Right Kind of Wrong
Main masterlist
Genre: Romance, crime, mystery, suspense
Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI), graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA
Status: Complete
Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation when she suddenly became a witness. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.
But the more he gets entangled with the beautiful stranger, the more he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.
a/n: I realized I've never made a proper masterlist for this series. All the parts are complete so if you haven't read it yet, you can enjoy it in one sitting :)
Part one
Y/n and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst.
Part two
Spencer’s late-night endeavor is teased by his colleagues as a new case arises.
Part three
She gets involved in a murder case she least expected as a familiar face greets her.
Part four
Y/n and Spencer’s unexpected reunion ends in a quarrel.
Part five NSFW
Spencer’s lack of experience with female anatomy is educated by her.
Part six NSFW
She is taken aback as the student becomes the master.
Part seven
She finds herself in a compromising position.
Part eight NSFW
Spencer and Y/n get caught up in their newfound bliss.
Part nine
A shocking call has Spencer questioning her involvement in the case.
Part ten
She finds herself as a pivotal lead in the case.
Part Eleven
Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on.
Part Twelve
Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by her situation.
Part Thirteen NSFW
Seeking pleasure leads them down an unforeseen path.
Part Fourteen
Spencer and the team face a setback in the investigation.
Part Fifteen
Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts.
Part Sixteen
Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation.
Part Seventeen
Spencer and Y/n try to outsmart the situation.
Part Eighteen
Spencer and Y/n resolve their feelings.
Part Nineteen NSFW
Spencer finally takes her out on a date.
Part Twenty NSFW
Despite everything, she found herself feeling happy.
Epilogue
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Right Kind of Wrong (1)
Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.
Part Summary: Reader and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst. wc: 2,8k
Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA
Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
"YOU NEED TO LEAVE."
Since when did her life come to this?
She wasn't sure what to make of when the words softly left his lips. The words weren't exactly pronounced in a way that the urgency was prominent, but she could still sense the weight of them as she stared into the dark walls of his bedroom, sprawled out across the bed of this foreign man she had spent the past two hours with.
What was his name again? Stephen? Sean? Or was it Sebastian?
It definitely started with an S.
Her eyes slowly made their way toward him, eying his tall figure as he carefully walked over to his drawers. He awkwardly tripped over a piece of her clothing which lay on the floor before mumbling some incoherent words. He shot her a dubious look past his shoulder and turned his body away, quickly grabbing the first thing he saw on top of his pile of clothes.
His sudden modesty seemed amusing to her when it was barely minutes ago they had shared the sex-induced fantasy of sharing body heat between complete strangers. It was as if he wasn't the one thrusting above her, eyes glazed in desire and mouth open in ecstasy, reaching the peak of his high with her legs wrapped around his narrowed waist.
Surely he hadn't forgotten all of that?
She prompted herself on her elbows and found the piece of clothing he had grabbed in his haste was a pair of brown pants and a nice clean dark shirt. She watched him again and under her scrutinizing gaze, he backed away even further.
His sudden discomfort should've offended her, but it didn't. Somehow it intrigued her how much he was trying to be oblivious of everything around him—the lustful tryst that took place moments ago. The naked woman under his covers. The sudden shrill of his phone ringing on the bedside table.
The latter seemed to catch his attention as he glanced at the source of sound with an alert expression. He crossed the room and quickly answered the call.
"Yes?" There was a muffled reply from the other end before he glanced at the still-naked woman staring at him with curiosity. He cleared his throat again and gave her a look. "I need to take this."
She shrugged. "Sure."
She saw him hesitate for a split second before slipping out of his room, throwing a short reply to the receiving end of his call that didn't go unheard. "Yes, Garcia, I have company." More mumbling. "What? I'm not answering that..."
His words were cut off as he closed the door behind him, leaving her to grasp the situation she had put herself in.
Having a one-night stand wasn't something she often did. She wasn't sure it ever happened again since her freshman year of college when sleeping with a senior at a raging party would solidify her college experience. It seemed right at that time. It was what everybody was doing and her innocent mind believed it was a good idea to expand her nonexistent romantic life.
New place, new experience, new beginnings.
The experience wasn't so bad. Brandon Wallace—who was now happily married according to his recent social media post—wasn't exactly the best lover she ever had, but he also wasn't that bad. It was the awkward moment after the endeavor that made her avoid any repeated situations with somebody she barely knew.
Which was why she was questioning why she let that exact avoidance happen tonight. Why she had stepped into her favorite bar on a random Wednesday night and laid her eyes onto the awkward man sitting a few stools away from her.
Maybe it was the way he seemed out of place. Wearing a crisp blue shirt and a vest over it, he sat in a poised manner while constantly wiping down the bar counter with the napkin he seemed to keep requesting the bartender for.
