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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: The Space Between Us

Prompt: I’m so glad you’re back! Can you write something where the reader & Luke are in an argument? Maybe he’s struggling when he gets back from Afghanistan or something? Idk you can be creative with the rest :) Thank you!

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: PTSD symptoms mentioned

A/N: thanks for the request, enjoy!

You’re in the midst of scrubbing a dish clean when you see the headlights of Luke’s truck pull in the driveway.

He cuts the ignition. The sun is long gone, set beyond the hills in the distance, so when the door opens and closes with a thud, you can’t get a good look at him. Suddenly, you realize how torn you are between being relieved that he’s finally home and still so angry at him for leaving in the first place.

The fight you’d had a earlier had been a bad one– probably the biggest you’ve ever had. And Luke looks… God, he looks so tired as he walks across the driveway, his silhouette illuminated by the porch light you’d left on. His head is hanging low, his feet trudging along the steps towards the front door. Under normal circumstances, you would greet him there– throw your arms around him the second he walked inside and bury your face in his neck. But tonight you can’t– because these aren’t normal circumstances.

Instead, as soon as he steps through the door, you set the dish down and turn to face him.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs. The pet name he uses makes you cling to the small sliver of hope that maybe things will be okay.

But still, your eyes burn with unshed tears. “Hi.”

“How has your day been?” he attempts.

But you shake your head. “Luke, I really can’t fake pleasantries tonight.”

He scrubs his face with his hand and sighs, like he can’t wait to be done with this entire situation– the fighting, the chaos, you. As unbearable of a thought it is, you can’t help but glance at it in the horizon. What if that’s what’s happening here? What if he’s sick of you? What if his feelings for you had changed since he’d been away?

It’s a possibility– no matter how badly you don’t want it to be.

“Listen, I’m just so tired–” He sounds defeated… empty.

“And you think I’m not?” You challenge.

He shifts before gripping his neck with his hand, still hovering near the door, not daring to move closer. It’s as if he’s already distancing himself from you… As if he’s done.

“Well if we’re both tired, this probably won’t be a very productive conversation. Why don’t we just pick this back up after we’ve gotten some rest?”

You dig your nails into your palms, a distraction from the pain in your chest. He doesn’t get it– this anxiety that’s been making a home inside your chest. No matter how hard you push and plead. And you don’t know what else to say to make him get it.

“How am I supposed to know you’d still be here by tomorrow?”

His jaw tenses.

“That’s a pretty fair possibility considering the shit you pulled today.”

Luke sighs. “I know I did and I’m–”

“You stormed out,” you say, taking a step forward so that you can grip the island counter. “You left.”

He opens his mouth to speak, and you know you need to let him talk. You know he deserves a chance to say his piece. But you’re still just so angry… you’re consumed by it. So you continue.

“What if I had done that to you?” You ask. “What if I had been the one to take off and then just… not come home for over twelve hours?”

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“You’d be pretty worried, huh? Maybe a little mad…”

“Baby–”

“No, you’d be fucking pissed, Luke! I know you would. So why is it okay for you to do that to me? Why is it okay to take off and not answer any of my calls or texts?”

The pained look on his face tells you everything you need to know– that you’re right.

“You say you have dreams– nightmares where you can’t find me,” you say, using the things he’s told you to prove your point– digging where you know it’ll hurt, because you’re just so fucking angry, and you need him to understand. “That was my reality today, Luke. You put me through your literal fucking nightmare.”

“Please don’t,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“I was so worried. I- I didn’t know where you were,” your voice breaks. I didn’t know if you’d ever come back– is what you don’t say… what you’re too afraid to say.

When Luke got back from Afghanistan, that was supposed to be it. You were supposed to be through with the distance, through with the heartache, through with being terrified that every time the phone rang, it was someone telling you he was dead.

But although he was discharged almost three months ago now– it doesn’t feel like it. Instead it feels like walking on eggshells and waiting for the other shoe to drop. And while you want to play it off as just an adjustment period and some misunderstandings, it’s starting to feel bigger than that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice still empty-sounding. “I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“To make me worry?”

“I was going to call,” he explains, “But my phone died. And I– I needed some space.”

“Some space?” You gawk. “Are you kidding me? You needed space?”

He nods, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“Luke, you’ve been gone for three years. All you’ve had is space– all I’ve given you since you’ve been back is fucking space– I have waited and waited for you to come home from the army. I counted down the years, the months, the days– I lived on letters and shitty phone calls where I could barely even hear you because of the horrible reception. And now… you’re out, you’re home. You’re finally here, except you’re not. You never fucking came back from Afghanistan, Luke. You haven’t even given me a chance to not give you space because you’re not fucking here.”

There’s an eerie silence, a dramatic, drawn out pause that only seems to magnify the space between you.

“That’s not fair,” he says.

“Not fair? You really want to talk not fair, Luke? What’s not fair is leaving in the middle of an argument and not coming home all day. What’s not fair is not calling or texting or giving me some shred of fucking evidence that you were alright. I mean, do you understand how fucking worried I was? Do you even care?”

“Of course I fucking care– I just… I needed to–”

“Needed to what?” You snap, your voice raising as your arms flail in the air. “To take off? To leave?”

“I don’t–” Luke stammers, sounding so defeated. “I don’t know.”

Another beat of eerie silence settles between you. After only a moment, you can’t take it anymore. So, you ask the question you’ve been terrified to know the answer to. “Are you going back?”

His head snaps up, like he’s surprised you even asked.

“Th-this is all my fault. Fuck, I should never have let this get—” he stammers.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice louder than you thought it could be at your current state. “Just don’t, Luke.”

But he continues.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he tells you, and you have to swipe the tear sliding down your cheek before he can see. “I just…”

“Just tell me, are you going back?” you say, harsher than you intended.

“No,” he shakes his head, adamant. Finally he looks at you. You hoped that would’ve given you some sort of comfort, but it doesn’t. Instead, you see pleading eyes, usually so warm you want to sunbathe in them, so familiar that you want to curl up and call them home. But tonight they’re neither warm nor familiar.

“Then what is it? What the hell is going on?” you say.

“I don’t know what to do, but I can’t keep— I can’t keep…”

“Just tell me,” you plead, voice rising. Because you can’t stand this. “Please, just fucking tell me. Luke, I’m begging–”

“I can’t do this,” he finally spits out. “I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t.”

And there it is.

The nail in the coffin.

The final straw.

Your worst nightmare.

“Right,” you exhale the rest of the air in your lungs. Before you burst into a sobbing mess in front of him, you give Luke a short nod and turn away.

“Wait–” you hear him call.

“It’s fine, Luke,” you say over your shoulder without looking at him. “Like you said earlier, we’re both tired.”

“Wait, wait,” he follows you up the stairs, but you were too far ahead of him.

“Just forget it–” you say, voice choking with tears.

“Baby– stop, please–” he gets out just as you slam the door to the bedroom shut.

You stifle your sob in the sleeve of your sweater, back pressed against the door for a moment while you try to collect yourself. Then you walk to the bed and collapse on the mattress in a heap. As you curl up, clutching Luke’s pillow like it’s your lifeline, you try desperately to breathe between sobs. And then, even though you know he won’t, you hope with everything inside of you that he comes after you.

…

You can’t sleep. Whenever you try, you just feel like you hear sounds of him leaving again– the screen door snapping shut, the zipper of his bag, the fear and anxiety only intensifying as the hours wear on.

All you have is silence and your thoughts.

I can’t do this, he had said. His direct words.

You bury your face in his pillow as you try to hold back more tears, wondering if you’re imagining the way his scent is starting to fade from the fabric. How could you miss someone living under the same roof as you?

You roll onto your back again as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan whirl around and around steadily.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you sit up. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes frustratedly before turning the lamp on. Was Luke even home? Or had he taken off again? You hate that you even have to wonder. How can things have gone so wrong so fast?

As soon as the doubt creeps into your mind, you know it’s there to stay– at least until you can see for yourself whether or not Luke is still home. So, you swing your legs over the bed and head for the door. Except as soon as you swing it open and step forward into the hall, your feet collide with something– and before you know it, you’re crashing to the floor with a hard thud.

All the air is sucked from your lungs as your stomach collides with the carpet beneath you.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Luke’s familiar voice hovers above you.

And while you don’t really have the oxygen in your lungs to answer his question, when you turn your head and open your eyes, you can see the faint outline of his features from the lamp you’d turned on in the bedroom. His eyebrows are scrunched together– like they’re concerned, and his mouth is slightly agape.

“Baby, are you okay?” Luke repeats, his hand hovering on the outside of your hips.

“No–” you stammer, flipping so that you’re lying on your back. You barely choke out the single word before you’re bursting into unfiltered tears– the blubbery kind, where you can barely breathe in between sobs.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, sounding panicked. He shifts, scooching forward so that he’s closer to you, but he still doesn't dare to touch you. “What hurts, baby?”

All you can manage to do is shake your head before you move to cover your face with your hands– a feeble attempt at hiding from him. Like that would make any difference. At one point, you feel his fingers ghost along the fabric of your sleeve, trying to tug your hands from your face.

“Look at me, baby,” he begs. But you just shake your head harder, resisting his pleas.

“C’mon, I just want to know if you’re–”

But he doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence before you break. Flinging your arms down, you shout, “No I’m not fucking okay! Nothing about this is okay!”

He flinches back, arms dropping to his side. Instantly, another wave of tears well up in your eyes, choking out before you can stop them. And suddenly, you’re crying so hard you can barely breathe. You’re a mess– all blubbery and pathetic in front of him. But you don’t even have the energy to care anymore.

“Just breathe, baby. Breathe,” he says. He moves like he’s going to reach for you– and you let yourself get your hopes up in that fraction of a second. But then he drops his arm back down and frowns, like he’s caught himself doing something he isn’t supposed to. The space between you now only makes you cry harder, gasping for air in between sobs. He’s right beside you, but in some ways, he feels even further than when he was across the ocean.

“I’m sorry I tripped you.”

You shake your head. “I’m– I’m not crying because you tripped me,” you bellow. Before you can see the questioning look on his face, you continue. “What–” you try to say, but your voice is too choppy. “What… are… you even–” you stammer harder. “What are you even doing out here? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry–” Luke repeats. “I didn’t want to sleep on the couch– I wanted… I wanted to make sure you were okay, I wanted to be there if you needed anything.”

You pause, realization washing over you.

Luke was here–

Outside the bedroom door.

Sleeping on the floor like a goddamn golden retriever.

But why? After everything he’d said– and the way he’d acted earlier?

“You dumbass,” you snap, finally sitting up from the carpet. “I did need you. Why don’t you get that? Why don’t you understand that I fucking need you? That I’ll always need you!”

