-ˋˏ ༻The Wrong That Feels Right༺ ˎˊ-
Warnings- Slight Flirting. Almost Kissing. Fighting.
Cocky!Chris X Bratty!Reader
Chapter Three: Lines Were Almost Crossed.
Chris’s room smelled like his cologne—clean, sharp, with a warm undertone you pretended not to notice. He was standing in front of his mirror, tugging a black shirt down over his torso, tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve. His hair was damp from a shower, sticking up in messy tufts. He looked every bit the cocky hockey player your brother warned you about.
Which made you want to bother him even more.
“You’re going out?” you asked, leaning on his doorframe like you owned the place.
“Yeah.” He adjusted his watch, glancing at you in the reflection with a smirk. “Teammate’s party.”
You tilted your head. “Cool. What time are we leaving?”
Chris’s brows rose. “We?”
“Yeah.” You stepped into the room, crossing your arms. “I live here now, remember? Can’t just leave me stranded all the time.”
He turned, giving you a once-over, his grin maddening. “Not happening, Bun.”
“Why not?” you pressed, pouting.
“Because.” He shoved his wallet in his back pocket, casual. “You’re not ready for that scene.”
“That’s sexist,” you shot back.
“That’s accurate,” he said, smirking.
You rolled your eyes and sauntered closer, brushing your fingers lightly along his dresser before “accidentally” grazing his arm as you passed. His muscles flexed under your touch, and for a second, he actually froze.
“Come on, Chris,” you teased, stepping in front of him. “You’re supposed to be watching me, right? What better way than keeping me by your side?”
His jaw worked, but his smirk didn’t falter. “You think you can handle a hockey party?”
“Maybe I want you to teach me,” you said softly, testing him.
His eyes darkened, just for a second, before he scoffed and tried to walk past. You blocked him, fingers sliding lightly across his chest as if you were just steadying yourself. His shirt was still warm from the dryer, the faint heat of his skin beneath it enough to make your pulse jump.
He caught your hand, holding it still against him. “Careful, Bun.”
You looked up at him with your sweetest smile. “Please? Just this once?”
Chris cursed under his breath and let go, raking his hands down his face. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Mhmm.” You grinned in victory. “So that’s a yes?”
He shook his head but grabbed his keys anyway. “Stay by me, got it?”
“Got it,” you sang, already grabbing your jacket.
The party was chaos from the second you walked in—bass thumping, lights strobing, bodies pressed together in the living room. Chris slipped into the crowd easily, slapping backs, clapping hands, grinning when girls whispered in his ear. Each one made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach.
You told yourself you didn’t care. You told yourself you weren’t watching him too closely, weren’t annoyed at the way he laughed with them like it was the easiest thing in the world.
So you drifted off a little, sipping your drink.
That’s when he showed up.
Some random guy with a smug smile, leaning against the wall beside you. “Didn’t know Chris had such a cute roommate,” he said, eyes dropping over your outfit.
You straightened, instantly on edge. “I’m fine, thanks.”
But he didn’t back off. He leaned closer, voice dropping. “Dressed like that, you’re basically begging for attention, huh?”
Your chest tightened. “Excuse me?”
He chuckled, bold enough to let his fingers graze your waist. “Don’t act like you’re not asking for it, sweetheart.”
Before you could shove him off, Chris was there.
“Back the fuck off,” he snapped, shoving the guy’s arm away from you.
The guy snorted, unbothered. “Relax, man. If she’s dressed like a slut, she’s obviously looking for someone to—”
Chris’s fist connected with his jaw before he could finish. The crack was sickening, the guy stumbling back into the wall. People shouted, the music faltered, drinks spilled.
“Chris!” you screamed, but he wasn’t listening.
The guy swung back, catching Chris in the lip, splitting it open. Chris shoved him again, fists flying, rage in every line of his body. His teammates jumped in, trying to separate them, but Chris was relentless.
“He touched you,” Chris growled, voice rough, his knuckles bloody now. “Talked about you like that—”
“Chris, stop!” you cried, grabbing his arm, pulling him back with all your strength. Finally, someone wedged themselves between them, dragging the other guy away.
“You’re outta your damn mind,” the guy spat, clutching his jaw.
“Say it again,” Chris snarled, lunging forward, only for you to shove your body against his chest to hold him back.
“Enough!” you shouted, glaring up at him. “We’re leaving. Now.”
His chest heaved, nostrils flared, but finally he let you drag him out of the house, blood smeared across his mouth and knuckles.
Back home, you shoved him onto the counter, snatching the first aid kit from under the sink.
“You’re insane,” you snapped, dabbing at his split lip with trembling hands. “Absolutely insane.”
Chris winced but didn’t flinch away, his blue eyes locked on you. “He touched you.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to—ugh—nearly kill someone in the middle of a party!”
“He called you a slut,” Chris bit out, jaw tight. “You think I’m letting anyone get away with that?”
You froze, your breath catching at the way he said it—furious, protective, almost…possessive.
“Chris,” you whispered, softer now. “You can’t keep doing this.”
His hand came up, catching your wrist as you dabbed at his lip. His thumb brushed your pulse, slow, deliberate.
“You didn’t like it either,” he said quietly, gaze dropping to your mouth.
The room felt too small, the air too thick. Your heartbeat pounded as his face inched closer, your lips parting on instinct.
And then—your phone buzzed.
Chris leaned back instantly, jaw clenched, eyes hard as you stared at your brother’s name lighting up your screen.
CeeCee Yaps- Well i hope you enjoyed this cute little chapter.
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