Emily *unbuttoning Shirt*: God It’s So Hot In Here.

Emily: Calling me a "People Pleaser" is so misleading. Absolutely nothing I have done in my life has ever pleased anyone.

JJ: I need boy advice, help!

Emily: Kill him.

Emily: Meeting new people is a pain. I never know what to say.

JJ: Just be yourself. Say something nice!

Emily: Which one? I can’t do both.

Penelope: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be?

JJ: Maybe a bit tipsy?

Spencer: Drunk.

Derek: Wasted.

Emily: Dead.

Hotch: We need to talk about-

Emily: The house was already on fire when I got there.

Emily: What?

Hotch: What?

Emily: I have the sharpest memory! Name one time I’ve forgotten something.

Derek: You left me in a Walmart parking lot like, three weeks ago.

Emily: I did that on purpose, try again.

A New Light (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 5)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 2k

"How's that big head of yours?" Emily asked as she leaned against the door frame of Derek's hospital room. She had come straight from the crime scene, where Hotch had received a call that Derek was being released but needed someone to pick him up. Emily immediately volunteered, the lingering guilt still at the back of her mind. 

"Always the flatterer, princess." Derek chuckled as he packed his bag, "Doctors think she drugged me transdermally."

"Jesus. She really was two steps ahead of us," Emily sighed, and Derek nodded in confirmation, "Hotch said she struck again?"

"Yeah, she's taunting us," Emily said.

"This is my fault. I should have done more to stop her-" Derek started before Emily cut him off.

"She drugged you, Derek. No one could have seen that coming."

"I know, but-"

"Ah! No buts! Except for yours, which is about to get pushed around by me in a wheelchair." Emily smiled as she gestured to the wheelchair outside of his room.

"Like hell I am," Derek scoffed as he tried to walk out of the room but was stopped by Emily. 

"It's hospital protocol. And I'll call Dad if you don't cooperate!" Emily threatened.

Derek rolled his eyes but eventually sat in the wheelchair. Emily could be very scary when she wanted to be.

Out of everyone, he was glad that it was Emily to get him. They shared an easy camaraderie, which was exactly what he needed. 

"I don't think Hotch will approve of you calling him Dad." Derek quipped back as Emily pushed him through the halls of the hospital.

"Yeah, you're right. Mom suits him better." Emily smiled, causing Derek to laugh, "Ten bucks to say that to his face." 

"Oh, you're on," Emily said, flicking the back of his head, and their bickering continued all the way to the car. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

"Alright, my beautiful crime fighters," Penelope started as she walked into the conference room where the rest of the team was. As soon as Emily and Derek had walked into the bullpen, Hotch had called everyone to debrief and review new information.

"I found a whole lot of nothing with the information Derek gave us, but I did possibly find something!" Penelope said as she connected her computer to the TV. 

"I ran the name Y/n Y/l/n, and unsurprisingly, I found nada. However, I ran the name Alex Painter, Y/n's first victim, through VICAP and got this.."

The technical analyst pulled the picture up, and the team sat in confusion.

"Alex Painter was a woman?" Emily asked, extremely skeptical if this was the right person.

"And she was killed in 1991? Assuming Y/n is in her mid-20s, that would put her at about 6-10 years old when she killed Alex Painter." Spencer chimed in.

"COD was blunt force trauma to the head; I mean, even though it sounds unlikely, it isn't entirely impossible," Derek said.

"I've seen it before," Rossi added. 

"You can't be serious," JJ said defensively, causing the whole team to look at her, surprised by her uncharacteristic tone, "She was just a kid. There's no way she could have done that by herself."

"I'm with JJ," Emily said, although much calmer than her blonde counterpart, "Something's off. This is either the wrong Alex Painter, or we're getting into something a lot bigger than we thought."

The rest of the team nodded; not everyone was on the same page, but everyone knew something wasn't adding up. 

"Well, that's my cue to do more sleuthing. I will update you guys when I'm done. PG out." Penelope declared as she grabbed her stuff and made her way to her lair for the foreseeable future. 

