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doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber · 9 months

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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.

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