#hunkshipweek

[theorangestar]

Hunk Ship Week - Day 1: Warmth/Strength

Lance loves Hunk’s strength. He gets all flustered when Hunk lifts him up like he weighs nothing. Hunk likes to show off. XD

[sunnybimbo]

happy hunk ship week, lovelies >:3c

@hunkshipweek for Day 1: Warmth/Strength

ship: lotunk (lotor/hunk) with a hint of a minor ship or two here and there

word count: ~2950

Read it on AO3.

Lotor falls for the boy in yellow before he realizes it even happens.

He wakes up one day, in a bed not his own, with heavy arms wrapped around him. He watches as Hunk’s chest rises and falls almost in tandem with the soft pulsing blue outlining his quarters, filling the room with its artificial warmth.

He realizes, as he presses a kiss against Hunk’s nose to stop him from snoring (or maybe just because he has the opportunity to), that he is inalienably in love with him.

Lotor stumbles upon Hunk quite by accident one night. The others are supposed to be asleep— or atleast in their rooms, according to what Coran says humans do— but Hunk is curled in his seat, tinkering at a small device in his hands.

He’s so focused on tinkering that he doesn’t notice Lotor hiding in the corner. Lotor peeks at him, blending with the shadows as he cautiously follows the borders of the room until he gets close enough to see what Hunk is doing.

Hunk is mumbling softly to himself, one hand twirling some sort of tool and the other fiddling with his headband. The soft whirr of machinery echoes through the chamber, but Hunk seems unbothered by the occasional hiccup in the gears.

He flips a switch, and the gravity turns off.

Lotor absolutely does not yelp in surprise. It’s more of a startled gasp, if anything.

Hunk’s attention is pulled by it nonetheless, and he fumbles with the device enough that it floats a few paces away from him before he thinks to grab it and flip the gravity back on. “Sorry!”

They both land on their feet, but Hunk has to catch himself on his desk so he doesn’t crash on his chair. “Didn’t hear you come in.” His hand is pressed against his chest— something the paladins do often whenever they’re surprised to find Lotor behind them— but he still levels Lotor with a smile. “Need something?”

“I thought humans were meant to be sleeping now.” Lotor says, carefully.

Hunk shrugs a shoulder, reaching for his toolbox to clean up. “I just wanted to finish up, but I got a little distracted. Artificial gravity is incredible, man.”

“I see.” Lotor didn’t understand the fascination, but he also didn’t want to hear about it, either. Still, despite himself, he continues on with, “I didn’t realize you were a scientist.”

“An engineer, technically. Pidge is more the science-y type— plus she has the hair for it.” Hunk rakes his fingers through his own hair, fluffing it out until it was tangled in his headband. Then, Hunk squints up at Lotor with a conspiratory whisper of, “So do you, actually.”

“I wasn’t aware hair was a determinant.” Lotor has to resist reaching up to tuck it behind his ear as he’s ushered closer, leaning over Hunk’s shoulder. He presses his hand down upon it, to keep himself steady, but he doesn’t miss the way Hunk’s eyes dart over to his fingers.

He doesn’t mention it, though, so Lotor doesn’t move his hand away.

“Speaking of being science-y,” Hunk begins, cracking open the lid of his device. “You wouldn’t mind helping me real quick? I was going to get Pidge in the morning, but since you’re here…” He shrugs, the opposite shoulder as not to knock Lotor away.

And, well, it’s not like Lotor has much else to do in the middle of the night.

---

The middle of the night leads to the early morning, but Lotor finally finishes with his assessment and repair of Hunk’s gravity controller. It was an incredible build, really. The only thing missing that stopped it from working the way he’d wanted was just a matter of mechanics (and hacking), but it was a good thing Lotor was a man of many skills.

Now Hunk would be able to have whatever (or whomever) he wanted float to the nearest sun. Or, just to the ceiling. Whichever was closest.

He isn’t able to tell as much to the engineer, though, because Hunk is sound asleep in the corner. Lotor was so wrapped up in the work he doesn’t even remember when he’d wandered over there.

