your-so-vain

[your-so-vain]

<?> For Your Eyes Only<?>

Part two

Word count: 996

Warnings: sexual themes, y/n mention, female reader, slight stalking, cursing, and probably more

Part one <?> For Your Eyes Only<?>

(This originally started as smut then a mitski song turned on an all hell broke loose I GOT THE SAD STUFF SAVED FOR THE NEXT ONE SO BUCKLE UP)

---

You woke up to the sound of masked breathing over your body and dark green eye’s trailing over you.

As you shook from your slumber you looked around your bedroom, your eyes adjusted to the moon night breezing in from your window.

“Shh” a soft voice appeared from the corner of your bed as your neck nearly snapped from the speed of how fast you looked over

“Edward?!”

A boyish smile crept across his face as you recognized him still in the riddler costume, he was nice enough to make sure his boots were clean before coming in.

“W-What are you doing here!”

“Welll you never answered me and I became a little bit antsy, so I wanted to come by and know what you would say.”

“I-“ this was all thrown at you so quick, your eyes were still half lidded from you just waking up

You let out an exhausted sigh before rubbing your temple as he stares at you with a grin

“…just give me some more time, okay?” Your knees were pressed against your chest as you looked at him

His grin faltered.

“Fine.”

He huffed out in a mixture of anger and sadness

“Just if you figure out what you want; let me know, please? I-I just can’t wait forever, y/n”

You nodded your head in agreement and before you knew it he had left, using your window as an escape route. He gave you a small glance before leaving

Not bothering getting up to close the window because a small part of you had hoped he would come back the same night and you would tell him.

---

As you woke up, again, this time to the sun being out and your window shut. But hadn’t you just went back to bed?

Maybe you woke up and didn’t know and just shut it, maybe. A part of you hoped you’d open your bed room door and he would be outside it just waiting, although unfortunately he wasn’t

Your hand reached for your phone on your night stand, as it light up signifying that it was on you had a bad feeling before you even had the opportunity to open it.

the first thing you saw on any app you’d open you were met by

“New Shocking Murder! The GCPD Deputy Chief, Charles Smith Has Been Murdered By Who Officials Can Only Suspect To Be The Gruesome Riddler!” Some Say Mr Smiths Spine Was Removed Once Police Arrived To The Scene!?!”

You sighed, knowing exactly why he done this.

Although you didn’t feel guilt about possibly being the influence for his death, you felt bad about Edward, how he felt as if you were playing with his emotions.

---

After nearly slipping to your death while getting out of the shower, you dried your hair with your burgundy colored towel.

Already wearing your clothes for work, just hoping a stain wouldn’t get on them. But luck hadn’t been in your favor this morning as you spilt a very obvious amount of coffee on your shirt.

After changing into a different pair of clothes and dreading the pile of clothes you would when to fold when you’d get back from work, you hear a random knock at your door.

So you went and opened the door, to be met with nothing hm could’ve sworn someone was here?

Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you with how paranoid you were right? At least that’s what you thought, because you hadn’t noticed the new Polaroids next to your welcome mat in front of your door.

If you did notice them you would’ve seen multiple pictures of Edward jacking his self off in a perfect angle, like he had it all planned out

and if pictures could display sound you would hear him huffing out your name in lust and desperation.

Ohh God what he would give to have your hand in place of his, or your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock, just taking it allll like the good girl you are, like the good girl he knew you would be

---

After getting back from a long and hard day at work, you were sure your boss had it out for you, but you weren’t alone when you opened the front door.

There he was on full display, his long legs curled up on your couch, hair a mess as always, black shirt with his baggy jeans with his dark green jacket and drinking a cup of tea in your favorite mug to be specific.

You had been used to this by now, usually once in a while he would do this so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary

“So, Edward how’s life been?”

You say leaning against your living room wall, staring at him

“Terrible, as always and you?” His green eyes trailing your body up and down, admiring every slight curve you have

“Nothing different” you chuckled out in a soft breath

After a moment of silence, Edward finally spoke up first. His voice sounding soft at first before getting his grounding with his tone

“…did you ever figure out your answer?” His head was now look down at the floor awaiting your answer

“I did. I figured it out this morning actually.”

His head immediately shot up to look at you, his eyes locked with yours “And that answer was??” He pushed his glasses up slightly

“Maybe.” You said in a cold neutral mono tone

“W-what do you mean maybe?!” His voice cracked a bit in sadness

“Exactly what I said, maybe.” You couldn’t bare to face him, the guilt was practically tearing you apart at this moment.

