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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 8 months

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Rikki - Pt. 2

(Y/N) = Your name

(E/C) = Eye color

“So, why is everyone mad at you?” You ask the next day, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. Rikki had introduced you to one of the best ice cream places you have ever been to in your life. The ice cream was just so good.

You then add half-joking/half-serious, “Or, are we not at the level where I can know yet?” You kick a rock down the sidewalk and stare into your ice cream, not sure what Rikki’s response would be. You don’t like making people feel uncomfortable. Which is understandable, especially considering the question that you chose would make most people uncomfortable.

Rikki throws her head back, letting out a laugh. “I’m not a video game, (Y/N).” She takes a lick of her ice cream cone and shrugs, stuffing her other hand in her cargo shorts’ pocket. “We just had a fight but I was not in the wrong this time.”

“Hmm, you miss them though,” you whisper thoughtfully to yourself, but Rikki still catches it.

“Well, yeah, of course, but I’m not coming back till one in particular says sorry.” She shakes her head. “The other one hates fighting and is probably spending time with her boyfriend while Emma and I are ‘at each others throats’.” She makes air quotations around the last part, her ice cream dripping on the sidewalk. She takes a deep sigh and licks her ice cream. “Cleo hates when we fight, it makes me feel bad sometimes.”

You nod sympathetically, your ice cream spoon in your lips. You’re surprised that Rikki would reveal so much about this, she didn’t seem like the type who would but, perhaps you had just misread her.

Unbeknownst to you, Rikki never really did reveal so much about herself to people she just met–barely even to people she had known for a long time–but, if she were being honest, you seem like the listening type and that’s really what she needs right now. You are a kind face with soulful (E/C) eyes and an easy-going smile. She has a feeling that whatever she says to you, will stay with you till the grave. And, besides, who were you gonna blab it to anyway? Not like you know Emma, Cleo, or even Lewis for that matter.

Rikki glances at you as she contemplates all that she’s said and nearly snorts into her ice cream cone.

“What?” You say, mouth full of spoon.

“You look like a kid that’s robbed an ice cream shop; take one of your stupid napkins.” She laughs, handing you one of the napkins that you had grabbed. She stated that she has never once needed a napkin in her life which you highly doubted.

You stick out your tongue and put your spoon back in your paper dish, wiping your mouth. Rikki laughs to herself and shakes her head.

“C’mon, I want to show you the beach.”

You make a face and Rikki rolls her eyes. “You and your whole sand thing, is weird. We’re going to the beach.”

“Meh meh meh, beach beach beach,” you mock, albeit playfully so as to not offend your new friend of convenience. Your heart twinges slightly at how your mind addresses her but you push it away.

Rikki scoffs just as jokingly and swats you on the shoulder. “Hey, it could have been Nate trying to show off how he looks shirtless. Be thankful.”

You cringe and follow behind a smirking Rikki to the beach.

- -

“See. It’s not that bad,” Rikki assures you, gesturing to the sand, her shoes dangling from her fingertips. She’s walking a small bit ahead of you, as if testing the ground for you like someone would with an icy lake that you needed to walk across. “It’s just a bunch of little rocks.”

“Scratchy, annoying, little rocks,” you mutter, clenching your tennis shoes in your hand as you awkwardly walk through the sand.

“Heard that, (Y/N).” She looks back at you with a little grin. She waits for you as you trudge to her at a snail’s pace. “You’re an awful whisperer.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” you say, dodging a small child that barrels past you. You move faster, feeling that staying by Rikki’s side might prove to be a repellent to little humans that might knock you into the sand. You’ve seen her glare at a few already.

When you arrive by her side, she looks at you with an expression you can’t quite read and then out at the water. You didn’t realize how close to the ocean she was leading you. You glance around and realize that, in spite of getting nearly toppled over by a kid or two, there aren't that many people out here today. Even the life guards seemed to not be present; you aren’t seeing one on the giant chair watch thingy.

You watch Rikki’s expression as she gazes out at the water. Her deep blue eyes that are nearly the same shade as the giant body of water before the both of you, held a sense of longing for it. It seems as if she wants to dive in head first and never come back to the land.

You nudge her gently, feeling almost like you are experiencing a moment of extreme vulnerability with this girl. “We can go swimming, if you want.” You look down at your clothes and chuckle. “I know I’m not exactly dressed for it but I’m okay with that.”

Her eyes dart back to you with a new fire. You nearly shrivel under her glare. Perhaps you have touched a nerve you didn’t know existed? Her expression softens just as quickly as it had burned holes into your head.

“No, I’m good, just…a memory,” her voice is quiet, almost blending in with the wind beginning to blow. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you answer back just as softly. You are a forgiving person by nature. And, you don’t dare press for the obvious explanation for Rikki’s behavior: that the memory was about her friends.

They must have swam together a lot. The corners of your mouth turn up at the thought. I wish I could be able to say that I’ve done things like that. You are more accustomed to swimming alone. You never made friends quick enough in the last places you lived to invite them on swim dates.

While deep in your thoughts, you eventually spot something in the water. It seems to be moving a lot, almost…struggling? Your eyes widen as you realize that it’s not a thing but a person. The shouts that seemed like distant children playing, actually seem to be originating from the struggle in the water.

“Rikki, oh my goodness, Rikki.” Your voice is thick with alarm and panic. She turns her head to you, confused. You point out to the water, where a lot of splashing is taking place. “I think there’s a kid out there!”

“What do you mean? There’s always kids out there.” She seems annoyed that she isn’t getting your meaning but you don’t have time for this.

“I think they’re drowning, we’ve got to go get them.” You drop your shoes and socks in the sand. You take out everything from your pockets, looking around as you do. No one is looking at the kid, there are barely any adults on the beach anyway. When you glance at Rikki, she looks like a mix between confusion and frozen fear.

“I can’t swim.” You hear her say, though it’s almost distant to you as you start running towards the water, throwing caution to the wind as the panic at this kid somehow losing their life fueling your every move. Rikki yells your name as your feet pound the sand.