She was there because she needed the kick of alcohol to calm down the stress from her current work assignment. Jamison, her strict boss who didn't take no for an answer, was starting to make her consider the act of murder. But committing such a heinous crime wasn't exactly nifty, so alcohol was the safe bet.
And thus, what was he here for? The cold beer sitting in front of him was barely touched as he looked around the room in a very uncomfortable manner.
Maybe the fact that she was sitting in an almost empty bar had loneliness wash over her, or maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, that she found herself making her way over to him. She was only going to greet him, introduce herself, and remark on how he stuck out like a sore thumb when he clearly was trying to keep to himself.
The hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. She slid beside him, tipped her drink towards his way, and gave him a simple smile.
He shifted in his seat and turned sideways, throwing her a questioning look. Up close, she could see his features clearly. The sharpness of his jaw, his hooded eyes, the unruly mess of brown hair on top of his head. She could tell he wasn't sure how to react to her sudden appearance, but he didn't seem to mind.
She sat there, her lips inching wider at the frown forming on his brows. How could someone be awkward yet adorable at the same time? Y/n was about to introduce herself when he suddenly sat forward, threw her a hesitant smile, and slowly asked, "Do you have any change?"
The random question startled her. "Excuse me?"
"I... I need to pay for my drink."
She shot him a ludicrous look, not sure she was hearing him right. Was he really trying to ask a stranger to pay for his drink? So much for spending the night with what looked like good company. But before she could counter her disappointment, he reached out his hand and in a swift motion revealed a ten-dollar bill from the back of her ear.
"Never mind.” He waved the money in front of her face and cleared his throat. “Found it.”
She blinked, once, twice, trying to comprehend the past few seconds. Then her lips twisted into a wide grin, his own lips twitching into a shy smile.
His attempt at an introduction based on a silly magic trick tugged her heart in a way that had her leaning closer, fingers tracing across his other hand that rested on the table. She didn't know what had impulsed her to be so brazen. It was very unlike her to show interest in the opposite sex, but here she was, touching the warmth of his skin.
But then his breath hitched and her stomach dropped. What the hell was she thinking? Touching a complete stranger without consent as if she was trying to maul him in public.
She shook her head and backed away, an apology already hanging at the tip of her tongue when he suddenly leaned in and wrapped a hand around her wrist. The gesture was very innocent, but somehow his fingers manage to burn her skin. She looked up and held his gaze, found the same bashful smile still playing on his lips, and relaxed at the warmth radiating from his body.
And then the rest was history, to say the least.
Yet even after the travel from the bar to his place, after the haste of removing each other's clothes, and after the post-orgasm that left them both satisfied—although to be completely honest, she would've been more satisfied if he'd let her have her second orgasm—she was starting to question her decision.
She finally threw his covers away and slipped out of his bed. She picked up all her clothing scattered around the room and slowly dressed herself as she carefully tried to listen to the conversation in the other room. But all she heard was muffled voices, and deciding that she couldn't pick out his exact words, she tuned out his voice and smoothed down her hair with her fingers.
Feeling more presentable, she stepped out of his room and finally took in the personal space he lived in. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with unbuckling his belt, she realized how dark his apartment actually was.
There were stacks of books lined up on the walls and scattered papers laying around every corner. He clearly wasn't a clean freak. Although he did seem to dislike public spaces, and honestly she couldn't argue on that when her mind considered the sticky, sugary residue that coated the floorboards and every other surface of the bar.
His hushed voice sounded aggravating and she turned to find him standing in what looked like his kitchen, his back facing her. Not wanting to interrupt him, she decided to look around her surroundings, eying the few framed certificates hanging on one side of his walls. There were a lot of certified achievements he was definitely very proud of with his name glorified on each frame.
Dr. Spencer Reid.
His name was Spencer!
She let out a chuckle. She wasn't exactly good at remembering names. Hold on—doctor Spencer Reid?
Her eyes went wide. But before she could feed her curiosity, she heard footsteps coming closer behind. She quickly turned away and found him glaring at his phone as he strode into the room.
"Bad call?"
Spencer—it was nice to finally put a name on him—abruptly looked up. His eyes studied her in bewilderment as if realizing she was still there. Then his expression slightly softened as he threw his phone away on his couch. "Not really, it was a work thing."
She raised her eyebrows. "You still work this late?"
"I don't exactly have a scheduled working hour."
There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask. What kind of work did he have to be getting calls this late? Why was he inside that bar when he clearly looked like he didn't want to be there? Was he really a doctor? And why did he look so adorable with that frown across his face?
There was something strange and hollow in his eyes that she couldn't quite put on as his hand rubbed over the back of his neck. She could sense the awkwardness stretching between them and needed to fill in the silence.
