StardustSerenadeEchos

Welcome to my blog, thank you so much for reading! I only have one series at the moment that I am working on, and am unsure how tagging works. But! If you would like to be tagged let me know and I will figure it out!

A Tribute's Heart

Synopsis: As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!XuiMinghao x District12!FemReader

Word count: (Full story, tbd)

Attributes: Fluff, Slow-burn, Angst, HungerGamesAU, Hunger Games Insert fic, Violence, Political Tones. [If I can think of anything else I'll add it later :)]

Note/Warning: I’m unsure how long it will take to fully finish this, but I will complete the story. A good amount of the content is already written; it just needs some revisions. The story will unfold over several chapters, following the format of the first three films. Also, this is my first fic! So thank you for reading! I have also tried to keep physical descriptions to a minimum so anyone can read! (I tried my best couldn't find a nondescript neutral photo for the collage that would fit the theme of the 1st arena)

Teaser

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Within the Light

Synopsis: The Galaxy is ever turning, something is shifting in the force. Maybe paths will cross again. Runaway Padawon Reader finds herself back on her home planet Corellia working as a Smuggler. With the Force Awakening in 34ABY, where will our characters find themselves?

Pairing: Jedi!(?)Seonghwa x Ex!Jedi!FemReader

Featuring: Smuggler!San, Smuggler!Wooyoung, Resistance!Yunho

(Smugglers! San & Wooyoung, Resistance! Yunho)

Word count: (Full story, tbd)

Attributes: Fluff, Semi-Slow-burn, Angst, StarWarsAU, Star Wars Universe Insert fic, Violence, Political Tones. [If I can think of anything else I'll add it later :)]

Note: Said I would work on finishing the next chapter of ‘A Tribute’s Heart’ but here we are. The latest ep of Ateez X N12D motivated me to write this. I’m tired and its so late so I will post the rest of the blurb later in a part 2. This is mostly preliminary information that sets up part 2..

ATEEZ STAR WARS AU

(‘Within the Light’)  Seonghwa x f!reader  (Smugglers! San & Wooyoung, Resistance! Yunho)

────   The Galaxy is ever turning, something is shifting in the force. Maybe paths will cross again. 

2026 :  Word Count : 5, 326 : Warnings : I think think there’s any  

Note : Said I would work on finishing the next chapter of ‘A Tribute’s Heart’ but here we are. The latest ep of Ateez X N12D motivated me to write this. I’m tired and it's so late so I will post the rest of the blurb later in a part 2. This is mostly preliminary information that sets up for part 2 (Sorry no Yunho yet)

This is a revised version of this blurb.

If you have any recommendations/ideas for a part 2 let me know!

This is purely a work of fiction and delusion lol, I do not own Star Wars or any of its canon characters. Dividers from @/uzmacchiato

18ABY (After The Battle of Yarbin)

The planet was beautiful.

Lush green grass bent softly in the wind as it stretched over rolling hills far as the eye could see. The teal hued bodies of water which covered 85% of Thaleryn sparkled under the planet's sun. Looking out it appeared almost glasslike, the waters only occasionally disturbed with incoming soft wind that rippled over the surface. 

Thaleryn sat on the galaxy’s outskirts, forgotten to most except those born beneath its four moons. A quiet planet with no big cities or ports, most Thalerianians never felt the need to explore off world. While those who may find themselves visiting the tranquil planet never lingered long. The largest town, Eryndel, housed every government building and central commerce hub. Even then, the almost city was tame compared to my home planet of Corellia. 

Peace clung to Thaleryn. The planet’s short mountains were embedded with glimmering waterfalls as its nomadic peoples moved with the planets alternating summer and spring seasons. Living with the rhythm of the land was easy here. It was ideal for one of Luke Skywalker's New Jedi Order outer rim enclaves. 

I arrived on the planet at the age of 9. A young Corellian unaware that a planet could have such clean air. That a planet could fall silent to soft humming of wildlife in the night and not drumming  machinery, or billowing ship horns which competed with the machines that clanged in endless rhythm. I recall following the Jedi who escorted me up the smooth stone path to the Temple. He walked without a sound, and I found myself wondering if all Jedi walked with such grace. His robes brushed faintly against the Temple's main marble steps as we reached the entrance. Stepping into the grand hall, Ondine Temple radiated a soothing warmth with its stained glass windows casting color across the empress green marble hall floors. 

Standing in the grand hall, I remember feeling the eyes of the other younglings, curious and assessing. Looking at the others, I had gathered nine was considered less common of an age to be brought to a Temple, my peers seeming at least two to five years younger than I. Tears had threatened to gather in the corners of my eyes as I realized just how far from Corellia and my mother I truly was. But, to train with the Order meant to sacrifice home and attachment from a young age on.

When the Jedi Knights had arrived at our door on Corellia gently explaining their observations of my acute Force sensitivity, my mother hesitated. I still faintly recall the distrust in her eyes as she all but glared at the two young Jedi Masters, her fingers curling protectly into the fabric of my sleeve. Though Luke’s Order had been generally well received and was steadily rebuilding, the Jedi had been gone for so long. And the shadow of the Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic lingered. The massacre of its Padawans and Jedi Masters alike was not so easily forgotten, and for many across the galaxy, that memory left a quiet but persistent unease. 

Ever persistent, my pleas to leave and learn the ways of the Force eventually won her over that night. If we want to keep peace in the Galaxy won’t it be worth it? At nine, that seemed not only so simple but achievable. But, when was the darkness not lingering. 

The weeks on Thaleryn passed quickly. A structured routine of meditation, Force attuning/sensitivity, history, and drills for unarmed combat, flowed from dawn to early evening. It was during one of our Force based classes that he arrived. The classroom had fallen silent as Jedi Master Seren entered with a boy standing a quarter of the way hidden at her side. 

“This is Seonghwa,” she said gently. 

The fifteen of us who were sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor stared curiously at the shy ten-year-old who shifted bashfully at the attention directed at him. 

As the lesson progressed, our instructor, Jedi Master Atticus, presented us with six overturned cups hiding a series of varying shaped objects. Our job was to each take a turn using the Force to sense which cup hid what object. Seonghwa surpassed what seemed to be most of the class, briskly identifying each one with quiet certainty. Jedi Master Atticus applauded him for his intuition.

Weeks passed again. Seongwha had kept mostly to himself, while I in my time at Ondine managed to make a few acquaintances among our peers, but nothing that felt anchored. The ache for home only grew stronger. I missed my mother. The realization settled in that I was on a foreign planet for a time that would not stretch just months, but years. The concept of never seeing my home planet possibly ever again weighed heavily on me. 

Younglings weren’t permitted to wander the Temple’s halls at night, the Order performing a regimented schedule, but what harm could come from some mediation in the garden? Ondine’s gardens were enclosed in prismatic glass. In the large greenhouse the flowers seemed to bloom even brighter beneath the moonslight.

I sat on the cool marble bench fixed along the winding walkway.  Tears that I had held back for months at this point began to silently stream down my chubby cheeks. As I screwed my eyes shut trying to quiet the sound of my own breathing a presence settled beside me.

“I miss them too.”

I was startled, I looked over to see Seonghwa sat at my side. His gaze was tilted upward looking through the intricate glass ceiling toward the four moons suspended above us.

“My family,” he clarified quietly. “I know we’re not supposed to think much of home, or speak of it.”  His voice wavered just slightly before steadying. “But it feels nice to reminisce.”

As the confession hung between us Seonghwa finally looked over at me, our eyes meeting. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” he finished.

We sat in silence for a stretch of time, two children pretending they were braver than they felt. 

I think that was the first time he ever spoke to me, and the first time I felt that being on Thaleryn, however long, might actually be okay.

21ABY 

I didn’t bother knocking before bursting into Seonghwa’s quarters. 

“Notice anything different?” I asked, unable to keep myself from giving a spin, a smile beaming on my face as I looked at the 13-year-old-boy who sat at the head of his bed. Seonghwa’s glasses sat low on the bridge of his knows as he sat reading a hefty history book on the Force. His eyes flicked up at me briefly, seemingly disintered as his gaze returned to the open page before him.

“No,” he said simply. 

Storming over to Seonghwa I snatched the book from his hands. 

“Try again,” I said pointedly, leaning into his space. The new braid  that said behind my left ear slipped forward over my shoulder softly swinging.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly. He reached out, delicately caught the braid between his fingers and ran his thumb over the woven strands. “When?” he asked softly. 

“This morning!” I said, dropping down onto the edge of his bed. “ I was asked to the Council Chambers. Honestly I thought they were going to ream me out for never adhering to curfew, but then I noticed Jedi Master Jakai was in the room and he rarely ever visits from the Ossus Temple,” I rambled. 

At the mention of Ossus, a look of worry passed Seonghwa’s features, “Are you being relocated?” he asked.

“No, thank the maker. Master Jakai is relocating here, but it is expected that if he goes on off-world assignments I am to join for the learning experience.” I leaned back slightly, staring up at the ceiling. Turning my head to look at Seonghwa, he was zoning away into the vast corners of his mind. He did that sometimes, retreated inward, not that I was much better with that. 

“Hey,” I urged gently, nudging his knee with mine and breaking him from his trance, “You’ll be a Padawan soon too.”

A quiet beat passed between us.

He nodded once as he retreated back to whatever thought was now plaguing his mind. 

~~~

A few months later, I had been scheduled to join the next Gathering. My weeks leading up to the Jedi ritual were spent crafting and engraving my saber hilt, refining its balance, and adjusting for personal aesthetic choices. Now, I would finally be permitted to attune to a kyber crystal.

For most, the event would take hours. However, for me, the Gathering hadn’t taken long. The cavern was dark, only to be illuminated by glowing white rocks embedded in the rough walls. The air was cool and damp, but the energy was peaceful as the Force gave a warm buzz into the air. The other Padawan’s moved cautiously around me, as we all began our individual quest. 

Reaching the center of the cave something tugged at my chest. Turning my head towards the back left corner of the space, I spot a geode sat snug in the stone wall seemingly almost out of reach. Making my way over to the jagged wall I stretched up on my tippy toes to grasp the buried stone. As my fingers grazed the rock a force pressed down on me. A dizzy spell settled over me as I attempted to tug the sphere free, whispers falling upon my ears. 

The dark side will call you.

Your attachments will grow too strong.

The Order will fall by your own hands.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, the geode shifted free and the air returned to my lungs. I recalled from my readings that some padawon’s experienced strong false images among other illusions to the mind. A test to impede and push the mind during the selection process. From my knowledge, this is what deterred Padawons to the point of spending hours in search for their crystals.

The geode, held in my left hand, I slammed it against the cavern wall, reinforcing the impact with the Force. With an echoed sound the stone cracked open. Pulling the broken shards away, inside, nestled in the fractured stone, sat a green kyber crystal that glimmered within the barely illuminated cave.  

Pulling my saber hilt from where it hung off my belt it was cool to the touch. I popped the small door to the main crystal mount open, my fingers trembling slightly as I placed the green kyber crystal on the primary mount. Closing the latch and turning the hilt in my hands, I ignited the blade watching as a pear-ish-emerald-green saber burst to life. As it hummed steady the warm light washed over the space around me. 

Returning to Ondine, I made my way to Seonwha’s dorm. Knocking on his door, I waited for his hum of approval. Two beats of silence passed with no response, ‘Maybe he’s in a lesson’ I thought to myself. Giving the door another round of short knocks before declining to leave, another minute passed before the door cracked open. Seonghwa held the door at a degree that was barely open enough to see half of his face, his usual well trimmed hair had grown out longer now as it brushed over his eyelashes. 

“What’s up?” he asked softly. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Gathering?”

“I finished early,” I said, tilting my head, I added, “want to see what color I got?”

“Isn’t that process supposed to take hours?” he questioned, still not budging from the door. 

“Are you going to let me in or not?” I asked, hands falling to rest on my hips.

Seongwa finally stepped aside, pushing the door more open to let me in. 

Once inside, I turned back towards Seonghwa who was re-closing the door, “Guess what color.”

With an unserious smirk on his face, “Hmm. Pink,” he guessed. 

I scoffed,“I’m not that special.”

A small smile tugged at Seonghwa’s lips.

A comfortable silence fell over us. I pulled my saber from its hilt and ignited it, the warm buzzing sounds and green light filled the room. “It suits you,” Seonghwa said, an expression I couldn't place, or maybe I didn't want to place at the time, on his face. I had felt bashful at that moment, a shy “thank you” leaving my lips. 

21ABY 

This was the year Seonghwa was upgraded to Padawan as well. At 14-years-of-age, he was considered unusually old to become a padawan. Not unheard of though, as Master Skywalker  recruited older force negatives on a fast track to be Jedi Masters during the initiation of his Jedi Order. However, despite his unconventional timing, Seonghwa excelled beyond most within our Temple, myself included. (In the aspect of academia, combat was another story)

I waited outside the Temple, not far from its front steps, waiting for Seonghwa’s return from his Gathering. The moment I spotted Seonghwa making his way up the walk towards the temple, head tilted down watching his steps lost in a daze again, his hair no cut back once again and not obstructing his view, and saber hilt held tight in his grasp, I rushed towards him. 

I waited outside the Temple, not far from its front steps, for Seonghwa’s return from his scheduled Gathering. Seonghwa made his way up the long walk toward Ondine, his head hung down as he watched his steps, lost in a daze again. His hair had recently been cut back again, no longer obstructing his view. Seonghwa made long strides, the hilt of his saver held tightly within his grasp. The moment I spotted him I ran towards the teen boy. 

“How’d it go?” I asked ecstatically, falling into step beside him. Seonghwa’s tense shoulders seemed to relax as he lifted his head to meet my eyes, his pace slowing down.

“Seems like it went quick for you as well” I observed.

“It was… good,” he replied, a far off look akin to concern passing over his face quickly. I don’t think I had even caught it at that moment, but there was something measured in the way he said ‘good’, it was controlled.

“Yeah?” I asked softly, searching his expression.

“Yeah.” He offered a small smile, the kind meant to reassure. The false visions must’ve been intense I assumed. 

“Well?” I said, nudging his arm lightly, a big smile gracing my features, “What color did you get?”

“Blue,” he answered immediately.

“ Yeah right,” I rolled my eyes playfully, causing Seonghwa to laugh. 

“Ok, ” he said in fake defeat. 

Igniting the saber in his grasp, a beautiful radiant purple blade sprang to life between us casting a violet light across our faces.  The smile fell off my face immediately in shock, my eyes stuck on the saber.

“No way” my gaze unmoving from the blade.

“Jealous?” Seonghwa asked playfully, de-activating the blade as we carried on.

“Whatever,” I muttered, “Green’s cooler.”

“Sure, sure” he said with a half lifted smile tugging on his face. But there was pride there, an inner reassurance to all the murmurers from other padawans and younglings of his odd age to come into the Oder and its rankings.

“How many people even have purple?” I non-rhetorically asked, break almost knocked from my words. Looking ahead at the Temple coming before us, stopping just before the steps,  “I told you you’re special, Hwa,” I state matter-of-factly.

26ABY 

I couldn’t do it anymore. 

The Order had its own screwed beliefs. Why couldn’t we love with all our being? Why couldn’t we have deep attachments? What exactly am I saying is worth dying for?

Arriving back on Thaleryn, the rain pelted down, each droplet jabbing into my skin with renewed vigor. My lips were sticky with drying blood as I struggled to breath, each step towns Ondine feeling like I was dragging my limbs through sand. The path to the temple was blurred, my vision struggling as the thick storm clouds blocked the moons light from lending a guiding hand. 

The assignment had gone wrong. 

Master Jakai shoved me aside as the unnamed Sith swung at him again and again, the red and blue blades sparking with every clash. I stood frozen in the dark, the planet’s clouds pouring down a dark blue liquid that stuck to every inch of the skin and soaked through my robes until they felt unbearably heavy.

“Got out of here” Jakai had screamed at me. 

Normally I would have protested, joining the fight beside him. But the Sith had struck me moments earlier, his blade tearing across my top left shoulder and down towards the center of my chest. The gash was deep, jaded, and throbbing in pain. I could feel the skin surrounding it bubbled and blistered from the burn of the crimson red saber blade. I was losing blood quickly as it mixed with the blue rain and bled down my front.

Staying would make me a liability. 

How I managed to get back to the ship and put it into hyperdrive back to Thaleryn without passing out from the blood loss was a miracle itself. My memory and vision fading in and out as I gripped the entry to the ramp, body trembling, as I put my remaining energy into the Force. Honing in on the buzz of energy around me to keep more blood from exiting my body and sewing some of the skin back together. 

By the time I staggered into the Temple's front hall, drudging myself towards the hall heading to the informery, my adrenaline rush had worn off as I struggled to stay conscious any longer. Not a soul seemed to be awake. Fatigue took over, ears ringing and all senses faded out, my knees buckled and struck against the marble floor that's going to bruise.

Hinging forward, no energy left to flinch at the impending collision that would be my face smacking the floor, hurried footsteps echoed down the haul. Strong hangs grabbed my elbows before I could make impact, “Y/N!” Seonghwat all but yelled at me, as he held me up right. My vision blurred further from the tears collecting in my eyes as I struggled to formulate words. 

Seonghwa’s usual composed features were drawn tight with alarm, his gaze fell to the gaping wound in my chest and blood soaked robes. 

“What happened?!” he asked urgently, his eyes trying to catch mine as I fought to keep consciousness. 

“Seonghwa” I managed to hoarsely whisper before everything went black, the last thing I recall is the feeling of steady arms wrapping around me.

I awoke to the sterile scent of the med bay, the bright light of the sun baring down upon the entire room. I never liked having to spend any sort of time here, it was always too bright and eerily quiet. Looking to my left, Seonghwa sat slumped over in a chair. His cheek rested on his shoulder, that was going to leave a crick in his neck. Seonghwa always seemed so peaceful with his eyes closed, but currently his stress seemed to be bleeding through his sleep. His brow tweaked in his sleep as his jaw ticked. Before I could assess him further sleep pulled me back under, the effect of whatever med was giving to me taking over. 

Later that day, after some food was brought to us, came meeting after meeting of the Jedi Council of Temple Ondine. They stood at the foot of my bed, asking question after question; ‘What did the Sith look like?’’ How long were you possibly followed?’’ Was the Temple in possible danger of invasion?’ As the meetings went on the questions became more and more meticulous, but the details eluded me. Everything had happened so fast on foreign planet. 

Seonghwa had remained at my side throughout the entire time amid our superiors urging him to continue with his daily lessons and tasks. He would not budge, even when the suggestions became more or less a suggestion but an instruction. Seonghwa’s long fingers wrapped around my hand beneath the knitted hospital sheet as the Masters stepped out of the ward. As fatigue would pull me back to sleep his thumb brushed faint circles along my knuckles.

As the sun sat and the stars graced the night sky, the medication wore off enough for me to sit awake longer than a few minutes. As I sat up, bleary eyes blinking to adjust to the oddly lit room at this hour of the night, and looked towards Seonghwa, he was still sitting at my side. A single tear sliding down his face caused my eyeshows to draw together in concern. 

“You almost died,” Seonghwa croaked, head shaking as his eyes closed tightly.  

Attached, it was undeniable at this point. The emotions shared between us sparking amount the force as its energy all but pushed us together, 

“I haven't seen you in weeks,” he continued, swallowing down a hiccup, composer falling away, “And you show up bleeding out.” Seonghwa’s tears were now dripping off the sides of his cheeks, “I thought you were going to die.”

His anger, or more truthfully fear, was justified. Our superiors, sensing the connection between us and the general fondness, had begun separating the last few months. No dueling practice together, no lessons paired side by side, and off world assignment after off world assignment for me. Padawans were generally busy, the path to Jedi KNight ranking rigours and dedicated, but this separation had been calculated. Seonghwa’s refusal to leave my bed side would only drive their reasoning, and moreover suspicious of the chance to stray from the Jedi path, for the splitting up further.

“I’m sorry,” I said earnestly, my own tears gliding down my cheeks.

Silence passed over us, the weight of our emotions filling the room, the weight of a mutual understanding without the needing of words.

“I don't know how much longer I can do this Seonghwa. I don't know if I’m cut out for this,” I confessed quietly. “

Seonghwa squeezed my hand, anchoring me in place, the energy around us melding together in a softening cushion. The med bay’s door swung open, Seonghwa’s hand reluctantly pulling away from mine, as the nurse stepped in to administer my next dosage of pain reliever.

As sleep began to take back over once more, Seonghwa whispered something to me. The world slipped away at the perfect moment, his words in that moment still a mystery to me.

