wanda x daughter one shots

your dirty hands

request: @charlithewallflower

age: 16

undiagnosed contamination ocd:)

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WANDA's POV

"Y/N, can you please turn the tap off? You've been washing your hands for the past five minutes," I ask my daughter as she continues to rub her hands together under the running water.

"Mkay," she mumbles, turning the tap off and grabbing a few sheets of paper towel to dry her hands with.

"We have a towel, you know?" I chuckle, watching as she throws the paper towel sheets into the bin.

"I know," she replies, getting out some ingredients to make her lunch. "I'd just rather not dry my hands on something that's dirty."

When she's finished making one part of her food, she goes straight back to the sink and starts washing her hands again.

"Y/N, why do you keep doing that? You haven't touched anything that requires you to wash your hands," I point out, extremely confused as to why she keeps washing them every two minutes.

"Because my hands are dirty," she replies, adding more soap.

Deciding to just leave her be, I sigh and take a sip of my coffee as I continue to read a random catalogue.

Once she's done with making her lunch and has sat down next to me, I can't help but steal a fry off her plate.

"Mom!" she whines loudly before yelling, "I can't eat this now!"

Taken aback, I ask her, "Why not?"

"You touched it. Your dirty hands are all over it."

With that, she storms off and groans, slamming her door shut.

Why on Earth is she so upset about me taking one fry?

Y/N's POV

"Ew, fuck," I curse to myself after running into my bedroom away from mom. My hands feel as if they're absolutely covered in honey, despite having washed them multiple times.

So after I've washed them for another five minutes, I hear a knock on my door.

"What?" I ask harshly, sitting upright in my bed.

"I'm sorry I ruined your lunch," mom apologizes, walking in with a tray. "I made some more for you, and I used disposable gloves so that it wasn't touched. Promise."

What did I do to deserve a mother like her? She doesn't know what's going on, but she still went along with it.

"Thank you," I smile as she places down the tray onto my bed and I stand up to give her a big hug.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You doing okay?"

In response, I shrug and hold onto her tighter.

"Well I'm here if you wanna talk about it," she offers and pulls away, "Your new clothes came a minute ago."

She then steps out of the room for a minute before coming back with the clothes that I ordered all in bags.

"Oh um... please don't touch them," I say, worrying that she might.

"I won't. Do you want me to put them on your bed?"

"No!" I nearly yell, starting to panic the moment she says that. "No, just give them to me."

As told, she hands me my clothes and I immediately hate how dirty my hands feel, which is why I quickly get the clothes into the guest room so that I don't contaminate them in my bedroom, and rush back to wash my hands again.

This is one of the most exhausting things I've ever had to deal with.

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writing in this is < but we move