“I–” he stammers. “I don’t– I didn’t mean to upset you–”

“Well guess what? You leaving upsets me! You sleeping in the hallway instead of in our bed upsets me! You not wanting me anymore upsets me!”

“Wait– what? Not wanting you?” he says, his tone disbelieving.

“Not being able to do this anymore– or whatever you said. Guess what, Luke? That’s upsetting!”

“I didn't mean it like that–” he says quickly, his eyes downcast as he seems to try to think if he really had worded things that way. “I– Fuck, I just– I just meant I couldn’t fucking handle… I couldn’t handle things–. I couldn’t deal with this… this feeling inside of me since I’ve been back from the army– I didn’t mean you– God, baby it was never you–”

“But–” you whisper, shaking your head. “You said–”

“I don’t remember what I said–” Luke explains. “I bet it was fucking stupid– I’ve been so overwhelmed and frustrated at myself. I don’t know what I said, but I promise I didn’t mean it like that, baby.”

You close your eyes at his answer, everything clicking into place. Is it possible that this was just all one giant misunderstanding? Did Luke still want to be with you?

“I thought…” you stammered, your voice next to nothing. “I thought you were done with me. You said you were done.”

More tears escape down your cheeks and you duck your face to hide from him once again.

“No– no. God, I’m so sorry… I can’t,” he says, his voice low and tired. “I just don’t feel like myself since I’ve been home. I don’t know what to do and I’m always on edge… I can’t breathe half the time. But I swear it’s not you–” he swallows and takes a moment to compose himself.

“Then what is it?” You plead. “Why can’t you stand being home with me? Why aren’t I enough?”

God, you sound pathetic– but after the emotional roller coaster Luke had put you through these last few months, you really couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know what it is–” he admits. “I wish I did, but I don’t. But please trust me, baby girl, you are enough. You’re more than enough. I mean, you are the only thing that makes me even feel alive anymore. I can’t believe you haven’t gotten sick of me– I don’t know how you’ve put up with this for so long.”

He lets out a loud huff when you launch yourself into his lap– completely erasing the distance between you two on the floor once and for all. Before he knows what’s happening, you’re winding your arms around his neck and burrowing your face in the crook of his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. He hesitates, but only for a moment, before his arms are securely wrapping around your waist, anchoring you to him. He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in.

“Because I love you, you idiot,” you sniffle.

He squeezes you tighter, holding you to him like he’s scared you’ll disappear. You know the feeling, all too well.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispers into your hair. “I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. Everything sets me on edge– every noise, every thought.

When you pull back, your heart aches as soon as you see tears glistening in Luke’s eyes. You cup the outside of his face, your thumb trailing up and down his cheek. “We can figure it out,” you promise. “We’ll get you to see someone– a doctor or a therapist, or someone that can help. We’ll figure it out.”

He nods like he actually believes you.

“I know you’re tired,” you say, shifting to move from his lap. “Let’s just go to bed, okay? We can figure the rest out in the morning.”

He nods and lets you tug him to his feet. You cling to his hand as you walk towards the bedroom, afraid that if you let him go, he’ll disappear again.

“I can take the couch,” he says softly, making you halt in place. You turn to face him almost instantly.

“What?” You shake your head, brow instantly furrowing. “No–” Instantly, you feel your anxiety creeping up again.

“I just– I can take the couch if you want space.”

“No, Luke. I don’t want space. Do you want space?”

He shakes his head quickly.

“Good,” you say. “Then stay with me. Please.”

He nods, while you walk him the rest of the way to your bed. He waits for you to crawl to your side closest to the wall before he slides under the sheets beside you. He looks stiff– awkward when he first lays down, but you don’t give him long before you’re scooting into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“Thanks, for being patient with me,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure this out,” you say. “I love you.”

He gathers the hand you have resting on his chest in his own, lacing your fingers together and giving it a tight squeeze. “I love you, too.”

You exhale, noticing that even breathing feels easier with him beside you.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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Mass Shootings in Lewiston, ME

Hi all, I just wanted to pop on & say a few things about the recent tragedies unfolding in Maine. This post was not made with the intent of polarization. But as many of you know, I'm a writer. And as I remain locked down, helpless while businesses and schools close, helicopters fly over my apartment and cop cars surround my community, writing this felt like the only reasonable outlet for me. Normally, I would keep something like this private. But coming together right now felt important, and this blog has historically been a place where I have been able to receive some engagement. I realize that this is not my usual content, but I write this with hopes that it will reach at least a few of you grappling with the same grief and loss that I feel and elicit some sort of connection in such dark times.

*Trigger warning for mentions of gun violence, mass shootings, and death*

I've lived in Maine my entire life. This state, it's people, & everything associated with it has been my home & heart for nearly 27 years. The entire state has a population of 1.3 million people. That's 1.4 less than the city of Chicago, 2.5 million less than Los Angeles, and 7.2 million less than New York City. Lewiston is the second largest city in Maine with a population of 35,000 people. For some perspective, Gillette stadium in Foxborough, MA can hold nearly 66,000 people, and SoFi stadium in Los Angeles can hold about 70,000.

My point with all the statistics is that Maine is small. Our communities are tight knit, and I truly mean it when I say that everybody knows everybody.

And last night, a man walked into Schemengees Bar and Grille and the Just-In-Time Recreation bowling alley in Lewiston, Maine and opened fire with an automatic rifle, killing 18 people and injuring 13 others. The impact of this tragedy will extend across the state- and probably all of New England.

And as the manhunt for the mass shooting suspect unfolds around me, I have many emotions flowing through my body. I am terrified, I am angry, I am grieving. I am frustrated, confused, and sad. I am disgusted, I am stressed, I am worried. But mostly, I am heartbroken; heartbroken for the community I love. Heartbroken for the victims and lives that were lost last night. Heartbroken for humanity.

I have been absolutely appalled to watch the act of violence committed in Lewiston last night unfold in front of me for the last 24 hours. I grew up in Turner, a small town neighboring Lewiston/Auburn and have many friends and family members still living in the area. I struggle stating this because my intent is not to make this tragedy about me. Because it is certainly not. But I'm writing this from my perspective as someone who was indirectly impacted, and I feel like it's important to remind everyone that gun violence and hate does not discriminate.

For the entire year of 2022, Maine had 29 reported homicides. It is statistically one of the (if not the) safest states in the country (to the point where I don't even lock my door most nights). Maine has always had this aura of innocence. Despite the state of the world and the way gun violence has been steadily increasing for my entire life, I have always found some solace and comfort in the fact that I live in Maine. Because despite the sorrow and grief I felt when I learned of Sandy Hook, Route 91, Virginia Tech, Pulse night club, Uvalde, Sutherland Springs, El Paso (you get the point), I could move forward and live my life. Because as awful as those shootings were, things like that didn't happen in Maine.

Until, of course, they do.

In a single evening, in a span of 24 hours, one man has completely ripped away that layer of safety from me and everyone else I know and love. Because a mass shooting did happen here. And it can happen anywhere.

I could write about how it's easier to buy a gun than Sudafed in Maine. I could write about how I feel about politicians who support the NRA with corrupt intentions despite how many lives have been lost to gun violence in America. I could also write about how Maine has high gun ownership, but extremely low firearm death rates, which makes me wonder if maybe our focus to blame is a bit off. I could write about how no matter what the crime rates in a state are, no one should have access to an AR.

But the truth is, I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending like these are new conversations. I'm tired of having the same debates every time this happens. Liberals vs. Conservatives, Republicans vs. Democrats, the second amendment vs. gun control. I'm tired of conversations about the mental health crisis- about politicians blaming gun violence on symptoms of mental health but then proceeding to vote against policies that would increase access and funding to mental health programing. I'm tired, tired, tired.

And 18 people are dead.

18 people whose lives mattered and deserved to be lived.

18 people who were parents and siblings and children.

18 people who were friends and coworkers.

18 people who were human beings.

And in addition to those 18 lives lost, there are even more injured. Some physically- even more emotionally. A little girl grazed by a bullet was brave enough to go on national TV and ask why? Why do people do this?

Why, indeed? In times of tragedy, our brains crave answers. Why did this happen? Who let this happen? Were there warning signs? The answer is almost always yes. And in this case, based on current reports, it sounds like in addition to active mental health symptoms, direct threats had been made by the suspect in the past about intent to harm. That makes it easy to point fingers. How did his family miss this? Why didn't mental health professionals act? Why was he released from the hospital if he was thought to be dangerous?

But the tragic truth is that this is so much deeper than those questions pose. And as much as our brains and hearts crave answers, playing the blame game will do nothing for us.

Stricter gun laws and removing access to AR-15s is a good start that I fully support. So go ahead and sign the petitions, write to your representatives. I certainly have, and will continue to do so. But don't be surprised if that only places a band-aid over the gaping, hemorrhaging wound that is humanity in America right now.

The truth is, I don't know what the answers are. Is it eliminating access to AR-15s? Monitoring who can buy and own weapons based on stricter background checks? Is it increasing access to mental health services? Increasing incentives for people to become mental health providers? Is this all just the unfolding, unstoppable result of human suffering and toxic stress in America?

What I do know is that my community, my home, has experienced the nation's tenth worst mass shooting in modern history. Lewiston, Maine and the lives lost last night are more than just another tragic story of gun violence in America. It's more than the 565th mass shooting in America this year, to be followed by a 566th and 567th. It's more than just a statistic. Right now the news is buzzing. People are talking, stories are being shared. But a few weeks from now, that will inevitably die down.

Lives will go on, because it didn't happen to you. It will never happen to you.

Until, of course, it does.

So please take care of yourselves, take care of your loved ones, take care of your friends and neighbors and acquaintances. And most importantly, have empathy and compassion for all.

#i know this is not my usual but i really needed a place to share and express #thoughts are welcomed but any sort of criticism about the investigation is not #gun violence #tw mass shooting #lewiston maine #tw mass murder #tw gun violence #lewiston #lewiston me #mass shooting #Lewiston shooting

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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um what the hell you’re back ? i missed you what

sort of haahahaah not posting often but trying :)

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Lifeline

Prompt: can you write something where luke is struggling with ptsd symptoms? Maybe he’s having nightmares or something & the reader helps him work through it?

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, flashbacks, ptsd mention

A/N: thanks for the request, hope u enjoy xx.

Luke slides into bed beside you. It’s late– the clock beside the bed reading nearly one in the morning.

“Hi,” you mumble, voice sounding exhausted and thick with sleep. You turn before he gets a chance to lay his head on the pillow, sliding your body closer to his and reaching for him. “Welcome home.”

“Hi baby,” Luke replies quietly. He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you the rest of the way to his chest, to the spot you always manage to fit so perfectly.