~~~

A few days passed,  my wound already scarring over as my healing skin held together by precise stitches ached less day by day. I was banned from anything but meditation for two months.

Just what I needed, too much time alone with my thoughts, to marinate on not only the questions I had before the incident but where Seonghwa and I’s dynamic was going. 

The sand meditation room has large droplets of water falling directly into the circular pools placed around the room and scalene windows pouring light in from the ceiling. The floor was covered in fine sand, shaped into grooved lines. One had to step down into the room in order to grant access to the large sandbox. The soft sand settled around me as I sat alone trying to clear my mind. 

Outside the muffled sound of excited padawons and younglings resounded through the halls. I screwed my eyes shut tighter, resisting the urge to gaze out the cracked door to see what the excitement was about. Nothing THAT exciting ever happened at Ondine. 

“Y/n” came calmly from a male voice.

My eyes opened, widening in shock as stood before me was Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. 

Master Skywalker was known to visit the smaller Jedi Temples set up to re-estash the order and train new jedis, but very rarely. The middle aged man was known to stay mostly on the main Temple on Ossus. Even if Master Skywalker did visit, he maybe made an appearance to a single class and was gone before any other younglings or Padawons could rush over to catch a glance at the Galactic Legend. By my understanding, Master Luke only interacted and made his presence known to those high ranked within the order at the Temple. 

I rose immediately. “Jedi Master Skywalker,” I said with a respectful bow, ““To what do I owe the honor of making your apprentice.”

“Ms.L/n,” he starts with a kind smile, "there is no need for that level of formality,” he replied gently.

Straightening my posture I wondered what type of trouble I may have found myself in. Was I a danger to the Order? Had he seen some type of premonition? Was I going to be sent away to a far off planet and never allowed to see Seonghwa again?

“I hear you are one of the most promising pupils here. Master Jakai spoke highly of you.” The kind disposition still had not left him, from what I could sense he held no malice of ulterior motive.

“Is he ok? I have not heard word since the assignment," I asked cautiously.

“That is what I am here to discuss, Padawan. We identified your attacker as Darth Zalcar. Jedi Jakai has returned to Ossus and is recovering slowly.”

The air in my chest restricted at the mention of Ossus.

“I am here in his place to ask if you would like to return to Ossus with me, or if you would prefer reassignment here. Jakai’s recovery may take very long,  which could derail your training.”

To be re-assigned a Jedi Master wasn't unheard of in light of an unexpected death. Under Luke's new Jedi Order, Pawadawon’s were in abundance but not Masters, it also wasn't uncommon to see a Jedi Master with more than one Padawon as the Order grew steadily. 

I sensed him before I saw him. My eyes flickering past Master Skywalker briefly, standing within the threshold of the room, Seonghwa stood curious-confused eyes fixed on me.

“Padawon Park,” Luke said, his attention still set on me. “I’ve heard quite the praise for both of you. Those at the Temple think they may be unable to have you train to your greatest potential here.” Whether this statement was sincere or a double edge sword I could not tell. 

“I think that I would like to remain here upon Thaleryn. But I am honored to be offered such an opportunity to accompany you back to Ossus,” I say carefully, trying to keep my eyes from straying back towards Seonghwa. 

The truth was, as great as an opportunity it would be to train at the main temple, I didn't want to leave Seonghwa. I had heard the murmurings from the elders that they found our bond dangerous, possibly volatile. I was surprised that they weren't twisting my hand to leave for Ossus. My gaze fell to the floor, submerging into my thoughts. Besides Seonghwa, I always felt too much. It’s probably why I had also been able to tap into the force so easily, that didn't mean that most times moving within the force feels like being stuck in the ocean during a storm. It jostles you, stumbling forward and back as one tries to find their footing. 

Do you wish to stray away from the path child? Skywalker's voice rang in my head as he studied me briefly. 

“I won't interrupt your mediation any longer. The offer on Ossus stands if you change your mind.”

As I lifted my head to look back at Master Skywalker, his figure was already retreating back towards the door. And just like that he was gone as soon as he arrived.

Seonghwa, posture stood tall, stepped fully into the room. 

“That’s quite the offer. Why say no?” he asks. 

“I don't know.” Pausing briefly, “Doesn't feel right I guess.”

~~~

Seonghwa’s master, Jedi Master Nira, had taken me under her wing as well. Nira had always had a slightly different view than the more traditional Jedi values I had noticed. Following Master Skywalker's departure, Nira put her foot down with the council, insisting that their fear of the past should not dictate the training of promising strong Padawans. Mainly, the separation of two that were so skilled when paired together. Her insistence won the verdict of if it was responsible to have Seonghwa and I under the same guidance.

~~~

It was a warm night on Thaleryn. Seonghwa had insisted that we sneak out to enjoy Eryndel’s summer festival. The streets were basked in warm lights as lanterns were strung overhead connecting the food stalls which lined every street. The air was filled with savory smells wafting from stalls, beckoning those within distance to come taste the cuisine. Vendors stood calling out to those that passed by to come try their hand at the all but impossible to win games. The people of Thaleryn were buzzing with excitement, laughter and chatter threaded together in a lively song.

The realization that, We’re not supposed to partake in events such as these. We’re not supposed to have fun, crossed my mind. Before I could linger much longer in my thoughts, Seonghwa leaned in towards me, asking, "Hungry?" 

Stepping into what seemed to be the main street of the festival, a big smile stretching across my face, "Definitely."

“Pefect” Seonghwa says, grabbing my hand, long fingers intertwining with my own digits. There was no hesitation in his action. For a moment it felt as if the world around us blurred. Seonghwa was already turned away from me, pulling us through the crowd. Bodies brushed past us as we searched for something warm to eat. Seonghwa’s grip on my hand tightened as the crowd thickened the further we ventured in. All I could focus on was the warmth of his touch as he navigated us with ease. As unsure as I wanted to feel, this had felt right. 

Coming to a stop in at a stall selling Galactic Gyros, the sudden halt in momentum caused me to bump into Seonghwa's side. He gave no indication of annoyance as he ordered from the women running the stall. For once I let myself breath, letting my guard down I relaxed, allowing myself to lean into the space against him, my right arm pressing against his left. 

As the women handed us the gyro, we continued to walk through the festival sharing bites of the food between us. 

“We should see if anyone’s selling Honey Hive Spears!” I suggest, handing my gyro to him. He bit down on the warm food with a hum of agreement.

As the night stretched on, we sampled sweet and savory treats before trying our luck at a few games. Following another failed game win, Seonghwa excused himself for a moment, saying he “had to check something out real quick but would be right back.” Rocking on my heels, a small stall nearby caught my eye. Crossing the brief distance over to the stall, the older man behind it greeted me. I looked over his goods, they were simple but beautiful, smooth circular stones made into charms, each one polished to perfection. A small teal oval shaped charm caught my attention. I picked it up, running my thumb over the smooth surface and engraved rotund bunnies. Handing over a few coins to the man, I placed the gift, now in a small paper sleeve, into my pocket. 

As my hand retracted from my pocket, I looked up to see Seonghwa jogging back over to me, his smile bright and weightless. 

“Sorry for taking so long,” he said, hand grabbing mine effortlessly with no second thought or what even seemed to be a first thought to the action.

“Find what you needed?” I asked shyly, trying not to draw attention to the contact between us. 

“Yup,” he said confidently.

As the festival dwindled down, Seonghwa and I found ourselves sitting atop a rolling field overlooking the rows and rows of lit up streets still glowing warm. The hum of music and chatter from the late night festival partakers floated up from the city. A comfortable silence had fallen over us.

A piece of hair had strayed from where I had it gathered against my back. The piece of hair hung forward in front of my face. Without a word, Seonghwa reached out, sweeping it gently behind my ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

My eyes widened in shock. Looking towards him our eyes met. Seonghwa’s gaze was warm and vulnerable.

“Sorry,” he says, turning shy as he glances down between knees and arms resting there. “I probably shouldn't say anything. But you're special. To me,” he finishes, emphasizing the ‘To me’.

“You’re special to me too, Hwa,” I say earnestly, a pause of  uncertainty passing me by. “This is dangerous. We shouldn’t entertain this.” My gaze fell to the grass, picking at blades as I tried to ground myself as tears built in my eyes. “I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel wrong, so why does everyone tell us it is?” My voice is straining. 

“Maybe they’re wrong,” he said, brows scrunched together. It;s not quite anger that has settled upon him, but inquisitiveness in his expression “The Force is a part of life. The Jedi just choose to wield it in a certain way. Maybe they don’t know everything.”

I hummed softly, neither agreeing nor denying.

Seonghwa reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rectangular box. Holding it in front of my field of view, “What this?” I ask, taking it from his hold.

“A gift.”

Lifting the lid and pulling back the intricate tissue paper, a hair stick made from Thaleryn stone is revealed. Its onyx color gives a soft blue hue as it catches the moonslight. “It's perfect Hwa,” I whisper, running my finger over the round gems adorned at the top of the stick. 

Looking up at him, “Thank you.”

Gently taking the pin from my hands, Seonghwa holds it up to the night sky. Catching the moons soft glow, the gems at top of the pin refracted the light, projecting multiple moonlight-rays in what seemed to be constellations across our figures and the grass ground. to the moons light. 

…

Later that night, Seonghwa walked me to the door of my dorm. His hand cupped the right side of my face as he leant down, the soft graze of his lips pressed the top of my forehead as he said a soft “Goodnight”. 

