Y/N
You had never been happier. You were working with the best unit in the FBI, you had the best boyfriend ever and you had really started to consider the BAU team your family. It helped that you got along with everyone.
You and Penelope bonded over kitten videos.
You, Prentiss and JJ bonded over fashion.
You and Derek bonded over solved cases.
You and Rossi had bonded over the vinyl records that he owned.
As for you and Hotch, well, he'd often express more emotion whenever you and him talked. You were unsure why, but every time you asked Hotch how his day was going, or how his work was going, he'd answer you, but he'd be more expressive compared to when he was talking to other members of the team.
———
You walked into the BAU bullpen, refreshed and ready for whatever case was going to be thrown your way. No one else had arrived to work yet, except Hotch, who was in his office working by 7 AM every morning - if there weren't any cases. Spencer was only 20 minutes behind you, as he wanted to get coffee for you both, so he'd arrive at work at about 7:40.
It took you 5 minutes to get up to the bullpen, which gave you plenty of time to relax. As you got closer to your desk, you were confused by the yellow envelope that sat perfectly parallel to the edge of your desk. It was 7:25 AM, which means it was way too early for any deliveries.
You had no idea who had sent you the envelope. The handwriting was eerily familiar, but as to who it belonged to, you had no clue. Looked at the name on the front.
Agent Y/N Y/L/N, BAU
FBI Academy, Quantico, Virginia.
Whoever had sent this envelope knew that you were a member of the BAU. This creeped you out. Usually, most letters intended for FBI Agents only refer to the Agent by their rank and then which FBI HQ they work at. It was rare for a sender to know what unit or division an Agent worked with.
With caution, you opened the letter, not sure what exactly you'd be facing. Inside the envelope was just a letter. Nothing else. The letter itself should have been non-threatening, but once again, seeing the handwriting made you feel weird. It's like the handwriting was showing just how scary the person who wrote it was. Your fear of the sender of the letter only got worse as you stared longer at the handwriting. You needed to read the letter and get it over with.
You think you're better than me just because you work for the FBI? You're nothing but a pathetic joke of a human being. Just because you have a gun and a badge, doesn't mean you're better than me. You know who I am, Y/N. You know what you did to me. For years, I've been waiting. Waiting for the perfect time to show you just how powerful I am and how weak you are.
Right now, I bet you think that you're protected by being inside the FBI. You think you're protected by the people you're surrounded by. No one can protect you from the pain that I will cause. Not Aaron Hotchner. Not David Rossi. Not Derek Morgan. Not Emily Prentiss. Not Jennifer Jareau. Not Penelope Garcia. Not even your weak boyfriend Spencer Reid.
Tell them whatever you want. You can tell them about this letter. I don't care. Just because they know about this letter, doesn't mean they'll be able to protect or save you. It's true what they say, that your past actions come to bite you in the ass. I truly believe that - because I am here, making sure that you pay for the pain you caused me - karma's a bitch.
You angrily put the letter down onto your desk. There was no signature. No initials. No indication as to who might have sent this letter. You initially believed the sender to be Agent Jackson, but when the sender mentioned that they had been waiting for years, that idea was no longer plausible. Whoever had sent this letter to you was someone you had known for years.
You quickly folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Before anyone could see it, you stuffed the envelope into your desk drawer, intending to ignore it and forget about it for as long as possible. You weren't going to let this ass-clown's threats scare you.