“Missed you,” you say, eyes barely cracking open in a way that makes his entire chest ache.

“I missed you, too,” he murmurs, planting his lips on the crown of your head, right near your hairline. Guilt pours through his insides– a feeling he was no stranger to. Although his switch to the bureau allowed him to be home more than when he was with the fugitive task force, (or God knows, the army) he is still gone far more often than he wants to be.

You rest your head in the nape of his neck and wind an arm around his waist, sighing a breath of relief like it was the first time you’ve been able to exhale since he’s been gone.

And while you’re the last thing on his mind before he drifts into an uneasy sleep, Luke still has the same dream that’s haunted him since his army days. Soon, he finds himself running through the desert, down alleys frantically, the gun he kept holstered to his side in his hand– alert, on guard, and searching for something... or someone he can’t find.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark in the bedroom and the moonlight casts shadows through the sheer curtains of your shared bedroom. When you shift on the mattress, you’re alone; the bed beside you is cold and empty– a feeling you’re all too familiar with.

But then you remember soft lips against your hair– and murmurs from the sweetest voice you will ever hear, so vivid that you know you couldn’t have just dreamt him coming home.

“Luke?” You sit up and look around the room. Even without the light on, you can see his to-go bag resting by the door, a clear sign that you hadn’t imagined everything. And then the sound of running water becomes clear in the distance– pushing itself into your hazy consciousness.

Quietly, you get up, shivering once your feet hit the floor, before walking to the bathroom door.

You knock once, pressing your ear against the wood for a response that doesn’t come. You walk in anyway– sighing a shaky breath as soon as you see him standing in the shower, his back facing you.

“Luke, what’re you doing? It’s three in the morning,” you say.

But as soon as the words fall from your lips, you can tell that something is wrong. His head is hanging low, water tumbling from his loose, wet curls as they stream down the rest of his body. His shoulders are tense– the muscles tightened while he sways slightly.

“Luke?” you repeat, taking a tentative step forward.

He flinches– just the slightest bit, so subtle you wouldn’t have even caught it had your concern not forced your mind to become more alert. “Yeah–” he chokes out, his voice trying so desperately to sound normal, but the undertone of fear– panic, even, bled through. “I’m good,” he says, sounding nearly breathless. “Go back to bed–”

As if, you think.

You take another step forward before reaching for the sliding glass of the shower. Gently, you tug it open. The water barely hit your hand, but you can feel how cold it is. Luke hated cold showers– in fact, he hated any shower temperature that didn’t practically scald his skin. You wonder if he’s even aware– or maybe he’s been in here so long all the hot water is just gone.

“Luke,” you repeat, not caring that the shirt you’d fallen asleep in (which was conveniently his) was getting slightly sprayed. You reach your hand in and place it delicately on his back. “Luke– let’s get out of the shower.”

“I’m good–” he says again, voice thick. “I just… I just need a minute, I’m good.” As soon as he’s done speaking, you notice his shoulders shudder.

Fuck it, before you can think, you discard the shirt you’re wearing on the floor and step out of the shorts you’d slept in and climb into the shower. Bracing for the cold, you wind your arms around his middle and rest your head against his freezing, tense back.

Luke startles, jumping slightly at the contact. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grasps for your forearm as your hands move to settle on his chest. The second you lay your head against the crease in his back, you feel something in him shift. A shuddered sob– one you can tell he’s been trying to hold in, escapes his mouth. He gasps, his grip on your forearm tightening, like he’s reaching for something.

Good– let me be your lifeline, I’ll hold on tight, I’ll never let you go.

You’re soaked within seconds, the water coating your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in each drop’s wake. Gently, you plant your lips against his skin– across his back, along his shoulder blade, and you feel the way his breathing is rapid and choppy beneath your touch.

You stand there for seconds or minutes or hours– you can’t really tell. But eventually, Luke opens his mouth and speaks– a sound so sweet, you think you might cry, because it means he’s here… with you… right now.

“God, it’s freezing–”

You nod against his back, your own body starting to tremble. “Can we get out?” You ask, not wanting to be pushy or demanding, but almost certain you were about to catch pneumonia or something.

He nods slowly before reaching to snap off the water. For a moment, he stands there– completely still. You’re about to start worrying again when his head turns towards you with a frown.

“You’re shivering–” he notices for the first time. “What–” his voice trails off, like he isn’t entirely sure what’s been happening.

Truthfully, it scares you. Luke was always the put together one– the strong one– the one who held you close when things were falling apart. You don’t know how to reverse the roles, but you have to. It isn’t a choice.

“It’s okay,” you say. You reach for your towel– hanging on the back of the bathroom door and wind it around Luke’s shoulders. As soon as you step out of the shower, you grab one for yourself under the sink and wrap it around your body before turning back towards Luke. He’s standing in the same position that you left him in.

Gently, you reach for his hand and tug him towards you. He snaps out of his trance again and steps out of the shower, not protesting when you begin to wipe his shoulders and back with the towel. He takes it from you and begins to dry himself off– a sign of life that you welcome.

“You got it?”

He nods, giving you enough confidence to hurry for the bedroom. You grab sweatpants and sweatshirts from his closet– enough for the both of you. Quickly, you slide on the clothing before bringing the rest to him.

“Here,” you say, holding the sweatpants out first.

Luke takes them, then the sweatshirt and slides them on swiftly.

He still seems absent– like he’s not all there. But at least he’s moving– at least he’s dressing himself. When he’s done, he stands there, your damp towel in his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. You take it from him, hanging it on the hook before reaching for Luke’s hand. Carefully, you guide him out of the bathroom and towards the bed, where you both take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“Luke–” you begin. When his attention doesn’t shift, you reach for his sleeve and tug. “Luke, look at me,” you plead.

It takes him a minute– but he does. His eyes are watery– filled to the brim with agony. It makes something inside your chest crack at the sight. Because it was so obvious that you loved this man… the one standing in front of you looking so broken, so hurt– with everything inside of you. You know, in that moment, and in every moment, that you’d do anything for him, absolutely anything.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

“I’m–” he begins.

But you shake your head. “You’re not okay.”

You watch his teeth sink into his lower lip– like he’s trying to alleviate just a little pressure inside of himself.

“Was it a bad case?” You press.

Slowly, he shakes his head.

“A nightmare?”

You get a nod, now we’re getting somewhere.

“Afghanistan?”

Another nod.

“Luke– what happened over there– I know I can’t imagine. I know I don’t know, but it’s over. You made it home. You’re here, with me. You’re safe–”

“I shouldn’t be,” he whispers. He uses his fingers to comb back his damp curls. “I shouldn’t have made it back– I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have been allowed to come back.”

You take a moment to compose yourself. Because just the thought of something happening to Luke while he was in the army all those years ago– of him not coming home to you, was enough to make you sick. But this isn’t about you, or your needs, or your inability to comprehend Luke’s guilty conscience. This was about him– his perception, his reality.

“The things I saw,” he whispers, voice cracking. “The things I did. It’s… it’s unforgivable. I shouldn’t have lived through that–”

You can’t help the tears that surface in your eyes, but you fight like hell to hold them back while you listen.

“I tried to do what I was told– I mean, I did do what I was told. But the lives… the innocent lives that were taken because of me, because of things I did…”

There are no words. You know that. So, instead, you reach out and gather his hand with your own– still freezing from the shower, and hold on tight.

“I see their faces– in my dreams… my nightmares,” he whispers. “I remember all of their faces.”

He snaps his mouth shut and is quiet for a long time. “It never even changed anything. They died because I had orders that killing them was our best strategy– because maybe, just maybe, someone we were looking for was hiding in their house.”

He sighed, head hanging low. You bend and lift your leg, resting it on the mattress, and slide close enough so that you can lean your head in the nape of Luke’s neck.

“None of it mattered. Their deaths meant nothing– they were just a number we’d sign off on and say was worth it– but it never was. All those people– they all died and it meant nothing. I should have died–”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face further into Luke’s neck, your hand releases his so that you can wrap your arms around him instead.

“Sorry baby,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you up because of a stupid bad dream.”

Luke had this habit of pulling away– especially when the topic of his time in Afghanistan came up. But you don’t want him to feel like he has to brush this under the rug– to pretend this doesn’t haunt his dreams.

So, even though it’s the last thing you want to hear about, you plead, “Tell me about the dream.”

Luke pulls away slightly, looking down at you. “You don’t want to hear about this stuff,” he assures you.

You nod. “You’re right– I’m sure I don’t. But I’d rather hear about it all night than know it’s sitting in your head festering. Luke, this stuff is awful– and I know… I know hearing about it won’t make me understand any of it. But you’re not alone– I’m here, as unhelpful as I may be with knowing what the right thing to say is– or how to handle any of this, I’m here. You don’t have to be alone.”

Luke nods, wrapping his own arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

You say it back– like you have a thousand times, like you will say a thousand more. And he doesn’t talk about it– at least not yet. So, you sit with him, until the sun pours hues of orange through the curtain– until he can breathe again.

And you know the war is far from over– that the battle inside his mind is raging on. But for now, you hold him tight and you remind him with your touch that he’s not alone in any of these feelings– that as long as you can help it, he will never be alone, and you let it be.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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“you write?”

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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A Masterlist - Pt. II

Luke Alvez x Reader

(when you hit the text limit & have to make a whole new masterlist)

Planted Beside You (You're hurt while Luke is away on a case)

Calling It (You and Luke have a pact)

Fourth of July (Loud noises aren't your thing)

Five Feet Apart (You and Luke are kidnapped by someone from his past)

Shattered (You and Luke get into a heated argument)

It's About Time (You and Luke are fake dating)

Concussed (You get a concussion, Luke's there to help)

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

posted :)

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Concussed

Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: blood mention

A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!

Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month.

And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in.

To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important.

Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought.

“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up.

“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”

A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody.

With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside.

You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago).

He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke.

Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met.

“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.

But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what the hell?

His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–

With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago.

His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you.

“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”

“Y/N, who did this to you?”

“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”

“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit.

You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”

“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”

“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”

“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly.

You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson.

“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”

“Muffins– yes.”

A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out.

And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins.

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”

“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”

You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”

“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

Your eyes widened even more.

“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”

“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet.

“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off.

“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom.

For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help.

He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use.

“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”

You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it.

You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful?

Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”

Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.

Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”

“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”

“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand.

Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”

You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”

“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”

“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”

You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile.

“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself.

“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked.

“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”

“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”

“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed.

“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep.

“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?”

You weren’t. But you nodded anyway.

The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch.

“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.

“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours.

His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back.

Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.

You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly.

His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck.

God, he really was beautiful.

