I Want One Of Those Scenes In A Dude Bro Film Where “tomboy” Chick Has To Wear A Dress To Go Undercover

Headcanons

Rhonda Rosen x Reader

Warnings: One "innuendo" (the word frisky)

(I broke under the pressure of Bi panic. She needs more love)

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Rhonda will never admit it but she loves to be serenaded. Gentle kisses and sweet whispers of love in private. 

She’s touched starved, badly. If you touch her around others she’ll smack your hand away and give you a death glare, but when it’s just the two of you she wants to be held like a baby. It took a while to get to this point, promising her its okay and that you’re not gonna make fun of her. 

Little dates where you would draw her in charcoal. (She seems so drawable for some reason) “Yeah, it looks nice i guess.” Is the biggest compliment on your art that you’re gonna get. On the inside shes freaking out because out of everything you could draw you chose her. 

Rhonda’s secretly a hopeless romantic. She’s read every cheesy rom-com book she could get her hands on. Speaking of hands, she won’t let you hold hers. Says it's childish but will let you interlock pinkies with her when no ones looking. 

Secret makeout sessions in the teachers lounge when its empty. Won’t let it escalate beyond kissing, that's for special occasions when shes feeling frisky. 

Never, and I mean NEVER steal her hat. She will freak out, it’s what ties her look together. 

Write her little poems and leave them for her, just never read them out loud or let her read them in front of you. If she happens to ‘accidentally’ stumble across one of them you wrote for her she’ll read it, keep it, and never mention it to you. Secretly she learns every word to it and holds it close to her heart. 

Her version of ‘i love you’ is ‘fuck you’. She says it with such grace. 

Baby’s got trust issues and has a hard time leaning on people because the one time she did it landed her a first class ticket to death so it’s gonna take a lot for her to be able to show her soft side. She will never be the type to use sweet pet names or go for romantic late night walks but eventually she’ll open up. Her hearts a very delicate thing so feel honored that she gave it to you no matter how reluctant she was.

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Pt.6

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022. Broken Fingers. Blood. Emotional Numbness. Hearing Voices. Self Depreciation. Description of a Dead Body. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness.

2.2k words

pt.5

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You were shaking, not from the cold but from the sheer amount of anger that consumed you. Another bottle, another job lost, another eviction threat. Hell you’ve barely eaten in the past few days because there's not much to eat. He promised, he promised he was gonna do better.

It was late and cold. You didn’t grab a jacket before leaving the house because all you wanted to do was get away. The sound of cars speeding by you as you walked on the sidewalk weren't enough to drown out your own thoughts. It doesn't make sense, how can he say he loves you but hurt you over and over again? That's not love, you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out for what it was. 

Hot streams of angry tears pooled down your face as you walked, almost ran. To where? No one knows, just however far your feet will take you. Hopefully away from that fucked up place you call come. The tremors got worse, almost like your emotions were trying to burst out of and cause chaos for miles. Buildings burning, taking innocent screaming strangers with them so they can feel the same thing you have all your life. Pure boiling hot rage that never goes away. 

For as long as you can remember you’ve always been like this. Random outbursts and fights at school. One time you got in trouble for randomly punching a kid because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up at 8 in the morning. It’s overwhelming, all consuming, back and forth from anger to complete numbness on repeat. 

He didn’t do anything to make it any better. All of the cuts, fist shaped holes in the walls around your house, a god damn suicide attempt, and you’re still not even close to a top priority to him. A fathers supposed to protect, not leave you with more emotional scars than you can count. He doesn’t even see that he’s hurting you. Why aren't you good enough to change for? All you ask is that he at least tries but he can’t even do that. 

Why aren't you enough to try for? Are you just that fucking worthless that your own father wont even fight for you? He’s not worth your tears or your time but you still give it to him every time. It’s your fault, you don’t do enough to help him. He’s suffering and it's your fault. 

You let out a frustrated noise as you stopped walking, turning to the street lamp beside you, you pulled your arm back and balled your fist, pushing your arm forward and allowed your fist to make contact with the rusted metal. It sent a vibrating force through your entire right arm but you didn’t stop, over, and over, and over again you took your anger out on the innocent non suspecting source of light. 

You didn’t stop until your hand was numb, knuckles busted and dripping with blood. Broken sobs escaped you as you allowed your body to sink onto the pavement, back resting against the cold concrete. You probably look crazy to any passerbyers but they can fuck off, this is your story not theirs. 