You dive head first into the water, forgetting your conscious self that’s weary and tired with jet lag and pain from walking and swimming as hard as you can out to the drowning form. You seem faster than you ever have, adrenaline filling every terror filled moment. The last thing you want is for this kid to die, even if you don’t even know them.

Your feet aren’t even close to touching any sand at the bottom of the water when you arrive to the kid, her head almost underwater. She seems to have passed out from fear but her training surfboard has kept her afloat, the very edge of her head resting against the board, keeping her nose above water.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” you murmur, pushing her onto her board. It takes you a few tries due to the girl being limp but she’s eventually on there. You use as much leg strength as you have left and propel the both of you to shore.

Four young men dressed in red and yellow meet you halfway to the shore and take the girl from you. One wraps their arms around you and helps you swim the rest of the way to shore. He helps you walk onto the beach and gratefulness warms every inch of your heart. Though you probably would have been able to reach the shore while pushing the little girl, you wouldn’t have had any strength left to find her medical help.

The young man speaks to you calmly, asking if you’re okay. You nod dumbly and he slowly lets his arm off you and you feel a warm towel wrap around you in his place.

You look to your right and find Rikki tentatively situating the towel over your shoulders. You smile in thanks at the towel and the sudden realization that comes to your mind.

“You called them,” you state, no doubt in your tone. There had been a thought in the back of your mind as you had been running to the kid that it was stupid that Rikki wasn’t coming with you to at least try and help. You now remember what she had said to you as you ran off: “I can’t swim.”

You silently chastise yourself at being so forgetful. Which, as you realize later, was stupid. You were literally in a crisis.

Rikki smiles. “Not really calling when I found them distracted further down the beach.” She throws a disgusted look over her shoulder as they tend to the girl, her eyes slowly fluttering open. Your heart expands as she sits up, coughing up what little water she had in her lungs. She was going to be okay.

A young man looks up to you from his crouching position, brown hair slicked back with water. “You got to her just in time.” You smile through clenched teeth and then practically have to beg yourself to not go off on every single one of those stupid, young life guards for not doing their jobs. A kid could have died today because of them.

Though, it’s hard to go off on them anyway when their shoulders are slumped forward and they look ashamed of themselves. They are vigorously asking the slightly jarred little girl questions as if it would make up for their negligence.

“I wonder where her parents are,” you ask out loud, bringing your towel closer.

Rikki shrugs. “Not sure. Some parents just let their kids do whatever, whenever.” You glance at her out of the side of your eye, noting the particularly sad tone.

You choose to ignore it for the time being and look down at your sopping, wet clothes. “I’d better get home and change.”

She looks you up and down and jokingly says, “Yeah, you do look a bit wet.”

“Do I?”

- -

Rikki had come home with you to Auntie Marty’s. Your mom is in shock, both from your story and the fact that you have a friend with a pulse standing in front of her.

Auntie Marty just seems happy to have more people in her home. You’re slightly offended at her lack of care for your well being but then hear the tea kettle in the kitchen and know she’s making something to get the chill off you.

You had changed into something dry and are now standing in front of your mother as she inspects you for scraps and bruises. Rikki wanders around the living room, looking incredulously at all of the knick-knacks.

“There’s just…so much,” she says, and you hope Auntie Marty doesn’t find it obnoxious.

“Why, of course, dear,” your aunt says, walking back into the living room with a tea tray. She sets herself down on the couch and places the tea tray on the coffee table in front of her. “I am a collector by nature, sometimes I believe that I was a raven in my past life.”

“Ah.” You can tell Rikki is keeping back a snide comment or two. You smile at her forced politeness, finding it amusing.

As your mom looks you over one last time, she turns her head to Rikki as the girl keeps walking around the room, picking up a few things.

“Are you okay, Rikki?”

“Hmm?” She puts one of the knick knacks back–a particularly odd one of a Santa Claus holding a fishing pole in one hand and a crying child by the collar in the other. She looks at your mom and then fully realizes what she’s said. “Oh, um, yeah, I’m good.”

Your mom breathes a sigh of relief. “I would have hated if (Y/N)’s brand new friend got hurt, simply hated it.” She gives Rikki a brilliant smile and Rikki awkwardly smiles back in response. The clinking of tea cups is the only sound as Auntie Marty pours and stirs the tea.

“Would anyone like some tea?” Auntie Marty hands Rikki a cup despite her shaking her head no, and then hands you and your mother one. Rikki looks like she would rather drink sewage than the tea but politely keeps it in her hands. You step away from your mother and stand by Rikki in hopes of helping her feel less out of place.

You note that each tea cup has a theme. Rikki’s, funny enough, has a fire theme, mirroring her personality; Auntie Marty’s has a bunch of different things, almost like a search and find; your mother’s has an entire map with the words “Wanderlust” written beautifully across the side; and yours, well, yours has frogs. A lot of frogs.

What is with Auntie Marty and associating me with frogs?

“First my room, now my cup?” You whisper to yourself, thinking no one can hear you over Auntie Marty’s and your mother’s chattering. Rikki did though. God must have spent a lot of time on this girl’s hearing.

“What do you mean your room?” She questions, leaning closer to hear you better. There is a spark of mischief in her eyes, as if she senses a good start of a joke.

You hesitate and then relent to her probing gaze. “My room is frog themed.”

She leans back on her heels and grins almost wolfishly. “Is it now?”

“Oh no,” you whine. “You wanna see it, don’t you?”

“Lead the way, frog girl.”

#h2o just add water #h2o fanfiction #h2o #fanfiction #h2o just add water fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #rikki chadwick #rikki h2o #self insert

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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 8 months

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Bella - Pt. 1

(Y/N) = Your name

(L/N) = Your last name

(H/C) = Hair color

(F/I/C/F) = Favorite ice cream flavor

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe you shouldn’t be here.

Or maybe, you were made for this very moment. This very happenstance. Maybe you are the catalyst to starting something completely amazing. Maybe something beautiful is going to come out of this amazing experience.