I couldn’t sleep that night. I laid flat on my back, eyes staring up into the dark at the ceiling. 

A Jedi seeks not adventure or excitement, for a Jedi is passive, calm, and at peace

Yet the universe was so vast. Being a Jedi is an adventure in its own right, but how grand would it be to experience everything that's out there? And not just because I am assigned to.

A Jedi knows that anger, fear, and aggression lead to the dark side.

The attack on Master Jakai and I had filled me with a fear I had not been acquainted with before. It made me ponder. If I had been stuck in a similar situation, would I be able to keep my emotions regulated? Assignments with Master Nira faced no real dangerous adversary, no challenge to emotional restraint. 

A Jedi does not cling to the past.

This was something I had never been able to truly get a grasp over as a Padawon, or even before my time at the Temple. Rumination was my lady of the night. 

To love without wanting to possess or influence. To cherish without keeping. To have without holding.

To love, to have passion, how could that be without the existence of occasional jealousy? Without the whirlwind of emotions, without a degree of possessiveness?  Jealousy was a shade of green I shared with my saber. On every outing outside the Temple, I noticed the way other girls gazed at Seonghwa.

The Jedi Code itself may seem simple upon reading it, but the true challenge is living it. Passion can rise to the surface. Emotions can cloud our thoughts. Chaos can spiral us into the unfathomable darkness. We all find ourselves staring into the abyss at times.

Master Skywalker had shared this thought when he first founded the Enclave. He had approved marriage between Jedi, even though it was still frowned upon between most to have romantic attachmentns. 

I didn’t think this path is for me.

I shot up from my bed, and pulled out the only bag I owned. Throwing in my favorite items and minimal clothes (not that I had much, the Thaleryn sector frowned upon material possessions in large quantities). Once packed with what I needed, I placed the bag on the floor and reached over to my desk for a pen and paper. 

PLacing the packed bag on my floor and I reached over my desk and grabbed a pen and paper.

I think I love you. 

I don’t want to be the reason you can’t reach your potential. 

I don’t think the path of the Jedi is the life for me, so I’m leaving.

Please don’t search for me, I don’t want you to regret such a choice. 

Ps. This made me think of you. For your saber.

Placing the note into an envelope, I picked up the small paper bag with the charm from the corner of my bed. Standing with the bag in my hand, I slung it over my shoulder as I excited the room that had been my life for the last 8 years. 

The hauls were empty and quiet. I quality closed the door and made my way to Seonghwa’s dorm. Reaching his door, I squatted down and wedged the letter under the small crack between the floor and the door's bottom. Placing the gift atop the note, I stood back up. 

Giving one last glance, I turned and walked down the corridor exiting Ondine in search of a ride off Thaleryn in Eryndel.

29ABY 

The streets of Coronet were busy. Bodies brushed past one another, hundreds of lives overlapping as people went about their daily lives. Workers rushing between shifts to grab lunch, sparks flying into the streets and bouncing into the air as Smith’s welded scraps together, the voices of mechanics shouting traveling into the busting streets. San and I passed many customers battering with open shops, accusations of counterfeit parts flying out every few blocks, as we made our way through the bustling district. 

A layer of smog clung to the air, not uncommon to Coriallia’s jewel urban metropolis. But the strong light of Corell still managed to fight its way through, the sun's heat blaring down particularly hard on us on this particular day. Coronet, despite lying on the coast of the continent's southernmost side, was the most polluted city in the Corellian system The wind never quite managed to chase away the industrial haze.

The alleys were crooked and gray as San and I made our way towards the junk shop. Rusted pipes crawled along the busted building overhead, dripping coolant from cracking pipes onto the bumpy pavement below. San wanted some type of new scrap metal for the outside of our ship to reinforce the hull. The ship itself is a medium sized Freighter with a truly unfortunate color scheme. Worn and faded cartoon-tiger-orange lined the sides, making the vehicle stand out like a sore thumb. For the last year, Wooyoung and I had been trying to convince him to repaint the thing a neutral gray complimentary to the ship’s main body. Something not easy to spot, forgettable, and a whole lot less suspicious when smuggling supplies. But San argued that we would then have no charm. 

Coming to the end of the alley where it split into a crooked T, I instinctively turned right. San caught my wrist gently, softly tugging me towards the left. 

“We go here at least once a week, how do you always manage to turn the wrong way.” he said playfully. 

Shrugging, I let San guide me as he shook his head with a tilted smile. 

“What’s that weird intuition of yours good for,” San continued, gazing over his shoulder at me. 

“Getting us out of close calls when Wooyoung runs his mouth too much,” I pan.

“Tushay” 

San’s hand naturally slid down from my wrist, his palm meeting my own, as his fingers graced the space between my own. A tingling-buzz ran up my skin, goosebumps erupting on my forearms. Before San could fully grasp my hand, I stopped, arm dropping to my side. Concern flooded my features. Something was wrong. Has someone been following us? There was an energy in the force around us. Familiar. My heart hammered, a sheen of sweat forming over my forehead, as nausea settled over me. My chest began to hurt. That presence, it couldn’t be. No.

“Something wrong?” San asked, his face set in stone as his eyes locked on my face.  

“Uh…no,” I said, forcing myself to continue walking ahead in the direction of our destination, San falling into line beside me. “Act casual.”

My senses were honed in, adrenaline set on high alter. Reaching into the force, feeling the buzz around me as the energy hummed faintly like sand falling between the sides of an hourglass. 

“Have you noticed anyone following us?” I ask quietly. 

“Nothing too out of the ordinary, no.” San said, glancing over his shoulder. “Why? Did you see something” 

“Not quite.” I paused. “I don't know.” shaking my head. “Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

San studied me for a second before nodding once, “We should trust it to be safe. How many times have you been wrong? Let’s split.”

“Hive of Aulen or Ship Row?” I ask. 

The Hive of Aulen was our regular go to cantina on Corellia. It was a crowded underground bar that was cavernous in appearance, with many gems and colourful glasses that were embedded in the wall as it curved up to the ceiling, bleeding in the moon light at night. The cantina was usually full of those who minded their own business and honored the Smugglers Code. On the other hand, Treasure Ship Row was the heart of the Blue Sector in Coronet. It was the place where one could buy anything and everything they desired. It was one of Coronet’s main attractions for a reason. 

“Aulen,” San said definitively, “if any shit starts, there’s enough roughians to put a stop to it, or get lost in a brawl.”

I hum in agreement, as I non-suspectively keep an eye on the crowds of people around us, searching for a body that doesn't quite fit. 

“20 clicks or I come looking for you,” San says, catching my eyes. 

“I can handle myself”

“I know,” San says kindly as he begins walking away. 

Diverging from one another, I move swiftly through the crowd looking for a side street to slip into. 

That energy. It couldn't be. He died. I felt it. 

Tears misted in my eyes at the thought of Seongwha. If I had known The Order was going to fall I would have stayed. I would have fought beside him. Died beside him if it came to it. Just to spend one more day with him. Maybe I was selfish for leaving. Would it have been more selfish for me to have stayed? My throat burned, the fuzzy memory of Seonghwa’s face stood in my memory, the years of distance wearing down what used to be a clear image. The only thing still clear in my mind was the sparkle in his eyes that shone during nights spent looking at the constellations on Thaleryn, and the way his lips would stretch into a smile before a laugh bubbled through whenever we’d spar.

The air around me suddenly thickened, my lungs constructing at the heavy feeling. 

Looking down the jagged side street I found myself in ,I spotted an offshooting alleyway. Swiftly turning into the alley, I noticed halfway down the narrow walkway that I made a mistake. Meeting a dead end I looked up at the back of the building, I could climb it with force assist but it would be rough and maybe not so feasible. Going back out of the alley wasn't an option, too noticeable. 

I sensed the figure behind me before even turning to see. Like second nature I swiftly pulled my saber from its holster, igniting the pearish-emerald-green blade, the blade humming its breath, as I spun around to face the cloaked being. A searing buzz echoed into the alley as another blade exploited life and met my own saber’s light. As the blades pressed into each other, I froze. 

Anyone could have purple. No? 

“Senses are sharp as ever” 

That cadence.

I began to tremble, hands unsteady, as I stumbled back, my saber dis-engaging. 

“I thought it was you,” the man lowered his hood, "You're hard to find.”

Seongwha stood before me. I would have claimed it was an allusion, or trick, if it wasn’t for the fact he was older. His hair had grown shaggy, long layers framing his face. Time had sharpened his features. He was handsome, maybe more so than my memory could re-conjure up. My eyes jittered across his features, trying to commit them to memory as quickly as possible. Across his left cheek lay a stroke of rough skin, a saber scar. The healed skin ran from just before his ear and down toward just before his chin.  

Succumbing to the shock my knees gave out underneath me, a sob shuttering throughout my body.  I heard the sound of Seonghwa's saber disengaging as the gravel crunched under his weight as he knelt before me. Seonghwa’s hands met the sides of my face, warm worn skin, as he lifted my face up. His own eye’s glossy as his left thumb sweeps over my cheek, caressing my face. 

“I thought you were dead,” I choked. 

Finding the courage to look at him and meet his gaze, I brought my own hands up to Seongwha’s face. With one hand gripping the fabric of his chest, the other reaches his cheek. As my skin made contact with his own, Seongwha visibly looked like he relearned to breath, lungs filling with life. Running my thumb just under his scar, a tear ran down Seongwha’s right cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Without a word, Seonghwa pulled me forward into his chest, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and waist. Only then did I realize Seonghwa was trembling as well, as he kept my head tucked into his neck.

ATEEZ STAR WARS AU BLURB (PRT.1)

(‘Within the Light’)  Seonghwa x f!reader  (Smugglers! San & Wooyoung, Resistance! Yunho)

────   The Galaxy is ever turning, something is shifting in the force. Maybe paths will cross again. 

2026 :  Word Count : 2368 : Warnings : I think think there’s any :  MDNI 

Note : Said I would work on finishing the next chapter of ‘A Tribute’s Heart’ but here we are. The latest ep of Ateez X N12D motivated me to write this. I’m tired and its so late so I will post the rest of the blurb later in a part 2. This is mostly preliminary information that sets up part 2,

Author's Note: This is purely a work of fiction and delusion lol, I do not own Star Wars or any of its canon characters. Dividers from @/uzmacchiato

[NOT PROOF READ]

{Update: Read full chapter here}

18ABY

The planet was beautiful. Lush green grass that blew softly in the wind, and calm oceans of teal color that never waved. Thaleryn sat on the outskirts, a quiet planet with no big cities or ports, basically forgotten to those that were not born on the planet. The largest town, Eryndel, held every important government building and commerce hub. The planet full of nomadic people was ideal for the Skywalker’s New Jedi Order’s outer rim enclave. Known for its rolling mountains embedded with glimmering waterfalls, the scenery and peace that Thaleryn brought called force sensitive peoples. 

I came to the planet at the age of 10. A Corellian unaware that a planet could host such clean air and silence. No billowing horns of ships and clanging of machinery throughout the night. The Jedi that ushered me up the smooth stone path to the Jedi Temple which radiated a warmth, the stained glass windows of inviting colors stretching out against the hall floors. I remember other Jedi recruits staring at me curiously. 10 was old enough to be brought to the temple from what I had gathered. Tears almost sat at the corners of my eyes being so far from home and my mother. But, to train with the order meant the sacrifice of home and attachment at a young age. My mother had been hesitant when the Jedi Nights had shown up at our door calling out the observations of my acute force sensitivity. She had been hesitant to let me leave but my pleas to learn the ways of the force for a better galaxy managed to sway her.

As the weeks passed on Thaleryn, training and meeting others within the order hoping to one day soon be accepted as a padawan a boy of 11 was brought into my Force Sensitivity class. The fifteen of us staring curiously at the shy boy who Jedi Master Seren introduced as Seongwha, who shifted bashfully at the attention currently directed at him. As the lesson progressed, a sensing test of what shape object’s hid under a series of 6 cups,  the boy seemingly exceeded most of the class Jedi Master Seren applauding him for his intuition. 

Weeks passed again, Seongwha keeping to himself. I had managed to make a few friends of my own but nothing felt close. I missed home. My mom. Being on a foreign planet and knowing my time there would stretch the next couple years, the concept of not seeing my home planet possibly ever again weighed heavy on me. We weren’t allowed to wander the halls at night, the order preferring a regimented schedule, but what harm could come from a night meditation in the garden. The Jedi Temple on Thaleryn had a lush garden where the flowers seemed to bloom even brighter in the moon light that shone in through the prismatic green house glass. As I sat on the cool marble bench that was placed along the path which led through the garden, tears which I had held for the past few months finally began to silently stream down my chubby cheeks. I remember placing my forehead against my knees as a presence sat down beside me.

“I miss them too” 

Looking up, Seongwha was beside me, his gaze set on the 4 moons. 

“My family. I know we’re not supposed to think much of our homes. But it feels nice to reminisce.”

Finally he looked over at me, our eyes meeting. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that”

We sat in silence for a stretch of time. I think that was the first moment he spoke to me. It was the official start to our friendship. 

21ABY

Bursting in Seongwha’s quarters, I couldn't help giving a spin.

“Notice anything different?” A smile beaming on my face as I look at the 14-old-boy whose glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, eyes looking up at me disinterestedly from his bed. 

“No” he dismissed before looking back down at the large force history book in his lap. 

Storming over to him, I ripped the book from his hands. 

“Try again” I say pointedly as the new braid that sat behind my left ear swung forward. 

Seongwha’s eyes widened as he delicately reached out to grab the braid and run his finger over the woven together strands.

“When” he asked directly. 

“This morning! I was asked to the Council Chambers. Honestly I thought they were going to ream me out for never adhering to curfew, but then I noticed Jedi Master Jakai was in the room and he rarely ever visits from the Ossus Temple,” I rambled. 

Seongwha paused with a look of worry on his face that I had missed at the time passing over his features,“Are you being relocated to Ossus?”

“No, thank the maker. Master Jakai is relocating here, but it is expected that if he goes on assignments I am to join for the learning experience.” Sitting on the edge of Seongwha’s bed I stared at the ceiling before looking over to him. He was doing it again, zoning away into the corners of his mind. “Hey” I urged softly, breaking him from his trance, “I’m sure you’ll be a padawan too soon.”

A beat of silence passed over us. 

A few months later I had been scheduled for the next Gathering. After weeks of crafting my saber hilt I’d be able to attune and pick my kyber crystal. 

The Gathering hadn't taken long. The second I entered the cavernous room with the rest of the group, a geode in the back left corner sat up high enough for me to have to stand on my tippy toes drew me over. The force had pushed down on me causing a dizzy spell as I grasped the stone. Whispers falling upon my ears of doubt ‘the dark side will call you’ , ‘your attachments will grow too strong’, ‘the order will fall by your own hands’. In my reading I heard of false illusions impeding on the selection process, causing most padawans to spend hours searching for their attune crystals. Slamming the geode against the stone cavern wall, using the force to add pressure, the stone cracked open in my grasp. Holding the stone open, sat inside was a green kyber crystal. It glimmered even within the barely illuminated cavern. 