Luke smirked. “Thanks.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?

Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck.

Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him.

Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss– into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back.

And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”

Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”

Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”

It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”

“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest.

“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.

You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”

You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”

A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”

“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”

You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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Did you write it’s about time? The fake dating fic? I read the reblogged preview but it was cut off for the read more Line and the link doesn’t work and I can’t find it but it was so good

Hi! I did write that :) A bunch of my fics got deleted, but I just reposted it for you :)

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: It's About Time

Prompt: The reader and Luke pretend to be dating so that the rest of the team will stop trying to set Luke up on blind dates.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none

You've really done it now, Alvez, Luke thinks to himself.

Of all the names he could have blurted out, he just had to choose yours. God, the Queen of England would have been better.

He thought back to the conversation in the bullpen that had started this whole mess.

"I-I can't go out with your friend," Luke stuttered, wishing his coworkers would stop pushing him to go on all these blind dates just because he was single.

"C’mon, Luke-” Tara pressed. “She’s smart and accomplished. I think you two would really hit it off-"

"Because I'm seeing someone," he blurted out spontaneously, mind racing to come up with a name.

Tara and JJ all looked taken aback, then suspicious, their eyes narrowing in unison. Tara raised her brows, "Oh? Who?"

Luke’s mind went blank, his brain nearly sizzling as it worked fast to come up with something. He should have chosen someone random- the girl who always walked her dog by his house, or the one who made his coffees in the morning. Someone the team didn’t know. Hell, a completely made up girl would’ve been better.

Suddenly, a warm smile and deep, sparkling eyes flooded his mind, and Luke couldn't stop himself. "Y/N."

JJ’s jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her lips. "Y/N?"

Instantly, Luke’s entire insides flood with regret.

You worked in the Counter-Terrorism division of the Bureau. Luke first met you in training at the Academy when he joined the FBI. You had become quick allies, before graduating and moving on to your assignments.

There had been a time, in the Academy, when Luke had a thing for you, quickly reigned in by your charm. He admired your work ethic and constant ability to make him laugh.

But everything changed once you finished the Academy. You remained in Quantico while Luke traveled with the Fugitive Task Force, gradually losing touch.

It was only recently, with Luke joining the BAU, that you two were able to reconnect. Now that he was stationed in Quantico full time, you actually saw each other quite frequently. At first, just in passing- a consequence of your offices being so close to one another. But, as time went on, you started rekindling during work gatherings and even meeting for drinks after hours. Your friendship with Luke was easy and natural. You even were introduced to his team- who all took a quick liking to you.

Sometimes Luke thought you were closer to Penelope, Tara, and JJ than you were to him. He cringed realizing they would never buy it. "Yeah," he confirms anyway.

"Luke," Tara said slowly, "why haven’t we heard anything about this?"

"We... wanted to take things slow,” Luke lied. “It just... sort of happened."

“Well, I mean, it’s about time. I think Pen called this months ago,” JJ said.

Luke’s face flushed bright red.

"We have to tell her," Tara agreed.

“Yeah, Luke, you should bring her to Garcia’s house party this weekend. I’m sure Matt would love to meet her.”

Great.

Luke slid off the desk he was kneeling on and nodded in confirmation, “Yeah, great idea,” he lied again. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans; positive this whole thing was going to bite him in the ass.

...

The next morning, Luke arrived at the Bureau early. He needed to talk to you before anyone else could.

He had a hunch that he might be murdered today.

You were heading for the elevators when it happened. You had your head down and were 20 minutes early to work, per usual. Normally, you didn’t encounter anyone on your way inside of Quantico. But you let out a startled squeal when suddenly, someone threw their arm between the closing metal doors, forcing them to reopen. Breathless from the scare, you quickly turn to realize it was Luke. You let out a sigh of relief before playfully shoving his shoulder.

“God, you scared me,” you said.

But Luke didn't laugh. Instead he tugged on his shirt uncomfortably, an awkward smile on his face.

“What’s the matter with you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, uh-” how the hell was Luke supposed to casually bring this up? “It’s a funny story really..”

“Spit it out, Alvez,” you said, you immediately could tell something was up. Luke was never this fidgety.

He bit his lip harshly. “The entire BAU may or may not think we’re dating-” he spit out quickly. “That’s not true-” he corrected. “The entire BAU definitely thinks we’re dating.”

You gawked at Luke, not entirely processing what he had just told you. “What?” Your cheeks were growing hot with embarrassment. “Why?”

Luke offered a brief, cheeky smile, one that was layered with guilt. "See, now that's a funny story-"

"Spit it out, Alvez."

“-Because I told them we were.”

Without even thinking you turned and pressed the stop button on the elevator, locking the two of you into place. This conversation was going to take a lot longer than the minute it took to bring you to the fourth floor.

“You what?” You gasped.

“Like I said- it’s really, kind of a funny story-”

But you cut him off. "You have ten seconds to explain before I strangle you to death in this elevator.”

Luke’s eyes widened with shock, even though that was exactly the reaction he expected.

“Talk. Now.” You demanded, cornering him.

"Tara was trying to set me up with one of her friends- and to get out of it I told her I was already seeing someone. When she asked who, I panicked and said you."

Your nostrils flared and Luke thought he could almost hear your teeth grinding. "Why wouldn’t you just say no to the date?" You asked. “Instead of lying?”

“Because it never stops- every gathering, every party, they’re trying to set me up. It’s like I scream lonely or something.”

Your mouth tightened but you stayed quiet.

“I needed something that would shut them up for good. Or at least a little while.”

"And so you said you were dating me..."

Luke sighed. “I know it was stupid. But I’m tired of going on meaningless dates that never turn out good. I just needed a break... I mean, it's exhausting, really- and never ending. But I get it- I mean, I get it's not fair to you. But I panicked- and just reacted." God, he was blabbing. "But I’ll tell them it was a lie, I’ll go on the date-”

You crossed your arms. "You done?"

Luke nodded. You waited a moment, mulling the whole thing over in your head.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? Except, it was. Because back at the Academy, when you and Luke first became friends, you had developed a small, barely-there, tiny crush on Luke. However, now that he was stationed in Quantico and you two were seeing each other more often, your crush had only grown into a full fledged, real-life feelings.

But the thought of Luke going on another blind date made you cringe, so without giving yourself a chance to do the responsible thing here, you blurted out a quick, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Luke said in disbelief.

“What would I have to do?”

“Uh-” Luke stammers, like he’s still in shock. “Garcia’s party- You could come to Garcia’s party with me.”

"Garcia’s party then," you declared. "We pretend to be together for the party."

Luke’s eyes met yours and he gave you a convincing smile. “Are you sure?”

You shrugged before pushing the button to start the elevator back up again. “Yeah, what the hell?”

…

You pulled into the driveway of Garcia’s home and both of you sat in the car, tensed.

“I’m sorry again about this. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. I owe you one. I just… didn’t want to do the blind date thing and you’re the only person I’d feel comfortable doing this with and-“

You cut Luke off and slid your calm hand over his shaking one. You hope the small admission was lost somewhere in Luke’s rushed, jumbled apology.

“Luke, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to say yes.” You squeezed Luke’s hand, gently demanding for him to look up and into your eyes.

Luke obliged.

“I’m happy to be here with you. There’s no one else in the world that I’d rather be in a fake relationship with.”

Luke thought that, ‘or a real relationship’ was hanging somewhere in the air between them. But neither of you had the courage to admit it.

You squeezed Luke’s hand again before hopping out of the passenger’s side, going to the backseat to collect the bottle of wine you’d brought.

To say Garcia was excited to see the two of you holding hands on her doorstep was an understatement.

“Oh my gosh,” she said, looking shocked. “Oh my gosh. You guys are so beautiful together. I always had a feeling about this. Made for each other, you two. I called this.”

“Hi Penelope,” you said through a smile.

She waved you in excitedly, and you and Luke exchanged glances before following her into the house.

Luke carried the bags in and you carried the wine. Luke couldn’t help but think that this is probably how it would go if you two were really dating. Luke doing all the heavy lifting of the bags, and you letting your friends whisk you into the kitchen to chatter about something.

Luke shook the thought out of his head.

...

“So tell me about how you guys got together,” JJ asked later in the night.

Penelope’s eyes widened and she hurried to set down her glass before flailing her arms. “Oh, oh, oh!” she bounced excitedly. “I want to know too!”

Everyone in the room’s attention turned to you. You opened your mouth to speak, but hesitated.

While you floundered in your explanation. Luke wished he could go to you, wrap an arm around your waist, steady you and remind you that it was okay.

Luke was midway through the thought when he realized that oh… he could actually do that right now.

He crossed the room in a hurry before wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. He pulled you into his side, smiling at you as he felt you lean into his body, one of your arms snaking behind him to grip his hip.

Luke could get used to this.

But he won’t be getting used to this. Because this is just for the party and then you and him will go back to being just friends.

“It uh-” Luke fumbled with his words, too distracted by the way your fingertips felt against the flesh of his hip.

But you swooped in to save him, jumping into your story quickly. “It happened after work a little while ago. We were riding down in the elevator together and he finally just asked me out.” Luke squeezed your arm, as your voice trailed off. You looked up at him, smiling. “It was an easy yes from me, I’d been waiting for him to do that for a while- pretty much since the day we met.” You let the moment carry you through the story, let your real, raw feelings show, for once. And you hoped that Luke was listening to every word. You hoped it registered to Luke that not all of this was for show.

It took a small whimper of a sob that came from Garcia's mouth to snap the two of you from your trance.

“Oh, you guys. I’m so happy for you both. This is wonderful. From the way Luke’s always talked about you, I figured that he was just in his own head again… he’s been head over heels for you for quite some time –“

“Oh wow, Garcia,” Luke choked on his words, his eyes wide. “That reminds me, we brought your favorite wine! Let’s get that opened, yeah?” His skin was the same shade as the Pinot Noir he was currently reaching for.

Garcia smiled and nodded, clapping her hands together before shuffling off to grab three wine glasses from the cupboard. But you were looking up at him with a blinding grin.

Just for show, Luke thought. Just for show.

Penelope returned with a handful of glasses, which she filled with a generous serving of wine and held hers up like she was about to give a toast. Luke groaned. He hadn’t anticipated how much his team would dote over his fake relationship.

“To you, Y/N. For making my Luke the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and for so many years to come.”

You all clinked your glasses and sipped (in Luke’s case, chugged) before Garcia led them into the living room.

Luke found himself sitting on the couch listening to Rossi tell stories about his early days with the BAU. Somewhere during the story your fingers laced together.

Luke wasn't sure when it happened or who initiated it.

But he certainly wasn’t complaining.

…

“God, how he drooled over you. I swear, his jaw dropped to the floor anytime you entered a room.”

