#reader archetype

Studying shifts in social atmospheres becomes instinct. You weather through questions and flashing lights the way boarding schools taught you—composed, thoughtful, highly intelligent. And beautiful, perhaps, though that’s too soft a word. 

You are all structure and clean lines—perfectly tailored clothes, polished shoes, hair and make up done impeccably. You listen more than you speak, but once you do, everyone falls silent to listen. 

Your most trusted weapon isn’t your gun—it is a microphone.

Your precision and poise tend to read as calculating, your enjoyment for the finer things reads as spoiled, and the BAU holds you at arm's length because you’re so unlike the kind, empathetic Emily Prentiss they knew. 

All except for Spencer Reid, who sees your entire existence as another betrayal. He lashes out, petty in his hurt, and you go even lower; two sides of the same coin. Finding where the other is most tender, where the skin will yield so insults and threats can bury bone deep. Your inferior academy scores. His horrible social skills. Your mother’s favoritism. Maeve. 

cheerleader!reader actually does not know how (or, frankly, why) she got as popular as she did. she recalls joining the cheer team one day, and waking up the next day to, like, fifty message requests — girls she'd never imagined talking to, pretty, cool, friendly girls, calling her to hang out; boys she'd never hoped having to talk to, asking for her number. she's just here to see some good gymnastics, really; she is now an active member of their lunch table, though, and it means she has to act waaaaay cooler than she feels.

cheerleader!reader is a hopeless romantic. she has, also, never had a boyfriend. those things are not unrelated.

cheerleader!reader was a Curious George girl growing up. she had at least one caprisun and an average of three packs of welch's fruit snacks a day (don't tell anyone she's kept that habit). she played minecraft creative mode on the house's xbox 360 — all superflat worlds and diamond block houses — and never caved into society's pressure to turn on survival instead. that resistance of hers, nowadays, doesn't often last too long.

cheerleader!reader loves blue and yellow (yeah, no shit) and she tells herself it's not just because of her uniform; she loves it when the sun comes out after the rain, chicken fettuccine alfredoes and pepsis, tulips, penelope garcia, lilies, chapstick with lip liner, the concept of a letter left on a pillow, cold tea, riding a bike, talking all day about any and every thing, the beach at night, oversized t-shirts, and stuffed animals.

cheerleader!reader hates most of the guys on the team, chemistry and its teacher, polyester bedsheets, winter, measuring vanilla, that tight feeling on the back of the throat before the tears start flowing, cliques, beige, gluten-free bread, men's cologne, assumptions and rumors, stanley bottles, short socks, tuesdays, high rise jeans, and people who don't pay attention.

cheerleader!reader is, at the moment, either: trying and failing miserably to fall asleep, baking cookies and lacing them with laxatives for the boys, chewing off her fingernails and covering them with acrylics, studying or pretending to do so, going on a walk, getting those 30 minutes of sleep during a random class, writing, or, maybe, putting on mascara.

want a sticker?

oh, no, these are her favorites, sorry. she's totally saving them up for... something? surely someone else has a sticker page filled with strangely specific quotes, though.