Pulling my saber hilt from my belt and popping open the small door to the crystal mount I placed the crystal in. Turning the cool hilt in my hands I pressed the on button and watched as the pear-ish-emerald green saber lit up the space around me.

Returning to the Temple and making my way to Seongwha’s dorm I knocked on his door waiting for his hum of approval. Two beats of silence passed with no response, ‘maybe he’s in a lesson’ I thought to myself, giving the door another round of short knocks before deciding to leave. 

After a moment, the door creaked open, Seonghwa holding the door slightly open, his usual bowl cut hair now grown out as it sat at his eye level. 

“Whats up?” He softly asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be at The Gathering?"

“I finished early,” tilting my head to the side, “want to see what color I got”

“Isn’t that process supposed to take a few hours?” he questioned, still not budging from the door. 

“Are you going to let me in or not?” I said, hands resting on my hips now as Seonghwa finally stepped to the side. 

“Guess what color,” I said as Seonghwa re-closed the door and turned to me. 

“Hmmmm. Pink” he said with a smirk on his face. 

Giving a slight scoff, "I'm not that special” 

A comfortable silence fell over us as I pulled my saber from its hilt and lit it up, the warm buzzing sound filling the room as its green cast over it. 

“It suits you,” Seongwha said, an expression I couldn't place, or maybe I didn't want to place at the time, on his face. I had felt bashful at that moment, a shy “thank you” leaving my lips. 

22ABY

This was the year Seongwha had been upgraded to Padawan as well. At 15-years-of-age that was considered unusual to become a Padawan, old. But despite his unconventionality, Seongwha excelled past those within our Temple, myself included in the aspect of academia (combat was another story).  

“How’d it go” I said as I ran up to the boy, his hair cut back to its usual length once again, as he returned to the Temple grounds. “Seems like it went quick for you as well” I observed as we fell into pace together. 

“It was..good” A look passed over his face.

“Yeah?” I asked softly. 

“Yeah” he said, sending an assuring smile my way. 

The false visions must’ve been intense for him I assumed. 

“Well” a big smile gracing my features “what color did you get?!” 

“Blue” he answered immediately. 

“Yeah right” I said rolling my eyes. Seongwha laughed. 

“Ok,” he pulled his own saber from its hilt and turned it on. A beautiful purple casted across our faces. 

The smile fell off my face immediately in shock, my eyes stuck on the staber, “No way” 

“Jealous,” Seonghwa said. 

“Whatever, greens cooler” I say as i finally look up at his face

“Sure, sure” the half lifted smile still on his face. 

“How many people even have a purple saber? I told you you're special Hwa” I told him mater-o-factly. 

29ABY

I couldn't do it anymore. The Order had its own screwed beliefs. Why couldn't we love? Why couldn't we have attachments? What am I saying is worth dying for? 

I arrived back on Thaleryn, the rain pelting down violenting on me as the Moon’s decided to not lend their light past the thick storm clouds. Soaked to the bone, I would've shivered if I could’ve felt anything. 

The assignment went awry, Jedi Master Jakai pushed me out of the way as a Sith whose name I had no knowledge of battled fiercely against him as the planet pelted down a dark blue liquid that stuck to everyone's skin. “Get Out of Here!" he screamed at me. Normally, I wouldn't have listened, joined the fight alongside my master. But the Sith had struck me moments before. A deep gash was drawn from the top of my left shoulder down toward the center of my chest. How I managed to get back on the ship and hyperdrive back to Thaleryn without passing out from the blood loss was a miracle on its own. Honing into the force to keep as much of my blood within my body and sew my skin back together drained most of my energy amid the adrenaline. With no clue if my master was even still alive I drugged myself into the Temple’s front hall. Not a soul seemed to be awake.

As fatigue hit me, I fell to my knees hard. ‘That’s going to bruise’ crossed my mind. 

Hurried footsteps echoed into the haul as Seongwha’s hands grabbed my elbows, keeping me from falling face first onto the floor. 

“Y/N” he all but yelled at me. My vision blurred from exhaustion, pain, and tears. I couldn't formulate words.

Seongwha’s gaze fell open to my blood soaked shoulder and robes. 

“What happened?” he asked, looking deeply into my eyes as I fought for consciousness. His concerned eyes, high on alert in looking out past me to see if enemies were on their way in to finish the job.

“Seonghwa” I managed to whisper out before passing out. 

The young man lifted me in his arms rushing me to the med bay. 

Once I awoke it was meeting after meeting of Jedi Masters questioning me. Seongwha hadn't left my side throughout the entire time amid our superiors urging him to continue to his daily lessons and tasks. But he would not budge. 

His long fingers wrapped around my hand under the sheet as the Masters would leave and fatigue would pull me back into sleep.

As the sun sat and the stars graced the night sky, the meds were wearing off enough for me to wake. As I sat up and looked towards Seongwha a single tear was running down his face, my eyebrows drew together in concern. 

“You almost died,” he croaked. 

Attached. The emotions between us, the force all but pushing us together was evident and unavoidable. 

“I haven't seen you in weeks, and you show up bleeding out,” he screwed his eyes shut as the tears picked up, "I thought you were going to die.” 

His anger was justified. Our superiors sensing our connection and fondness for one another had begun to keep us separate. No dueling practice, no lesions together, and long far away assignments for me. Padawans were generally busy, the path to being a Jedi long, rigorous, and dedicated, but this separation was most definitely a calculation. 

“I’m sorry” I say earnestly, my own tears now streaking down my cheeks. 

Silence passed over us, the weight of our emotions filling the room, the weight of a mutual understanding.

“I don't know how much longer I can do this Seongwha. I don't know if I’m cut out for this,” I share honestly. 

Seonghwa gives my hand a squeeze before the nurse walks into the room, his hand reluctantly pulling away from mine.

Administering my next dosage of medicine sleep takes back over. 

…

Ok, so I said that I would get that new chapter out...I did not. But I did start it! I'm just really busy at the moment, and I will get it done hopefully by the end of February because I have some personal things to get done that are very important for my year.

Notes: I thought I would have time to get through the entirety of the new chapter. I didn't realize it had been so long since my last update...SO! Here is a preview of Chapter 4 to hopefully hold you over. Merry Thanksgiving!!

Synopsis: As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!XuiMinghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 708

Attributes: Fluff, Slow-burn, Angst, HungerGamesAU, Hunger Games Insert fic, Violence, Political Tones. [If I can think of anything else I'll add it later :)]

Note/Warning: I’m unsure how long it will take to fully finish this, but I will complete the story. A good amount of the content is already written; it just needs some revisions. The story will unfold over several chapters, following the format of the first three films. Also, this is my first fic! So thank you for reading! I have also tried to keep physical descriptions to a minimum so anyone can read! (I tried my best couldn't find a nondescript neutral photo for the collage that would fit the theme of the 1st arena)

Chapter 3

Chapter 4: One foot in the Door

Three tight consecutive knocks rapped against the door startling Y/N awake. Her eyelids struggled to lift, the stress over the day's events weighing her down. “Dinner in the main cart, be prompt young lady,” even through the door Y/N can hear Effie’s cut together precise tone. Y/N drags her body upright, muscles already aching. The little light flowing in from her room’s window has begun to turn an orange-yellow hue as it crawls across the floor. Letting out a deep breath she stands from the bed that has all but folded itself in around her, too soft she thinks to herself, and not a years of aged away lumpy “soft”. 

Looking to the floor Y/N notices a pair of slippers waiting beside the bed. Sliding them onto her feet Y/N pads over to the door. The electronic door slides open with no command as she steps into the train card hall. Almost in sync, Jeahyun emerges out of his own room. The teenager Y/N notes is still in his reaping attire, a worn brown suit with worn padded elbows of which stitches have begun unraveling most likely the last few years. The two of them stood side by side is almost comical, Y/N’s silken capital sleepwear attire and Jaehyun’s district twelve signature hand-me-down wear, a true juxtaposition of their past and their coming days. 

“Hungry?” Y/N asks with no emotion to her voice as their eyes meet. The tiredness of her (E/C) colored eyes reflected in the boys own ebony eyes. 

”Not in the slightest” Jaehyun replies as he steps forward, the two falling into motion as they head back towards the main cart. 

“Can’t wait for them to stuff us like pigs then starve us out?” she questions. While joking, their impending hunger was imminent even in the face of the reality neither would be expelling the nausea settled deep in their stomach. Jaehyun quirks a smile at her remark. “At any rate we probably should try to stomach whatever we can before we get into the arena. Who knows what terrain they'll throw us into.” she says seriously. 

Reaching the compartment the two are met with Effie who has taken to fussing over the silverware aligning each shiny piece with surgical precision. Heymitch, sat at the dining cart table as Effie buzzes around him, is slouched over with a new glass filled with a different shimmering fine capital liquor sloshing within. The two teens pause in the doorway causing Effie’s head to perk up in alert of their arrival. “Come, come” she waves them over excitedly. Jaehyun and Y/N make their way to the table pulling the heavy chairs out and sit. A pair of Axov emerge from a connecting door with steaming plates causing Heymitch to stir and manage to pull his head up despite the almost visible weight pulling it down. The hunger, the type of dripping starvation that sits in the pit of the stomach of those that live on Twelve’s district outskirts and poorer areas is a sensation that must never leave, no matter how much he drowns it out with drink after drink, capital refined liquor or the hobs cheapest moonshine, must rumble within the older man as well. 

Placed in front of them is a small chicken like roast, with what were its legs that too ran free now caught by the capital are tied together, as a moat of sauce and vegetables clings around it. The sight alone reminds Y/N of her own position in these games, causing a new violent wave of queasyness to rumble throughout her. 

A dry-snarky-chuckle breaks the young woman from her tunneling thoughts. As Y/N looks up at Heymitch who already has his gaze set on her and silverware heading for the bird. Her eyebrows drawn together in confusion as her lips purse. “You seem settled in,” he jabs, ripping into the poultry before him. 

Y/N eyebrows quirk, “That makes two of us”. 

New Chapter next week, I promise 💓

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 2,765

Chapter 2

Notes: A bit of a shorter chapter here again. I wanted to get another chapter out without it being to long since the previous one! I've been sorta busy but am activity writing through this in my head. I also finished the new book! Broke my heart, but was worth it. Now I'm considering parts in this story that may break my heart and the readers (I promise it won't be too bad, we do have a lot of story to get through lol, rest assured rest assured). Anyways, happy reading!!

Chapter 3: The Countdown Begins

Stepping into the Capitol-bound train, Y/N and Jaehyun take in the interior. Its design is unlike anything either of them has ever seen. Every little part of it is intricate, expensive.  An almost reflective wallpaper lines the walls of the living-room-like space that Effie ushers them into. The furniture matches the patterns on the walls, it looks new, a pristine state of being seemingly untouched. To the right of the sitting area, towards the next boxcar, is a long mahogany table. 

Hors d’oeuvres and trays of sweets are lined up on the table, just waiting to be eaten. However, despite the tempting spread, there's something unsettling about food left out so casually. It feels less like something meant to be eaten, and more like a display—not there to be enjoyed, but only to be looked at. The quantity of food alone seems excessive, far more than most families in District 12 could hope to have for two weeks. For a moment, Y/N wonders if the food is even real, from where she stands it almost looks glazed over in a wax. Across from the table, to the left, there’s another table filled with insulated canisters—refreshments, Y/N assumes. All for them. For their glorious sacrifice for the Capitol. But Y/N and Jaehyun both know the truth: The Capitol will dress everything up in shiny wrapping paper to make the tributes feel comfortable, to show them things they've never been able to afford back home, to create a false sense of gratitude, just so they won’t cause trouble in their final moments before being shoved into the arena to butcher each other in the name of a “better cause.”

Jaehyun’s stomach rumbles as he too looks at the spread set out for them. The two move further into the cart, taking a seat in the plush armchairs.

“Isn't it just wonderful?” Effie starts, her voice chipper as ever. “We want to make sure you have the most comfortable ride on our way to the Capitol. You won’t even feel a thing once the train starts. While our time together is short, we want you to enjoy this opportunity to the fullest.”

Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at Effie's choice of words. “Opportunity” is certainly one way to look at it.

“Feel free to help yourselves to any of the hors d’oeuvres on the table and drinks in the dispensers. If anything isn’t to your liking, our chefs will cook you up something new.”

Y/N and Jaehyun don’t respond. How could they even find the motivation to eat? Their stomachs twist in anxiety about the upcoming days, grief already sinking in the pit of their stomachs at the thought of their families—of the morning they know they’ll have to endure. But must they eat? To conserve and store as much energy as they can for their time in the arena? Too much to think about, too much to consider, too little time. 

A lack of conversation comes from the two tributes as Effie stands before them. “Well, I’m going to go find Haymitch. He’s probably in the bar car by now,” Effie says, with disapproval lining her tone. The mannequin of a woman walks through the connecting door  behind the armchair in front of Y/N and Jaehyun in search of their sole mentor.

As the door closes behind Effie, Jaehyun and Y/N are left alone in the room. From what Y/N can assume however is that there are Peacekeepers stationed behind each door and camera’s watching the two tributes in every room. A false sense of security, or a chance of escape. Aside from Y/N, the aftershocks of crying can still be heard with Jaehyun's who still rattles with sniffs and hiccups every few seconds.

Y/N turns to him. “I’m Y/N,” she says, trying to break the ice.

“Jaehyun,” he replies, wiping tear tracks from his cheeks, trying to recollect some of his pride. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Jaehyun,” Y/N says softly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in this predicament.”

“You are too,” he replies with a jab, eyes darting to meet hers with a flicker of contempt.

Y/N quirks a lopsided smile, her lips barely curving. “Well, there’s not much we can do about it now. And I am sorry you're stuck here as well.”

Jaehyun doesn’t move to look at her. Y/N tries again. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Jaehyun replies. “You?” he asks.

“Eighteen,” Y/N says, “This was supposed to be my last reaping.” She exhales. “Not so lucky, I guess,” she shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, his tone softer now.

“What are you going to do?” Y/N says, a small bit of acceptance for the reality of their situation. 

There's a beat of silence between them. Y/N pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun starts again, his voice quieter. Y/N looks up at him, her head resting on her knees. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I figured,” Y/N says. “I don’t blame you for being cold or angry. It’s a lot to process. They also weren’t the nicest to you during your send-off.”

“You saw that?” Jaehyun asks, his already barely collected pride bruised.

“Kinda hard to miss,” Y/N responds. “But I would've acted the same way if I were your age. Probably would’ve bitten someone, too.”

Jaehyun cracks a small smile.

“I’d like to be allies, if you’d want to be as well,” Y/N says kindly. 

“That sounds good,” Jaehyun agrees.