Or maybe you’re just an idiot with a guitar and a patch-covered, jean jacket standing on a street corner strumming whatever song comes to mind. Yeah, this is considerably more likely but, hey, what can you say? You’re a dreamer at heart.

You grin as a little girl stops in front of you. Around her mouth is covered in purple and a large, rainbow lollipop is clutched in her grubby hands. She points at you.

“Want me to play something for you, little ‘un?” You swipe a stray hair out of your eyes in between strums.

She nods fervently, nearly shaking her two blonde pigtails loose from their hair ties. “Bingo!”

“Bingo?” You repeat, confused then remember the song about the old farmer with that funny dog. “Ah, Bingo.”

You begin strumming, swiftly moving your fingers from chord to chord–not like there are many–and singing along with the little girl as she begins dancing to the guitar. You would have preferred a song that can show your musical prowess more but, it is enough to make this little girl happy.

You finish and the girl claps her hands, lollipop and all striking her palms. You give a mock bow.

“Why thank you, thank you very much.”

The little girl then proceeds to do something unimaginable. She pulls a twenty out of the front pocket of her overalls and places it gently in your open guitar case in front of you.

You gape at her as she looks back up at you.

“Mama gave me twenty-five dollars for the candy store, but I only wanted a lolli. You can have the rest.” She tottles back over to a bench where a woman sits, also staring at her daughter in bewilderment.

You crouch down and pick up the twenty dollar bill from your guitar case and point to it as the little girl’s mother looks at you. She eventually closes her mouth and makes a gesture indicating that you could keep the large sum of money for something as unimportant as street performing.

You shake your head in amazement. That woman is sure raising a generous kid.

You stay there for a second, staring at your open case with a few coins, ones, and that one luminescent twenty dollar bill. You go to stand up when you realize a five is being waved in your face.

You look up to see a pretty girl about your age smiling down at you. Her hair is a dark blonde and her eyes glimmer a bright blue.

You smile back awkwardly, standing back to your full height. She laughs a little at your confusion.

“You wanna play something that’s not a weird, American, kiddie song?” She says, teasingly, dropping the five into your case.

You chuckle. “What you got in mind?”

She rifles through a tote bag she has slung across her shoulder. She hands you a sheet of music. You raise an eyebrow, you’ve never heard of this song before–“I Don’t Mind”–and you’re usually pretty diverse in your music taste.

You set it down at your feet and set the tip of your shoe on the paper to keep it from flying away. You hum a little of the melody, working your fingers over the chords, getting a feel for the song. After a minute, you start over at the beginning, your hands moving faster than your mind can keep up.

The girl watches you, the smile on her face growing by the second but you’re too caught up in the song to notice, your (H/C) hair getting in your eyes as your ponytail starts getting looser.

You end the song with one final strum and look back at the girl who’s clapping with a humongous grin on her lips, showing rows of straight, pearly whites.

“That was amazing!” She exclaims as you hand the sheet music back to her. You flash her an appreciative smile.

The girl takes a step back and looks you up and down, putting her hands up to create a little rectangle, positioning you inside of it from her perspective.

You cock your head inquisitively as she nods to herself.

“Do you wanna go for a walk with me real quick?” She asks, setting her hands on her hips.

This girl is really something else.

“I mean, sure, I guess. Just let me clean up,” you say, chuckling at the spontaneity of this random girl.

Once you sling your guitar case over your shoulders, she gives you a mischievous grin as she comes closer to you.

“I have a proposition for you.” She holds up her index finger in your face, causing you to flinch back in surprise. “ But , let’s talk about it over ice cream.”

- -

You lick your (F/I/C/F) ice cream cone and lean back in your chair as the girl sits across from you, rattling off all of the benefits to being in her band that apparently plays at the cafe called Rikki’s often enough to make them a good sum of money. She makes a very convincing argument though you would really have liked if she had perhaps started off with what her name was so you knew how to address her properly.

“So, it’s usually weekends we play there and we’ve got some parties that we play for there as well, and-” You hold up your hand to silence her. She looks a bit shocked and slightly worried.

“This sounds great and all, really, I would love to join your band, I mean, I used to be in one when I lived in Sydney but, sis,” you take a lick of your ice cream, “I don’t even know your name. You don’t even know mine.”

She flushes, embarrassed at her oversight. She talks fast to make up for it. “I am so sorry! My name’s Bella Hartley, short for Isabella though that’s kinda obvious.” She scratches the back of her neck. “So, um, your name?”

You smile, happy that you can finally introduce yourself. “My name’s (Y/N) (L/N).” You stretch out your hand for a shake and she takes it gratefully.

You lean back once more and take a bite of your cone. “So, you need a guitarist?”

She sighs dejectedly. “Yes, our last one walked out on us.” Her eyes widen as she realizes how this might be a turn off for you. She tries to recover. “That’s just because he didn’t get along with one of our members, our keyboard player, he can be a bit…difficult.”

You grin knowingly. A few members of your band were like that. “Don’t worry, I understand.” You think about how being in a band again might help fix your post-move blues. It was better than street performing and moping around the house while your mom tells you to go do something productive until the school year starts.

You take another bite of your cone as Bella stares at you, knowing your silence to be thoughtful. You look up at her and wink.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a guitarist, Bella. When do I start?”

#h2o just add water #h2o #h2o just add water fanfiction #h2o fanfiction #fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #bella hartley #bella h2o #bella

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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 8 months

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Emma - Pt. 1

(Y/N) = Your name

Surfing. It’s your life. Everyday, your bones ache for the water and your board. Everyday, you soothe that ache with a fervor that matches that of a pro-surfer. Some people call you crazy, you call it passion.

And passion is what led you out here on the water so early, paddling the gentle ocean water as the sunrise turns the sky into a haze of oranges, reds, and pinks. It bleeds into the water, transforming the space around your drifting limbs into the same colors as the sky.

Singing was something that also set a fire in your soul, causing your soft saprano to leave your lips and hover over the water. You sing of the moon falling in love with the sun and the stars being their choir. The sky always seems to inspire your music.

