic.
Or terrifying maternal instinct.
Possibly both.
At one point you woke up at three in the morning.
Natasha was sitting in a chair beside your bed.
Awake.
Watching.
“Mom.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“Were you here all night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked genuinely confused.
“You got hurt.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is to me.”
⸻
The next morning was somehow worse.
Because Wanda had finally stopped crying.
Which meant she had moved into another emotional stage.
Protective.
Dangerously protective.
You entered the kitchen.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Immediately, Wanda appeared.
A red aura wrapped around your coffee mug.
“No caffeine.”
“What?”
“It raises your heart rate.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“And?”
You looked toward Clint.
“Help me.”
Clint took one look at Wanda.
“Nope.”
Smart man.
⸻
Three days later, things should have been normal.
Instead, you discovered Natasha and Wanda had created a schedule.
A schedule.
For watching you.
Twenty-four hours a day.
You found it taped to the refrigerator.
MONDAY
6 AM - 12 PM: Natasha
12 PM - 6 PM: Wanda
6 PM - Midnight: Natasha
Midnight - 6 AM: Wanda
Your eye twitched.
“What is this?”
Neither woman looked guilty.
“It’s reasonable,” Wanda said.
“It absolutely is not.”
Natasha pointed to your healing ribs.
“You got exploded.”
“That’s not a medical condition.”
“It is now.”
⸻
A week later, Bruce finally cleared you.
“No internal bleeding.”
“Great.”
“Ribs healing normally.”
“Awesome.”
“You can resume normal activities.”
“Finally.”
Bruce smiled.
“Congratulations.”
The second he left, you stood up.
Only to discover both moms blocking the doorway.
“…What?”
Wanda smiled sweetly.
Too sweetly.
Dangerously sweetly.
“Bruce said normal activities.”
“Yes.”
“Not dangerous activities.”
You stared.
“Walking is not dangerous.”
Natasha considered this.
“We’ll discuss it.”
You groaned loudly.
⸻
That night, long after everyone else was asleep, you found both of your moms on the balcony.
The city lights stretched endlessly below.
For once, neither woman seemed angry.
Just tired.
You walked over quietly.
Natasha immediately noticed.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
You sat between them.
“No.”
Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
Instinctively.
Like breathing.
Like something she didn’t even think about.
After a moment, you spoke softly.
“You were scared.”
Neither answered.
That was answer enough.
You looked at Natasha.
The world’s greatest spy.
The woman who never showed weakness.
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
“When they said they couldn’t find you…” she admitted quietly, “…I thought the worst.”
Your chest tightened.
Wanda leaned her head against yours.
“I felt your pain through our connection.”
Her voice cracked.
“I have never been more frightened in my life.”
Silence settled between the three of you.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Then Natasha reached over and squeezed your shoulder.
“You know we’re always going to worry.”
“I know.”
“We’ll probably always be overprotective.”
“I know.”
Wanda kissed the top of your head.
“And we will definitely continue embarrassing you.”
You laughed.
“Yeah, I know.”
For the first time since the mission, both women smiled.
The real smiles.
The relieved ones.
Because the bruises would heal.
The ribs would heal.
The scars would heal.
And most importantly…
Their child was still here.
Safe.
Alive.
Home.
Exactly where both Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff intended to keep you.