Your everything felt numb, emotional and physical, it was all numb. It was like reality no longer existed, time warping into nothingness. For that moment it was just you in the world, everything else becoming nothing but shapes and blobs of color. You were alone and it bordered on the edge between being peaceful and being lonely. 

You don’t know how long you laid there for. Somehow it felt like hours but also only a few minutes. When you got up you felt lighter, like all the emotions that were once weighing you down dissolved with every punch. Your hand was shaking and you realized you couldn’t move your fingers. They began to hurt as you tried to bend them. 

“Fuck” Good going, you broke your fucking fingers. How the hell were you going to explain this one? You begin your journey back home, praying that your dad would be asleep by now, not wanting to explain the blood dripping from your knuckles and listen to him complain through slurred words. You’d figure out how to hide the fact that your ring and middle fingers are unusable when you get there. 

(“1 fish, 2 fish, this flashbacks been too long bitch” - My Brother, 2024) 

Emotional numbness is such a weird thing. Going from explosive to nothingness in such a short span of time seems inhuman. If you really think about it, what does human mean? Were all souls walking around in a vessel of flesh. No different from animals, so why split us by species? We all live and die in the end, so what's the point? 

Hell life and death are barely different. You thought it would be different. Movie ghosts really tricked you into believing the afterlife had something to offer, but it’s all the fucking same. You can’t escape yourself in life or death. You’re scared, a word you didn’t use often but it's the only thing that can describe this. You’re no different than the band kids that go in the same damn circles over and over again trying to perfect their performance. A loop, a truly fucking terrifying loop. 

If someone were to ask you in life if you were afraid of death you would have said no, you’re afraid of the effect it will have on the people around you but now you’d just scream and beg for a way out. But on a deeper level you’d say that the familiarity in death was somehow comforting. It sounds weird but it reminds you that you’re still you. Both good and bad, letting that go would slice away the last little bit of sanity you have left. 

The bell had already rang 3 times as kids came in and out of the bathroom but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Instead you allowed yourself time to think, your brain finally getting a chance to speak over all the intruders that tried to silence it. You know it’s only temporary but for now you’re enjoying it. It had been a while since it was just you and your unhazy mind. It’s like talking to an old friend, catching up on all the new life updates… well death updates. 

The kids whispered about you, well what they found of you. Officially dead, officially becoming a whisper in the halls. You thought it would hurt more, but it was kinda funny. No one paid attention to you in life but now that you’re gone all of a sudden you’re the talk of the school, such bullshit. 

It wasn’t until Rhonda walked in, a sucker in her mouth as always that you finally pulled yourself out of the back of your own mind. Where the hell does she get those things? 

“Hey pill popper.” She spouted that nickname with the same unimpressed look as always. You hated to admit it but you found it kinda funny. Pill popper, creative. 

“Hey Wednesday.” Not your best work but it was fitting for her. 

“Why are you on the floor?” You could tell she doesn't really care. Just wanting to get this conversation over with. 

“It’s comfy.” It’s not, the coldness of the hard floor was already making you sore but you know it won’t last. Your body will reset itself as soon as you stand up.

“Gross.” You let out a small chuckle. One thing you like about Rhonda is her bluntness. She doesn't sugar coat shit. She told you a lot about death when you first got here, though you were still in denial about it all she made it make more sense. “Charley told me to come get you.” Her face never changed, dead inside and out. 

“Group?” You knew you’d have to go eventually. The idea of sitting in a circle reinforces the fact that life and death are the same. You would have ended up in the same situation regardless. 

“Yup.” She put the lolly pop back in her mouth before walking away without another word. 

Great, group time. That also means seeing Wally again. He probably thinks you’re a complete weirdo. Oh well, you can't avoid him forever so might as well get it over with. It’s odd, you had a complete melt down earlier about what he thought of you and now you couldn’t care less. Emotions, what an odd thing. 

You pushed yourself off the ground, the soreness that was there seconds ago fading away in an instant. The walk to the gym was short, the halls being crowded but manageable. The familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor filled your eras, only this time it was several pairs. The same group of boys, playing the same game, in the same gym, where the same ghost class is held. This was starting to feel like the real loop. 

Wally was already sitting in his usual spot when he noticed you, waiving with a smile. What's with this guy? His friendly demeanor seems nice but something about it makes you feel unnerved. You don’t deserve his kindness. 

As you sit down in your chair, right beside Wally, Mr.Martin offers you a kind greeting.