---

Btw this is how I imagined riddler in y/ns room I might’ve gotten inspired from twilight

[your-so-vain]

Yall im making a part 2 of ur eyes only and all I’ll say is that mitski has contributed A LOT to it

[your-so-vain]

Yall what do I do to stop a tummy ache without getting out of bed or going to sleep, help would be much appreciated 🙏🏻

[your-so-vain]

“Father, forgive them. For they know not what they do.”

[your-so-vain]

[your-so-vain]

<?> for your eyes only <?>

Warnings: Dark themes, obsession, stalking, manipulation, tension, references to violence, use of y/n, morally grey reader, 2022 riddler, genders neutral reader

Word count: 847

———

You found the first letter on a Thursday.

It was slid under your door, the edge just barely peeking out over the floorboard. No envelope, just a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled across it in messy, all-caps ink:

“Y/N.”

Inside, a riddle. No context, no sign-off.

“I can break, I can be clogged, I can be attacked, I can be given, I can be kept, I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?”

———

You laughed at first. Just a soft, confused exhale. Thought it was a joke. One of your weirder neighbors, maybe.

Then you saw the Polaroid tucked between the folds.

It was you. Walking out of your building that morning. Same coat. Same coffee in hand. Same little frown you always made when the lid didn’t fit right.

You closed the blinds.

But you didn’t throw the letter away. You started seeing them more often.

Riddles taped to your window from the outside.

Little photos tucked under your windshield wipers.

One night, someone left a mug of tea your favorite kind steaming on your doorstep.

You wanted to tell someone. Really.

But every time you opened your mouth to mention it, something stopped you.

Part of you was scared. The other part was… curious.

———

It was wrong, you knew that. But there was something in the precision of it, the care. The fact that he knew things you hadn’t even told your friends.

Someone had been paying attention.

And that was rare in a city like Gotham.

———

You met him for the first time in the rain.

The city was tense sirens screaming all day, the news buzzing about another explosion, another “message.” You were walking home, coat soaked through, boots clicking hard on the pavement.

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Y/n”

You stopped.

He was standing under a broken streetlight.

Tall, awkward posture, hunched a little like he didn’t know how to stand in his own body. Big glasses, wet hair curling out from under his hood.

He looked like a guy you’d pass on the subway and never remember.

But you knew who he was.

“Y-You’re him?” You said, heart pounding in your ears

He blinked at you like he was surprised. Then smiled.

“I hoped you’d recognize me!” His voice was dripping with excitement

You should’ve screamed. Or run. But you didn’t.

Instead, you looked at him like you were trying to read a difficult book.

“Why me.” You asked bluntly

He tilted his head. “Because you’re the only person I’ve seen who looks around and see’s what’s wrong! Y-You walk like the whole city’s sitting on your back, you get it.”

He stepped closer, slowly like he was afraid to scare you.

“And I-i didn’t want to be alone in this.” his glasses began fogging up from the rain, you weren’t met by his green eyes but by his smile that screamed excitement

You didn’t speak for a long time.

And then, finally “what do you want from me?!”

His eyes softened, almost childlike.

“Just… to talk, maybe to know that someone like you exists.”

———

He started visiting sometimes.

Never when you asked. Always when the city was asleep.

You’d wake up to find him sitting on your fire escape, staring out into the Gotham skyline like he was trying to solve it.

Some nights, you’d let him in. You never touched. Barely even stood close. But you talked.

He told you pieces of himself.

Not everything. Never everything. But enough.

About the orphanage. The cold floors. The way people pretended not to see him.

He said your apartment was the only quiet place in the city.

You didn’t tell him he was wrong.

You didn’t agree with what he was doing. Not really

———

But some nights, when you heard what kind of person his latest victim had been what they’d done, what they’d covered up you didn’t exactly feel bad, either.

You hated that about yourself.

But Edward never did.

“Your not like them.”

He said one night, voice low, his fingers wrapped around a chipped coffee cup. “You see through the cracks. You don’t pretend everything’s fine.”

“I’m not a killer” You murmured

“No” he agreed “but you don’t look away either.”

And for some reason, that felt worse

One night, you found a note under your pillow

“I think I love you. But I’ll stay away if that’s what you want. Just say the word. <?>”

You read it three times.