"While Garcia's doing that, I want a new profile on Y/n, especially after last night,"  Hotch said as he motioned to the numerous boxes on the table. "Go over all the case files again; maybe there's something Interpol missed." He said before going to his office to no doubt do his own work.

"Well, this should be fun," Derek grumbled, earning a sigh from everyone else.

"Coffee, anyone?" Emily asked, knowing this was about to be a long day. Everyone gave a pleasant nod. Before she left the room, she turned to JJ when no one was looking and mouthed "tea," to which JJ gave a grateful smile.  

As Emily was brewing the coffee, she felt her phone buzz. Not thinking anything of it, she pulled it out of her pocket. But when she saw the sender of the text, her heart dropped. 

Y/n (10:23 am): Did you like the flowers?

Emily scoffed, about to turn her phone off, when another message popped up.

Y/n (10:24 am): It was hard to find them on such short notice. But only the best for you, darling.

Emily (10:24 am): I don't want anything from you.

Emily quickly typed out. She didn't know if this was against protocol, but she couldn't just not respond. 

Y/n (10:25 am): We'll see about that.

Emily pocketed her phone, leaving the conversation at that before turning to the coffee pot and filling up everyone's mug. 

"Thanks for the tea," Emily heard from behind her and turned to find JJ.

"Of course. You feeling okay?" She asked as she handed JJ her mug, "No morning sickness, thankfully. But I give the smell of coffee two hours before it makes me puke."

"I'm sorry," Emily said apologetically, but JJ waved her off.

"So, have you put any more thought into you and Will?" Emily asked, trying not to pry, but she also wanted to get her mind off of Y/n.

"I don't know," JJ sighed, "He was blowing up my phone last night."

"After you told him you were at my place?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, he was just worried," JJ said quietly. 

Emily tried not to let her emotions play on her face, but god, she couldn't stand Will. 

"Well, you're welcome to come over whenever. And if you need me to talk to Will-" Emily started before JJ cut her off.

"It's fine, Em. But thank you." JJ said appreciatively, squeezing Emily's arm. 

"Yo! Where's that coffee, princess?" Derek called from the conference room. 

"Well, duty calls." JJ chuckled as she helped Emily grab the mugs. 

When they returned to the conference room, there were files everywhere. It was going to be a very long day.

By 6 pm, it seemed as if they had made no progress. Emily's eyes were strained, and she honestly didn't think she was retaining anything she was reading. 

"This is insane," Derek muttered as he picked another file out of the box.

"What is?" Spencer asked, adding another file to his stack that was probably double the size of everyone else's.

"Her victim count. It's insane." Derek said as it was the most obvious thing.

"Why? Cause she's a woman?" JJ asked.

"Yeah," Derek said sarcastically, causing Emily to throw her pen at him, hitting him right in the forehead, "Hey! I was kidding!"

"I know," Emily smiled, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"What I meant was that she's in her twenties and already has a kill count in the hundreds. What happened to her that made her into the killer she is?" Derek questioned.

"I don't know. And until we figure that out, we stand no chance of catching her," Rossi added.

Emily bit at her bottom lip. She didn't want to think about how many more people were going to die before they caught Y/n.

"Maybe I can try and lure her out again." Emily offered and was immediately met with a resounding no from everyone.

"We already did that, and it didn't work," JJ said. Not even wanting to think about sending her friend to meet Y/n again. 

"And besides, you know that's not how we work, Prentiss," Derek said.

"Yeah, yeah. You're right." Emily said with a small nod. But she couldn't help but think they could catch Y/n quicker if they did, except for the fact that Derek was right. The BAU didn't go undercover and lure people; they profiled and caught unsubs from an outside perspective. And that's how Emily wanted to do things from here on out. Right?

It was almost 8 pm by the time she walked into her apartment. The last two days were catching up to her, and Emily wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next 12 hours. She quickly popped a frozen pizza into the oven before going to change. 

