wanda x daughter one shots

one, two, three

this was the ocd request<3 (from my message board post last week, i don't remember who requested what but there's still more to come)

age: 15

-

Y/N's POV

Seven fifty-seven. Not an even number. I can't get up yet.

Seven fifty-nine. I missed seven fifty-eight so I still can't get up,

Eight o'clock. Ending in a zero. Even number, I can get up now.

My feet hitting the soft carpet doesn't happen at the same time. My left came first, and I need them both to meet the ground simultaneously.

Three more tries, and it feels perfect.

Now onto turning the lights on.

One, two, three. No. That doesn't feel right. I need to start over.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Three lots of three. But did the one time I screwed up count as four? In which case, I need to go up to the next number that feels comfortable, which is six.

One, two, three. One, two, three. The light switch is left alone, and I hear my door creak as mom enters the room, looking at me sadly when she notices how tiring the routines my mind forces me to do really are. But she never interrupts the behaviors, that's one of the worst things you could do to someone with OCD.

"Morning, baby. Breakfast is on the counter for whenever you're ready. I made breakfast sandwiches."

Sandwich.

Sandwich, sandwich, sandwich, sandwich, sandwich. Why won't that singular word leave my head?

"Okay. Thanks, mom," I smile, she then gives me a quick hug before exiting my room again.

Did I say that correctly? I feel like I said 'thanks' weirdly.

"Thanks. Thanks. Thanks," I repeat over and over under my breath, trying to figure out if I said it weirdly or not.

In order to attempt to shut my brain off, I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen, where mom is waiting with my food.

Okay. Everything feels okay right now.

Except, the glass I'm drinking out of doesn't seem clean enough, I need to wash it again.

I quickly get through breakfast before getting ready for the day. After some time doing my morning routine, I get my shoes and coat on ready for me and mom to go shopping today.

"Baby, you checked already. It's locked, I promise you," mom attempts to reassure me after I walk back over to check for the tenth time.

"What if I accidentally unlocked it when I took the keys out of the door?" I ask, my hand starting to shake from the worry.

"Hypothetically, what would happen if you didn't lock it properly?"

"Someone could break in! Our stuff could be stolen!" I exclaim since it should be obvious.

"With our gates and security alarms?" she challenges, making me pause and think. She then walks up next to me and puts her hand on the handle, shaking it up and down to show me that it is in fact locked. "It's locked, sweetheart. I promise you that it won't unlock on its own."

-

This day has been filled with a lot of anxiety. Did I shut my windows? Did I leave my hair straightener on? Did I definitely turn the water in my bathroom off?

It's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

And I can't even rest because now there's a whole other thing bothering me.

I cannot get over how wrong my bed sheets feel right now. All I saw was one tiny stain from food or something and it won't leave me. They're dirty, what if I catch an infection?

Without any consideration, I rush into my bathroom and grab the bleach in the cupboard before rushing back to my bed and pouring it all over my sheets, making them clean.

Shit. What have I done?! Mom is gonna be so angry. I've just ruined some very expensive bed sheets.

"Mama!" I cry out to her from my bedroom floor after having fallen to my knees due to my own frustration. Within seconds, she comes running in.

"Hey," she coos softly, making her way over to me and lifting me off the floor and into her arms. My legs are now around her waist and my head hiding in the crook of my neck. "What happened, honey?"

"M-my sheets," I cry, feeling myself get stressed out. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't control the impulse, I just-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," she tells me in her gentlest tone, rubbing her hand up and down my back. "It's okay, I know you can't control it. You had to, baby, and that's okay. It's been a very hard day for you and you're so tired. How about we try taking a nap, yeah? I'll hold you."

Needing the rest, I immediately agree and cling on even tighter to the person who I know will never judge me, even if this is the seventh time I've bleached the bedsheets.

-

i've definitely had ocd elements in my life due to my asd so this was more or less easy to write, i hope this was accurate x