Then you folded it in half, placed it in your drawer, and left the window open.

That night, you dreamed of fogged up windows and unsolved riddles

And a pair of eyes watching you not with malice. But with devotion.

The kind of devotion that could ruin you.

(Also the answer for the riddle in the beginning was a heart <3)

[your-so-vain]

OMG YALL

TELL THEY LOOK ALIKE IM NOT CRAZY

[your-so-vain]

Out of Bounds, Chapter Ten.

(WE ARE FINALLY HEREEEE!!! This scene is what inspired me to make the fic itself, so i really hope you enjoy this chapter and what comes after. prepare yourself 😔)

There was magic in the air—

Not the kind that came from wands or spellwork, but something softer. Warmer.

The dorm room was glowing in golden candlelight, charmed to give off a warm hue that made everything feel just a little more perfect. Music drifted in from someone’s enchanted record player in the background, something upbeat and glittery. Half the room was chaos—shoes flung about, makeup strewn across the vanity, and glitter on nearly every visible surface. The other half? Two girls laughing themselves breathless while curling each other’s hair.

“Okay,” Stephanie said, waving her wand with dramatic flair as she added the final touch to your eyeshadow. “There. You look disgusting. Like a literal angel. I’m sick.”

You snorted. “You’re one to talk. You look like every Beauxbatons boy’s dream.”

“Oh stop,” she said, preening in the mirror anyway. “Now tell me about the outfit Jason’s wearing. Is he going traditional, or leather jacket and war crime chic?”

You grinned, cheeks already warm. “Traditional, actually. I helped him pick his tie.”

Stephanie’s eyes widened, fake scandal lighting up her face. “You’ve seen the tie? What else have you seen, hmm?”

You picked up a brush and half-heartedly aimed it at her. “Don’t make me hex you. I swear.”

“Relax! I’m just saying… you’re glowing. Don’t think I didn’t notice those marks the other day. And girl—your hair’s down. I’ve never seen you with it down unless you were hiding something.”

You could barely fight back your smile. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me, because I’m right.”

You turned to face her properly, tucking your legs underneath you on the bed. “Fine. It’s good. He’s… he’s everything, Steph. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Her teasing faded just a little, replaced by the soft, genuine curiosity of a best friend. “Try.”

You looked down at your hands for a moment, twisting the rings on your fingers.

“I used to think people like him only noticed girls like me if it was some kind of joke. Like, he’s… him. Rough around the edges. Ridiculous. Smart in this sly, quietly dangerous way. And then there’s me. I don’t do trouble. I don’t start fights. I color-code my notes. And yet, when he looks at me, I don’t feel boring. I feel—” You hesitated, cheeks heating again. “Like I’m everything.”

Stephanie gave you the softest smile, pulling you into a quick hug before pulling back. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel. You deserve that.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “Okay, your turn. Spill. Who’s your mystery date?”

She grinned. “Miiiight be a certain Hufflepuff boy who asked me while stuttering the entire time.”

Your jaw dropped. “No!”

“Yes. And I said yes, because he was so red in the face I thought he was about to pass out. And because he’s cute. And he gives me snacks. And he’s kind of ripped under those school robes.”

You both dissolved into giggles, hands flying to your faces.

“Tonight’s going to be so good,” you said, cheeks still hurting from smiling. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows. “Just don’t disappear halfway through the night unless I know where you’re going. And no broom closets, I’m begging you.”

You laughed, tossing a pillow at her.

But as you turned back toward the mirror, smoothing down your dress and checking your reflection one last time, your heart fluttered—not from nerves.

Excitement.

Joy.

Maybe even something a little scarier.

Jason Todd was going to be waiting for you at the bottom of those stairs.

And you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw you.

________

The descent down the staircase to the Great Hall had never felt so dramatic. Between the golden floating lights, the soft music already echoing from behind the great double doors, and the fact that your heels were clicking against the stone like a metronome to your heartbeat—this felt like something out of a fairy tale.

Stephanie, radiant in soft lavender, squeezed your hand as you reached the last step. “Ready?”

You nodded, pulse fluttering beneath your skin. You were ready.

And then you saw him.

Jason stood just ahead, near the massive open archway leading into the Great Hall. For once, he wasn’t slouched with his hands in his pockets, wasn’t scowling at some classmate or pushing someone out of the way. He stood tall, his tie actually done (a little too tight, by the look of it), his dark dress robes clean and pressed. Even his hair had been tamed, combed back in a way that made him look stupidly good—like he’d stepped right out of a dream. A rough-around-the-edges, sharply dressed dream.

