Connor x Reader !ONESHOTS!

♡☂ Hard Work and Bad Memories ☂♡

Y/n let out a sigh as she looked at Hank, her caretaker passed out on the couch. He always seemed to be drunk, which obviously was a serious health issue and a concern to Y/n. Alas, there seemed to be nothing she could do for her father figure through his alcoholism. It made her a little sad that she couldn't help him, and it almost made her feel a bit helpless but there seemed to be nothing she could do about this. With a sigh, Y/n dropped her work bag onto the floor next to the couch and headed for her room down the hall and flopped on her bed, groaning from all the work she'd done at her job. Y/n's job was to be a detective, just like Hank out on the couch. But, as much as she liked working with her dad, sometimes it was just a bit hard for her.

    Red Ice was her biggest problem with her job, due to the fact it reminded her of a lot of memories she wished to suppress. Memories from her childhood like her family. Y/n's mom was dead, a blunt way of putting it but it was true. Her father just couldn't take the loss of his dear loved one, and so he got into Red Ice. Red Ice is obviously dangerous, and Y/n hated being reminded of what things her father did while he was high on the stuff. Just even hearing the name 'Red Ice' made her heart squeeze with pain. Y/n flopped over on her side with a huff as her mind whirled with the thought of her past, and she wished she could make it all go away. Sadly, hiding out in her room all day while binge eating snacks apparently was not the answer. The answer many people would normally go to is the possibility of her telling Hank about her feelings of depression so that he could help. That wasn't really an option available to Y/n, though. Hank was already busy enough with his own feelings already, why would she just dump more shit on his plate?

    With a frustrated sigh, Y/n slammed her pillow into her face. She wondered what on earth she should do about this. These thoughts were leaving her sad- no, miserable. She just had to do something.

"No, I can't really do anything about this, can I? What is there really to do?" Y/n thought to herself hopelessly as she removed the pillow from off of her face and sat up.

"There has to be work done around here anyways, might as well put myself to work instead of sulking." Y/n reasoned to herself as she stood up and stretched, ready for yet another pointless afternoon of sadness and cleaning.

    Y/n stepped out into the living room and out to the kitchen, wondering why on earth she kept doing this stuff to herself. There was alcohol spilt all over the floor as well as a few bottles of beer which made Y/n feel nauseous. Slowly and carefully, she picked up the empty bottles from off of the floor and threw them away with a look of disgust on her face. Next, Y/n walked over to the sink and took out a sponge. She got it wet and began scrubbing at the beer on the ground. She probably could have just wiped it up with a towel, but she hated the feeling of the dried beer on the ground. Instead she cleaned it up with a sponge before bending down to dry it up with the towel. As Y/n rung out the towel, she began to wonder the point of doing all of this work. It wasn't her mess, it was Hank's! And yet.. Here she was. Cleaning up the mess her caretaker had made for her to clean up when she got home.

"UGH!"

    Y/n threw the towel into the sink angrily before leaning over it, watching it sit there as tears stung the corners of her eyes. She knew Hank cared for her, but she was tired of always picking up what he left behind. Well, she always seemed to do that she supposed. She cleaned up the house for her father all those years ago, who was laying on the floor high as a kite. Now she was picking up for her new caretaker who was supposed to be better than her father. Y/n was tired of this, tired of people relying on her to take care of them. For once in her life could someone just please help her out? Y/n's grip on the sink was hard, the feeling of the metal pressing into her palms hurt a little, but only slightly. It was the only thing keeping her from going absolutely crazy.