Luke was going to kill Rossi.

You, on the other hand, were laughing hysterically on the couch next to him. Luke was far past the mortification of it all at this point. His team had graciously taken it upon themselves to test if he could actually die of embarrassment. He assumed they’re about halfway there.

Somewhere between the stories of Luke’s desperate pining over you and your fond smiles, Luke had refilled his glass of wine.

He wished he had something stronger, because wine wasn’t exactly cutting it for him in this mess of a conversation.

You, however, looked happy.

Your second glass of wine had caused your cheeks to gently flush, while your full grin was on display.

“Time for cards!” Garcia announced as she waved everyone into the kitchen.

Before standing up, you leaned into Luke’s side. “You okay?"

Your voice was soft. Luke pressed closer to you without thinking about it.

“Yeah. I-I’m fine, just… don’t listen to them, okay? JJ and Rossi are trying to wind me up, and Garcia’s just happy that I’m with someone. I promise I’m not some… some like.. I didn’t… what they said-"

There was no way to explain what the team had said that wouldn’t result in Luke lying to you. All of those stories were true, they just sounded more pathetic when they were told all together like that.

You shook your head and grinned.

“It’s okay. Besides, if we were actually dating, I think I would be a little angry at you right now for not making a move sooner.” You winked before standing up, holding your hand out for Luke to take.

Luke pushed himself up from the couch and linked his fingers with yours again, grabbing his glass of wine because he would probably need that to get through this night alive.

…

“She’s good for you, Luke. I’m glad that you finally mustered up the courage to ask her out.” Rossi clapped Luke on the back as he and you gathered up your things at the end of the evening.

All Luke could do was nod and smile in return.

You, on the other hand, were in the middle of a shockingly long hug from Garcia, who was making you promise that you’d visit soon.

Luke bites his lip, wondering if maybe this whole thing had gone too far. How was he supposed to keep up this facade when he showed up at work the next day and everyone asked about you?

He was still thinking about it when the two of you got into the car.

You exhaled a breath of relief as soon as you sat down. When you look over, Luke’s staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Luke shook his head, chuckling uncomfortably. He stared down at his lap for a moment.

You shifted in your seat, angling your body so that you were facing him.

“Tell me,” you urge, your voice softening.

Luke met your gaze, his lips turned into a small smile. “I’m just thinking about what I’m going to tell the team tomorrow.”

Your confused face urges him to continue.

“I don’t know, I mean they love you- I think more than they love me. They’re gonna be asking about you all the time. Do we fake a breakup now?”

Without thinking, you reached out to cup Luke’s cheek before leaning in and kissing him, softly and gently.

You didn’t want to pull your lips away, and suddenly, Luke was kissing you back. Only when you were desperate for air did you pull away.

“Were they looking?” Luke asked quietly, still keeping his soft brown eyes locked on you.

Narrowing your eyebrows, you shake your head. “No,” you tell him. “No, they weren’t looking.”

Luke’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, his jaw dropping slowly.

“Luke-” you said slowly, hoping that you weren’t painfully misjudging the situation. “I think we both know that tonight wasn’t fake. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

You both looked at each other in fond silence before Luke nodded slowly, too shocked to speak.

“Am I wrong?” you asked, your confidence fading quickly.

Luke shook his head, “No,” he blurted out. “No, you aren’t wrong.”

With a grin you just couldn’t wipe off of your face, you nodded again. “Good,” you whispered.

Luke licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they were. “So maybe we don’t have to have a fake break up?” His sentence finished as a question.

“Luke Alvez,” you said, scooting even closer towards him. “Are you finally asking me out?”

Luke nodded while simultaneously closing the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss. You were both smiling into each other’s touch.

When you finally break apart, your face was flushed and you were out of breath. You smiled, little tears gathering in your eyes that Luke swiped away gently with the pad of his thumb.

“It’s about time,” you told him smugly.

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Shattered

Request: ‘Can you do a Luke x Reader imagine where they get into a really big argument but somehow it ends in fluff / Luke comforting the reader? Thank you so much!’

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: minor blood mention

Luke watched you silently as you poured yourself a glass of wine.

It was nearing midnight, but the both of you knew that this fight wasn’t ending anytime soon. At this point in time, you had almost forgotten what you were fighting about. Only that you were frustrated, and angry- really angry.

And Luke was too.

“I just don’t understand it.” Luke let his head fall.

You scoffed, shaking your head at him.

“What?” he barked, “I don’t!”

“That’s because you refuse to even try to see things my way. You only ever think about yourself.”

Luke’s nostrils flare as he spoke, a hint of malice to his voice. “That’s not true.”

“It is true!” You raised your voice, your emotions getting the best of you. “You were too wrapped up in yourself tonight, to have the decency to call or text me, to let me know where you were. Instead you let me just sit here waiting. ”

“I already apologized for being late tonight, what more do you want for me?”

“That’s not the point, Luke!” You practically screamed. “I gave up my job, my family- everything for you. So that we could move here and you could join the FBI. I did all of that, just so what? I could be stood up? So I could be waiting for you the rest of my life, wondering if you’ll ever come home at all?”

He didn't even bother to lift his gaze to meet yours.

“Now who’s being selfish?” he sneered. “Women, young girls, were getting stabbed in Charleston, and you’re seriously mad that I didn’t make it home for date night?”

For a moment, the only sound came from the choppy inhale that escaped your lips.

Then, a tense whisper, “That’s not fair.” But you couldn’t help the pang of guilt spreading through your stomach.

“It was a bad one,” Luke barked. “The plane just landed. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“There’s always going to be a bad case. And another, and another, and another. It will never stop.”

“For Christ's sake!” Luke tossed his hands up in the air. “And I’m just supposed to what? Quit? Is that what you’re asking me to do? Will that finally make you happy? Will that make you stop interrogating me every night?”

His anger only made you more frustrated- frustrated that he didn’t understand all your anger and annoyance with him stemmed from the very fact that you missed him. Every goddamn minute he was away, you missed him with everything inside of you. Why couldn’t he just see that?

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you said instead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just love to play the hero, don’t you? You can’t stand the fact that being good at your job makes you a shitty husband.”

Luke squinted his eyes at you. “A shitty husband?” he gawked. His lips tugged into a taunting smirk that only makes you angrier. “Right. Well let’s sit down and have that date now. What was it you had planned again? Spaghetti and a movie? Sounds romantic, really the kind of stuff to keep this marriage alive,” he yelled. His sarcasm bled through your skin and penetrated your body to it’s core.

“You asshole!” You choked, lifting your fingers to your face. You hadn't even been aware that you had been crying all this time.

Luke slapped his hands on the counter, rattling the silverware still laid out. “You know, maybe I’d get home on time if I had something a little better to come home to!”

“You fucking–” you went to raise your hands up in frustration, but in the process you find yourself knocking into your glass of wine with force. A tug against your skin, and then a stinging sensation ripped through your hand before you even realize the glass has been shattered.

“Damnit!” You screamed as the wine spilled everywhere. You slid down to the floor in frustration. The tears now falling down your face could be attributed to both Luke and the gash now evident on your hand. When you looked down, you saw the blood already dripping down your forearm and to the tiled floor.

You tried to stifle the cries escaping your body, but it was no use. You clutched your bloody hand while Luke quickly approached you.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice noticeably softer now. He grabbed the dish towel from the counter and stepped over the shattered glass to crouch down next to you. “Let me see,” he murmured gently.

You tensed up at first and jerked your arm away. “I’m fine,” you sneered.

But Luke was persistent. "Please don't be stubborn right now, I just want to look."

He reached out again, and once he was convinced you weren't going to tug your arm away again, grabs your wrist, causing you to expose your injury to him. You were forced to surrender under his touch with a sigh.

Your body was still shaking from your sobs when he wrapped the towel securely around the cut, “It’s okay, it’s not that deep.”

You just nodded weakly, your sobs subsiding into sniffles. "I told you I was fine."

You watched Luke’s face intently. He frowned as he held pressure to your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and say, “Me too.” But you were still hurt, and Luke knew that.

So, he sank down onto the kitchen floor so that he was sitting beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of you. And there, in the safety of the shadows, Luke wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you against him. The moment your body was met with the warmth that radiated from his own, you immediately felt a bit more at peace. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

You nodded into his sweater.

“I was just angry,” he explained.

Luke grounded you. He was the anchor that pulled you back together when everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry too,” you whimpered. “I just miss you- like all the time.”

You felt exhausted from all that crying. When the room was filled with nothing except for your quiet sniffles here and there, you heard his voice again.

“We should get this cleaned up,” he motioned towards your hand. It was throbbing intensely under his touch. The decorative dish towel you’d once loved so much was now stained with your own blood.

You exhaled a shaky sigh and nodded, letting Luke help lift you from the floor. Your knees shook when you saw the amount of blood pooled on the floor from your cut, but Luke was there to keep a steady grip on your hip.

“How’re we doing?” he asked, clearly noticing your shakiness and fatigue.

“I’m... okay,” you whispered unconvincingly, your voice raspy from it all. You felt his lips pressing against the top of your head and staying there. You counted five seconds until he pulled away and gave your frame a squeeze before leading you carefully over the shattered glass and towards the bathroom.

Luke instructed you to sit on the lip of the bathtub and to hold the dish towel in place while he collected bandages and peroxide.

You watched him as he maneuvered around the bathroom and realized that you didn’t know what you would do if he ever didn’t come home. Despite the challenges and hard work it took to make your marriage work, it would be a million times worse if he wasn’t around.

Luke kneeled in front of you, his gentle eyes connecting with yours before he spoke. “This will probably sting a little,” he warned. He peeled back the towel, muttering a soft, “sorry,” as the fabric stuck to your skin slightly from the dried blood. When he started to pour peroxide on the cut, you hissed, grabbing his bicep with your uninjured hand.

“There you go,” he soothed as the stinging subsided. Luke finished by wrapping the area in gauze lightly. Once the bandage was on, you pulled your arm to your chest and rubbed it.

“Thanks.”

Luke nodded, but then there was nothing but silence between you.

After a few seconds you opened your mouth to speak, but Luke beat you to it.

“This is all so new. My job- the traveling. But we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, because you truly believed him. You always did figure things out.

“I’m tired," you said, your eyes feeling heavy. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not home,” you admitted, a bit shamefully. You didn’t want Luke to think that you couldn’t function without him, and you knew it was possible he’d feel a little guilty that he wasn’t around much.

Luke nodded sympathetically. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed,” he suggested. He stood up and started gathering the bloody towel and peroxide from the floor. “I’m gonna go clean up the glass in the kitchen. I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

You nodded as you stood up before turning and heading towards the bedroom.