You smile to yourself as you use your hands to paddle yourself a bit closer to the sun, away from the shore. Your song ends on a delicate note, singing that the sun and moon would meet again some other day.

In the height of your peace and happiness, something touches your leg. Something scaley.

Panic grips your chest as you snap your head downward to see what it is. There is only a flash of orange as a giant tail swims away from you. Your mouth drops open.

Zane Bennet was right.

- -

You wobble back onto shore. Your twin brother stands on the sands, waiting for you with his hands on his hips. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually wait for you. He’s more of a night surfer himself. Though you’re happy about it nonetheless, you need a friendly face after your scare.

“Woah there, (Y/N), you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” He reaches out and takes your board, setting a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

“Yeah, Byron, just,” you pause. If Zane Bennet wants this sea monster so bad but it saved his life, there was no reason to somehow make another scent trail for him to track for an animal that obviously had a good nature. You smile weakly at your brother. “Just saw a pretty big fish is all.”

“Dang, must’ve been real big to make you go white like that,” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulders as he walks you away from the beach, your board under his other arm.

Byron glances up to the sky, as if trying to find the words for something. “Uh, can I ask you a favor, (Y/N)?”

You tilt your head towards him, which is slightly hard to do with him dragging you along with his steady pace. So that’s why he was up so early, he needed to talk with you. “Yeah, sure, what is it?”

“I’ve got a lesson with Elliot Gilbert today but there also just so happens to be a beach cleanup that I really want to go to.” His voice dies out as he looks off into the distance. He doesn’t want to finish the thought unless you already know what he wants.

You smirk and give him a small hit on the shoulder. “I’ll take over for you.” You give a michevious shrug. “Sides, I’m better than you at surfing anyway.”

“Hey!” He exclaims, mock offense scrunching up his face. “I’ve won awards!”

“So have I, Goldilocks.”

He takes his arm from your shoulders and elbows you good-naturedly. “If I’m Goldilocks, then you’re one of the bears.”

“Very funny.” You roll your eyes and then stop walking. Byron looks back at you, confused.

“Gilbert…” A teasing smile bends your lips as it dawns on you. “Elliot Gilbert, as in Emma Gilbert’s younger brother?”

Byron’s cheeks flush at the mention of Emma’s name. “Uh, yeah, Emma’s his sister.”

You gasp and poke him antagonistically. “No wonder you’ve been doing these lessons for next to nothing! It’s your crush’s brother!”

His face turns a deeper red and he scratches the back of his neck. “I just, uh, didn’t wanna-”

You laugh and slap his back. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. You’re too sweet for me to do that.”

Your feet hit the grass that indicates the end of the beach. Byron and you march foward to your beach home.

“Mom up yet?” You ask, kicking a rock with your bare feet. The image of the tail comes back to your mind. It still perplexes you, so you’re keeping your mind on your stomach. “I’m feeling some French toast.”

“She thought so, already cooking it.” Byron smiles and brings you under his arm once again. He is happy to have such an understanding sister as you even if your mind is somewhere else at the moment.

- -

You lean against a rock as Byron coaches you on what to teach Elliot. Apparently, he’s been bringing Elliot out on the water for the last few lessons and would like if you could paddle out a bit with him, just to keep getting the boy used to balancing on the water.

You nod intermitantly, paying close attention. You aren’t accustomed to teaching anyone surfing but you are very sure you can do it regardless.

“Okay, the beach cleanup starts in a few,” he says, glancing at the entrance of the beach for a second. “Elliot should be here soon enough, lessons usually start at two and it’s about,” he checks his watch, “one-forty-five right now.” His eyes travel back to the entrance.

You smirk. “Emma’s usually the one that brings him, isn’t she?”

His ears burn as he starts backtracking from you. “Alright, well, I’ve gotta get going!”

“Mmhm, see you later, Loverboy!” You shake your head and smile as he starts jogging away from you and down the beach.

You wait there for about five more minutes before Emma and Elliot arrive. You push off your rock and walk over to them, waving your arm.

“Hey, Elliot!” You smile at the young boy as he waves a little bit, almost shy like, and then look to his sister. “Hey, Emma, good to see you again!”

She appears both confused and slightly…scared at your presence? How odd.

You put a hand on your chest. “I’m sorry! Byron must not have told you. He had something come up so I’m taking over the lesson for him today. That okay?”

Her face shifts back into something more cordial and laid back. “Yeah, that’s fine! No worries!”

You can’t wipe the expression of fear in her eyes from her mind. That was just so strange .

“Well, come on, Elliot! Let’s get into the water!” You gesture to the water and he rushes past you towards the ocean.

“Don’t forget your ankle strap!” Emma yells after him. You smile at her care and go for your board, ready to hit the water.

- -

You’re completley worn out by the end of the lesson. Elliot may be a sweet kid but, gracious, he needed an explanation for every suggestion you gave him.

Emma had stayed through the entirety of the lesson and, to your slight discomfort, seemed to have been watching you very closely throughout it.

So, you were pooped.

“Well, Elliot, just keep whatever I’ve taught you in mind but remember that Byron’s your teacher teacher so, if I’ve said something that contradicts what he’s taught you, listen to him before me. Alright, Sweetheart?” You’re kneeling in front of him, talking with him eye to eye.

“Got it, thank you, (Y/N)!” Elliot looks up to Emma. “Are we ready to go, Emma?”

Emma glances at you and then back at her brother. “Actually, Elliot, I need to talk to (Y/N) really quick. Is that alright?” You cock an eyebrow and stand up, wondering if you had done something wrong somehow.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just go in the water or something,” Elliot says, smiling brightly, glad for more time in the water.

After Elliot plods off to the water, Emma faces you. “Um, just so you know, I didn’t want to talk to you because of anything about Elliot’s lesson, you did great. I just have a…personal question.”

You try to suppress a smile as your mind immediately hopes that Emma wants to ask about Byron. “Oh, good. I thought I was in trouble.”