Hunk has his knees hugged to his chest, squeezing himself down in an uncomfortable looking ball, but his spine is lax like jelly and his breathing is deep, so it must be doing something for him.

Lotor finds Hunk’s abandoned data-pad and scribbles out a quick note for him to find when he wakes, leaving it atop the tiny cube. He writes and rewrites it enough times that the words blur together, stuck between something sentimental and not, before he decides on a simple ‘This should work. - Lotor’ and wipes his hands of it.

When he turns back to Hunk, he’s managed to shove his headband further up his scalp, sprawling his hair out much like a bird’s feathers mid-flight. Lotor feels his mouth warble in a near smile, which he hurriedly shoos away as he takes his leave.

Still, though, a warm feeling settles in his heart as that image stitches itself in his brain and refuses to leave.

---

Some other day, a long time after his and Hunk’s midnight rendezvous, Lotor follows the princess to the common room.

She’d insisted that he and the paladins meet in a more relaxed environment, to bond. Lotor hardly saw the point of it, but he could hardly say no to her either.

Most everyone in the castle seems to have converged on the couch. Shiro and Keith have squatted off to the side, the latter on the floor and the former on the couch. Keith’s eyes are half shut with a grin as Shiro struggles to braid his hair, but that’s hardly the main attraction to this event.

In front of the viewscreen— a television, as they call it— are Lance, Pidge, and, of course, Hunk. They’re playing some sort of game with loud colors, and Coran seems to be cheering them on (or rather, cheering Pidge on. Seems she’d pulled into the lead and refuses to let it go.)

Lotor watches from the sidelines as Hunk soundly slaps Lance on the back as he pulls ahead of him. It’s apparently a friendly gesture, because Lance reaches over to hook his arm around his neck and give him what they call a ‘noogie’, effectively knocking the controller from his hands.

Which, apparently, is also a friendly gesture.

Lotor had no idea it was going to be such a spectacle, or else he would’ve stayed on the bridge. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued, though.

Allura leaves his side to plop next to Shiro, teasing him by the looks of it. “Braid me, next?” To which, Shiro flusters but eventually agrees to.

Which, unfortunately, leaves Lotor alone in a group filled with factions he’s not a part of. Lotor shifts his weight from one leg to the other, but that only catches the attention of Hunk. Of course.

“Hey! Welcome to the party.” Hunk ushers him closer, similar to last night, and pats the spot beside him. He seems to have been completely knocked out of the race after Lance’s stunt, but he doesn’t seem angry about it. How peculiar.

“Hello.” Lotor greets. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Wanna try?” Hunk dangles the controller, moistened with the sweat from his palms even through his gloves.

Lotor bares his teeth in a grimace. “No.”

Hunk leans in anyway, pressing their shoulders together. “C’mon, don’t be a party pooper! Let me show you how to play.”

Uncaring of Lotor’s personal space— or perhaps, he didn’t realize he was encroaching in it so much— Hunk drapes himself across his shoulders and steadies the controller in his palms. “It’s partially motion-controlled, so you’re gonna have to rock a little.”

The character on-screen respawns, hopping on their vehicle, and Lotor belatedly realizes that they’re playing some sort of racing game.

Pidge and Lance are merciful on them and let Hunk help Lotor practice while they take a water break, which leaves Lotor with nothing else to focus on other than the fingers pressing against the back of his hand, smaller but thicker than his own, and the intense heat at his back that threatens to run him through.

“Lean a little to the right.” Hunk murmurs, arms tightening around Lotor’s shoulders as he tilts the both of them. “You wanna do it early, so you can drift.”

Lotor hums thoughtfully, acutely aware of the faint tickle of breath across the crown of his head.

The quick run through of the controls are simple enough to remember, but it’s all too soon that Hunk is pulling away to join Coran as the audience. “You can do it, Lotor!”

His cheeks feel warm as he glances away from the beaming grin offered to him, and he hopes it doesn’t show past the glowing, pulsing neons from the screen.