"So..."
"So..."
She let out an awkward laugh. He, on the other hand, started to fumble with his words as he suddenly spoke, "Did you know that awkward silence is the result of a disconnect between people?" She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. "When there is nothing to say, or maybe one person feels uncomfortable in a situation and doesn't know how to respond."
She blinked in confusion. But he wasn't finished.
"Statistically speaking, 80% of communication is nonverbal, whereas 20% is verbal. So in a way, silence can also communicate just as much information as speaking does. It is used to express anger, sadness, excitement, and other emotion. It can also create tension in a conversation or release it..." He trailed off before letting out a sigh. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"
"You most definitely are," she confirmed. "Where did that suddenly come from?"
He looked away as a blush crept on his cheeks. "I have an incredibly active imagination. It—uh, it leads to a tendency for me to ramble as my thoughts are constantly flowing."
"And you just know all these random facts?"
"I have an eidetic memory."
"You don’t say?" Her sarcasm was followed by eying the framed achievements plastered on his wall before glancing back at his confused face. She sighed. "Look, I'm not better at this than you are. Let's just... I don't know, thank each other? Say goodbye? Shake our hands?"
His eyes lit up as another piece of information filled his brain. "You know, the number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to..." He trailed off again and suddenly gulped, mentally kicking himself when he realized the fact he was about share. "...kiss."
She couldn't help the smirk twitching on her lips. "Is that so?"
He absentmindedly nodded as his eyes glanced toward her mouth. She instinctively took a step closer, noticing the tension in his body as he quickly looked away. This man had just flirted with her using an adorable magic trick, had his head between her thighs minutes ago, and reached an earth-shattering orgasm... yet he had the audacity to act all flustered.
She should probably leave. That was what he wanted moments ago, wasn't it? The words came out of his mouth the moment he checked his phone before jumping out of bed at lightning speed to dress his naked body. He needed to be somewhere. He had this somewhat confidential work he had to do.
Yet somehow he was warm and her hands were surprisingly very cold. The heat radiating from his body called out to her and without registering what she was about to do, she softly placed the palm of her hands on his chest.
She was internally screaming when she inhaled a sharp breath, his scent suddenly engulfing her senses. He smelled slightly sweet with a hint of spice; a woody, earthy musk that was mixed with his natural scent of sweat and hormones. She peered up into his eyes, traveling down to his cheekbones before they rested on his lips.
A riot of emotion burst inside her as she saw his tongue flicking out and holy shit—she just stared at him, completely, utterly enraptured.
Her focus was on his hot breath against her mouth, his lips a mere inches away from hers. He was so close she could practically hear the fast pace of his heartbeat. She could feel him everywhere, his hard body flushed against hers, his head moving closer to her and—
Then his damn phone started to ring again and all her senses went to alert. She quickly took a step back.
Now that was her cue to leave.
And it was a pity because whether she liked it or not, a part of her wanted to stay. But that was not an option. He wanted her to leave and she needed to do just that. She needed this to be a one-time thing.
Because there was never going to be another time. The moment she walked out the front door, they were back to being strangers. She would go back to her life and he would go back to his, probably back to his seemingly not-so-normal job with the way he described his working hours. Or the lack of it, anyway.
His phone stopped its ring and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was back to being awkward and she was back to being rational. Although her heart was beating fast and she was as flustered as he was, she didn't him to know what, especially when it seemed like he was about to kick her out again for the second time.
She was too busy oscillating between stunned, mortified, and turned on. She refused to blush. She refused to appear even an ounce embarrassed.
His phone rang again and he looked flustered about what to do. She helped him decide by grabbing her bag that was conveniently hanging by the door. "I should probably go."
She knew she was slightly disappointed, but she'd be damned if he knew the truth. Her mother used to describe her as a spiteful person ever since she was young. But then again, was it so wrong to feel that way? She figured she was just evening the misery out. If something was making her unhappy she felt it was her right to bring at least equal measures of unhappiness.
It seemed relatively immature, but she didn't feel like caring especially how her night had turned out. She took a deep breath and worked out her pettiness.
"Thank you for tonight... Stephen."
He suddenly tensed. "It's Spencer."
She studied the frown on his face. God, she was evil. She would probably regret this childish behavior of hers, although that was something she could deal with later. The very least she could do now was to give him a proper goodbye before she turned her back towards him for good.
"Well, good night, Spencer."
She wasn't sure he even remembered her name or whether he was just as petty as she was. It was more likely the latter considering he had an eidetic memory. "Good night."
She gave him a final nod. He answered by throwing her an awkward wave, a tight-lipped smile, and an even deeper frown as she slipped into the cold air.
>> NEXT PART
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