“Ah, hey.” Your name rolled off his tongue in a gentle bright manner, happy to see you. “So glad to see you.” You didn’t respond, just gave him an awkward tight lipped smile. You didn’t pay attention to what was going on around you, just stared at your hands, picking at the skin that covers them. The old scars we faded, some bigger than the others. You used to pick at them until they’d bleed. The beautiful crimson reminding you that as much as you think you’ve changed you haven't. At the end of the day you still hurt yourself unconsciously. 

You felt a hand creep over to yours, pulling them apart so your nails couldn’t cause anymore damage. You didn’t have to look up to know who they belong to. Instead you kept your gaze down and slipped your hands into your pocket and watched the boy's hand slip away from you. 

You felt stupid for enjoying the warmth he provided, even though it was only for a second it felt nice. It’s something you don’t know if you’re ever going to get again, the warmth of someone else. Like cuddling during movie nights with the one girl who had stuck beside you through it all, had held you when you’d cry, had pulled your hair back when you got to drunk and needed to hug a strangers toilet bowl, had been there with your dad to pick you up from rehab, had mapped out tattoos to cover your scars. You’ll never get that warmth again.

You heard Mr.Martin say your name, and judging by his voice it wasn't the first time he said it before you finally noticed. You looked up at him, you didn’t bother hiding the look on your face. Probably confused, upset, scared, every emotion you could name. “Huh?”

“I asked how you’re feeling” His face was warm as ever, somehow making you feel out of place in the conversion. 

“Fine, perfectly fine.” You’re far from it and you know he can tell. Everyone can and you can’t be bothered to hide it. You couldn’t feel emotions but they were still there, unconnected, just floating around, confused, not knowing where to go. 

The look on his face didn’t change but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. “You can talk to us, we’ve all been in your position before.” That stupid line, Wally had said something similar but it's not true. They’ve died but they don’t understand. Being dead isn’t the issue, being you is.

“I’ve never been in that position.” Rhonda spoke up, examining her lollipop like it's the most interesting thing in the world. “We all saw her body, disgusting.” Okay maybe Rhonda was a little too honest sometimes. 

“Rhonda” Mr.Martin shot her a warning look.

“Definitely not my best look.” Somehow even after they found your body school went on. Is that normal? Have so many kids died here that they don’t even bother to shut it down for even a day? Everyone’s acting normal, but the whispers of the kids in the bathroom you spent hours in stuck with you. 

Rhonda put her sucker back in her mouth, arms crossed over her chest as always. Mr.Martin decided to continue group without any more questions about you, understanding that you’re not ready for the whole death talk. He was saying something about group activities but you tuned it out, had your body really looked that bad? The last time you saw it, it was fresh, but the smell that it conducted in the locker room lingered. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it earlier but now you’re beginning to regret that decision. That was your last chance to see that part of you that you walked through life in. Now it's gone forever, never coming back so you can say goodbye. 

It stung, not ever being able to actually say goodbye. All you could do was hope and pray that Mags would be at school eventually. She had missed the last few days, probably making some bullshit excuse to her mom about why she couldn’t come to school. Part of you hopes she never shows up, the thought of seeing her but not being able to touch her makes you want to scream. Her warmth, something you’ll never be able to feel again. 

A silent tear rolled down your face that you quickly wiped away. Emotions are such a weird thing, they switch on and off without warning, leaving you stranded with a shit ton of baggage you don’t want.

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I don't have a tag list but @gabbyygoo asked to be tagged in the next post so here you go love. Hope you enjoy it :)

pt.7

A tornados supposed to be hitting Georgia 😭 pray for me bro

Girls be like:

"I'm in love"

Then it's literally just words on paper

(same girly)

Hear me out hear me out HEAR ME OUT..... Wally getting his ass ate 👀 Might write it might not just know that I'm considering it (I need to be put down)

Cat: You're in Spencer's DM's, I'm in his police report

Cat: We are not the same

Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Warnings: Talk of drugs/Drug use. Possible smut in the future. SH. A lot of plot. EXTREME Canon divergence. Before Maddies time. Set in 2022

I got a lot of inspiration and motivation from @whoopsyeahokay series called October Sun if you haven't read it yet I recommend you do its amazing, you can find it on tumblr and Ao3. October Sun

(This is very self indulgent and based on things ive been through and how I could have very easily ended up as a ghost. This is NOT meant to romanticize addiction or mental illness. This is a judgment free zone so I want no bullying or hate on anyone. I'm not the best writer so be nice)

1.9k Words

Enjoy :)

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Two days, two fucking days you’ve been rotting and no ones come to find you. Well no one alive at least. 