---

Lotor ends up winning.

Turns out that being the underdog helps just as much virtually as it did in his past. Pidge and Lance were so busy competing with one another that he slid right past them on the second lap, and stayed far ahead three laps later.

It didn’t help that he kept getting incredibly lucky with the items randomly generated for him. Lance had loudly screeched something about hacking, but Lotor was too distracted with Hunk yelling instructions from behind him to respond.

He wins, his little beaten buggy puttering across the finish line just as Pidge steals second place from Lance, and the resulting cacophony leaves him reeling.

Pidge jumps up with some sort of victory scream, just as Lance shouts curses at her. They elbow into one another’s space, sweaty and full of adrenaline, and Lotor wonders if this is how they act after a successful battle.

Coran is there to toss towels over their heads, cooling them off, and Allura chimes in with something diplomatic that Lotor misses because Hunk is there, suddenly.

He’s lifted off the ground, arms around his waist, and for one chilling moment, he thinks he’s angered the yellow paladin. It’s uncomfortable enough, being so close to someone so suddenly, that Lotor nearly lashes out. He expects to be shoved to the ground, forced to defend himself, but, no— Hunk just twirls him around and laughs in his ear, loud and joyful. “You won!”

He gives him a firm squeeze that wrings a surprised grunt from him. The tight grip is maybe… kind of pleasant. Not so tight to break a bone, but secure nonetheless. He leans into it, stiffly, politely, but it’s over before he has a chance to get used to the soft heat radiating from the human’s skin.

Hunk turns to his friends, bragging about his ‘apprentice’, but his smile stays in Lotor’s mind.

He makes a swift exit.

---

“You’re avoiding me.” Hunk accuses him, a few weeks later. Then, he winces at his tone and backs up a step and a half.

Lotor is startled enough that he doesn’t have a response ready at the tip of his tongue. That happens a lot, when he’s around Hunk.

He was in the kitchen, somewhere he frequented regularly. Lotor didn’t know why he didn’t avoid the place better, but he was self-aware enough to realize he missed watching Hunk move.  

“I get it, I think.” Hunk confesses, stirring a bowl of something thick and crunchy. “Shiro said I was in your personal bubble too much. Didn’t even realize it was happening, actually.” He tastes a bit of the mix, sticks out his tongue in displeasure, and adds a few more sprinkles of seasoning. “You gotta let me know if I do it again. I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, you know? We’ve just started talking!”

Friends. “Of course not, Yellow Paladin. It wasn’t a problem, I’ve just been…” Lotor racks his brain for an excuse, but all that comes out is a lame, “Busy.”

Hunk fixes him with a look, eyes half-lidded in the most expressionless of expressions as he shakes his head. “Sure.”

Lotor’s hand twitches as he forces it still, lest he reach forward to rub away the barely-there wrinkles between Hunk’s eyebrows from the look on his face. He’s in deeper than he first thought.

Hunk rambles on a bit longer, oblivious to the fond look creeping across Lotor’s face until he finishes measuring out the biscuits and arranging them on the tray.

When he turns around, Lotor belatedly snaps out of it. “I’ll… leave you to it, then.”

“Uh, but first…” Hunk hurries to intercept him, blocking the doorway as he unties his apron. “I just want you to know that I won’t get mad if you tell me I’m all in your cheese, you know?”

The strange phrasing makes Lotor smile, as reserved as it is. “Of course, my friend. I don’t mind your touching.”

Hunk’s relieved grin makes him go giddy in the chest, which is soon overthrown by his nerves as Hunk extends his arms on either side, for a hug.

And really, he doesn’t mean to be nervous. It may be one part reactionary, where in his past touching another has not been friendly, and it may be two parts that Hunk just makes him nervous. It makes him want to curl up inside himself and shield away from the intense heat Hunk offers.

Lotor steps closer nonetheless. Hunk is shorter than him by quite the amount, enough that Lotor would have to lean down so that his arms could wrap around his shoulders. Hunk doesn’t ask for that, though, and seems perfectly content to squeeze his face against Lotor’s chest and run his heavy fingers down Lotor’s spinal cord.