Next to him, Dick Grayson looked smug beyond belief, practically glowing in his own dress robes, clearly proud of his younger brother for cleaning up so well. He nudged Jason the second he spotted you.

Jason turned.

And the second your eyes met his, every bit of nervous energy dissolved into warmth.

His expression faltered—not in a bad way, more like he forgot how to breathe. His gaze swept over you with unhidden awe, like he was trying to memorize every detail. His fingers were already twitching at his tie, clearly resisting the urge to tug it loose.

You smiled as you approached him, the corners of your mouth lifting in just a little bit of mischief. Stephanie made a beeline for her date, but you took your time. When you finally reached him, you leaned in close—close enough that your lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“You can relax,” you murmured softly, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be taking the tie off for you by the end of the night anyway.”

His breath hitched. You leaned back just in time to catch the flicker of stunned amusement dancing across his face. That smirk you knew all too well started to tug at the corners of his mouth, like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that—you.

Before he could say a word, you looped your arm through his and smiled up at him like you were completely innocent. “Shall we?”

Jason cleared his throat, trying (and failing) to pull it together. “Yeah. We shall.”

And the two of you walked into the Great Hall together—finally, officially.

Even if no one else knew it yet.

The Great Hall had never looked like this. The enchanted ceiling shimmered like velvet midnight, scattered with moving constellations and soft stardust that seemed to fall but never quite touched the ground. Chandeliers floated lower than usual, dripping in golden orbs of light that made everything glow a little warmer, a little softer. The stone walls had been bewitched to look like winter frost kissed every surface, laced with icicles that glittered but never melted.

You took it all in—wide-eyed, heart fluttering. It was everything you imagined. Maybe more.

But the real magic? The weight of Jason’s arm beneath yours. The slight brush of his hand against your back when someone passed too close. The way every head turned to look at you both as you walked in, like you’d stepped out of some forbidden fairy tale.

Yes, you thought, chin high, he’s mine.

Because for once, it wasn’t just Jason Todd: Slytherin captain, perpetual menace, always in trouble. It was your Jason. His eyes weren’t cold or calculating—they were soft, quiet, focused entirely on you. Like the noise around him didn’t matter.

You were so swept up in the moment that you almost didn’t register his voice, low and just a little shy, over the music.

“Dance with me?”

Your breath caught. This had to be a dream. He wasn’t the dancing type. He’d told you as much in a hundred different ways. But there he was, holding out his hand, waiting for your answer.

You could only nod as you slid your fingers into his.

He led you onto the dance floor, more graceful than you expected—not perfect, but confident. One hand found your waist, the other held yours steady, and the second you settled into the rhythm of the music, your world narrowed.

It didn’t matter how many students swayed around you, how many enchanted snowflakes spun above your head. None of it mattered. Because you weren’t watching a movie. You weren’t reading about it in one of your romance novels.

You were living it.

You let out a quiet laugh, almost breathless from the high of it all. “This is insane.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, smirking. “The dance? Or everyone staring at us?”

“Both,” you admitted, smiling up at him. “But mostly the fact that you’re actually doing this.”

His smirk softened. “For you? I’d do a lot worse.”

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, hiding your grin. You couldn’t help it. This was everything you’d ever dreamed of—and somehow, it was still better. It wasn’t just the dress, or the music, or the magic. It was him.

And he was yours.

The fast-paced waltz of shimmering dresses and spinning bodies melted into something gentler, something quieter. It wrapped around the room like a secret, delicate and slow, as if even the orchestra wanted to hold its breath for a moment longer.

Jason didn’t say anything—he just pulled you closer.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his hand resting against the small of your back like it belonged there. The other held yours, his fingers brushing your knuckles every time the rhythm shifted. You settled your free hand against his chest, just over his heart, feeling the steady beat that was just a little too fast to be casual.

Your eyes met, and neither of you looked away.

For a moment, everything else disappeared: the laughter, the clinking glasses, the flickering candles. The entire Great Hall could’ve collapsed around you and you wouldn’t have noticed. All that existed was the space between you, and how it kept getting smaller.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this serious,” you whispered, teasing gently.

Jason didn’t smile. Not quite. But something about the way his brows lifted made your heart skip.

