Woman [ luke alvez x reader ] ✔

twenty: the body

this chapter is so short y'all, i'm so sorry. i promise the next one will be longer.
warnings: blood

Luke hates Texas.

It's a fact the team knows very well. He doesn't even really know why—but he dislikes Texas. He especially dislikes working with the fucking San Antonio Police Department. All they do is fight with the team and think they're better than the team. None of them take profiling seriously.

But somehow, every time he looks at Y/n, the anger in his chest seems to diffuse. Even now, giving the profile to a bunch of cops who roll their eyes every two seconds at them, every time his eyes land on her, he can't help but smile.

"The unsub is a white male, age ranging from twenty-five to thirty-five," Prentiss says, arms crossed in front of her.

"He had a troubled childhood. He probably witnessed the death of his mother and was abused by his father." Spencer leans against one of the desks, his hands gripping the edge.

"He's inherently submissive by nature," Y/n says, and Luke watches as she fiddles with the princess charm on her necklace, warmth filling Luke's chest. Even if they haven't said it, she's his princesa. And that thought alone makes his stomach flip.

"He'd keep his head low at his job, not wanting to get noticed by anyone, not even his bosses," Luke says, tearing his gaze from her.

"We believe he might be gay—another reason he was abused when he was younger," Rossi states. "We think he might be too afraid to come out of the closet fully, and now he's taking his anger out on the men he's attracted to."

"He's fueled by rage," JJ says.

Luke zones out, not bothering to listen to the team speaking around him, his brown eyes flicking over to Princesa. Her brows are scrunched together, eyes focused on Prentiss delivering the rest of the profile. His eyes travel from her hair, pushed back into a half-up, half-down style, to her lips. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her bottom lip, and his eyes move down, watching her fingers play with the necklace he'd gotten her.

"Thank you, guys for your cooperation."

Luke zones back into reality, watching the police officers stand. He follows the team into a conference room, sitting down in one of the chairs around the table. He glances around the room, fingers tapping against the wooden table. The fluorescents overhead are bright but necessary—it's about 7 PM, the sun just setting beyond the horizon. A cardboard cup gets set in front of him, and he looks up at Tara, a smile forming on his face.

"Hey, thanks," he says, wrapping his hand around the cup.

Tara shrugs. "You look exhausted."

Luke takes a sip of the hot liquid, shaking his head. "This case is just draining."