It’s electric across his skin, even through his layers of clothing, burning a path straight through his veins. Not just where his hands pass, but where Hunk’s arms are hooked around his sides, where their legs knock together, where his head rests just between Lotor’s two hearts.

He stiffens. It’s habit, maybe, or maybe the feelings get too overwhelming for him to hide. Hunk gently urges him closer still, guiding Lotor’s hands wrap across his back, to hug him back.

“You’re kinda bad at this.” Hunk teases, muffled beneath the fabric. It doesn’t sound as poisonous as the words should mean, so Lotor takes no offense from them.

Instead, as Hunk angles his head up to look him in the eye, he offers him a strained smile. “I’ve not had many hugs in my lifetime, so you must forgive me.”

That look alone, paired with a lonely smile, tugs at Hunk’s heartstrings until they weep, but the softly spoken confession does nothing less of emotional murder. He squeezes tighter, until Lotor gets winded.

“Well…” Hunk starts, testing the words thrice over on his tongue before he throws them out, “I guess that just means I’ll have to pick up the slack.”

---

Lotor learned after that encounter that when the Yellow Paladin makes a promise, he goes through with it until the end.

They meet privately, mostly because Lotor was too embarrassed (read: anxious) to be seen so vulnerable in front of so many people at once, and Hunk respects that.

Their hands tangle sometimes, in the shadows when they sit next to one another. Hunk had once described it as a ‘hand-hug’ and had even showed him how they did it on earth— using the thumbs as arms to wrap around one another’s palm. It was pointless in the best of ways, but Lotor had melted at the sentiment anyway.

Somehow that had extended further, before Lotor even realized how far in they were. Hunk often led him to his personal room, distracted with a story from his past or about something silly another paladin had done the day prior.

It was… domestic. An entirely new thing for Lotor to experience, and more was thrown at him until he was soon snugly pressed against Hunk’s side one night, half-dozing as Hunk chatters about his day. His head is cushioned against the soft firmness of Hunk’s arm, and his own are wrapped around Hunk’s midriff.

(“Like a kid and his teddy bear.” Hunk had once teased, carding his fingers through Lotor’s sleep tangled hair.)

He isn’t exactly sure what prompts it, and for that he blames how comfortable Hunk is to drowse against, but Lotor finds himself dipping low to press a kiss against the exposed part of Hunk’s shoulder, chest rumbling in a content purr.

He freezes when Hunk does; pulls back when Hunk sits up, but Hunk only rolls over onto his side to look him in the face and to cup his hand against Lotor’s cheek and pull him close. Their foreheads press together, and Lotor can acutely feel Hunk’s heartbeat pick up just from being near his temples.

The gentle touches, as if Hunk is careful not to scare Lotor away, makes him flustered, but he basks in it anyway. Fingers trace the pointed shape of his ears, prompting them to twitch until Hunk has passed them by. A thumb traces along his jaw, straying high enough to smooth out the creases of his lips as Hunk studies him.

Hunk leans forward to kiss him. On the forehead, where they’d been pressed together, and it leaves Lotor’s chest so feverish that his hearts drown in it, sweltering like Hunk had ignited stars beneath his ribcage. He never wants to leave this moment.

They fall asleep like that, Lotor first because stars Hunk is so comfortable.

And when Lotor wakes, watching Hunk breathe and pressing a kiss against his nose, he doesn’t resist the lovestruck smile that steals its way on his lips.

[hallura-goodness]

@hunkshipweek Day 1: Strength

“Coran, may I make a request?” Allura asked while Coran was buried from the waist up in the underbelly of castle machinery.

“Of course princess!” he shouted over the noise of various pieces parts moving and clicking into place.

“Could you adjust the temperature of the castle so it’s a bit too warm? Nothing unbearable, just... hot.”

Coran slid out so he could look inquisitively up at Allura. “Yes, but why?”