“Trying not to mess this up,” he murmured, voice low and a little hoarse. “You look like something out of a dream, and I’m just… me.”

Your breath hitched. “You are everything, Jason Todd.”

His gaze softened.

You didn’t mean to say it like that. You didn’t mean to make it sound so true. But it was. There was no hiding it anymore, not in the way your thumb rubbed tiny circles against the fabric of his suit, or the way your voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear.

“You’re not just someone I brought to the ball. You’re not just some secret I’m keeping. You’re mine. And I’m yours, okay? So stop worrying.”

Jason exhaled slowly, like you’d reached inside and untied a knot he’d been carrying all night.

“You always know what to say,” he said, quieter this time. “Drives me crazy.”

You smiled, lifting your chin just slightly. “Then maybe I’ll keep doing it.”

He leaned in close—just enough to brush his forehead against yours, enough to feel the breath between your lips, like he was asking a question he didn’t need to say out loud.

And you answered him the only way you could: by not pulling away.

The music swelled again, but you didn’t hear it. You were still dancing, but it wasn’t about the rhythm anymore. It was about how perfectly you fit in each other’s arms. How safe it felt. How easy.

How real.

In a world full of rumors and secrets and noise, this moment was yours.

Just the two of you.

________

The night had been perfect.

You were still glowing from your last dance, cheeks flushed from both movement and something far warmer. You and Jason had joined Stephanie and Dick by the punch bowl, sipping sweet, spiced drinks and laughing at whatever ridiculous story Dick was telling about some fifth year who tried to spike the cauldron cakes with Firewhisky.

Jason had his arm slung around your waist, fingers idly tracing circles against the back of your dress. You leaned into his side, stealing a piece of chocolate from Stephanie’s stash and feeding him one just to watch the way he tried to play off the grin tugging at his lips.

You were happy. God, you were happy.

And then Nathan arrived.

You noticed him out of the corner of your eye — tall, smug, and accompanied by some Ravenclaw girl you didn’t recognize. Jason tensed instantly, shoulders stiffening like a bowstring being pulled tight. Your first instinct was to roll your eyes, preparing to brush Nathan off with a polite smile and a short conversation.

But he didn’t start with Jason. He started with you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Nathan said, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Shame you were already taken.”

Jason’s arm tightened just slightly around you.

Then, casually, as if it were nothing, Nathan turned toward him. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

He reached into his pocket.

And dropped a small bag of Galleons into Jason’s hand with a quiet clink.

You blinked.

Jason didn’t move. His face went pale, the kind of pale that only comes when blood drains all at once from your heart. The world around you dulled. The music, the laughter—it all blurred into background noise.

“What… was that?” you asked, voice smaller than you expected.

Nathan’s grin widened. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Figured the two of you were past that.”

Your throat tightened. “Tell me what?”

“The fifty Galleons,” Nathan said, nonchalantly. “For the bet. I mean, he won fair and square, didn’t he?”

Silence.

What bet.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, but your mind was slower to catch up. It was like watching something collapse in slow motion, knowing exactly what was going to happen and being completely powerless to stop it.

You turned to Jason. His expression said everything. The silence stretched. No denial. No laughter. No explanation.

Just… guilt. And that was somehow so much worse. You staggered a step back. “Tell me he’s lying.”

Jason opened his mouth. But nothing came out.

The breath left your lungs all at once. You could feel the burn in your throat, the way your eyes blurred instantly. You were going to cry—here, in front of everyone, at the Yule Ball.

No.

No, not here.

You shook your head and turned away, pushing through the stunned crowd. Your heels clicked sharply against the stone as you threw open the doors to the Great Hall, the cold air slapping your face as soon as you stepped outside. You barely made it past the corridor before you broke.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay—” Stephanie was suddenly there, catching up behind you, arms wrapping around you as your shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until she pulled you in tighter.

Back inside the Great Hall, Jason stood frozen, fists clenched so tightly around the bag of Galleons it looked like he might crush it. Dick said something to him—low and furious—but Stephanie shot him a look that made him freeze in place.

She turned her back to him completely and walked you farther away, hand on your back, whispering something soft, something gentle.

Jason didn’t follow.

He couldn’t.

Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to fix what he broke.

________

OMFG 😭😭😭😭😭 (i literally wrote this and knew what was gonna happen)

[your-so-vain]

WE MUST SAVE HIM FROM GRANNY✊🏻✊🏻✊🏻✊🏻

[your-so-vain]

BRO THIS IS SO ME ALWAYS??? Anyone else????