Y/N uncurls her right arm from her grasp on her legs and sits up straighter as she extends her hand to him. Jaehyun takes it, their hands meeting halfway between the two armchairs, and shakes firmly.

“Allies,” Jaehyun says, with a slight grin.

“Allies,” Y/N echoes, smiling back.

Just as their hands detach, Haymitch stumbles into the car, Effie trailing behind him, looking exasperated. Even though he’s dressed in what Y/N assumes is expensive silk from the Capitol, the older man’s hair has fallen out of whatever shape it was combed up into earlier that morning. Clutched in Haymitch’s left hand tall glass, its shimmering blue contents swirling side to side as he makes his way towards the armchairs. 

“Congratulations,” Haymitch slurs, as he flops into an armchair in front of them.

Y/N slides her feet back onto the ground of the cart and fixes her poorly fit dress over the legs, it would be best to present herself as best as she can. Her mother always did tell her that first impressions mattered. And the most important first impressions would be coming in the next few days. She needed sponsors and favorship to have any chance of getting out of that arena.

Effie stands beside Haymitch’s chair. “This is Y/N L/N and Myung Jaehyun,” she says, gesturing toward each of them, informing Haymitch of his tributes for the year.

“Excuse my lack of excitement,” Haymitch drawls, his tone bored, as he tips his glass in a halfhearted gesture toward them. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says, though it’s clear to both Jaehyun and Y/N his lack of engagement.

Y/N and Jaehyun exchange wary glances. Y/N’s mind races: I knew Haymitch would be hard to deal with, but I didn’t expect him to be this inebriated. She can’t say she blames him, though. District 12 never gets winners, and Haymitch has probably been guiding children to their deaths for the past twenty-ish years. If she remembers correctly, he won the last Quarter Quell? If I were in his shoes, I’d probably drink myself into a coma, too. Still, it would be nice if he could at least be coherent. Hopefully, he’ll sober up enough to offer some useful advice before they’re shoved into those tubes that will lift them into the ring. 

“Well, Haymitch will be your point of access for all tips and tricks for once you’re in the arena,” Effie says, trying to push the conversation along.

“Where do we start?” Jaehyun asks, his voice serious.

Haymitch flicks some of his hair out of his face as he takes another sip from his glass. “With staying alive,” he says, gruffly.

“No shit,” Jaehyun deadpans.

“Language!” Effie scolds, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You won’t be getting any sponsors with a mouth like that,” she reprimands.

“How do we get sponsors, then?” Y/N asks politely.

“Be likable,” Haymitch replies, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“What type of likable?” Y/N presses.

“Ladylike,” Effie interjects, her tone making it clear she doesn’t want to entertain any “rebels” or questions.

“Do we have any idea what type of arena we’ll be facing this year?” Y/N tries again, determined to get some type of real answer.

“So many questions, so early in the day” Haymitch mutters. He hiccups. “Tell you what, I’m going to finish this drink, have another one, and then probably retire for the night. Tomorrow, during breakfast, maybe I will find myself inclined to scrounge up some advice that might keep you two alive past day one.”

Haymitch struggles to stand, clearly too drunk to be of any real help to himself or the two districts.

“How considerate of you,” Y/N says, her tone dripping with false sincerity.

Haymitch either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, as he stumbles toward the door.

“He’ll warm up,” Effie says with a forced smile. “Why don’t I show you to your quarters for the night?” she claps. 

.

.

.

“And here you are!” Effie’s voice rings out from the doorway of Y/N’s room for the night. The bed is enormous, easily the size of what would be considered a king-sized bed—far larger than Y/N’s bed back home if it were to be combined with her cousin’s. A dozen plush pillows line the top, resting against the headboard. Its sheets are silken, much like the shirt Haymitch wore courtesy of the Captia, and the same shade of blue as the rest of the train’s décor.

“Make yourself at home,” Effie continues, a wide smile that felt more genuine then any of the others she had given Y/N so far, “I’ll come knock when it’s time for dinner.”

Y/N nods, her voice barely a whisper, “Thank you, Effie.”

Effie gives a quick nod and steps away, heading down the train car toward a destination Y/N has no clue or real care about. Hopefully, she’s going to sober Haymitch up before tomorrow, Y/N thinks, though she has little faith that will be the actual result of Effie’s departure.

As the door slides shut, Y/N is left alone standing in the center of the room. It's quiet. Quieter than Y/N ever thought to be possible. The only time she’s felt such secure quiet was when Minghao and her would be laid out in the grass of his backyard watching the stars, his heartbeat soothing beneath her ear. The quiet of this room is too much, wrong. The feeling started to feel sickening as it crawled down Y/N’s throat. 

Got to move, she coaches herself.  Forcing her feet to take a step furthering into the room Y/N explores the room eyes roaming surface to surface. Across from the bed, mounted on the wall, is a large inset TV. The only channels available being nothing but the Capitol News and reruns of past Hunger Games. Connected to the room is a bathroom, with stark white tiles and a large walk-in shower. Then, next to the bed is a nightstand with a window above it. 

Y/N steps closer to the nightstand, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her dress looks just as worn and tired as she feels. She opens one of the drawers, finding a pair of pajamas. The fabric feels almost buttery as she rubs it between her fingers—A fabric set like this would take a year, or more, worth of trades to exchange in the Capital store if the Peacekeeper was kind that week. Y/N sets the pajamas on the bed and opens another drawer, where she finds a brush and a hair tie. How thoughtful, she thinks sarcastically. 

Leaving the drawer open, Y/N turns her head toward the medium-sized window. The glass is unusually thick, a stark reminder that there’s no escaping this journey. She sits down on the bed, sinking slightly into the mattress. Y/N’s head falls back as she closes her eyes, trying to keep the rising panic attack at bay. A shower sounds nice, she thinks as she opens her eyes and looks toward the bathroom. 

.

.

.

Y/N stands in the shower, her clothes discarded and folded neatly on the sink counter. She stares at the digital pad on the wall, brows furrowed in confusion. Tentatively, she taps it with her finger. The screen flickers to life, displaying a myriad of buttons. They’re labeled with different words that Y/N can only assume refer to various water patterns. 

She hesitates for a moment before selecting the one labeled ‘rain’. Seems like the least dangerous option, she reasons tapping the button.

The water begins to fall from the rectangular shower head in soft, soothing streams, like rain. Y/N reaches her hand into the cascade to test its temperature. It’s warm, far warmer than she expected. She looks back at the pad and an arrow pointing up and an arrow pointing down. She taps the up-facing arrow twice, and after a moment steam starts to grab onto the glass paneling. 

Y/N reaches back into the falling water once more and is met with the perfect temperature of hot. A temperature she could never fully experience at home. Even if she wanted to, it would mean getting out of the tub and getting more water out of the well which should then have to boil, and that would most likely be followed by getting scolded for bathing to long before anyone got a chance at the lukewarm water. Hot water is a luxury that only Townies enjoy in District 12. 

She steps fully under the stream, letting the warm water beat into her sore muscles, the steam thickening around her and chokes out her ever impending thoughts. For a moment, she lets herself relax. After a few minutes, the water still running hot, Y/N looks back at the digital pad and notices a lavender button, likely for shampoo or body wash. As she clicks it the water that falls on her begins to fall sudsey. Y/N lathers the thicker liquid into her skin, marveling as it leaves her skin almost polished looking as it washes away. Y/N looks back at the pad and locates the shampoo and conditioner. 

As Y/N finally feels enough tension has left her she turns off the shower. Stepping out from the glass enclosure, Y/N grabs a large, white towel that is hung up on a rod by the shower. It also feels warm to the touch as she wraps it around her body. Y/N takes note at how stark white the towel is, it must have been never used, unlike her towel at home that had a solid three tears in it. Or maybe was a special towel they saved for tributes, being bleached every year then left behind for the next kid being escorted to their death because giving a new towel would be too generous, to much waste for someone about to die. Y/N shakes the thought from her head as she dries off and slips into the pajamas left on the bed. Y/N re-situates her hair and ties it up using the singular hair tie left to her in from the nightstand, placing the worn one she brought from home around her wrist. 

Y/N sinks down onto her side on the bed, the soft sheets unfamiliar against her skin. She almost fears she’ll slip off the silken bed. As Y/N lies there she allows for her tears to slip from her eyes. Minghao… she thinks, her chest tightening. How I wish I was back home with you right now. We're supposed to be at the lake watching the stars. We’re supposed to grow old together, to choose us over having a family, because how cruel would it be to send our own children to the Reaping every year? How am I supposed to make it through this without you reassuring me everything’s all right. A sob tries  to escape her, but Y/N holds it in, pulling the pendant on her necklace given to her by Minghao up to her lips. The cool glass and metal soothes her, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like he's there aside her whispering sweet nothings into her ear. 

To be Continued…

(2,765 words)

Authors note: Slow building here, but I'm that you guys like that.

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 3,855

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Notes: A bit of a shorter chapter here, but still long enough I hope. I got the new book today! I'm so excited to read it!! It may be a little bit longer until I write the next chapter because I will be pre-occupied with that, but no fear it will be on the way soon. We also won't be seeing Minghao for the next few chapters :,( , but no fear he will still be important to the story! So please stick with me <3

Chapter 2: Shadow’s of the New Day 

The Peacekeepers grab Jaehyun and Y/N by the upper arms, forcefully pulling them into the Justice Building. Y/N’s feet drag behind her, stumbling as they hurry her along towards one of the room’s they use for tributes family and friends send off. Her heart beats erratically, a peace that pinches her chest, as each step amplifies thudding, drowning out everything else. 

The Justice Building is cold, its gray walls oppressive. The air smells faintly of mold and bleach, its walls coated in harsh lined shadows cast by the tall, narrow windows that look out into the courtyard. The light that filters through does little to banish the heaviness of the situation, a weight pressing at her lungs as Y/N inhales shakily. Every inch of this place feels foreign, she’s walking the first step of this nightmare of the journey to the capital that will end in her death. 

The Peacekeeper opens the door to a small office, letting go of Y/N’s upper arms as he all but pushes her in. Out of the corner of her eye Y/N sees a last glance of Jaehyun as he’s shoved in to his own make-shift send off room. 

“One Hour” the Peacekeeper barks before all but slamming the door shut.

Y/N’s eyes scan the surprisingly well lit  room. There's a couch—it almost looks new, its cracking leather at the corners it's only give away of its age, but still the piece of furniture is far better than anything she’s ever had at home. She can’t even remember if her own bed at home ever looked so pristine. An empty desk sits on the right wall of the room facing the coach, and large bookcases line the wall separating the two. 

The shock of the entire situation still has yet to dissipate within Y/N. Sit or Stand, SIt or Stand, Y/N ponders to herself unsure what to do with her anxious energy. Sit, she decides. Landing on the coach Y/N runs her rands across its cool surface, soft she thinks to herself a childlike wonder reflects in her eyes as she takes in the new experience. Its soft in a way that makes Y/N’s stomach flip, knowing it's the first and last upper class object she’ll experience in her district but a forebode to the things in the capital she’ll see and experience before her ultimate demise. There’s no springs prodding at her, or lumpy inconsistencies to the filling of the couch. Y/N can’t recall if her bed at home had ever been this comfortable. She allows for her weight to sink into the cushion, limbs slightly loosening as the reality of the situation starts to settle in further.

Y/N sits in the silence of the room, the seconds stretching out into a false infinity. What did I do to deserve this? Her mind keeps circling back to that one thought, but i guess no one truly deserves to get plucked from their home and family to be shoved into a ring that adapts every year to be more and more entertaining for those in the Capitol. She’s never been the rebellious one, the troublemaker. She’s just a girl from District 12, one that was supposed to be free from this system after this reaping. To go have the closest semblance to a normal life with Minghao. She can feel the tears threatening again, the familiar pressure building behind her eyes.

The door swings open, breaking Y/N from her spiraling trance. Y/N’s heart skips a beat as she looks at her mother. The older women, tears streaming down her face, moves toward Y/N with haste. Y/N mother drags the young woman into her arms, falling to her knees as she pulls Y/N, still sat on the couch, toward her. The embrace--Y/N would have usually complained was strangling --but now, it is the last time she’ll ever be held by her mother. The hug breaks whatever computer Y/N had left, her tears now run freely down her roundish cheeks as she hiccups with sobs.

Y/N mother leans back, keeping her hands rightly on Y/N’s shoulders, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be fine,” she says, wiping the tears from Y/N’s face with her left hand. YN’s arms hang lifeless at her sides. What fight do I have? The Career districts are trained for these games, Y/N internally scoffs, the most she could ever manage is getting past the bordering fence of the district without getting electrocuted.

As Y/N looks at her mother, she finds the same fear that gnaws at her own gut, an anxiety that won’t let her breathe, reflecting back at her. She’s not strong enough to do this. She knows that deep down. Y/N doubts that even her mother can truly even believe that she can come out alive.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N chokes out, the words spilling before she can stop them. 

Her mother shakes her head, her grip tightening on  Y/N’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault,” she says firmly. Y/N’s mother pulls the girl back into her embrace. There’s no time to pretend, this is real.

Y/N’s arms hang limply by her sides, she knows she’s nothing like the tributes from the Career districts. Nothing like those that sneak past the gates to catch extra food free from the Capital’s Tesserae. Others have skills, or have been trained for this—prepared. 

As Y/N and her mother try to find some kind of composure, the door opens again. Her family walks in, faces struck with grief. She's not even dead yet but Y/N feels as if she's a walking corpse beside them. In the mere seconds between the door opening and closing, Y/N catches a glimpse of the Peacekeeper stationed outside. No chance of running, she thinks to herself. Past her personal guard, Y/N can see Effie stood by the Justice Buildings door. Though Y/N couldn't hear or make out what the women was saying, it was evident in her movement that Effie wanted them to get a move on.

Her Aunt Lynn bursts forward, wailing as she grabs Y/N from her mothers embrace and into own.  “This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all!,” Aunt Lynn says, voice breaking. Uncle Sam stands behind, his hand on her back, silent. His eyes, though, are full of that same helplessness that Y/N feels.

After a few minutes Aunt Lynn steps back, allowing Aunt Sophia to take her turn. The woman strokes Y/N’s hair, the action returning Y/N to her youth. She feels small, the moment causing more tears to stream down her face as she reveals in the childhood comfort being provided to her. Uncle Ian steps aside of them and wraps his arms around them both.

“I can’t do this,” Y/N croaks.

“Like hell you can’t. You’re walking out of that arena,” Olive speaks out, her lips trembling as she tries to conceal her own emotions. “You’re not going to let them win,” she says so determined. 

The room falls quiet. For a moment, the thought of surviving crosses Y/N’s mind. THe idea that she could come home after everything the Capital is going to put her through. But it’s not a reality, District 12 never wins. She’ll be discarded and forgotten, like all the tributes before her. The Games are a death sentence, and it’s not just the fighting she’s scared of—it’s what she’ll possibly become. How could I ever come back from this the same? Y/N questions to herself.

“We believe in you,” Alice says softly. 