About ten minutes later, when you had gotten yourself settled into bed in one of Luke’s shirts and a pair of sweatpants, you heard him enter the room. You slowly opened your eyes and watched him as he peeled his shirt off and wiggled himself out of his pants. You knew you were supposed to be sleeping, but you couldn’t without Luke’s warmth. So when you finally felt his body shift the mattress and his arms wind around you, you exhaled a soft sigh of relief, you wanted to live in his arms for the rest of your life. You heard him chuckle softly in response, his legs playfully intertwining with yours.

He stayed quiet for a long time, and for a second you thought he might have already fallen asleep, until you felt his lips linger against the back of your shoulder, followed by a low whisper.

“You’re my favorite thing to come home to.”

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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are you able to reupload shattered? love ur writing

Yes I’ll do that one next :)

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thelukesalvez · 7 months

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#iasip

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thelukesalvez · 8 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Five Feet Apart

Request: “hey! I love your blog and your writing so much, so thanks for that! im not sure if you’ve seen season 15 yet, but could you do a fic based off from the episode where Luke and Matt are kidnapped by the unsub, except maybe it’s Luke and the reader that are kidnapped?”

Word count: 4.2 k

Warnings: kidnapping, suicide tw, blood mention

The first thing you notice when you start to wake up is that there’s something dripping onto your leg, it’s warm and slides towards the inner portion of your thigh. The thought is replaced by the searing pain in your forehead. You groan, quickly realizing the warm liquid dripping into your lap is your own blood.

The sound of your name is what forces you to finally peel your eyes open. You brace yourself for the brightness of the sun or fluorescent lights, but instead, you find yourself planted in a damp, dimly lit room.

You hear your name being called again, and you slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound, wincing when a sharp pain radiates through your head.

“Luke?” you gasp. He’s about five feet away from you, sitting on the floor against a beam with his hands tied behind his back. You’re able to get a better look at your surroundings, as you fight to get your bearings in what looks like an old warehouse.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Thank God,” he mutters, dropping his head slightly in relief.

You catch a glimpse of the bruise that’s taking up a large portion of his face and you shutter. “What happened?” you whisper. You feel your chest start to inflate with panic. “Luke- Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” he admits slowly.

He looks around the empty room for anything noteworthy.

“Luke–” you call out his name weakly, knowing that there was nothing he could do, but all the while desperately hoping that you were wrong. The more alert you become, the more panicked you become. Without even thinking you start harshly jerking against the ties around your own wrists, desperately trying to free yourself from their constraints. You can feel the rope digging into your flesh as you tug harder, but you don’t stop. The fear and frustration inside of you escapes your body through thick sobs. They echo through the room.

Luke’s trying to inch his way closer to you, he’s already figured out that his restraints are too tight to maneuver out of, but his body naturally gravitates towards you and your obvious discomfort.

“Hey, hey, hey–” he tries to soothe. Luke’s stomach drops, as he watches you panic from only five feet away. Luke wishes he could cross the room in a heartbeat and wrap his arms around you securely. He wishes he could scoop you up, cradle you to his chest, and just hold you until you could breathe again. “It’s okay. Baby, look at me– look at me.”

You steady yourself long enough to lift your head and move your gaze towards Luke. You try to ignore the cut above his brow, split skin that’s oozing blood, and instead focus on his eyes, which are wide and wild, but still soft. They’re a deep, brown– the color of the earth after a heavy rain. You’d looked into those eyes so many times before, but you’re still always amazed at how much strength they hold. Despite all he’d weathered and all he’d seen, they hold so much life.

Slowly, Luke starts to take deep breaths. He’s exaggerating the movement, like he wants you to follow suit. You match your choppy inhales to his smooth, methodical ones, and gradually, you feel yourself start to calm.

“Listen to me,” Luke whispers. You continue to breathe. “We’re going to be okay.”

…

“Wait a minute.” Spencer is standing in the parking garage stationed outside of the BAU and shakes his head, his arms crossed tightly.

He’s walking into the building with JJ and Garcia when he notices Luke’s truck parked in exactly the same position as Spencer had seen it the previous night.

“What’s up?” JJ asks, looking up from her phone and stopping to wait. Her and Penelope exchange questioning looks.

“Luke’s truck…” Spencer trails off as he approaches the vehicle. Nothing looks out of place. All the windows are intact– no belongings are scattered on the ground as if there’d been a struggle. But he can’t shake the feeling in his gut– the one telling him that something is wrong.

Spencer cups his hand around his eyes and peers through the glass of Luke’s truck. There is a steel coffee cup sitting in the cup holder, a cell phone charger dangling from the power outlet, and some gum wrappers scrunched up and discarded in the center console. But Spencer’s stomach sinks even further when he looks onto the driver’s side floor and sees the wallet and phone discarded hastily.

“Guys–” Spencer says suddenly. When he takes a step back he notices some dark, crimson stains on the cement ground. He squats down quickly, inspecting the trail of dots. “I think this is blood.”

Garcia gasps.

“Call Emily and Dave…” Spencer gazes underneath the truck, inspecting the area. His eyes widen when he sees a much larger pool of blood on the ground outside the passengers side. His voice lowers and he sounds out of breath when he speaks. “Call everyone.”

…

The surprised smile that erupted on Luke’s face when he saw you across the parking lot made getting up at three thirty to catch an earlier flight worth it. You were jetlagged and hungry and carrying bags under your eyes that were heavier than your luggage, but you forgot about all of that the moment that your eyes landed on him. He crossed the gap between you two in a hurry, shedding the bag he had strapped across his chest and discarding it carelessly. In just two, long strides, he was embracing you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you up excitedly.

You squealed when your feet left the ground, causing you to tighten the grip you had around his neck.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow,” he asked breathlessly when he finally set you back down. He kept his hands placed securely on your lower back.

You drummed your fingers across his chest and smiled. “I wanted to surprise you, I switched my flight, because I missed you.”

“They just let you exchange flights?” he inquired.

You bit your lip. “There were a couple of fees,” you downplayed the extra hundreds dollars you had to spend for the ticket.

Luke smirked, sensing your secret.

“It was worth it though,” you paused, poking his chest. “You were worth it.”

Luke’s face broke out into another enormous grin, right before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

…

Emily runs. The way you run when you were late for a flight, and the speakers were announcing that the gates were closing. Or the way you ran to flag down a taxi about to drive off. Or how a mother would run if she heard her child crying in another room. She runs the way you’d run if your family was in trouble. Because hers is.

The blood rushing through her veins pulsates loudly in her ears, like a loud drumbeat narrating her every step. That’s all she hears as she races to the parking garage.

When she arrives, the rest of the team is already there, wide-eyed, and waiting for her leadership. She is surprised to realize that she isn’t even out of breath as she spoke.

“This is personal, the Bureau is not going to want us working this case.”

Before the rest of the team can protest, she lowers her voice and continues, “So we’ll do this quietly, and we’ll do this discreetly.”

…

“So tell me all about your trip. Did you bring enough scarves?”

You playfully hit Luke on the arm, punishing him for teasing you. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” you said cordially.

He smirked. “I told you three would be an adequate amount of scarves.”

You laughed, before leaning back against the flatbed of his truck. “It was good, the weather was nice. My brother and I only fought the entire time.”

Luke sighed, wrapping his arm around you. “I know it’s tough going home, but I know your mom appreciates it when you visit.” He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I promise next time I’ll go with you, to gang up on your brother with you.”

You sighed and leaned closer into Luke’s touch, closing your eyes. You never realized how much you were going to miss him until you were away from him.

After a few moments, you reluctantly pulled away. “As much as I love our parking garage reunion, could we go home now? I’m starving.”

Luke smiled and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I need to get away from work for a while.”

As you made your way to the passenger side, Luke skipped around his truck to retrieve his bag, which was still on the ground. You waited by the door for him to unlock it, your hand already positioned around the handle.

You stared at your own, tired reflection in the window, marveling at the fact that Luke found you desirable in such a frazzled state. You were so fixated on your own disheveled appearance that you didn’t even notice the man approaching you, until his reflection was right behind yours.

Before you could jump, before you could turn around or scream, before you could hear Luke yelling for you to “watch out”, your head was struck and everything went dark.

…

Spencer is in the process of drawing lines on a map when Matt and Tara walk into the conference room.

“So it turns out Y/N booked a six o’clock flight into D.C. Her cell phone records show she was in Quantico before the signal was lost.”

Reid narrowed his eyes. “So she wasn’t supposed to be there,” he thinks out loud. “Whoever took Luke took her too, but she wasn’t the target. He was.”

“Who would have it out for Alvez?” Tara wonders. She crosses her arms and shakes her head.

Right on cue, JJ walks into the conference room. She slams the stack of files she’s been holding on the table in front of them. “Take your pick,” she answers Tara’s question. “Looks like Luke made a lot of enemies during his fugitive task force days.”

The rest of the team hesitates as they gaze at the daunting pile of files in front of them. But Reid wastes no time before surging forward and ripping open the first one he can get his hands on.

Spencer is going to find Luke.

…

Luke is the strong one. He holds you during scary movies and can pick you up with such ease (despite your protests). He always sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door, and instinctively wraps his arm around you protectively anytime he senses danger. Hell, he literally fights bad guys for a living. He is a real life superhero.

This situation, as it turned out, is no different. While you sit, cold and shivering on the ground, crying silently, Luke comforts you, all while continuously searching for a way out of this mess.

He’s interrupted when heavy footsteps approach. Your eyes instinctively shoot towards the noise. A man emerges from behind some barrels stacked in the corner. You can tell that he’s tall and muscular, wearing combat boots that are tucked into his utility pants. He looks military.

“Alvez.” The word slips off his tongue slowly, like he’s savoring it. “Remember me?”

Something in Luke’s demeanor shifts when he catches a glimpse of the man before him. His eyes sink, the rest of his face quickly following suit.

“Ray–” Luke says the man's name like he still can’t believe it. But before he can finish his sentence, the man, named Ray, winds back and thrusts his foot into Luke’s stomach.

Luke lets out an unnatural grunting sound as he doubles over. Without missing a beat, the man kicks him again, and again. He kicks him until Luke is writhing in pain on the floor, hands still tied behind his back, defenseless.

You don’t even realize you’re screaming at this man to stop until Ray turns to look at you. Your gaze doesn’t leave Luke until the man approaches you quietly. You don’t care that you’ve basically made yourself a target at this point. You would’ve done anything to get him to stop hurting Luke.

“You–” the man says. He has a hint of humor in his voice. “We didn’t plan for you to be at the garage.What a pleasant surprise.”