Found on a post by @fic-dumpster

[your-so-vain]

Do you think that if multiple universes exist, that Jesus sacrificed his self for us in every universe?

[your-so-vain]

I have another idea for a story and it’s like a period piece but I got so much more stuff to do SHOULD I DO IT??

[your-so-vain]

[your-so-vain]

🪐💫 Of Ashes and Starlight💫🪐

Word count: 1206

Warnings: Star Wars spoilers, trauma mentions, slow burn, oc x oc, split personality disorder, implied ptsd, angst, mid sexual tension

Chapter Two

Part 1 is on my account idk how to link it, lmao

Naboo was warm.

Altair hadn’t known warmth like this in years maybe never. Not the sweltering heat of a desert planet or the sterile climate control of a Jedi Temple but real warmth. Golden. Soft. The kind that settled into your bones and made you feel things you didn’t ask to feel.

She hated it.

The shuttle doors sealed behind her, and her boots hit the stone of Theed’s spaceport with a quiet thud. The hum of the city greeted her chatter, laughter, the occasional click of a passing droid. She pulled the hood of her cloak lower, swallowed the lump in her throat, and walked.

You are no one. You’re just passing through.

That’s what she told herself.

But the Force twitched with every step.

Not a warning. Not danger. Just… eyes. Threads of awareness tugging at her from somewhere unseen.

Maybe it was Ellena.

No. Not now.

She turned a corner, slipped past a crowded stall, and moved toward the quieter edges of the plaza. Somewhere in her chest, Altair could still feel the phantom pain her leg, the weight of the blade, the scream she didn’t get to finish. The scar was long healed, the cybernetic replacement sleek and silent beneath her robes, but it burned today.

Everything burned today.

A fountain caught her eye. She paused, catching her breath.

And then “Hey.”

---

Her shoulders tensed she turned slowly.

A young man leaned casually against the stone curve of the fountain, arms folded, eyes sharp. Blond curls a little too messy to be careless. Worn tunic, travel boots, the kind of gear that said I just wanna help. And behind those eyes something else.

He wasn’t Force sensitive. Not in the traditional way. But he felt… aware. Like he’d been trained to watch, to listen. He didn’t look dangerous.

But neither did she.

“You just get in?” he asked, nodding toward the docking bay behind her.

Altair tilted her head slightly. “What gave it away?”

“You’ve been staring at everything like it’s about to bite.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just passing through.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t smirk like most men would. Just studied her for a second too long.

“Word of advice? Maybe don’t look like you’re scouting a place to rob.”

She raised a brow. He held up both hands in a lazy peace offering. “Kidding. Mostly.”

“…Do you always talk to strangers?”

“Only the ones who look like they’re running from something.”

Altair looked past him down the curve of the walkway, toward the edge of the city where the buildings turned older and more worn.

“Boarding house that way.” he said, catching the glance. “Cheap. Quiet. The owner minds her business.”

“And you just help people like this?”

He shrugged. “Only when I feel like it.”

Altair hesitated. Every fiber in her body screamed don’t follow him. But the Force… buzzed. Not loud. Not dangerous. Just curious.

She started walking. He followed beside her without being asked.

---

They walked in silence for a while.

The city shifted around them newer stone giving way to old brick, tech stalls replaced by shuttered homes and dim taverns. Naboo was alive, but in a sleepy way. Like it didn’t realize the galaxy was still falling apart beyond its sky.

“You got a name?” he asked eventually.

She didn’t answer right away. She was trying to read him. The way he moved, the way he kept just enough distance to not spook her but close enough to stay present.

“Do you?” she countered.

He smiled. “Fair.”

More quiet. They passed a group of children chasing a malfunctioning service droid, laughing so hard it echoed off the alley walls. Altair’s chest tightened.

The Temple used to sound like that.

“Altair,” she said softly.

He slowed a little. “Reymar.”

They stopped at a narrow building tucked between a mechanic’s shop and an herbalist’s. Weathered wood, old stone, no security. The kind of place people forgot.

“Here we are” he said. “Room upstairs should be open. If you knock and ask nice.”

She stepped forward, but paused.

“Why did you help me?” she asked.

Reymar leaned against the doorway. “I don’t know. Guess I like trouble.”