Allura pressed her lips together and looked to the side. “No reason in particular.”

—

Allura perched on a stool behind the kitchen counter, head propped on the backs of both her hands. It was hot and Coran had promised the team he was trying to fix it, but everyone was dressed down until Coran “figured it out.” For Allura, that meant tying her hair up and wearing a simple short sleeved shirt with shorts. For Hunk, it meant wearing a tank top and shorts, showing off the full expanse of his beautiful, incredible arms.

They were everything she’d hoped they’d be and more.

Her eyes tracked his every move, nigh glued to those arms that were positively ruinous to her health and general ability to focus. They’d picked up a vast assortment of ingredients from the most recent planet they’d visited and Hunk was in full swing with his culinary experimentations. All about the kitchen he moved, chopping this and grinding that and slicing and shredding and mixing and kneading. God, Allura loved watching him knead dough. His powerful hands worked the dough with familiarity and unstoppable force, completely at ease as he worked the stubborn foodstuff down pliable beneath his expert fingers. She enjoyed the strain of his arms as he dug his palm into the dough, her eyes tracing the hard lines of his muscles, enjoyed his deft hands that she knew—she just knew—would be good for holding.

“Do you want to try?” Hunk asked, snapping Allura out of her muscle-entranced stupor.

“Hm? Oh, I, sure, but I don’t know how.” Allura stood up and rounded the counter, eyes flicking back up to the absolutely godlike width of Hunk’s gorgeous, bare shoulders.

“Well, start with washing your hands,” Hunk said with a pleasant chuckle.

“Sound advice,” Allura said with a chuckle of her own, feeling a touch silly for forgetting something so simple. But she could hardly be blamed. She was distracted.

Hands clean, Allura moved in closer to Hunk than was strictly necessary, their arms a hairsbreadth from touching.

“Now, kneading dough is pretty simple, but simple doesn’t always mean easy. Though, you’re so strong, it probably will be,” Hunk said with a bashful grin. He showed her what to do and she tried her best to listen closely, but her mind kept drifting to the pleasant flex of his forearms that she was in such a prime position to appreciate.

“Okay now you try,” Hunk encouraged, and Allura stepped in. Wickedly, mischievously, she decided to play dumb. She pretended to struggle with the rhythm and motion of it, like she hadn’t memorized the pattern in her close examination of Hunk’s every sleeveless move.

“Hunk, do you think you could give me a more... hands-on demonstration?” Allura asked coyly, giving him her best doe-eyes. To her immense satisfaction, that seemed to fluster him.

“Erm, sure, I can do that,” Hunk said agreeably, his smile only slightly nervous. As Allura had hoped, he stepped behind her and placed his hands on top of hers, leaning his face in close as his breathtaking arms bracketed hers. He explained the process again, guiding her hands with his own, and she bit her lip and paid very close attention to the way his warm skin felt as it moved and flexed against her.

“Got it?” Hunk asked, and Allura hummed and nodded, kneading the dough as easily as someone who had spent the last however long meticulously watching Hunk do exactly this.

“Hey, looks like you do!” Hunk said brightly, moving away. Allura hated to see him go, but she did enjoy the sight of his arms now back on display where she could ogle them freely.

Except that when she glanced up, she saw that Hunk was watching her and had absolutely caught her gaze lingering on his glorious muscles.

“You know... you can touch them if you want,” Hunk offered, eyes skittering sideways as he flushed once again. Allura was no fool, and was not going to turn down such a fortuitous opportunity. Immediately she latched onto his arm, hugging his bicep and pressing her face into the sweet smelling skin.

“Woah, okay,” Hunk said, grinning in a mix of bashfulness and pride. “I guess my arms are pretty rad.” Hunk flexed his other arm, and Allura felt her soul ascend into a higher plane of existence.

“Very much so, yes,” she agreed, not moving from her embrace of his sweet, sweet, gorgeous arm, but eyes locked on his proffered muscles like the highest and finest of art.