As she waited for the pizza, she browsed through her bookshelf when she suddenly remembered that Y/n told her she was a writer. Was it possible that Emily had read one of her books? She had quite a hefty collection in her apartment, but it wasn't even a fraction of all the books she'd read in her life. 

What kind of books did Y/n write? Emily wondered. Mystery? Romance? Fiction? Fantasy?

And what got her into writing? How did she even have time to write and murder hundreds of men?

The oven rang, pulling Emily out of her thoughts. She shook her head as she walked back to the kitchen. Reading was supposed to help her get out of her head, and all she could think about was Y/n. 

She took her pizza on the couch, putting on some reality show that she didn't pay any attention to. 

After about twenty minutes, Emily pulled her phone out and went to her text messages with Y/n. She knew she should tell Hotch she was in contact with Y/n. But what if Hotch disapproved and made her end it? She couldn't get rid of the only lead they had, so maybe she should wait until she got enough out of Y/n. 

So, without thinking too hard about it, she texted Y/n. 

Emily (9:02 PM): Alex Painter.

The name was all Emily typed before turning off her phone. She knew Y/n wouldn't be able to resist talking to her. And even if the younger woman didn't give her anything, what harm could it do? It wasn't like the team was making much leeway anyway.

Y/n (9:03 PM): I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? Change of heart?

Emily (9:03 PM): No. I just want to know about Alex Painter. 

Y/n (9:04 PM): What about her?

Y/n (9:04 PM): Also, this is not the kind of late-night text I prefer, Emily.

Emily scoffed, ignoring the last message.

Emily (9:05 PM): Did you really kill her in 1991?

Y/n (9:05 PM): I don't know, did I? I thought your team was supposed to be good at stuff like this.

Y/n (9:06 PM): Also, what are you wearing?

Once again, Emily ignored the last message.

Emily (9:06 PM): You were just a kid in 1991. How were you able to overpower a grown woman?

Y/n (9:07 PM): Answer my question, and I'll answer yours.

Emily groaned as she looked down at her outfit. She knew what Y/n was doing, and she didn't want to play into her game. But if she could get an answer, it would be worth it. And it wasn't like she was doing anything illegal.

Emily (9:09 PM): An old Yale T-shirt and flannel pajama shorts.

Y/n (9:09 PM): Surprising, but nonetheless hot. Want to know what I'm wearing?

Emily (9:09 PM): No. I answered your question, now answer mine.

Y/n (9:10 PM): Bummer. If you wanted to know, I would have told you that I am taking a very relaxing bath right now and am wearing absolutely nothing.

Emily gripped her phone, cursing her brain for visualizing that for even a second. God, this was a bad idea.

Y/n (9:10 PM): And if you had said please, I definitely would have sent you a picture. 

Emily (9:10 PM): Back to Alex Painter 

Emily typed, not wanting to entertain Y/n any longer. 

Y/n (9:11 PM): Yes ma'am.

Y/n (9:11 PM): 1991 is correct. More specifically, I was 7. And to answer your question, I took the last hit.

Emily (9:11 PM): What does that mean?

Y/n (9:12 PM): You tell me. But I have to say I'm quite bored of this conversation now. We'll talk later, darling.

Emily shut off her phone, knowing the conversation was done. But what did Y/n mean by her taking the last hit?

Emily quickly went to clean her kitchen before getting into bed. 

She tried to sleep, but all she could think about was Y/n. 

JJ: Look, let's just agree to say sorry on the count of three. One, two, three...

Emily:

JJ:

JJ: See, now I'm disappointed in both of us.

Emily: Not me. I've never been prouder.

Spencer: Why are people always fighting over top or bottom? I would be lucky just to have a bunk bed.

Derek:

Penelope:

JJ:

Emily: I'm gonna tell him.

JJ: Don't you dare.

Emily: You're a lying, cheating, piece of garbage! You're not the woman I married!

JJ: Then we'll get a divorce! And I'm taking Henry!

Henry, slowly sliding the monopoly board away from them: I think it's time we stop playing...