Aunt Sohpia and Uncle Ian unwrap their arms from around Y/N and step back.

Sat alone on the couch Y/N leans forward, resting her head in her hands. She can’t keep looking into their eyes, seeing what she’s about to lose. Mateo sits down beside her, the couch bouncing with his weight. He wraps his left arm around Y/N, pulling her into his side. “You’re going to show those pompous, overprivileged peacocks in the Capitol what a real winner is,” there’s no amusement in his eyes but a steeling determination for her.

Y/N looks up at him, a half-hearted scoff escaping her lips. “I’m serious,” he presses, squeezing her shoulders. “If anyone is going to make it through that arena in 12, it’s going to be you. You’re smart—one of the top graduates in our class. How many times have you given the Peacekeepers the slip on days they actually cared to catch people? You’re going to be fine.”

​​As much as Mateo and Y/N give each other crap, their bond was sibling-like. His support and statement almost enough to make her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could survive this. But the doubt creeps back in, how many tributes thought they were going survive and come home but didn’t? Shoving the doubt back down, Y/N’s tears have dried a bit, a new steel of confidence building in her eyes as Y/N racks her brain for a plan to get home.

A new knock broke the silence. The door creaked open, and in walked three of Y/N’s closest friends: Eden, Caden, and Yugi.

Eden was one of the brightest lights in Y/N’s life, always ready with a word of encouragement when everything seemed impossible. Normally, her long, wavy blond hair fell in waves like sunlight, but her hair seemed to fall flat today, it seemed to hold an emotion of its own. Her round brown eyes that usually sparkled with unshakable positivity, were dim, devoid of their usual hope. Eden’s posture was sagged, the weight of the day having stolen her light.

Beside Eden, Caden stood—her usual dry humor tempered seemingly forgotten as its been replaced with something Y/N rarely saw in her: raw vulnerability. Caden had been Y/N’s number one supporter. The girl was District 12’s number one hater, always stepping in with a joke or a snarky comment when Eden or Minghao started getting too optimistic. But today, her sharp face usually upturned in some sort of ‘I know something you don't’ expresion, was replaced by tears she couldn’t hold back. Y/N observed her friend's stature—Caden had always hidden behind her long hair, but not today. Caden’s hair was cropped short, a result of a lost bet with one of her own siblings the week prior to the Reaping. She regretted cutting it, Y/N could tell. She could have hidden her tears, at least.

Yugi stood beside Caden. Yugi’s hair was a vibrant orange, a DIY job gone right despite the odds—still messy, but somehow it worked. She had always been the loudest of the group, never afraid to speak her mind, to push everyone forward when they wanted to stand still. Her face was tight with sorrow, a sharp contrast to her usual fire.

The three of them stepped forward in unison, embracing Y/N. The pressure of their hug brought a laugh out of Y/N—a small, weak thing that barely touched her lips. A melancholy moment, she thought, as they all clung to her like a life raft in a storm.

“Alright, alright,” Caden broke the silence with a dry laugh. “Let’s not get all emotional now, huh? We’re still here. You’re still here. And we’re not gonna let them take you that easily.” She pulled back, but her hands remained on Y/N’s shoulders, her eyes puffy from the tears. “Promise me—they’re gonna have to pry you out of the arena if they even try to take you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But she meant it. She had to.

“Good,” Caden nodded, her lips twitching like she wanted to crack a joke, but couldn't quite manage it.

“I know things seem insane right now,” Eden’s soft voice broke through the moment. She met Y/N’s eyes, her face still gentle but lined with worry. “But listen to me. You’ve got this. You’ve got more strength than you realize. I know it might not feel like it now, but... you’ll show them, Y/N. You’ve got this, You’ll make it.” her voice cracking at the end of her sentence.

Y/N gave her close friend the best half-smile she could muster. Eden was always the one who had a way of making everything sound possible. It was comforting. Y/N nodded, silently appreciating the gesture.

“I know people are saying it’s impossible,” Yugi spoke up, her voice unwavering. “But who cares what they say, right?” She stepped back, her fiery gaze locking on Y/N’s, and her expression was all fierce determination. “You’ve got more grit in your pinky finger than most of these people have in their whole bodies. They’re gonna have no idea what hit ‘em. You’re gonna show them what District 12 is made of.” Yugi paused, her voice softening just a little. “We believe in you, Y/N.”

Y/N's throat tightened. There it was again—that tiny spark of hope they all tried to light for her. She could feel it now, the warmth in the room, the strength of her friends' belief in her. The love of not just her friends but her family. It was so hard to hold onto, but she didn’t want to let it go. Not now. Not when it might be the only thing keeping her from completely losing herself.

The knock on the door breaks the moment. It creaks open slowkey, breaking the pregnant silence that had begun to take over the room. Y/N’s heart skips a beat as Minghao walks into the room with his parents, their faces drawn with pained grief. Y/N stands, meeting him halfway. Their arms wrap around each other instantaneously. The two young adults grapple onto each other, finding comfort in each other's embrace.  Mr. Xu pats Y/N;s head as Mrs. Xu rubs her back. Y/N buries her head further into Minghao’s neck, inhaling his scent—woody, warm, and with a touch of jasmine. It fills her senses, grounding her for a moment. Its something only Minghao could do for her. 

“Shhh, Shhh. You’re okay,” Minghao whispers softly into her ear, his face pressing against the side of her head, his nose turned into her own hair. Minghao pulls back, running his hands up and down her arms as he tries to make eye contact, but Y/N keeps her head low, avoiding his gaze. Mrs. Xu reaches her hand up between them and wipes away the tears from Y/N’s face.

Y/N shyly looks at Mrs. Xu. “You’re going to captivate them all.”

Y/N’s eyes flick to Minghao, who nods. “You’re charming. You can get sponsors,” his voice steady and firm. 

Sponsors, Y/N thinks. It could be one way to ensure a longer survival in the arena. Y/N sucks in her cheeks, chewing anxiously at them.

“You’re strong,” Mr. Xu adds, his eyes are warm amid their sadness, “We all believe in you.”

Y/N’s eyes scan the room, landing on her family then her friends. Their sorrowful eyes glimmer with a small sense of hope. It’s easy to get caught up in.

Another knock is heard at the door.

“Fifteen minutes,” the Peacekeeper calls, cold and impersonal,through the door.

Y/N inhales sharply, trembling with anxiety as her chest begins to tighten again. “Can I... can I have a few minutes alone with Minghao?” she stutters. To her surprise, not one snarky remark is heard from her cousins—there goes the chance for a mood lifter.

“Of course, let’s give them a minute,” Aunt Sophia instructs, ushering everyone toward the door. Before leaving, Y/N’s mother pulls her into one last hug and leaves a kiss on her forehead before following the others out. “I love you. Stay strong,” she says.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving Y/N and Minghao alone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Y/N says, squeezing her eyes shut. “The arena does things to people. I won’t come back the same.”

“You’re going to do what you have to do to survive, to come back to us. That’s understandable. I’ll always love you, no matter what.” Minghao’s gaze pierces her soul with its intensity, his voice steady besides the slight tremble to it, one that Y/N isn’t sure she’s ready to face.

“You can’t watch. I don’t want you to watch,” Y/N says seriously. “I don’t want to fight about this.” Her voice starts to crack. “I just… I don’t know what I’ll have to do, or what I may turn into, but I don’t want you to see the worst of me.”

Minghao gently moves a piece of Y/N’s hair behind her ear. “If you wish for me not to watch, I can respect that. The second you’re in the arena, I’ll turn off the broadcasts. I won’t even listen. But I need you to know I will love you no matter what. No matter how you come back. No matter what you do. And no matter what anyone says about you.”

Minghao’s hands cup the sides of Y/N’s face as he pulls her in for a kiss. His plush soft lips press against hers, all his love and yearning pouring into it, all the things they have to leave unsaid. Tears form in both of their eyes.

Minghao pulls back and smiles softly. “I got you something.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Y/N says, her voice cracking, as the first real big smile from the last almost hour stretches across her face.

Minghao pulls out a necklace with a pendant. Inside the glass is a blue flower, a smaller version than the one he gifted her earlier. The flower looks a smooth blue aster but with a deep, rich blue hue.

“It’s District 12’s representative flower,” Minghao says. “It’s supposed to represent faith, love, and trust. But for our district, it stands for hard work and resilience. My father started planting them a few years ago, and I remember how much you loved them when I first brought you over. I had the blacksmith at the Hob put it together.”

Y/N rubs her thumb over the smooth glass. “It’s beautiful.”

Minghao smiles softly. “Turn around.”

Y/N turns, and Minghao sweeps her hair over her shoulder, bringing the delicate chain around her neck. “You shouldn’t have a problem bringing it into the arena. Tributes are allowed a token from their district.”

Minghao lets go of the chain as the clasp closes on the necklace around her neck. Y/N turns to face him. “Thank you.”

“It was supposed to be a gift to celebrate our freedom from the Reaping and our moving to the next step in our life,” Minghao explains, his eyes turning red from the tears he’s keeping at bay. 

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N repeats, her voice thick with emotion. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. Minghao leans in, kissing the corner of her left eye, then her right, before pressing a final kiss on her lips and resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you more,” Y/N replies.

“Doubt that,” he teases.

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh at his stubbornness.

“Time to go,” the Peacekeeper barges in and reaches for Y/N’s arm again, but Minghao pulls her back.

“She can walk herself,” he says sternly, his eyes softening as he looks at Y/N. “You’ll be okay.”

Y/N can now see the tears he’s been holding back. “I love you,” he says quietly.

Y/N walks out the door, the Peacekeeper following behind her. She looks back at Minghao, who stands still, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his tears. She mouths, “I love you.”

Minghao does his best to smile, but Y/N can see the cracks in his facade. As she walks down the hall, he collapses, squatting down and crying into his arms that lay crossed over his knees.

As Y/N walks forward, the sharp clicking of Effie’s heels echoes closer and closer as she walks up towards the hall catching up beside Y/N and the Peacekeeper. “Lovely! Now we can get a move on. I assume the farewells were in good order?” she says cheerfully, her voice a stark contrast to the heavy air around them.

Y/N glances at Effie, her gaze lingering on the woman’s perfectly styled appearance. Up close, the facade of brightness seemed almost forced, but the girl new it was genuine. The gleaming stupor those in the Capital lived in, oh how their lives differed. As Y/N looked at Effie she noticed the cracks in her polished exterior, the makeup Effie wore was thick and caked on, the difference between her and a porcelain doll was the doll’s shiny epoxy. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replies with lackluster.

Before Effie can push for a more enthusiastic response, a disruption echoes from the room Jaehyun had been placed in. Y/N freezes, her heart tightening as she watches the boy. He’s being dragged out, kicking and screaming as two Peacekeepers struggle to keep a hold on him. A third Peacekeeper stands by, ready to grab Jaehyun's legs. THe boys tear-streaked face is full of raw, unrestrained panic.

“No!” Jaehyun cries out, his voice breaking as his eyes desperately tries to reach for his parents, who are fading from view the further they manage to pull him away and towards Effie and Y/N.

The third Peacekeeper slams the door shut, cutting off Jaehyun from his parents. The sound of the door clicking closed echoes in the hallway, leaving only the sounds of Jaehyun’s sobs.

“Oh boy, what bad manners,” Effie comments casually, a look of irritation on her face as if the scene before them were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “So sad. Well, we'll have to work on that,” she exasperates. 

Y/N glares at Effie, disgust washing over her. How could this woman stand there, so detached, as if the agony of a child being torn from his parents was nothing more than a mere inconvenience? Y/N clenches her fists at her sides.

"Well, come along now. We’ve got a train to catch," Effie says with a flip of her hand, turning sharply and striding ahead.

Y/N’s is pushed forward by one of the Peacekeepers, who gives her a rough shove, urging her to move quicker.

Effie gives a half attempt to glance back as she calls over her shoulder, her voice almost sing-song as she addresses Jaehyun, still struggling in the Peacekeepers’ grip. “I’d stop with the crying and flailing if I were you. Otherwise, we’ll have to sedate you, and I’d rather you enjoy our lovely ride to the Capitol. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Effie's words hang in the air, hearing this Jaehyun stops his kicking. The Peacekeepers, unsure of his next move, continue to escort him alongside Y/N, while keeping a steel hold on the boy's arms. That's definitely going to bruise, Y/N thinks to herself. 

Y/N looks at him, her heart breaking as she watches the boy’s features harden. His doe eyes brimming with tears that spill over are filled by a simmering anger,As they continue towards the train platform, the Justice Building doors swing open, revealing the cold, imposing locomotive waiting for them. Jaehyun continues to silently cry, as they march in silence towards their inevitable fate.

To be Continued…

(3,855 words)

Authors note: Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know you're thoughts!

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: 6,641

Notes: Here's the first chapter! Let me know what you think :)) Chapter 2 out soon!

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The Mourn-ing Call

The air had a crisp bite to it, hinting at the coming fall. The L/N house creaked in the quiet morning, its eerie sound drifting into the silence. The sun had not yet risen, but its early light was slowly creeping through the panes of Y/N’s room. She groaned as she shifted onto her side, the 18-year-old girl’s eyes slowly cracking open. Her throat was dry and sore—a sure sign that while the air had turned cooler, summer would hang on for a few more weeks.

Sighing deeply, Y/N turned back onto her back. Staring up at the cracked stained ceiling, a pit began to form in her stomach as the reality of the day settled in. Today was the 71st Hunger Games reaping, and at 18 this would be her last year of eligibility. However, that didn't make the day's anxiety anylighter. Her chances of being selected were greater now, Y/N put her name in extra times through the tessera so that her family could scrape by with barely enough food to survive the harsh winter. Her cousin of the same age, Mateo as well. 4 extra name slips for Mateo and 3 extra name slips for Y/N.

A soft cough broke her thoughts, and Y/N turned to look at her younger cousins—Alice, 9, and Olive, 15. A pang of sadness washed over Y/N as she realized Alice would not have to fear her name being pulled from the jar this year, or the next, or even the one after, but her future still holds this annual “tradition”. Olive, like Y/N, would face the same agonizing wait in the heat, hoping her name wouldn’t be the one called.

Y/N sighed again and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet meeting the worn, splintered wood. She sat there for a moment, hands by her thighs gripping the edge of the lumpy mattress, as her head hung down, eyes closed. Outside, the early stirrings of the town could be heard—others awake in the quiet morning, too anxious to sleep on reaping day. It was hard to imagine anyone resting while the shadow of death loomed over them all. 

A breeze rustled the air, quieting the sounds of the street. Maybe nature, in its own way, was offering comfort to those in the district on such a solemn day.

Shaking her head, Y/N reminded herself not to dwell on the inevitable. Standing up, she quietly made her way to the door, glancing back at Alice and Olive, who were still sound asleep safe in the world of their dreams. Stepping out of the room Y/N softly closed the door behind her and stepped towards the old uneven steep staircase. Each step down to the main area of the home seemed quieter than usual, perhaps a silent mourning from the home for what the day would bring.