Altair studied him, truly looked for the first time. There was a flicker of something behind the nonchalance. Not darkness. Not light. Something in between.

Like her.

---

The room was simple. Cot, basin, view of a crumbling rooftop garden. She locked the door out of habit. Sat on the edge of the bed. Closed her eyes.

And felt her breathing shift.

It was too quiet. Her thoughts were too loud.

“You should’ve killed him” said a voice hers, but not hers.

Altair flinched.

“Go away.”

“He knows. Or he will know.”

She clutched her hands tight. “He doesn’t know anything.”

“But he felt you.”

Silence.

“You’re bleeding at the edges, Altair” Ellena purred. “And you’re too tired to hide it.”

Altair stood, pacing.

“You won’t ruin this.”

“We are this” Ellena said softly. “There’s no you without me.”

Altair pressed her fingers to her temple. Steadied her breath.

And then a knock at the door.

She froze.

Reymar’s voice: “Didn’t mean to bother. Just… figured you might want food that wasn’t processed protein.”

---

She opened it, just a crack.

He held up a wrapped bundle. “Street vendor. Fried rootcakes. Might be terrible.”

Altair hesitated.

Then took it. “Thanks.”

He nodded, turned to go, but paused. “If you want company… I’m not far.” He said, that signature smirk on his face

She watched him disappear down the hall.

Ellena whispered, “He’s too close.”

Altair whispered back, “Good.”

---

Later that night, Altair sat on the rooftop above the boarding house. The moonlight caught the soft metal of her prosthetic, which peeked just barely out from beneath her robe. She didn’t hide it out here. Not in the dark.

Footsteps behind her.

“I figured I’d find you up here.” Reymar said, sitting beside her. He held two cups of something warm, handed one over. “Caf.”

Altair took it, sipped. Bitter. Strong. Real.

“Don’t sleep much?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Me neither.”

Silence.

Below them, the city glowed. Faint speeder lights streaked in the sky, slow and far off. Naboo didn’t rush. It let things take their time. Altair hated how much that made her ache.

“Do you ever feel like… you’re pretending?” she asked suddenly.

Reymar didn’t flinch.

“All the time.”

She looked at him. His face was quiet, unreadable. Then she opened her mouth to speak before being cut off, unintentionally

“My father worked with the Empire.” he said. “Contracts. Trade. When I was a kid, I thought he was a hero. I didn’t know what he really did until much later.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. For a while.”

“And now?”

“I try to make up for it.”

Another pause.

“You?”

Altair looked down at her cup. At her hands.

“I used to want to be good,” she said. “I used to think that mattered.”

“It still does.”

She didn’t answer.

But Reymar didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, stared up at the stars.

And for the first time in a long time, Altair didn’t feel alone as she rested her head on his shoulder, finally feeling at ease

[your-so-vain]

ALSOOOO CHAPTER 1 IS OUT PLS READ IT 🫶🏻🫶🏻

So I was thinking about the Star Wars fic how we feeling about Rachel zegler being the face claim for altair (that’s the mc’s name btw)

Me personally I think it’s a great fit and yall BETTER NOT bring up Snow White, please and thank you 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[your-so-vain]

[your-so-vain]

🪐💫 Of Ashes and Starlight💫🪐

Word count: 1042

Warnings: spoilers for nearly all the Star Wars movies, child hood trauma, child abuse, order 66

(Hiiii guys ik I’ve been putting this off for a while and I can’t be certain on when part 2 will come out but if u got any suggestions pls tell me I’d love to hear them)

---

The Jedi Temple was too quiet.

Altair could feel it. Even at eight years old, she knew what silence meant. Not the peaceful kind the other kind. The kind that presses in on you, cold and still, like something holding its breath.

She was supposed to be meditating. But she got restless and slipped out of the room when her teacher wasn’t looking. Just to stretch her legs. Just for a minute.

That’s when she felt it.

The pressure in her chest. The way the air changed. She didn’t understand it, but something in her gut screamed run. Then came the shouting.

Blasters. Screams. A lightsaber igniting.

She froze in the hallway. Just a few feet ahead, two younglings dropped. A clone trooper stepped over their bodies like they were nothing. Another one raised his blaster aimed straight at her.

But then… he hesitated.

Because someone else stepped into view.

Anakin Skywalker.

Master Skywalker.

Only it wasn’t him. Not really.

He looked… dead behind the eyes. Paler than usual. Something about him felt wrong. Like the Force was trying to twist away from him.

