Heather Chandler Oneshots

Bad day?

(Y/N)'s pov:

I heard the front door slam shut and jumped up. "Miss Chandler?" I asked.

My girlfriend, Heather. Was usually always in an extremely dominating mood whenever she got home.

I quickly learned that if I didn't bend to her every will. I would regret it. Not that she would ever make me do things I didn't want to. But.. sexually speaking she had me wrapped around her finger.

Heather stormed into the bedroom. Throwing her blazer at the wall and huffing as she kicked her heels off.

"....Miss-" "Shut the fuck up." Heather yelled. I quickly snapped my mouth shut, flinching as she glared at me.

For a moment I thought she was going to do something, maybe hit me. But then again she's never even raised a finger at me.

Heather quickly turned and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. I gulped and sighed.

Hope I don't die tonight.

I got off the bed and picked up Heather's heels and blazer, quickly putting them away for her before going downstairs.

I noticed her scrunchie had been discarded near the door and picked it up. Making sure to dust it off before putting it on the coffee table and going to the kitchen.

"Where the hell is my scrunchie!" Heather screamed.

I dared not answer her as she stormed down stairs. She stomped over to me and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. "What the hell did you do with it!" She yelled. I gulped. "I..I put it on the c-coffee table..." I stuttered.

Heather looked like she was about to smile. But didn't, instead the scowl on her face faded a bit. "Oh.. sorry thanks." Heather said, quickly letting me go, fixing my collar and kissing my cheek before she grabbed her scrunchie and went back upstairs.

Jesus fucking christ.

I sat down quietly in the living room, having left my phone and computer upstairs I really screwed myself over. When Heather is having a bad day....anything could happen.

She could cry, scream, beat a jock senseless, fuck me until my brain breaks, kill someone, burn down a house, hide in the bedroom, stuff her feelings with drugs and alcohol, or get the munchies and eat until she feels sick.

Heather having a bad day isn't common, but I'm used to it by now. She tries not to take it out on me, usually it's never my fault. I say usually because some days guys can't keep it in their pants around me and it pisses her off.

But it's not usually my fault. Which, thankfully Heather understands, and she does a pretty good job of keeping her temper in check on bad days.

She knows I won't do anything if she pisses me off, but the guilt will get to her pretty quickly anyways. Not that I guilt trip her, like I said I don't do anything.

She could stab me and I'd just walk away for half a second to bandage it. In the half second I was gone. She'd be losing her shit. So. In a way I guess just sitting here would be the same as sitting in the bedroom.

Well.. not necessarily, sometimes, when it's been a really bad day, she'll vent to me.

Which I don't mind. I mean I'm glad she wants to tell me about her day.

But oh my fucking god can that girl talk. She's vented to me for hours on end, without stopping. She even followed me to the shower and kept fucking going.

Of course, it was the same exact problem just retold a thousand different ways. She only stopped once I made it clear I actually wanted to sleep.

But of course by then it was like...5? Maybe 6, in the morning. And she had started venting ever since we got home from school. So that's a solid 14-15 hours, nonstop. Never underestimate how long she can talk, or the myriad