“No, no.” She shakes her head and grins amusedly. Her face grows serious again. “But, I was wondering, I have a personal project, uh, a thing where I look into surfing and surfers. And, I was wondering, what is the usual time for a surfer of your caliber going out on the water for, well, practice and if you, well,” she pauses, as if hesitant to ask her next question, “if you’ve seen anything while out on the water that’s kind of…odd?”

The orange tail from this morning flashes back to your mind’s eye. You’re immediately suspicious. “That depends on what you think is odd, Emma.” You lighten your tone to not seem accusatory of a girl that’s asking an innocent enough question. “Though, I do usually go out early morning to practice while the sun’s rising, but I have seen some pretty big fish at that time of day. Nothing completely crazy. Nothing like what Zane Bennet’s seen.” You let that last statement float in the air for a second as you, paying very close attention, see Emma’s face relax extensively.

How weird.

She claps her hands and smiles brightly. “Well, that’s all I really wanted to know! Thank you so much for answering!” She awkwardly starts walking towards the water. “C’mon, Elliot! We’ve gotta get going!”

They wave to you as they pass by you again and you politely wave back. Your suspicions keep growing.

What is that girl hiding?

#h2o just add water #h2o #h2o just add water fanfiction #h2o fanfiction #fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #emma gilbert #emma h2o #Elliot Gilbert #Elliot #Byron H2O #Byron

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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 8 months

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Cleo - Pt. 1

(Y/N) = Your name

(H/C) = Hair color

Life is always interesting for you. No matter what you do, some bad luck always seems to follow you around. The sheer amount of bones broken that you could list off on both your fingers and toes scares most people. Additionally, the amount of broken friendships that you could count on two hands also scares most people, which, unfortunately, keeps them away from you as well.

So, basically, you were unlucky in everything. Everything but academics. Textbooks, libraries, and ancient history pull on your heartstrings like nothing else. It was an awfully lonely existence, however, as your dad always reassures you, the life of a genius is a lonely path to take.

No matter how much you repeat that in your mind, your heart still flattens itself whenever it sees a group of friends messing around with each other, two girls linking arms as they walk down the street, or just people existing in complete comfort with each other. Dang, you are one lonely girl.

You silently wipe your eyes as they tear up. It’s embarrassing to cry in public, especially in a library; it’s too intimate of a space for something as loud as sobbing your absolute eyes out. You actually start snickering to yourself as you think about how stupid–in your opinion–it is that you’re crying about something that happened so long ago. Two years, in early high school, was for some reason, a long time ago for you. Perhaps we should discuss your perception of time.

You had lost perhaps the strongest friendship you had ever had. You thought that one would last, you thought it would completely make you forget the friends who had cut you off in middle school and even elementary for being just a bit too odd to hang around them. Kids could and will always, be cruel.

She had left, like all the others. Though, this time, she had taken to starting rumors about you as she left your heart in a wake of destruction. Your dislike of people in general started with her and will probably end with her as well. She hadn’t really grown into a saint while you two were apart.

You close your book and abruptly stand up from the table. You’ve had enough of your head being so sad, you’re going to the beach. Now. Just, gonna sit on the sand and listen to the water, maybe check out the book you are reading right now and read it there. Yeah, that’s what you’ll do! That’ll cheer you right up!

- -

You avoid public transport at all costs. I know that sounds weird but, after an old, drunk man dispensed all his stomach contents on your favorite jacket when you were riding the bus, you have sworn off all forms of public transport.

So, you walked to the beach.

When you arrive, you scrunch your nose at the sheer amount of people littering the sands. With this cesspit of people, are you sure that your usual quiet spot is going to be as quiet as it usually is? You march your way over anyway, hoping for the best.

The best actually happens! There isn’t a person in sight of your little, rock formation, to the far right of the entire beach. It isn’t normal that people venture this far; if you go to a public beach, you’re most likely not coming for the quiet.

Well, there is one person that comes out here, one that you recognize from some of your AP classes from last school year, but he only comes to fish and doesn’t bother you too much whenever you’re there. Though, sometimes he brings a girl–that you also recognize from school–with him and she’s more talkative than him, though not enough to bother you. They seem like the picture perfect couple though you’re not entirely sure that they’re actually together.

You sit down and make yourself comfortable, leaning against one of the rocks. You prop open your book on your legs and tuck a strand of your (H/C) hair behind you ear.

You get lost and you get lost hard. The book you’re reading is a narrative about a princess that fought in a war of her father’s making, slaying dragons and enemies faster than any of the soldiers under her command. She was powerful, she was brave, and she fell in love with a wonderful man. She was everything that you want to be. She experienced everything you want to experience. It was both painful and therapeutic to read.

And then, caught up in the climax of this beautiful story, you hear the most irritating, grating voice.

“So, you’re still reading fantasies?” It mocks, and your blood goes cold. You know that voice, you hate that voice, that voice haunts your dreams and forces tears out of your ducts.

You look up. She’s there. I’m not sure who else you expected. Your oldest, most despised friend looms over you. Tiffany, her little minion, stands beside her.

“Miriam. Tiffany,” you acknowledge, slamming your book, very happy that it was a hardcover because it made the best sound when aggressively shut. For whatever reason, you knew this very well.

You stand, not one to be looked down on. You glance around her skeptically as she crosses her arms and looks you up and down.

“Where’s your boy toy?” You snip, looking her in the eye, very content with the three inch height advantage you have over her.

“Surfing with Nate. Where’s your social life?” She quips back, prompting only a raised eyebrow from yourself.

“Running away from you, it seems.” You roll your eyes. “And, Miriam, honestly, I don’t really want to talk to you and this,” you gesture towards your rocks, “isn’t really your scene.”

“It’s my scene if I say it’s my scene.” She steps forward and is now completely in your bubble. She sets a hand on the front of your shoulder causing you to sneer. “Admit it, you have never had anymore friends after me.” She laughs, keeping her hand where it is. She remembers, she remembers everything. The fact that physical affection was something you love, the fact that fantasy is your favorite genre, and the fact that you still, very deeply, miss her.