Hunk laughed, sounding embarrassed, and then scratched at the back of his head. “Look at me, hamming it up in front of a pretty girl, god, you must think I’m so cheesy.”

“I like cheese!” Allura hastened to reassure. “Immensely. With desire. I-that is. I would desire more cheese. Of a social variety.” Well now it seemed to be her turn to feel flustered. Not that she was letting go of Hunk’s arm for love or money by that point, but she felt heat rush to her face that had nothing to do with the castle’s temperature.

“Would you maybe... also like to go on a date sometime?” Hunk asked timidly, eyeing her as intensely as she eyed his muscles.

“You know Hunk, I’ve been meaning to ask you that exact question for quite some time now.”

—

“Coran you can turn the castle temperature back to normal now, thank you so much!” Allura said excitedly into the comm receiver. “Also you’re not going to believe who’s got a date!”

[yellowmechanicalcat]

Written for Hunk Ship Week ’18 and posted very late because this week was crazy.

home is wherever i’m with you (Hunk/Pidge, theme: sugar/spice)

Pidge sat on the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched him. It was a leftover habit from their days in the Castle of Lions, when she used to wander over to the kitchen to pick his brain over some new idea she’d had then wait for him to finish experimenting with his latest alien food find so they could head down to the lab together. Man, did he miss that lab. There had been other ships, and other castles, but they had never found anything else quite like it.

Technically, Pidge wasn’t supposed to be up on the counter at all. Even though her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wasn’t actually touching the food, it was probably a health code violation. But he wasn’t about to start telling her off now. Besides, what was the point of owning your own restaurant if you didn’t get to make the rules?

The kitchen timer buzzed, interrupting his train of thought. Hunk stopped mixing and looked down at the bowl. The egg whites had peaked, just like they were supposed to. Earth eggs were predictable like that. Was it bad that he kind of missed when eggs weren’t so predictable?

He grabbed the other bowl and carefully folded the egg whites into the batter.

“Remember those weird Talwar eggs?” Pidge said abruptly. “If you stirred them counterclockwise, they turned everything green, but if you went clockwise they dissolved?”

He did remember those. He pretended to shudder. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I actually got really tired of eating green eggs and space ham.”

“And here I was thinking you might like a souvenir,” Pidge teased. “I’m sure there’s still a produce section at the swap moon near Kepler Base. They might have some in stock.”

“Well, if you’re offering to pick some things up, I wouldn’t say no to more of those carrot-y things the Gulgans grew.”

“Eww! No, no way. Those were so slimy!”

“They were not! They were just a little… chewy, maybe?”

Talking like this made it easy to forget that tomorrow everything was going to change. Pidge would be headed into space on her first official Galaxy Garrison mission, while he would be staying on Earth, officially retired from military service.

He put the mixing bowl down to grab the last ingredients. Wordlessly, Pidge slid an open jar of peanut butter over to him across the counter. He nodded in thanks, scooping out what he needed and adding it to the batter. On second thought, he tossed in a little extra spice, just for good measure.

Pidge sniffed the air appreciatively, her heels knocking against the side of the counter. Cinnamon and peanut butter were a pretty good mix, but the scent tended to linger.

“The smell’s probably going to stick,” Hunk warned her, gesturing to her new uniform. 

She shrugged, the shoulders of the grey jacket bunching up strangely on her small frame. “That’s okay. Just means I’ll smell like home.”

That was a nice way of putting it. It made his chest feel all warm. He grinned. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Pidge watched him drop the batter onto a cookie sheet in careful, even rows before putting it into the oven. On the outside it looked like a standard commercial oven, but Coran had insisted on adding something he’d dubbed ‘targeting convection’, a modification of the Castle’s former weapons systems that would pinpoint the location of any organic matter and hit it with exactly the right temperature. Technically, it meant that Hunk didn’t really have to worry about evenly spacing anything out ever again, but old habits died hard.