At the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glanced back up at the dark hallway. All four doors were shut, it seemed she was the only one awake so far. Turning away, she made her way to the kitchen, as she crossed the connecting living room a loud snore interrupted the silence. It was amazing how others remained asleep like that of Mateo, who snores loud enough to disrupt the bordering Seam. His snoring was soon joined by another—her uncle, Ian. How she even managed to sleep through it all was beyond her.

The cupboards offered little: a bag of molding bread, some wrinkled blueberries, and half a dozen eggs. Even with the extra food provided by Y/N and Mateo through the tesserae barely scraped through the week. The eggs and blueberries were not even from that!  Y/N pulled out the bread and placed it onto the counter beside the stove before moving to grab a bowl and the eggs. Cracking the eggs into the bowl Y/N watched how their contents sloshed together. It was a meager breakfast that wouldn't fil any of their stomachs, but it would have to do. Maybe that was a good thing though, non of them are probably even feeling that low rumble of hunger, the anxiety taking up its place.

Turning on the stove, the fire sputtered before it crackled to life under the battered pan. By now, the sun had risen higher, but the house remained quiet except for the sounds of Y/N cooking. Her mom and two aunts would wake soon, followed by the rest of the family. By 10 a.m., they’d all be dressed in their best clothes and sat on the dilapidated worn couches, dreading the moments that ticked closer to noon, the time enhanced by the loud clicking of the clock hand second by second. Then as 12p.m. hit they would begin their journey to the town square before the reaping at 2 p.m.

Afterward, the day would unfold in its usual pattern. Mateo would disappear into town insearch of work for the day, Alice and Olive would play in the backyard pretending to escape to a far off magical land. Aunt Lynn and Aunt Sophia would go back to knitting goods to sell at the Hob, while her mother would head off to her job at the Coal Mill tallying the day’s casualties. Uncle Ian and Sam would be off to the industrial plant working at the iron till the sun sets. And Y/N? She and Minghao would sneak away to the quiet lake on the outskirts of the Seam. They would sit together in silence until dinner, hand intertwined as the sounds of nature would calm the dread eating at them.

As Y/N scrambled the eggs, her mind wandered. Then a soft tapping at the back door brought her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Minghao standing outside, his expression solemn despite the faint smile on his lips. He was already dressed in his nicer clothes, ready for the day.

Y/N wipes her hands on her pants and walks over to unlock the door. Swinging it open, she looks up under her eyelashes at Minghao.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

“Hey,” Minghao whispered back.

Y/N steps aside, letting him enter the house. As Minghao shut the door behind him, Y/N turns back to the stove, making sure the eggs don’t burn.

“Dressed already?” she asked, breaking the silence as she looks to the side at him.

Minghao leaned against the counter, watching her cook, their eyes meeting.

“Couldn't sleep,” he answered.

“That makes two of us,” Y/N said, offering a half-hearted smile.

She took the eggs off the stove, turning to him. “I like the haircut.”

Minghao’s hair still brushed the tops of his shoulders, but today it looked neater, his bangs no longer brushing against the tips of his eyelashes. It was cleaned up, framing his features—his mother must’ve trimmed it the night before, an instance of putting your best image forward on the more dreadful days. 

“You look very nice this morning,” she added softly.

“Not as nice as you,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Y/N laughed, tilting her head back. “Hardly, but thank you.”

Picking the mold off the bread slices and flicking them into the sink, Y/N grabs the butter and spreads it on the bread before putting it on the stoves open fire to toast. Minghao moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.

“I’m starting to think you came for the food, and not to see me,” Y/N teased.

“I’d rather starve than never see you again,” Minghao said, just as dramatically.

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess you can partake in our eggs and slightly moldy bread,” she said with a smirk.

“They don’t even eat like that in the Capitol,” Minghao joked.

A beat passed. “But seriously,” he continued, “the bread should last longer, right? You’d think with all the names we have to put in just to get extra food, it would.”

“Mh,” Y/N hummed in agreement as she spreads the butter on the next slice to be toasted..

Minghao hesitated before asking, “How many times is your name in the bowl this year?”

“Ten,” Y/N answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The kitchen fell silent again. Minghao tightened his grip on her waist. Y/N placed the new slice bread on the open flame, swapping it with the previous.  “You?” she asked.

“Eight,” he replied softly.

“May the odds be ever in our favor,” Y/N murmured, the words hollow.

Minghao pulls away and reaches into his pocket. His fingers trembled as he pulls out a small bundle of cloth and hands it to her. “I brought you this.”

Y/N blinked, heart fluttering. She takes the bundle from his hands and unwraps it carefully, peeling back the soft fabric to reveal, nestled in the fabric, a delicate blue flower.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She recognized the flower from Minghao’s fathers small garden. In her own words “the brightest spot in all of the dreariness of District 12”. The tears she’d been holding back began to well up in the waterlines of her eyes.

Minghao noticing, pulls her into his embrace, his hand resting on the back of her head. “Don’t cry,” he said softly.

“But what if they pull your name? What am I going to do without you?” Y/N’s voice cracked.

“Don’t spend our last few hours worrying,” Minghao replied gently. “There are people with more chances of being pulled than us. And, if anything happens, which it's not, I want my last moments with you to feel like none of this ever existed.”

“You’re always so positive,” Y/N sniffled, lifting her head to look at him.

“How could I not be, when I have you in my life?” he smiled.

Their lips met in a soft kiss before they embraced again.

“What if they pull my name?” Y/N continues. 

“That is a reality I hope I never have to face,” Minghao says seriously. 

“Best not the think of it” Y/N compromises, listening to Minghao’s advice from mere second before. 

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Y/N scraped the last of her eggs off the plate shoveling the pieces into her mouth, a few crumbs of toast clinging to the corner of her lips, when the sound of her cousins tumbling down the stairs broke the quiet. Minghao, sat next to her, wipes the crumbs off the sides of her lips, an action natural to the two of them. Their eyes meet, gaze broken as Mateo’s voice rings out, groggy but loud, “Hey, don’t eat everything!”

“What’s up, early riser?” Y/N replied, voice flat as she wipes her mouth for good maesure and leans back in her chair. “But seriously, grab some before your dads wake up. They won’t care how much you’ve already eaten.”

“Eggs again?” Olive groans, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“Be grateful we even got eggs this week,” Alice shoots back, her eyes narrowing as she reaches for the food.

“Ooh, shots fired,” Mateo teases as he nudges Olive.

“Don’t antagonize them,” Aunt Lynn, tone sharp, warns. 

The kitchen buzzed with movement, plates clinking as everyone began to serve themselves, even Uncle Ian and Sam awake now. Olive, holding a plate with half a slice of slightly burnt toast and a few scrambled eggs, glances up at Minghao, her brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you with your parents?” she asked curiously.

“Because he’s always here,” Olive answered for him, her eyes rolling as she scrapes some eggs onto her plate.

“Why can’t any of you go a day without bickering?” Aunt Sophia sighed in exasperation, the words as familiar as the creak of the house.

Mateo shrugs nonchalantly, “Keeps things lively”

Turning to another conservation topic, Y/N’s mom asks, “Well, you three must be looking forward to this being your last reaping day?”, her voice laced with a quiet sadness as she looked toward the three young adults at the table.

“It’ll be nice to look toward the future and leave the darker moments behind,” Minghao said softly, his hands gently resting on Y/N’s shoulders. His tone was thoughtful, like he the weight of the day emanating from his chest.

“Not quite out of hell’s gate yet,” Y/N muttered under her breath, her eyes darkening.

“Always so negative,” Minghao tsked, his voice light but with a flicker of concern.

“Well, I’ll volunteer for you if you get picked,” Mateo said with an exaggerated grin, the words laced with a stupid humor.

Y/N shot him a glare, her middle finger rising before she could stop herself.

“Don’t say things like that,” Aunt Lynn reprimands voice stern,“You’d all miss each other if any one of you were gone. You take too much for granted.”

“Sorry, Auntie,” Y/N and Mateo murmured in unison, though neither seemed particularly contrite.

Y/N stands up from the table, her plate forgotten as she begins collecting the empty ones in front of her aunts and mom. As she passed by Minghao, she squeezed his hand lightly, her fingers brushing his in a quiet, unspoken promise. “I’m going to go get ready for the day,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m actually going to head home,” Minghao replied, his eyes softening as he leaned in to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll see you later.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed in her chest, a deeper emotion flickering in her eyes as she met his gaze, “I’ll see you later.”

Minghao gave her one last lingering look before stepping toward the back door, sending her a wink as he exited. Y/N’s eyes linger on the door swinging to a close,

The door clicks shut, and Aunt Sophia, voice warm with affection,  “I like that boy.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile, eyes lost within themselves, “Yeah, me too,” she whispers heart both heavy and full.

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Y/N tugged the worn zipper up the side of her faded yellow dress, the fabric stretching slightly as she moved. The puffed sleeves were frayed at the edges, and the heart-shaped neckline had seen better days, worn thin by the moths that always seemed to find nourishment in it every fall. The small bow at the center of her chest sat unevenly, crooked from years of hasty tying. The hem of the dress fell just an inch too high, grazing the muscle of her thighs, its fabric uncomfortably tight against her grown frame. It had been her reaping dress since she was fifteen, a constant reminder of the poverty of District 12. I wonder if those in the Career districts can buy new clothes whenever they please, Y/N thought, her fingers absently rubbing the bottom of the skirt between her pointer and thumb.

Y/N’s eyes locked on her reflection in the mirror, studying her figure. The faded yellow dress clung uncomfortably to her frame, almost too tight, and her hair, half-pulled up, hung loosely around her face. She turned away, grabbing her sleeping clothes off the bed and folding them neatly, placing them by her pillow to change into later that night.

The flower.

Her fingers slipped into the pocket of her sleeping pants, pulling out the delicate blue flower Minghao had given her. It rested in the palm of her hand, its freshness still visible despite the slightly bent and weathered petal edges. It reminded her of her own appearance—faded, weathered, yet holding onto a kind of quiet beauty. Y/N brought the flower up to her chest and tucked it into the bosom of her dress’s blouse, close to her heart.

With one last glance at her reflection, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and turned, leaving the bedroom.

Downstairs, the rest of the family sat on the old, beaten couches, their figures still and heavy with the weight of the day. They were all dressed in their best, yet the silence between them was suffocating, thick with sorrow. Y/N’s eyes flickered to the clock on the mantel, its ticking loud in the otherwise quiet room. 11:30 p.m. In thirty minutes, they would all rise and make their way to the town square for the reaping.

She approached the couch and took a seat next to Mateo. His eyes were set hard, the weight of the day settled heavily in them. She could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. Despite the years, despite everything that had changed, the reaping was never easy to accept. It was never any less terrifying. And, no matter how hard he tried to be the 'man of the family,' his youth still showed in his early-aged features, a reminder of the boy he was, no matter the weight he carried. Y/N felt a connection to this—the unspoken expectation to act like everything was going to be okay. Whether acknowledged out loud or not, both of them, at 18, carried the burden of responsibility for their families' well-being.

Next to Mateo sat Alice and Olive. Olive’s skin glistened with a layer of anxious sweat. Her dress long lost to its original color, the once-bright blue had faded to a dark gray, a reflection of her own unease. No matter how much smart-mouthing the young girl fearlessly did, not a peep had been heard from her since breakfast. Beside her sat Alice, her youth still marked by a sense of naïve ignorance. While the reaping loomed in her future, the true weight of its reality had yet to hit her. Her dress, the nicest of the three, was a soft baby pink—shiny and new. Y/N recalled how many extra coin purses she had to convince people to buy from her at the Hob just to afford it. Even with the money from the Hob and the small amount Mateo had earned at the factory with his father, they were still short. One day, stressed and venting to Minghao, he had pitched in without a second thought, telling her, "Your family is my family." Y/N still needed to find a way to repay him, no matter how much he chided her insisting he wanted nothing in return. 

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The clock on the mantle ticked down to 12 p.m. The hour and minute hands aligned, and all eyes in the room instinctively moved to it. It was time to leave.

Uncle Ian was the first to stand, his face unreadable. Y/N couldn’t image how anyone could remain composed, knowing their two young daughters might soon be thrust into the brutal uncertainty of the Hunger Games. The thought of her and Minghao ever having children and participating in this yearly event made Y/N nauseous at the notion. Olive was safe this year—only nine—but in three years, she too would walk that path toward the Justice Building square, the same as every other child in District 12. Y/N felt the weight of it, that inevitability. Every year, this walk loomed over their lives like a dark shadow, never relenting. The thought that it would stretch on for another seven years for Olive made her chest tighten. And for herself, it was only a matter of hours.

With a heavy sigh, Uncle Ian walked silently to the door and opened it, holding it wide for the rest of the family to follow. His gaze was distant, unfocused. Without a word, a silent understanding passed between them all, thick with shared anxiety. Olive and Alice stood slowly, as if they too were reluctant to face the day. Olive’s small hand reached for her father’s, and his hand rested on her head, a sign of comfort—a motion that seemed too small for the weight of what they were facing. They stepped out into the world beyond.

Mateo stood from beside Y/N, offering her a brief, closed-lip smile. It was a weak attempt at comfort, but it was enough. He seemed composed, but Y/N could see the anxiety in his stiff posture, the way his eyes darted to the door, then to her, then back again. He gave her a reassuring look, the silent understanding that only they shared. It was camaraderie, the kind that didn’t need words. Being the same age they had experienced the weight of this day every year together. Y/N stoof and followed as she walked out into the harsh light of the day, followed by Mateo’s father Sam, her mother, and her two aunts.

The road leading to the center of the district was rough and weathered, the ground deeply grooved by years of neglect. The air was thick, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the silence. This was a road they had walked a thousand times before, but today it felt different, the emotional weight of the entire district was pressing down on them and their neighbors with every step.

The street, once full of the usual noise—shouted greetings, clinking metal, the chatter of families—was unnervingly quiet. Today, the quiet was oppressive, as if the whole town had gone into hiding, holding its breath in anticipation of the inevitable. The only sound that filled the air, besides the crunch of their footsteps on the dirt, was the hum of the distant coal mines in the background, the air heavy with the scent of dust and damp earth.

Y/N glanced upward at the sky. It was gray, a blanket of clouds that stretched across the horizon, dull and suffocating. Even though the sun tried to shine through, its light felt weak, almost indifferent. The humidity in the air made her skin cling uncomfortably to her clothes. She thought about the coal mines. Maybe the pollution was worse this week. Or maybe it was just the weight of the day—a sign that the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the worst to happen.

Looking ahead, Y/N noticed other families leaving their homes, each walking in silence, their faces drawn with the same fear that hung in the air. Children clung tightly to their parents’ hands, their small fingers shaking. The older teens, eyes wide with anxiety, walked in stiff, reluctant silence, some of them even holding their own parents hands. All too young to fight for survival in an unforgiving arena.