“Master?” Altair’s voice cracked.

He didn’t speak. His eyes were yellow, glowing. And then he raised his lightsaber that faint blue color that once brought her peace, would now be the end of her or so she thought

---

Pain. That’s all she remembered.

Pain, heat, screaming hers, she thinks and the sound of her own body hitting the floor. The world tilted sideways. Her leg was… gone. She couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t move. She lay there in a puddle of her own blood, too scared to cry. Too shocked to scream again.

She thought she was dying.

She was sure of it.

She didn’t know how much time passed. Minutes? Maybe an hour? She slipped in and out, hearing boots, fire, glass shattering. Her ears rang. Her throat was dry.

Then voices. Not clone voices. Higher. Softer. “They missed one.” someone whispered.

“Alive?”

“Barely.”

More words she couldn’t follow. Then pressure on her chest. Something cold against her forehead. The hum of a repulsorlift.

Someone picked her up. She remembered a cloak brushing her cheek. And a voice not in Basic humming something low and gentle.

And then: darkness.

---

She woke up in a room that didn’t smell like death.

The air was clean. The sheets were soft. Her leg or what was left of it was wrapped tight in synth bandages. A dull, distant ache buzzed in her thigh, but it felt far away.

The Bardottans didn’t ask her name at first.

They spoke calmly. Gave her water. Soup. A tiny handheld plushie to hug.

When she finally spoke a hoarse little “Altair” one of them nodded like they’d already known.

“You’re safe here” they said. “You’re lucky.”

She didn’t feel lucky.

She didn’t feel anything.

Days passed. Then weeks.

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t talk about what happened. She barely even spoke. There was too much noise in her head memories that felt out of order. Faces she didn’t want to remember. Screams she still wasn’t sure were real.

But the worst part?

Sometimes she’d catch herself staring at her reflection for too long; and sometimes it would stare back… a little differently.

One night, she woke up standing in the courtyard. Barefoot. Dirt on her hands. A small scorch mark in the grass near her.

---

She didn’t remember getting up.

She didn’t remember lighting anything on fire.

When she looked down at her fingers, they were trembling. Her nails were blackened at the tips, like she’d held onto something hot.

That was the first time she felt her.

The other her.

A whisper inside her skull.

Not a voice exactly just a feeling. Like someone else breathing under her skin.

She didn’t tell the Bardottans. What was she supposed to say?

“Hey, I think there’s someone else in my head. Someone angry. Someone who doesn’t blink when I do.”

They already treated her gently like she might break.

She didn’t want to give them a reason to lock her up.

So she played the part.

Meditated. Smiled when she remembered to. Rebuilt her body slowly, piece by piece, with the help of the monks’ tech.

---

By the time she was twenty-three, her leg was better than new. Mechanical, smooth, fast. She could fight again. She trained in secret

saber drills, force pushes, anything that made her feel in control.

But that whisper never went away. And neither did the flashes.

Waking up in places she hadn’t gone.

Cuts on her knuckles.

Her saber which she’d saved from that day with a blue kyber crystal had seemed tampered with

Ellena.

She gave it a name.

Because pretending it wasn’t real didn’t work anymore. And then came the moment she couldn’t push it down anymore.

Altair stood in front of her mother, arms crossed, hood half-up, and said, “I want to leave.”

Her mother, Ma’va looked tired. “The galaxy’s not what you remember.”

“I remember enough.”

“You think being a Jedi is going to fix you?”

“No. But at least I’ll be doing something.”

There was a pause then a silent

“Where?”

Altair pulled up a star map. “Naboo.”

---

The ship she took was small and quiet. She didn’t do much, nor did she think she could, her nerves would never allow her to leave the ship alone for a second without her driving

She stared at the stars, and when Naboo finally came into view, her stomach twisted.

She thought it’d feel like home.

It didn’t.

It just looked like a planet. Pretty. Clean. Wrong.

She stepped off the ship just after dusk, blending into the crowd. Her cloak covered her saber. Her leg didn’t limp. She looked normal. Almost.

But something felt off.

The Force was too still here. Like it knew something was coming. She kept her eyes forward.

She didn’t notice the young man watching her from across the square.

His hair was dirty and unkept, and he seemed to have not taken a bath in a very long time.

The young’s man’s light blue eyes scanned over her body, as a soft smirk grew onto his face as if he had something planned out in his head.