He shut the oven door and reset the timer. Nine doboshes sounded about right for this batch. He’d kept the Castle’s timer out of nostalgia. It suddenly hit him that if he ever hired any employees, he’d have to get a regular kitchen timer, unless he wanted to teach them to read Altean. Or he could hire an alien employee–

He looked over at Pidge, about to ask her to send him any potential job candidates who were out of this world, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood for joking around anymore. Her legs had finally stilled. She was staring down at her knees, hands twisting in her lap.

“I’m going to miss your peanut butter cookies,” Pidge said to her knees. “I really love them.”

Something told Hunk this wasn’t just about cookies.

He took a few minutes to mull it over. He put the mixing bowls in the sink to soak, wiped down the countertops, grabbed two clean spoons from a drawer.  Pidge talked a lot, but he knew better than anyone that there were some things she would never be able to say. Not directly, anyway.

He eyed the counter. Rules were rules, but then again, he was the boss. So Hunk pushed himself up on the counter to sit next to her, their legs pressed together, and gently nudged her foot with his own until she looked up at him.

“Hey. Pidge.”

“Mmm.”

Hunk offered her a spoon and the jar of peanut butter. He helped himself to his own spoonful while he was at it. The smell of peanut butter cookies baking wafted through the kitchen.

“I really love you, too, y’know,” he said. “And I’ll be waiting for you to come back home.”

[enigma-cosmos1493]

Day Five of @hunkshipweek: Wit/Humor

[happyk44]

So Hunk totally didn’t get what the big deal about demons were. Like him, they were just doing a job.

And then Lotor showed up.

(For @hunkshipweek 2018)

VERY LATE ENTRY but an entry nonetheless!

[eastofthemoon]

Sweet Stuff 

Heith Hance

Summary:  A series of one shot fics for Hunk Ship Week.

Pairing- Hunk/Lance- Fear/Courage

@hunkshipweek

When Hunk went to Lance’s bedroom he barely had the time to knock before he heard the scream.  Hunk instantly opened the door and was greeted by Lance dashing out and ducking behind him for cover.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Hunk asked as Lance gripped his arms tightly.

Lance pointed a finger over Hunk’s shoulder.  “There’s a spider in my room!”

Hunk blinked.  “Huh? A spider?”

“Yeah, you know eight legs, makes webs, has those creepy eyes-”

“I know what a spider is,” Hunk cut in gently, “but how is there one in your room?  We’re miles from Earth.”

“I don’t know,” Lance snapped as he shook his head.  “Maybe it hitched a ride on the Blue Lion, or maybe it’s a space spider!  All I know is that I was taking a nap when I wake up to see it dangling above my bed.”

“You sure you weren’t just dreaming?” Hunk asked.  “Remember the giant lizard incident?”

Lance rolled his eyes.  “Dude, I was ten and this is nothing like that!”

Hunk was tempted to argue, but decided it was better to take Lance seriously for this.  Lance stuck behind him as Hunk opened the door.  He braced himself to quickly shut if need be, but there was no large spider or any insect of any kind in sight.

“Uh…,” Hunk said gently as he looked around and Lance still clung to his back.  “Where did you see this thing?”

Lance gave a frustrated growled.  “Hunk, it’s right there!”

“Right where?” Hunk said with a shrug.

“THERE!” Lance pointed ahead to above his bed.

Hunk’s eyes narrowed and he slowly moved closer as Lance remained at the doorway.  Then, Hunk stopped.  Hanging in the air on a thin line of webbing hung a tiny spider that Hunk was certain he could squish just by looking at it funny.

He tossed his thumb at it as he looked back to Lance.  “This is the giant spider?”

“Yes, look at it!” Lance exclaimed.  “It’s bigger than my thumb!”

Hunk rubbed his eyes.  “Lance, the mice’s whiskers are bigger than this thing.”

Lance glared as he snarled.  “Yeah, well...how do we know a bite from that thing wouldn’t turn my skin green or something?”

Hunk opened and shut his mouth.  He had a point.  They had seen a lot of weird stuff since they went into space.  Hunk glanced around until he spotted a drinking glass and one of the books Lance picked up from the last market they visited.