Amidst his writhing in pain, Luke snarls from the floor. “Leave her alone!” His voice sounds gurgled, and you realize he’s probably talking through the blood in his mouth.

His lips tug into a smile once he realizes how protective Luke is over you. You can see on his face that he’s going to play off of that. He inches closer.

There’s nowhere for you to go, so you press yourself so far into the beam you’re tied to that it starts to leave an imprint in your back. For a moment, you think he’s going to start kicking you as hard as he’d kicked Luke, but instead he bends down in front of you and clicks his tongue.

You get a good look at Ray’s face, it’s covered in creases and craters. He stares at you without blinking. When he lifts his hand slowly, you can’t help but flinch. But gently, he pushes the strand of hair out of your eyes. Your breathing has become choppy and labored.

“Don’t touch her!” Luke spits out. Ray’s hand freezes on your cheek and he smiles again. This time, he’s staring directly at you.

Then he stands up, and quietly wanders behind you. You lock eyes with Luke, hoping to find some form of comfort. Instead, you just see anger and fear.

You sense Ray behind you. His footsteps click on the cement floor, when they stop, you assume he’s hovering. You expect to be hit again, or shot or kicked– but what you don’t expect is the pressure of your hand restraints to be loosened and then released all together. Before you can rub the skin that’d been rope burned, your arm is being grabbed and you’re roughly being hoisted up on your feet.

You stumble, Ray’s tight grip the only thing keeping you from falling. His arm bars across your chest and pulls tightly across your neck. He pulls something black out from his side and clicks the end of it. The cold barrel presses hard against your temple.

“Do you know what happened to me after I got arrested, after you got me arrested?” He spits at Luke.

Luke watches the scene folding out in front of him wearily. He has to choose his words carefully, or he could lose you.

“It was my job to put you away,” Luke says steadily.

The man shakes his head and repeats slowly, “Do you know what happened to me after you put me away?”

Luke’s shaken by the question. Ray can tell.

“They killed them,” he states calmly. “You see, it got out that I was caught, and by a fed no less. And my kind– they don’t take too kindly to the feds. They mistook my capture for a betrayal. So…” his voice trails off in the darkness. “So to teach me a lesson, they killed them.”

He clears his throat, his voice returning with a newly found sense of anger as he continues to speak. “Did you know that if you’re in prison, and your wife and son are murdered, you’re not allowed to go to their funeral?”

Ray lowers the gun from your temple. You’re about to inhale a shaky sigh of relief, hoping that maybe he had a change of heart, when he turns the gun, pointing it directly at Luke.

Everything inside of you ignites, like you’ve been set on fire from within. You press your hands into the arm still barred across your chest and try to get free.

“Stop it! Please!” You cry out. “I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t hurt him!”

Ray smiles, he releases you from his grasp and steps back. He leans slightly forward to caress your face. “Oh darling, I’m not going to hurt him.” He presses something cold and hard into your open palm. “You are.”

…

It’s in the evening when a file finally catches Spencer’s eye. He’s elbows deep in paperwork and case files, but this one stands out.

“Hang on,” Reed thinks out loud. He gets up from the seat he’s been planted in since the morning and makes his way to the drawing board. “This one– this guy, his name is Malcolm Ray, he was released from prison three weeks ago. His entire family was murdered just a month after he was put away by Luke. It says the killer was never found.”

“The last contact this guy has before he’s put behind bars is Luke,” JJ says.

Spencer nods. “He associates Luke locking him up with him not being there to protect his family.”

Emily sighs. “That’s certainly motive.”

…

You shake your head harshly. The tears falling down your face are making your vision blurry. “No,” you plead. “No, no, no.”

The idea of Luke being hurt is terrifying and unnatural. Luke doesn’t get hurt. Luke is the protector. Luke is strong. But the idea of you being the one to hurt Luke is unbearable.

“Shoot him,” Ray orders.

You shake your head.

Ray moves his hands behind his back and draws out another gun. This one, he points directly at the back of your head. You hear the click of the trigger. “Shoot him,” Ray repeats.

The cold barrel is pressed to your scalp and your adrenaline is surging through your veins. You’re staring at Luke now, desperate for him to give you some of his strength.

“It’s okay,” he speaks softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay,”

He’s giving you permission– letting you off the hook, so that way if you actually choose to shoot him, you can do it guilt free. Leave it to Luke to look after you, even while he’s staring down death.

You let out a shaky sob, your arms trembling with the weight of the handgun. You shake your head one last time and sigh, defeated. “No.”

The barrel of the gun pushes harder into your head while you hear Ray mutter, “You stupid–”

But his speech is interrupted when a strong voice echoes through the warehouse.

“Put it down, Ray!”

You turn to find the source of the voice, but before you can, you’re being grabbed again and pulled backwards.

Ray’s holding you to his chest, his arm across your neck, the gun that was pointed to the back of your head is now secured tightly on your temple.

“Drop it,” a familiar voice orders. For a moment, you think that Rossi is speaking to you. You quickly discard the handgun, letting it crash to the floor.

“Malcolm, I know what they did to your wife,” Spencer’s there too. He takes a step closer. Your eyes linger on him desperately. “And your son.”

You feel the grip around your neck tighten.

“I want him to hurt! The way that I hurt!” Ray presses the gun harder and harder to your temple. The angrier he becomes, the rougher he gets with you. You’re scared at what he might do if Spencer pushes him too hard.

“Making him hurt the way that you hurt isn’t going to bring them back, Malcolm. They’re gone.”

For a moment, the grip on your neck gets unbearably tight. So tight, that you have to fight just to inhale. And it’s in that moment that you realize you were going to die. It seems so inevitable. Spencer isn’t looking at you, instead his attention is focused on Ray. You wish he would look at you, offer you some sort of comfort. Your vision starts to go blurry and you find that you can’t even inhale anymore.

Just as you start to accept your new found fate, you feel the grip on your chest loosen. Ray’s arm relaxes and releases you. You lunge forward, your momentum too strong to combat, and tumble to the floor.

“You’re right,” Ray says. “They’re gone.” You’re barely able to crawl forward before you hear an earth-shatteringly loud bang, followed by the sound of Ray’s body hitting the floor.

You can’t help but turn around and face it. Ray’s body lays lifeless on the cool, cement ground. A pool of blood is already spreading around his own head.

You stay stuck like that, unable to move or breathe or think or do anything. You suppose this was what shock felt like– complete and utter numbness. Like time is standing still. Like your mind is no longer connected to your body.

A gentle hand lightly touches your shoulder and you’re awoken from your trance. You jump at the contact, to find Spencer hovering over you, a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, kneeling down so that he’s eye level with you.

You nod– a lie if you ever told one. But you aren’t concerned with yourself at the moment. You sit back on your heels, your hands resting in your lap. The air is suddenly hotter than it’s been all evening.

The red blood spreads so fast on the concrete floor. It oozes thickly in a perfectly round circle. You’re so open, so vulnerable. You don’t feel safe in the open like this. You want to bury yourself in your sheets at home, and wake up to find that this had all been a dream. But sure enough, when you place your hand on your own arm and start scratching vigorously, trying to wake yourself up, you can’t. This is real.

Your ears are ringing as you fall into a pit of darkness, nails digging deeper into your own skin. It’s getting unbearably hot. It’s terrifying how alone you feel.

In a muffled daze, you suddenly hear your name being called.

Once Emily frees him from his restraints, Luke wastes no time in hoisting himself up and rushing over to you. It’s hard to miss his girl sobbing on the ground.

You’re crying harder than he’s ever witnessed, and it makes his knees nearly buckle as he runs closer. Your nails are digging into your own skin and you’re unable to catch even a single second of breath.

When Luke reaches you, he can’t possibly move fast enough. With hands outstretched, he desperately tries to grasp onto any part of you that he can get. You’re trembling, and for a split moment, he notices you flinch from his touch.

“Baby, it’s me,” he assures you, choking on his own words.

It takes you a minute, but soon you realize it’s Luke kneeling beside you. Luke– with his hands on your face. Luke’s not hurting you. Luke’s would never hurt you.

“Shh,” Luke soothes, pulling you into his arms quickly. “I’m here, God– I’m so sorry,” he breaks off when you grasp at his bicep, fingers digging into the cloth of his shirt, craving to be closer and closer to him. “I’m here,” he repeats.

Luke holds you steady, his hand traveling up and down your back comfortingly. After a while, your tear ducts run dry and there’s simply nothing left but exhaustion. You rest your head on his chest.

Once Luke notices that you’ve calmed down slightly, he adjusts his grip on your body and stands the two of you up. “C’mere,” he murmurs. Without waiting for a response, he bends, wraps his arms around your knees and lifts you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your sobs subside while he whispers how much he loves you in your ear.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Luke suggests.

You close your eyes against his chest and simply breathe him in as Luke carries you bridal style out of the warehouse.

You spent the rest of the night attached to Luke. The car ride home you’re glued to his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he mumbles soft words into your ear. When you walk up to your shared house, Luke makes sure to guide each step you take, his steadiness making up for your shakiness. His strong hand resting on your hip. Only once you’re back in the four walls of your own house, do you venture away from him.

You find yourself crawling into bed still fully clothed. You don’t have the energy to do anything else. You’re staring at the blank wall in front of you when you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist. Luke rests his head on your shoulder. You leaned into his arms, finding his hand to hold tightly.

“It’s over.” Luke whispers in your ear.

The words made you relax slightly.

“It’s over,” he repeats. “He’s dead– he’s gone.”

Luke plants a soft kiss to your shoulder blade and you tug him closer against you. His warm breath is comforting and familiar on your neck. And you finally feel safe, in his arms.

“It’s over,” you repeat, exhaling the breath of air you’ve been holding.

#criminal minds #luke alvez #luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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thelukesalvez · 8 months

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can u pls repost the one where it’s the fourth of july and the reader has ptsd from being in the army? i love that one

done :)

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thelukesalvez · 8 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Fourth of July

Description: You & the team go see the fireworks for the fourth of July, you have a trauma response to the loud noise.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: PTSD, blood mention

A/N: Repost :)

“What are the odds that this is the second holiday in a row that a case hasn’t come in?” Rossi mused excitedly.

The entire team was huddled in a circle in the bullpen, waiting for Emily to finish up some last minute paperwork before heading out as a group for the night.

Spencer’s finger shot up in the air. “Statistically speaking–”

“Nope,” Rossi cut him off sharply. “It was a rhetorical question, genius.”

Spencer’s mouth fell shut, but a smile lingered on his lips.

You felt Luke shift from behind you, where you leaned between his legs as he sat perched on his own desk. “No, c’mon,” he chuckled. “I wanna know the statistics!”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully. Your boyfriend was always so interested in whatever random facts Spencer was spewing out.