Then she hammers the last nail in the coffin. “But, who am I kidding, you never had any friends before me either. You were my, how do I put this, pity project?” She smiles wickedly, your heart dropping and your eyes filling with tears. She knows she has you. “You are nothing, (Y/N), and I know that since I know you ,” she says, giving you a solid push, nearly knocking you off your feet. You drop your book in the process of trying to catch your balance.

Tiffany picks it up with a grin and hands it to Miriam. Miriam opens her mouth to let out another torrent of insults when a voice interrupts her.

“Why don’t you leave her alone?” The voice is sweet but authoritative, as if the owner held power that no one else did. A girl, the one that always came with the fisher boy to your secret spot, steps out from around a cluster of rocks.

“Oh, Cleo.” The disgust in Miriam’s voice mirrors that of her expression. “When did you get here?”

The girl stands tall, the sun glancing off of her tanned skin, turning parts of it honey colored. Her voice trembles slightly when she speaks, as if she doesn’t use it this way often.

“I was here long enough to hear you say all of those horrible things to her. You have no reason to be so mean, Miriam. Get lost.”

You admire this girl’s ferocity in spite of her obvious uneasiness. You smile weakly to yourself.

“Ugh, this is no fun when Cleo’s playing Little Miss Hero.” Miriam tosses the book at you, hitting you square in the chest. You lose a bit of air from the blow but clutch the book tightly. “C’mon, Tiffany.” She turns her back to you but still yells over her shoulder to you. “See you around, Nobody.”

You and Cleo stand and stare at each other for a couple of seconds before she slowly walks closer to you.

“Are you alright? Miriam was saying such horrible things.” She bends down a bit to look at your face as you stare at the ground, unable to meet her eyes when yours are filled with unshed tears. She sets a hand on your shoulder and pumps her fist. “You’re doing amazing, I’m sure all that Miriam said is a lie!”

The tears start flowing and everything hits you in the stomach. Your knees buckle beneath you. All of these years of loneliness, betrayal, lies, and rumors beat on you like a war drum and all of it is coming out in front of a girl that you hardly know.

She kneels down in front of you, keeping her hands on your shoulders and whispering quiet ‘Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay’s.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize hoarsely in between sobs. “You can leave, I’m just being dramatic, it’s okay.”

Cleo shakes her head adamantly. “Whatever you’re crying about is too serious for me to just leave.” She comes to your side. “Do you mind if I hug you? Do you like hugs?”

You laugh, wiping tears with the back of your hand. “If you want.”

She then proceeds to give you the tightest hug you have had in a very long time. You start crying anew. She jumps back from you, seemingly surprised.

“I am so sorry, I just, gracious, I think that the last person other than my family to hug me like that was Miriam.”

Her brow knits together. “You and Miriam must have been close.” Her eyes then widen. “Wait, were you friends in 9th grade?”

You smile wryly. “Yeah, I’m surprised you remember. I don’t think we’ve ever had any classes together.” You look up at her, slightly embarrassed. “I actually think this is the first time I’ve actually learned your name.”

She shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it. The only reason I know your name is because Lewis talked about you a few times, saying you were in a few of his AP classes.”

“Oh, fisher boy, so that’s his name.” You shake your head, disappointed in yourself. “I should have learned his name.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that either, he always said you were too buried in your books to really pay attention to anyone but the teacher.”

Your eyes cast downward. “Yeah, after Miriam and I stopped being friends after all of that crap she gave me, I kinda gave up on people.” You cover your mouth, just now realizing how much about yourself you’d revealed to this girl. “Oh, I’m so sorry, you hardly know me and I’m trauma dumping.”

She cocks her head. “Why are you saying sorry? You obviously needed to get that out and I’m more than happy to listen.”

You start crying again.

Cleo starts to panic. “I made you cry again, I’m sorry!”

You put a hand up and chuckle. “Don’t worry, just the immediate reaction to realizing that my hatred for people was ill-founded.”

She looks at you with the most empathetic, vulnerable, brown eyes and gives you the sweetest smile. You’re slightly surprised at how you never realized how pretty the fisher boy’s girl was.

“I’m glad I helped you realize that.” She stands up and puts her hand out to you. “How about we go get a juice, (Y/N)? It’s on me.”

You take her hand and return her smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

#h2o just add water #h2o #h2o just add water fanfiction #h2o fanfiction #cleo sertori #cleo h2o #cleo #fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #miriam Kent #miriam #tiffany #Tiffany h2o #miriam h2o

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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 8 months

Text

Okay, so this is a self insert one-shot, friendship…thing, whoop. Additionally, I know you guys have biases for the girls so I created four different one shots where you’re brought into the friend group by either Rikki, Cleo, Emma, or Bella; you pick and the stories will continue from there along with different backstories for each self-insert scenario.

Also, fun fact, I will be filling some of this writing with my head cannons because it makes writing it way more fun! And I’m also writing this in accordance to the show being made in 2006 so you are not getting an iPhone, my apologies. Flip phones and MP3s are cool though.

Rikki - Pt. 1

(Y/N) = Your name

(H/C) = Hair color

(C / O/O) = Country of origin (sorry if that happens to be Australia, pretend you’re from somewhere else if that helps :))

(Y/W) = Your weight in pounds

Plane turbulence makes you nauseous. Vomiting makes your mom nauseous. So, you’re both nauseous, congratulations! And that’s all thanks to the wind gusts at the tail end of the plane ride to your brand new home in Australia!

Your mom is holding back your hair and throwing up in her mouth as you throw up your guts in the first trash can you found when you got off the plane. Everyone else getting off the plane is side-eyeing the both of you; your mother glares at them as they pass by.

“Okay, are you done?” Your mom mutters, pressing her hand to her mouth and clenching your hair with the other.

You swallow, take a deep breath, and nearly gag up your stomach acid into the trash can as the smell of your puke hits your nostrils. You shoot your head up and away from the stench.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, happy that your choice of clothing for today hadn’t been anything long-sleeved. You glance down at the headphones around your neck and are pleasantly surprised at the lack of puke on them.