Y/N tried to spot Minghao in the distance as they passed his home, but the street was too crowded, and his family must have already left. She felt a pang of disappointment. She’d wanted to see him one last time before the reaping—just to hold on to some sliver of normalcy. She would have to look for him later while stood on the girls side of the town square for the reaping. They had a plan—after the reaping, they’d slip away to the lake on the outskirts of the Seam, the Peacekeepers would be to lazer to really question or enforce anyone after the event feeling they already worked hard enough for the day. 

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N was suddenly pulled back to the present as Alice’s small hand slipped into hers. The warmth of the young girl’s grip was a stark contrast to the cold tension that had settled in Y/N’s chest. Y/N squeezed her hand gently.

“Are you nervous?” Alice asked, her voice small and tinged with fear. The innocence in her eyes struck Y/N like a punch to the gut. This young girl, who had yet to face the horrors that lay ahead, was already feeling the weight of the reaping, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet.

“I am,” Y/N said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s only natural on a day like this. Everyone here is a bit nervous, even the adults. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She looked down at Alice, meeting her wide, frightened eyes. “But we’re here together, and there’s so many names in the bowl that the chance any of us will see the day we’re pulled is very very low.”

Alice nodded, seemingly comforted by the reassurance. Her small hand tightened around Y/N’s. Y/N could see the fear still clinging to her, but it was tempered now with a little bit of hope, a little bit of strength. And that was all she could give her right now. Hope. Even when it felt like there was none left.

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Approaching the front area of the plaza, Y/N and her family stop.

"I'll see you later," Y/N says, pulling her mother into a tight hug. The embrace lasts a moment longer than usual, a shared, silent acknowledgment of the day’s heavy weight. She turns to her aunts next, pulling them into brief, warm embraces before giving a nod to her uncles.

Crouching down, she faces Alice. "How about I try to catch some fish for dinner tonight?"

Alice's eyes brighten, a small smile stretching across her face. "Will you play with Olive and I as well?"

Y/N grins, ruffling the younger girl’s hair. "I’m sure I can make time for that."

Alice turns, grabbing Aunt Lynn’s hand. Y/N steps aside to watch as Mateo pulls his mother, Aunt Sophia, into a hug, before reaching for his father Sam, offering the rare sign of affection that spoke volumes. A tear escapes from Olive’s eye as she bids her own parents and sister goodbye, a quiet moment of vulnerability in the air.

The three of them stand together, watching as their family move towards the perimeter of the square, where they’ll watch the reaping unfold. Seeing as their family has made a good distance to their area for the afternoon the three turn to head towards the check-in table. The stark-white-clothed tables are lined with Peacekeeper women in nurse-like uniforms, so pristine that they almost shine in contrast the gray toned district. The workers are even cleaner than most of 12’s own Peacekeepers.

"Here we go," Mateo says with a false enthusiasm.

Y/N steps up to one of the lines, scanning the square as they wait their turn.

It looks the same as every year. Bright banners hang across the square with this years number "71st" in bold gold lettering, fluttering against the navy blue fabric. Camera crews already almost fully set up on podiums around the square, preparing for the live stream that will start soon. The district feels different today—fuller, more oppressive. The Capitol must have sent in more reinforcements and planners this year, reminding them all of the tight grip they hold over Panem.

The line moves forward.

By now, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, its rays beating down on the stone ground. Y/N can feel the heat already rising. She wonders if anyone will faint today, only to miss the call of their name and awake to being dragged up to the podium. Her stomach tightens. If her name were called, she’s sure she’d collapse right there in front of the whole square.

Squinting against the sun, she spots a woman in a neon yellow dress, bright enough to blind anyone that stares to long. Her hair is an equally loud shade of purple. Effie Trinket. Lined up beside the boy’s reaping bowl is a row of chairs for important officials and 12’s victors. Hunched over, and leant over, in one of them, is the district’s only victor and full-time barely-functioning alcoholic — Haymitch Abernathy. Way too drunk, as usual. The other man sat beside him is Twelves own Mayor, the man’s daughter, while more privileged than than most in the district, is just as powerless in the grand scheme of things. Y/N takes note that she is not sat aside him this year. From what Y/N heard in the hob gossip a few weeks ago was that this was her first year eligible for the games. Sitting there, having to face the fact that his own daughter might be called, is another depressing thought Y/N finds herself suppressing. 

Y/N’s thoughts are interrupted when a Peacekeeper woman calls for her hand.

Y/N extends her arm mechanically, her actions rehearsed over the years. The woman pricks her finger with a device which reads her DNA and tracks those in the district for Capital counting and organizing. The woman presses her bleeding finger roughly onto a white paper booklet with little squares for each possible tribute to be logged onto. 

Y/N watches as Mateo moves to the same stage in their check-in, and Olive, now finished, begins walking toward her section in the roped-off square.

The Peacekeeper woman releases Y/N’s hand.

Y/N steps aside and away from the table to join Mateo, their shared silence speaking volumes.

"Head up high," Y/N says, her voice quiet but firm. A flicker of understanding passes between them.

"Up high," Mateo agrees.

The two had made a pact years ago, the year after their first reaping, that if one of them were selected as a tribute, they would hold their heads high, showing pride and strength for District 12. They refused to let the Capitol see them as weak. Though Y/N pounders if  she could live up to that promise when the moment came. It’s easy to be brave when death isn’t staring you full in the face.

Y/N  moves toward the section reserved for 18-year-olds walking down the open aisle between the girls and boys side. Her eyes passing over the section of anxious 12-years -olds, most crying, not much better fairing 13-years-olds, past the 14 and 15-year-olds, and the 16 and 17-year olds who seemed to be crying less than their juniors. At Least no one seemed to have hurled from jitters of anxiousness yet. Reaching her section of the front of the roped off sections, Y/N takes a spot on the aisle just three rows from the very front of everyone. A pang of annoyance hits her as she’s reminded how every year she has gotten closer in distance to watching the Mayor give his speech. He drones on about Panem’s history, the Dark Days, the reason the Games were created, and—most importantly—the rewards for victory. It’s the same thing every year.

Then there’s the obligatory mention of the what is supposed to be every winner of the district has had, but ever since Y/N can remember it's been 12’s single living victor, Haymitch Abernathy. If anything, at this point, the Mayor’s words are always a reminder of their district’s failure and lack of importance to Panem. Finally, he’ll hand things over to the district escort, and the reaping will officially begin.

Y/N lets out a long, deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, trying to tune out  the sounds of the square—the murmurs of the crowd, the rustle of the banners in the breeze. Blinking them back open, her head swivels around to try to find Minghao on the parallel side of the 18-year-old-girls sections. A slight panic arises in Y/N as she struggles to spot him, then she catches those capturing obsidian-like eyes. Relief washes over Y/N immediately, as mouths ‘Miss you’ to him. Minghao’s eyes smile back at her, his own relief in her presence apparent as his left hand comes up and finger circles around his heart ‘With my whole heart’. 

Y/N huffs out a soft laugh, shaking her head before rolling her eyes playfully. She turns back to face the front, but not before sending him one last smile over her shoulder. 

Y/N playful shakes her head as she rolls her eyes away before looking back at him to send a full smile over her shoulder at him. They probably looked like fools, but fools they'd so be.

.

.

.

Effie stood at the podium smiling widely, her demeanor far too cheerful. The yellow dress she wore that Y/N could now see had intricate glittering beading that shimmered under the harsh sunlight, sparkled as light popped off of it with every movement the women made. The clacking of Effie’s green-claw-shaped heels echoed across the square with each step she took.

“Welcome! Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” she exclaimed, her voice overly animated, too chipper for the occasion. Effie’s hands swung as she spoke, her fingers twisting and twirling in a motion that seemed more practiced than sincere. “Now, before we pick this year’s lovely tributes, a very, very special film has been brought to you all the way from the Capitol!”

Lovely, Y/N thought bitterly to herself, rolling her eyes inwardly. 

The screen flickered to life on the screen setup beside the Justice Building, lighting up with the Capitol’s signature propaganda. This years propaganda was shot on cameras that were less pixelated than the one they reused the last couple years. Droning on about how the capital puts so much effort into taking care of Panem and its people and how we shouldnt take that for granted. How we should all be grateful for the Capitol’s protection. It was nothing but more tiresome, hollow rhetoric, droning on for what felt like an eternity. A waste of everyone’s time.

Y/N glanced behind her toward Minghao. The young man’s face was contorted into a perfect expression of dreary annoyance. Shoot me, he mouthed silently, his lips barely moving. Y/N, trying to hold back a chuckle at the absurdity of it all, raised an eyebrow in agreement. Ditto, she mouthed back, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment.

The film finally rolled to its end. The Capitol’s insufferable monotony was over. Y/N looked at Effie, who was miming the end of the film’s speech.. Y/N couldn’t hold back a deep, almost inaudible sigh, her features turning in disgust.

Effie’s eyes sparkled as she turned toward the microphone once more. “I just love that!” she exclaimed, though not a single cheer echoed from the crowd. Effie, undeterred, continued. “Now, the time has come for us to select one of you courageous young men and women for the honor of representing District 12 in the 71st Annual Hunger Games!!!”

The crowd’s energy felt heavier now, thick with an anxious tension.

“As usual, ladies first,” Effie said, practically skipping over to the large glass bowl filled with the slips of paper bearing the girls’ names. There had to be at least a thousand slips, all crammed in there, the bowl seemed to be almost overflowing this year. It made sense though, last winter was tough and Y/N didn't know a single family that didn't apply for extra tesserae. 

Effie dipped her fingers into the bowl, arm stretching deep into the glass, searching for just the right piece of paper. Y/N noticed how Effie seemed to take her time, dragging out the moment—almost savoring the drama of it all. Finally finding a piece to her liking Effie delicately pulled her hand from the bowl, a slip of paper pinched between her perfectly manicured nails. Y/N could feel the hush in the air, the entire square was holding its breath.

The silence was deafening. Effie’s heels clicking loudly with every step back toward the microphone. Her hips swayed before she came to a stop in front of the mic. 

Leaning forward Effie unfolded the slip with a flourish.  “Y/N.”

Time seemed to freeze.

“Y/N L/N,” Effie called out, her voice echoing across the square.

Y/N’s heart plummeted into her stomach. It was as though the entire world had stopped. The cold grip of fear clamped around her chest, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The girls in her section all turned, their gazes piercing her. Across the square, Minghao’s face drained of color, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Effie, oblivious to the horror in the crowd, continued on, her eyes scanning for Y/N. “Come on up, dear,” she chirped, her voice laced with false sweetness.

Y/N’s legs felt like lead, and she could feel bile rising in her throat. Her breath came in shallow breaths as she swayed, a sense of vertigo spinning her world into a blur. A Peacekeeper appeared beside her, his hand gripping her forearm with an iron grip, fingers pressing uncomfortably into her skin as he pulled her toward the stairs to the podium.

Y/N couldn’t look at Minghao. She couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone, not Mateo, not Olive, not even her family. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was 18—she wasn’t supposed to be eligible for the reaping after this year, it was supposed to be a walk in the park compared to years past—she wasn’t supposed to be standing here, on this stage, in front of everyone.

How had she ended up here? Her mind raced, but it was too foggy to make sense of anything.

By the time she found herself at the top of the podium, Effie’s hand was already on her elbow, pulling her toward the microphone. The bright sun above her seemed to intensify, its rays a blinding assault on her senses, making the stage feel even hotter, even more suffocating. Y/N could feel the sweat trickling down her neck,feeling as if she could just melt into the concrete stage itself.

“Huh?” Y/N mumbled to Effie noticing the woman was staring at her. 

“I said, why don’t you introduce yourself?” Effie beamed at her, eyes shining with sickening excitement.

Y/N turned away from her, almost instinctively, and faced the crowd. Her mouth felt dry, the words hard to form. “I’m… Y/N L/N.” The words left her mouth in a dull, lifeless monotone, completely lacking the usual spark she carried.

Effie’s smile faltered for just a second, disappointment flickering in her eyes. But she quickly recovered, snatching the microphone back from in front of Y/N. “Let’s have a big round of applause for our first tribute!” she announced.

The applause was slow, reluctant. The sound was hollow, half-hearted. Y/N wanted to disappear into the cracks of the stage.

Y/N took a step back, her legs unsteady beneath her, and moved aside from the microphone. I’m going to pass out, she thought. The dizziness was overwhelming, and she could feel her vision narrowing.

Effie, unbothered by the discomfort in the air, clapped her hands together. “Now, for the boys!” she announced, her voice ringing out.

Y/N reluctantly turned her gaze toward the boys' bowl then back to the crowd. She felt a twist of sickness in her stomach as she saw Minghao’s face. His expression was stone-cold, his anger palpable. But it was his eyes—the red rims, the tears just barely held back—that caused a sharp pain to shoot through Y/N’s chest.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of him, the feeling of helplessness consuming her.

“Myung Jaehyun!” Effie called, breaking the tension.

A young looking boy stepped out from what seemed to be maybe a 16 or 17-year-old section, although he appeared to look a few years younger. His face was somber, but his posture was proud, almost defiant as he walked down the dirt aisle towards the stage. Yet his anger was clear—he was so close, so close to being too old to be a tribute, but it hadn’t happened yet.

Jaehyun joined Y/N on the stage, introducing himself stiffly into the mic, voice tight with the same unease that clung to the air.

“Well, here we are! Our District 12 tributes for the 71st Hunger Games!” Effie exclaimed, practically yelling into the microphone. Turning away from the mic and towards the two of them, “Well, shake hands!”

Jaehyun extended his hand first, Y/N’s own hand meeting his as it came to a stop in front of him. As their hands grasped together, Y/N could feel Jaehyun’s trembling, the nerves and fear that he was trying so hard to hide from the cameras and Effie.

Effie, oblivious to the weight of the moment, turned back to the microphone. “Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor! I feel good about this year’s game!” she called out.

To be Continued…

(6,641 words)

Authors note: Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I have put up the Masterlist on my main page.

As the 71st Hunger Games draw near, you and Minghao must navigate the complexities of your relationship. When you're reaped, will the arena transform you into someone unrecognizable? And when it’s all over, will Minghao still see you the same way? Will you even make it out alive?

Pairing: District12!Minghao x District12!Reader

Word count: (Teaser, 1,670)(Full story, tbd)(First Chapter, out now!)

Chapter 1

Note/Warning: I’m unsure how long it will take to fully finish this, but I will complete the story. Most of the content is already written; it just needs some revisions. The story will unfold over several chapters, following the format of the first three films. Also, this is my first fic! So thank you for reading!

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Chapter 1: The Mourn-ing Call (Teaser)

The air had a crisp bite to it, hinting at the coming fall. The L/N house creaked in the quiet morning, its eerie sound drifting into the silence. The sun had not yet risen, but its early light was slowly creeping through the panes of Y/N’s room. She groaned as she shifted onto her side, the 18-year-old girl’s eyes slowly cracking open. Her throat was dry and sore—a sure sign that while the air had turned cooler, summer would hang on for a few more weeks.