Reid raised his eyebrows at Rossi, as if to say, see? I told you I was interesting, but before he could actually finish his tidbit, Emily walked out of her office with all her things gathered in her hand.

“Who’s ready for some fireworks?” she asked excitedly.

Everyone but you cheered.

Ever since you’d gotten back from your tour in Iraq, you’d been uneasy around loud noises. It was nothing you weren’t aware of, and certainly nothing out of the ordinary for someone who had seen combat. But it also wasn’t something that you’d told Luke about yet. You planned to, of course, just like you planned on sharing practically everything with him… eventually. But Iraq wasn’t something you could ever talk about with ease, and you knew that disclosing your fears would involve a conversation about why you had them in the first place.

That’s why you found yourself agreeing to join the rest of the team’s Fourth of July plans when Garcia had invited you and Luke earlier that week.

“Sounds fun,” you had lied straight through your teeth. You’d been dreading it ever since.

But Luke would be there. His safe arms would no doubt be wrapped around you, much like they were now. And you planned on funneling all your energy into focusing on the way that felt, rather than the chaos and noise around you.

The team planned on watching the fireworks on the riverbend downtown. They’d be set off across the water, giving you all a perfect view. Garcia promised greasy food from vendors and other sweet treats throughout the night. You kept trying to convince yourself that it wouldn’t all be bad. You just had to concentrate on not flinching everytime a firework popped off.

You rode with Luke, your fingers laced together and resting on the center console as he navigated through traffic. The rest of the team would meet you guys there. You thought you were doing a fair job at concealing your anxiety as you made small talk with him during the short ride. He showed no inclination of knowing about the knots tying themselves tighter and tighter inside your stomach.

There were a lot more people at the river than you’d originally anticipated. But Luke easily managed to find a parking spot, and the two of you waited by the trunk of his car until the rest of the team arrived.

Emily, Tara, Garcia Spencer, and Rossi all rode together. They were the first to find a spot right next to yours and join the two of you. Next, JJ and Will filed in, with no kids for the evening. Lastly, Matt and Kristy arrived, hand in hand with matching smiles on their faces.

You were like a big, giant, extended family weaving your way through the crowd of people. There were vendors and food trucks lines along the riverbend. Kids ran around with sticks of cotton candy and sparklers.

You found a spot amidst the crowd to lay down the blanket. It almost felt like a picnic when you all sat down. You sat in front of Luke, a foot or so away, rummaging through your bag for your phone. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grip your hips and pull you backwards, between his legs, your back against his chest.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek. You smiled into his touch, appreciating how safe and secure you always felt in his arms. If you could stay like this all night, you just might be okay.

The sun started to set across the riverbed, leaving in its wake a brilliantly pink and purple sky. For a while, you just stayed like that, Luke’s arms coiled around you, your head leaned back and resting on his chest, watching the violet hues from the sunset fade into darkness.

“I can’t believe you’ve lived in Virginia all this time and have never seen the fireworks here,” Garcia gawked at Spencer. He was sitting on the blanket, his arms behind him as he leaned back.

“I’m not a big fireworks guy,” Spencer shrugged. “I don’t see the appeal.”

“Well you’ve been going to the wrong fireworks shows then, because this is going to blow your freakishly smart mind,” Garcia promised.

Luke shifted behind you, sitting up a little straighter.

“Where can I get one of those?” Luke asked, intrigued as he sees a small boy run by with a cone of chocolate ice cream.

“Ice cream truck’s this way,” Garcia grinned, pointing her finger to the array of food trucks parked about 50 yards away. “Follow me.”

You instantly felt the absence of Luke’s arms when he stood up. It left you cold and shivering.

“Want anything, baby?” he asked, looking down at you.

You shook your head apprehensively.

“I’ll be right back.”

You smiled up at him. You weren’t sure if it was to reassure him or yourself that you’d be okay while he was gone.

The air was brisk and Luke still wasn’t back when the first firework went off.

You saw it shoot up into the air, a vibrant white streak of color contrasting with the night sky, before it actually popped. But no amount of planning could have prepared you for the sound. It was deafening and loud and it made your entire body go rigid with fear.

You looked around and you could see that you weren’t in Iraq. So why did the night air feel so hot and dry? Why did the soft blanket beneath your legs suddenly feel coarse and sandy?

You had zoned out enough to not be ready for the second firework to pop off. When it did, the sound made you jump. And instantly, you were transported back to the desert. In your mind you could see, clear as day, the rest of your squad ducking behind the army truck beside you. You’ve got your gun clutched to your chest while bullets whizzed all around you, making it hard to concentrate. The loud sound of gunfire ringing in your ears was all consuming. You didn’t recognize the man crouched next to you. You barely even noticed him until his scream interrupted the steady sound of gunfire. When you looked over, his hand was pressed against his stomach, his eyes looking down at the fresh bullet hole in his abdomen. The diameter of blood on his uniform expanded rapidly.

“No, no, no–” you gasped, throwing your gun down to help him apply pressure to the wound. Your hands were shaking so violently, you could barely trust them to help, but you had to try.

“P-please,” his words were clouded by the blood that was spilling out from his mouth. “Please help me.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” you told him, your voice wavering.

He let out a choppy exhale, blood spraying out of his lips. It was like you both knew it wasn’t true.

Someone was yelling your name, it sounds like your Lieutenant. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man beneath you. You were scared that the second you looked away, he’d be gone.

You heard your name again, but this time, it sounded closer, and the voice is softer– more familiar. It was accompanied by a hand shaking your shoulder.

When you turned your head, hopeful that someone was finally here to help, you were surprised to see Spencer’s face gazing back at you. You blinked harshly and when you opened your eyes again, the sand was gone.

There was no man bleeding in your lap, no gunfire, no war.

Just Spencer’s worried gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, trying not to draw the attention of anyone else.

Your heart was racing, so much so that you think if you looked down, you could see it beating underneath your own skin. There was adrenaline and fear rushing through your veins. But instead of telling him the truth, you just nodded.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered, your mouth dry. “I ju-just, I don’t feel good.”

It was a bad excuse, and one that Spencer clearly didn’t buy. But you needed a reason to get out of there. So, confused, dazed, and panicked, you stood up from the blanket and hurried off in the direction you thought was safety.

…

Luke made his way back to the blanket, laughing at something Garcia had said.

“Keep it up with all this ice cream and soon enough you won't be able to chase criminals.”

He faked being offended.

But when he made his way back to the rest of the team, he was startled to see that you weren’t there. Before Luke could ask, Spencer was standing up and walking towards him and Garcia.

“Hey,” he said discreetly. “Y/N took off, like- just a few minutes ago. I asked if she was okay, but she just said she didn’t feel good. I don’t know- she didn’t look okay,” he admitted.

“Was she sick?” Luke asked, instantly worried.

Spencer shrugged, “She looked out of it- really spooked. I tried to keep my eye on her, but I lost her in the crowd.”

Reid pointed towards the massive gathering of people. “It looked like she was heading towards the cars,” he told Luke.

Without hesitating, Luke just nodded, handing his ice cream to a concerned-looking Garcia, before spinning on his feet and following in the direction that Reid was pointing.

He pushed against the crowd of people, keeping his eyes peeled only for you. Only when he got to the parking lot did Luke’s shoulders relax even the slightest. From across the lot, he saw his truck, and a small figure leaning over near it that could only be you.

Luke exhaled, relieved that he at least was able to find you, before walking closer.

As he approached, he quickly realized that something was wrong. You were doubled over, your hands resting on your knees. At first, Luke thought you were getting sick, but as he got closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of your muffled cries.

That made him pick up his pace.

“Hey-” he said. “What’re you doing over here?” But there was no indication that you even heard him. Instead, you let out a shaky sob and stumbled on your feet.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurried over, reaching out to steady you.

As soon as his hand landed on your hip you whipped around, standing up straight while your entire body flinched at the contact. The sharp gesture caused Luke to pull away, momentarily shocked.

But when he saw your face, eyes red rimmed and tears streaming down your face, his chest tightened. As a veteran, he’d seen this kind of dazed and panicked look before. He just had no idea he’d ever see it from you.

“L-Luke?” you said, like you couldn’t quite believe it was him.

He cautiously nodded, not wanting to make any more sudden movements that would startle you. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

The affirmation was all you needed to rush over to him. At first he was rigid when you collided with his chest, your arms wrapping around his back craving the safety of his embrace.

He placed a gentle hand on your back, and once he realized you weren’t going to flinch again, he wound his arms all the way around you tightly.

For a while, neither one of you said anything. You clung to him like your life depended on it and Luke just held you reassuringly, knowing that was exactly what you needed.

It wasn’t until he heard you mumble something into his chest that he even considered letting go.

“What?” he asked, leaning back so that he could look down at you.

“He bled out-” you repeated. “Right in my lap.”

Luke didn’t have to ask you for clarification. And even though he knew very little about your time in Iraq, he understood. “Was it the fireworks?” he asked gently, rubbing his hands up and down your shivering arms.

You nodded slowly, still not meeting his gaze.

“Loud noises in general trigger it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked sympathetically. He felt so guilty for encouraging you to attend such a loud event. Had he had any idea loud noises were a trigger for you, he would have insisted you spend the Fourth of July curled up on the couch with takeout instead.

You rubbed your wet eyes with the palms of your hands, unable to imagine how pathetic you looked to Luke right now. “I-I have a hard time talking about it.”

Luke nodded, urging you to continue.

“I have a hard time talking about Iraq, so I-I didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Oh baby,” he sighed. He pulled you into his chest once again, this time his chin resting on top of your head comfortingly. You were consumed entirely by his embrace, and the shaking that had been wracking your entire body was finally starting to ease.

“I thought I’d be okay,” you admitted into his chest. “But as soon as you left it just was too much.”

You heard Luke sigh into your hair before pulling back. He held you out in front of him, his two arms placed securely on your arms. His brown eyes stared captivatingly into yours. “You can always tell me these things, okay?” he insisted. “I want you to, because I understand. I don’t like loud noises either. I’ve been dreading this all week. I only agreed to come because I thought you’d want to.”

It felt like a relief to finally let out a light chuckle. “Are you serious?” you asked him in disbelief.

He nodded, returning the smile.

“So you would’ve been happy just staying home tonight?”

“I would’ve preferred it,” he said through a chuckle.

You scoffed. “Well that would’ve saved me a lot of embarrassment.”

“Next year, yeah?”

You nodded, once again falling into his arms, this time with much greater ease. You were amazed at how quickly he was able to calm you down.

“I feel safer when you’re around,” you admitted.

You felt his arms tighten around you before he said, “Well lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

#luke alvez #criminal minds #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fic #luke alvez x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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