“Then take this.” Your mom whips out a container of tic tacs from her purse and dumps half of it into your outstretched palm. You grimace and pop them in your mouth like medicine, chewing dramatically.

As you chew, your mother pushes strands of your (H/C) hair out of your eyes, smiling a little to herself as the thought struck her that you look like a chipmunk with all of the tic tacs in your mouth. You eventually finish chewing and theatrically swallow, giving your mother a slight bow. She raises an amused eyebrow.

“Okay, baggage time,” she says, clapping her hands and pulling your arm towards the bagging area.

“It all began in elementary school-”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t start that again.”

- -

The Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia was like a dream come true…to most people. You, on the other hand, happened to hate sand. And, just so happened to really like where you once lived, (C/O/O). It wasn’t exactly “blow your socks off” amazing but it was still home; well, for a year at least. Your mom had a tendency of moving you and her around a lot since your dad and her got divorced and he married another woman and started another family.

That happened 14 years ago. You had more of a social life when you were first born than you now do at 16. However, your mom promises that this is the very last move, apparently because you have family here, an aunt; an aunt you’ve never met, might I add. Apparently, she is a bit eccentric but, hey, who cares? You are literally you, so you have no place to judge.

Your mom’s fingers snap in your face, stealing your attention from the buildings passing by the bus window.

“I’m talking to you,” she snips as you turn your head to her. She gestures to the open book on your lap, your MP3 player, and headphones. “Pack that up, we’re almost there. I’m not sure why you even took that out, it’s only a fifteen minute drive.”

You scrunch your nose but dutifully put your things back into your satchel bag. You prop your head in your hand and go back to watching the sights.

So far, the city has a good amount of juice and smoothie places and nice shops, a cool place for a teenager. You whisper a silent prayer of thanks that it was the middle of summer so you didn’t have to start at a new school in the middle of the year. Though it was also the middle of summer in Australia. You had sweat through your t-shirt five times today and it was only 11 in the morning.

The bus came to a sudden stop, sending you nose-diving into the seat in front of you. Your mom checks your nose as the elderly woman in front of you, her wrinkles making her skin look like angry tree bark, looks back at you with a skeptical expression. You squint, holding your nose, wondering how she didn’t go flying with such a light frame.

“Alright, you’re not bleeding, we’re getting off. C’mon!” Grabbing your hand, your mom leads you off the bus, flashing a thankful smile to the bus driver as he hands your guys’ suitcases to you (your mother had asked if you could keep it in the front seats since the bus was mostly empty).

The bus drove off, leaving the both of you behind the short, white fence of a beachfront house, your aunt’s beachfront house. You silently wonder either if your aunt is rich or if cheap homes by the beach are a thing in Australia.

The house itself is a bright yellow with white shudders and trimming, an adorable blue door with intricate window paneling and big windows that looked like they faced each point of the compass. A picture perfect home–except perhaps for the surplus of pink flamingos dotting the backyard lawn.

“Huh, well, that’s new,” you say, not entirely bothered by the fluorescent birds; you’ve had weirder obsessions.

“A good new,” your mom affirms, and you shrug your shoulders, still very unbothered. Your apathy towards the gaudy lawn decorations seems to appease your mother’s nerves. “My sister has always had some hyperfixation issues, but you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

Before you can make a comment, a woman–looking a bit older than your mom, draped in a flowery shaw and her hair tied back in a long braid–came almost crashing through the door and out onto the lawn.

“JOSIE!” She exclaimes, running across the lawn and banging open the gate of the fence. She picks up your mother in a bear hug, your mother not even batting an eyelash.

“Martha,” your mom acknowledges, smiling brighter than usual. After setting her down, your aunt brushes off your mom’s shoulders and turns her eyes to you.

“And you must be (Y/N)!” Your eyes widen as she takes one large step towards you and lifts you two feet off the ground, popping several of your vertebrae. “It’s so nice to meet you, darling!”

“Nice to meet you, too, Aunt Martha,” you wheeze, both strangely comfortable and completely dying in your aunt’s embrace.

“Oh please, Auntie Marty is what you should call me,” she says, setting you back on your feet. “Aunt Martha sounds too proper to address me of all people. Sounds like I should be in Britain making tea and crumpets.”

You smile good-naturedly. The spirit Auntie Marty has seems to calm your doubts about moving to the Gold Coast. Her smile lines seem like old familiar friends you haven’t seen in awhile, her eyes were that of a happy child’s, and her blonde hair streaked with gray, betraying her age of 48, seemed to soften her face…though her build most definitely did not; if the picking up all of your (Y/W) pounds and your mother’s weight as well didn’t show you that she was built like a bodybuilder half her age, I’m not sure what did.

“Come inside, come inside,” she insists, gesturing towards the gate. She leads you and your mother across the lawn and into the house. You slip off your shoes as you take in the foyer of the house.

There are trinkets everywhere. Dogs, cats, cars, flamingoes, sail boats, frogs, random 60s matchboxes; anything on the slightly small side, there was a shelf for. And that’s just when you first walk in; as you walk through the house as Auntie Marty is leading you and your mom to your rooms, your astonishment grows. You have never in your entire life seen so many trinkets that all had a place. Nothing was out of order.

While your aunt may be an eccentric, she was anything but disorganized. And you are very sure that, in spite of all of the oddities, you are going to feel very at home here. Especially since your room just so happens to be frog themed.

- -

The day after arriving in the Gold Coast, you were able to walk to town; it was only about five minutes tops and you had perfectly good sneakers. You would have preferred if your aunt would have driven you because of how hot it happens to be today but it also just so happens that–while she has plane, boat, and heavy machinery licenses–she had gotten both her car impounded and her driver’s license taken away. She won’t say why but alas, that’s more of your problem right now than hers.

The first place you happen to find is a little juice place called the Juicenet Cafe. You remember passing by it on the way to Auntie Marty’s yesterday. It looks pretty interesting, infused with more beach vibes than a surfer and a beach babe combined. People mostly on the younger side are going in and out of the cafe, though not too many to deter you from going inside at risk of it being too crowded to find a seat.