It started off normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another boring school day with the same washed out boring people. Tired eyes and even more tired souls. So what changed? A little slip up on the same thing that had almost claimed your life many times over the years except this time no one was there to save you. 

You were 14 when you first learned the only way for your brain to stop spinning, trying to find a new way to obtain peace was with a very simple little thing. Weed, this wasn't what was deadly, no it was what started the cycle. First it was weed, then it was alcohol, then it was late night parties, until one day it fell into the palm of your hand. A simple little pill, how could it cause so much damage? Things were fine until one pill turned into two then two turned into three and then you ended up on the patio of a stranger's porch foaming out the mouth. 4 days in the hospital and 2 weeks in rehab was enough to scare you for a while, but not enough to make you forget about the relief that came with it. 

That's how you ended up here, sitting in a circle sharing stories about life and death, a group of highschool boys who had no idea you were even there, playing basketball behind you. Should have just gone to group like you were told to, at least then you would have been with people who understood addiction. Now judgmental eyes fall upon you because you caused your own death. As much as you wanted to find someone, something to blame you knew you couldn't, this was your fault. The spinning hasn't stopped. At least ghosts couldn't go through withdrawal, doesn’t change the fact that the empty feeling you tried so desperately to fill is more presint than ever.  

The sweet voice of Mr.Martin fills the room. Like white nose until you heard him call your name. Head shooting up to look up at him. “Have you started working on your obituary?” Ah yes, ghost homework. you would have never thought that you would have been asked to write your own obituary yet here we are. Not as easy as it sounds.

“I’ve got some ideas” Like when you got so drunk you threw up on your friends cat, or when you were so high that your brother convinced you the plane flying over your house was a UFO, fun memories. Apparently you were supposed to write about the good parts of your life but that's kinda hard when the only good memories you had were caused by what put you in this situation to begin with. 

“Take your time, if you need to im sure some of the others wouldn't mind telling you about what they wrote, for motivation.” You give a simple nod, wanting all the prying eyes around you to look away. And they do, except a certain pair that had been watching you since you got here. 

Wally Clark, a sweet boy, bright future, died to soon like everyone else in this fucked up version of your own personal hell. He asked too many questions, it wasn't a secret how you died, just something you didn't want to talk about.  He respected that, like most of the others, most. Doesn't stop him from prying, staring with curious eyes. 

“I think that's all for today,  don't forget tomorrow's movie night as always our newest member will be picking the movie.” You give an awkward smile before standing up and turning to leave along with the rest of the group. Heavy footsteps creeping up behind you and the sound of your name being called stops you as the tall boy catches up.

“So um do you need help with your obituary? not to brag but I think I did a pretty good job on mine.” Wally was quite attractive, tall, with big brown eyes, and slick back brown fluffy hair. No doubt having made girls fawn over him during his lifetime. You and him weren't exactly friends but the idea of having a little help writing… well, a self obituary wasn't bad. 

“Sure, we could go to the library.” An excited grin grew on Wallys face, not expecting you to say yes. 

“Yeah, yeah the library sounds great” It was kinda cute how he acted sometimes. Not like a typical jock, a pure golden retriever. 

“Cool” You stand there kinda awkwardly, hands in the pockets of your red zip up hoodie as you gave him an expecting look. 

“Oh like now?” He was somehow the most confident yet most awkward person in the world. “Um okay yeah that works” 

You tilt your head sideways towards the door leading out the gym, indicating for him to follow you out. Taking the lead and making your way out, opening the door for him. “Ladies first” He let out a small chuckle at your attempt at a joke, considering it was the first time you really talked to anyone since everything happened. It wasn't that you didn't like people, you just didn’t understand the point of friends. It might sound depressing but having a small group of people that you know will stick around is better than hanging around people that barely know you. Yet here you are, stuck with strangers for eternity or until you finally move on, however long that’ll take. 

The hallway was filled with loud teens, some rushing to their next class others going out the back door, more than likely skipping. “So how does this work?” You look over at him.

“What? The afterlife?” He looks at you, a little nervous. “I don’t think im the best person to explain it to you, that's more of Charley's thing.” Charley was sweet, the first person you met when you woke up. Some sort of after life guide. 

“No, a self obituary.” The words felt weird coming out your mouth. “I know I'm supposed to write about all the great things in life but I don't think huffing nitrous in my uncles bathroom on thanksgiving really counts as a good memory.” 