You cover your mouth at its guadiness but go inside despite yourself.

You pass through an entryway of multi-colored beads and your nose is immediately assulted by the sweet smells of fruit and sunscreen. A muscular, tanned man adorned in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt revealing a white undershirt, stands behind the main counter, a few computers dotting the space in front of it. Some teens about your age are seated at booths lining the left wall and in the tables and chairs scattered around the cafe.

This seems to be a place accustomed to regulars walking through its beads hence you get more than a few odd looks from its patrons. Particularly from a guy with dark, poorly styled hair sitting across from the very definition of a blonde-haired bimbo, twirling her hair with her index finger. She regards you with a look that you can’t quite interpret, but didn’t seem nice anyway. Goodness, why’d they have to be in the middle of cafe?

“Hello there!” The man behind the counter says as you approach, his eyes happy at the presence of a newcomer in his juice shop. “And what might your name be?”

“(Y/N), I’m new to town,” you answer, returning the grin that turns the man’s lips.

“Knew I hadn’t seen you in here before! I’m Wilfred. Any thing I can get you, or are you just exploring town?”

“Well, I’m not very sure what you have here but do you have strawberry smoothies?”

“Of course!”

“Alright, then I’d like one of those.” You fish your wallet out of your back pocket. “How much?”

“$5.25.” You hand him the cash and wait patiently by the end of the counter.

You absent mindedly regard the screeching of chair legs against the floor but continue to pick at your nails as you lean against the counter top.

“Why, hey,” came a voice that obviously was trying to sound smoother than it actually was. You look up and are greeted by a boy with a lopsided smirk and brown eyes. His light brown hair looks like it is about to go into his eyes. “I’m Nate and, lemme guess what your name is. Angel?”

Your first reaction is, of course, absolute disgust at the outrageous pick up line and discomfort at how close he was getting to you. You glance over at Wilfred to see if he noticed Nate but he’s distracted by another customer.

You take a step back, putting space in between the two of you. “Whatever you’re trying, no thank you.”

He leans on the counter, trying to be suave. “Oh, come on. You’re obviously not from around here, your accenct’s a dead give away.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You look like you need a big strong man to show you around.”

You look past him and notice the dark-haired boy and bottle blonde laughing. You then look a little past them and notice that another blonde girl, this one with curly hair, is approaching the scene that Nate is making with you.

“I can take care of myself, please, stop,” you scoff, taking another step as he advances towards you still. You briefly wonder if you will have to resort to anything physically violent to get him off your case.

“Nate, what the heck do you think you’re doing?” A girl’s voice growls from behind Nate and you look around his shoulder to see the curly blonde-haired girl from before. Nate turns to face her but still keeps himself mostly facing towards you. “You think you’re slick? Back off of her, I can hear her saying no all the way from over there.”

“Come on, Rikki, I was just flirting a little bit,” he says, though you can tell he’s intimidated by the fiery female before him. “There really is no harm in-”

“Going after a girl that says stop? Good luck having a future that’s not beind bars.” She looks over the counter and snaps to get Wilfred’s attention, pushing Nate away from you, much to his discontent. “Is her smoothie almost done?”

He had just finished talking with the customer and walks over. “Yes, it’ll be done in a minute.” He appears to sense the tension. “A problem here?”

Rikki throws a glare at Nate who shrinks slightly underneath her gaze. “No. Everything’s just peachy as long as Nate can take no for an answer.” He nods and walks off. “Oh, and please bring her drink to my table.” Rikki grabs your wrist and pulls you across the room to the booth she was sitting at.

You sit across from her. She gives you a closed-mouthed smile.

“What’s your name?” She asks, stirring her own drink with her straw.

“(Y/N),” you answer, staring at her with gratitude. “And you’re Rikki? I heard,” you wave your hand as you search for the name and she takes a sip from her smoothie, “Nate say your name. Thank you for all of that, by the way.”

“No problem, I don’t like Nate as much as the next person, any chance to publicly humiliate him is a chance I can’t pass up.” She glances up from her drink. “And, of course, I couldn’t let someone that was getting hit on that didn’t want to be hit on to,” she scrunches up her nose as she looks at the ceiling, trying to find the right words, “to keep getting…hit on.”

“I do dare say that was the most beautifully crafted sentence I’ve ever heard,” you tease your rescuer, smiling brightly. Her bright blue eyes twinkle in amusement as she returns the smile.

“So, where are you from?”

“Oh, from (C / O/O).”

“Really? That’s a bit of a ways. Why’d you come to Australia?” She looks up at Wilfred as he brings your drink over. You say a quick ‘thank you’ as he sets it down and walks away.

“Yeah, don’t I know it.” You grimace at the true reason behind the moving and choose the simple answer for your new acquaintance. “My mom and I just move around a lot. Though, this time she says we’re staying here. Which is nice because we’re staying with family.”

“Hmm, you been out on the beach yet? Best place around here.” She sips her drink.

“No, not really. I don’t much like sand, it’s so rough, course, irritating, and it gets everywhere.” You scrunch your nose in disgust.

“Okay, well, I’ll be helping to kick that out of you. You can’t survive around here without some sand in your shoes.” She laughs a little to herself and then looks you in the eye. “Since you don’t have any friends here yet, I’ll be your guide around here. Unless you would prefer Nate?”

“Ew, no.” You take a sip of your own drink and then, “You’d really be willing to do that?”

“Eh, why not, all of my friends are mad at me right now anyway.”

You nearly choke on your smoothie at the piece of information Rikki just dropped. She smirks as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Oh, well, I guess we’ll both be getting something out of the other.”

“Yeah.” She extends her hand for a hand shake. “Friends of convenience?”

You smile, amused at how weird this friendship proposal was. You reach out and shake her hand in spite of knowing that this friendship is probably not going to last as long as you hope.

#h2o just add water #h2o #rikki h2o #rikki chadwick #rikki #h2o fanfiction #fanfiction #nate h2o #h2o just add water fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #platonic relationships #platonic

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