“Nitrous? like the shit in whipped cream?” He gave you a sideways look, a concerned but humored smile on his face. 

“Yes, the shit in whipped cream, I don't recommend. I passed out and almost had a seizure.” As we reach the library he opens the door, allowing you to go in first. 

“Okay, maybe don’t include that in your obituary, how about” He thought for a second. “Write about your friends and family, I'm sure you have some good memories with them.” 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you sat down at a table, Wally sitting down across from you as you take off your backpack, pulling a pencil and the folder Mr.Martin had given you. “That's too much work, do you think Mr.Martin would notice if I just copied yours?” Wally laughs a little, his straight white teeth showing.

“No, he’ll totally believe that you played football and lost your virginity in your moms car.” Now you’re the one laughing, his sentence coming out way too casually. 

“You lost your virginity in your moms car?” You take a few seconds to process before you look at him judgmentally. “You included how you lost your virginity?” Though the smiles’ still apparent on your face. 

“Happy memories, remember?” And there's the jock attitude you were waiting for, somehow a bit surprising but not unexpected. “You could just write your feelings.” You have a whole journal for that from when you got sober… soberish. 

“This may come as a shock to you but I'm not exactly a feelings person.” Not totally true, it was just easier to not feel anything at all, especially with the situation you're in right now. 

“Really? I couldn't tell” The sarcastic tone in his voice very apparent. “Alright fine, if you were happiest when you were high then it's worth writing.” 

“Great, so high stories, got it” Though it wasn't the best idea, you had to write something so Mr.Martin would get off your ass about it. Reminiscing was a slippery slope, you were holding up decently so far but contrary to what all the others think it hurt deep down. “How about the first time I tried molly?” Probably one of the best ‘happy pills’ you tried in your lifetime. 

“What was it like?” He clearly had no intentions of finding out first hand, just curious of the experience. 

“It made me really aware but like in a good way.” There was no real way to describe it without going into depth. “And kinda trippy I guess, does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He knew he could never truly understand, no one could unless they experienced it themselves. As you begin to jot down the memory Wally peaks over, looking at the page though it's not very useful due to the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to read upside down. 

“Nosey” You laugh a little at his attempt to get to know you better. “You know if you want to get to know me, maybe there are better ways to do it then helping me write my own obituary” Yep, still didn't sound right.  

“Oh um yeah, this is probably a really weird first hang out.” He laughs awkwardly at the realization that this is still new to you. It wasn't like he had never been around a new ghost before, he knew he was supposed to be slow, supportive, ease them into it but with the way you acted sometimes made him think you were more used to this than he was. In a way you were, death was something that you had imagined so many times so when it actually came the idea of being trapped wasn't one you hadn't thought of before. “How about after we're done with this I could take you down to the pool?” 

You smile, the sentiment was sweet. “Thanks, but I don't know how to swim.” You were never taught and it didn't seem important in life so you just never learned. The surprised look on Wallys face was priceless.

“How the hell are you 18 and don’t know how to swim?” It wasn't judgmental, just a little surprised, but the grin on his face indicated that he had an idea. 

“Oh god, what are you thinking about?” You knew what was coming, he wouldn't be him if he didn’t jump at the opportunity to help a new friend. Wally was very readable and you didn’t know if that was a good thing yet. 

“I could teach you.” And there it was, of course he wanted to teach you. “It could be fun, plus you don't have much else to do.” 

“You know what fuck it, you’re right there isnt shit else to do.” Especially with your body still laying cold in the old abandoned locker rooms aka ‘the brain cave’. 

“Great, you should keep writing, the faster you get it over with the less weird it feels.” And that's how it started, you were never the friend type but as much as you hated to say it you needed someone. Sure that someone is very attractive and the idea of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks was a nice image but who could blame you? The afterlife is lonely.

Pt.2

Dawn: Always check yourself for unnecessary negativity and bitterness

Rhonda: Unnecessary negativity ✓ bitterness ✓

PLEASE! I literally don’t care that it’s short, it didn’t take to long. THANK YOU! I love my Wally smut😭 it’s literally perfect. MWAH💋

Im glad you liked it. I know I got so excited when I saw your request and I was hyped to write it but when the time came it was like my brain malfunctioned and I forgot how to turn thoughts into words. I do plan on doing a proper one-shot following the same plot sometime in the future. Don't know when but imma try.

Thanks for the love babes 💞 *Digital kisses*