“Okay, little fella,” Hunk said as he gently held up the cup and book.  “Let’s get you to a better spot alright?”  He carefully trapped the tiny spider in the glass and then used the book to hold it in.

“There,” Hunk said with a smirk as he looked back towards Lance, “you’re safe now.”

“My hero,” Lance said with a deep sigh as he shivered.  “Man, I hate spiders.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hunk said gently as he walked out of the room.  “I’m going to show this to Coran to make certain this isn’t something we should be worried about.”

“Good idea,” Lance said and blushed.  “Also…”

“I won’t tell anyone how much you freaked out,” Hunk added.  

He never thought spiders were the big of a deal, but Lance was terrified of them.  Hunk doubted the others would think much of it, but Lance was always embarrassed by it.

“Thanks, man,” Lance said as he hugged Hunk from behind.  “Really appreciate it.”

“I always got your back,” Hunk said with a wink which only caused Lance to give another hug.

[sunnybimbo]

for @hunkshipweek day 3: Fear/Courage

ship: heith (hunk/keith)

word count: ~483 words. a short little snippet!

(belatedly) on AO3!

Hunk watches, horrified, as Keith voluntarily lets a caterpillar crawl across his palm. Being so close, he can see each individual, fuzzy leg lifting and dropping as the bug curls around one of his fingers, but Keith seems completely unbothered by it.

“Isn’t it cool?” Keith asks him, but Hunk is too busy dodging butterflies to respond at first.

The two of them are huddled low at the edges of a butterfly garden, surrounded by leafy, green bushes and towering flower stalks. Butterflies swarm above and caterpillars squirm below, and Hunk is very much so regretting ever setting foot in the place.

Keith, though, is enjoying himself, and Hunk refuses to ruin his good mood.

“Hunk?” Keith glances at him passed his pushed-back bangs, secured with Hunk’s headband.

“Huh? Oh!” Hunk scoots closer, warily side-eyeing a buckeye that stares right back at him with every flap of its wings. “Yeah, they’re… cool.”

Keith eyes him for a moment, before he holds his new friend out towards Hunk. “Wanna hold?”

Hunk must make a face, because Keith’s lips quirk up in amusement. When the caterpillar curls to stand on half of its billion appendages, Hunk starts to contemplate just how much dignity he’ll have left if he runs out of the park crying because a bug (a creepy, creepy bug with too many arms and legs) touched him.

The things he does to impress his date, though.

“Sure?”

Keith sighs, half exasperated. “We didn’t have to come here, Hunk. I didn’t know you didn’t like them.”

“You like them! And I like seeing you smile.” He misses the fond look Keith shoots his way as a butterfly tries to land on his shoulder and he has to resist squealing like a frightened baby. “I don’t know if it’s worth it if these butterflies don’t stop swooping at me, though.” He grumbles.

Keith grins at him, and it seems worth it for a few precious seconds until the caterpillar starts to move again. “It’s not scary, I promise.”

“Speak for yourself.” Hunk mumbles as he holds his hand out. Before he can lose his courage, Keith soundly plops the chubby insect down.

He last for maybe three full seconds, of which he’ll be proud of later, before a disgusted shiver visibly courses through him. “Get it off, get it off, get it off—”

Keith snorts at him, but he carefully scoops up the baby bug and deposits it on a nearby leaf. “Alright, alright.” He dusts of his pants as he stands up, reaching down to help Hunk up, too. “Let’s get out of here, big man. Maybe we can catch a movie.”

Hunk overdramatically sighs in relief. “Bug free?”

Their fingers entwine, chasing off the remnants of tiny little legs skittering across Hunk’s palm. Keith steps up on his toes to press a kiss against Hunk’s cheek, even as he rolls his eyes.

“Promise.”

[hallura-goodness]

Me, each consecutive time I draw Hunk: make him fluffier. Wit/humor for @hunkshipweek

[jaylovcartoons]

@hunkshipweek I um? Am behind uwu but I made this quick Some good old soft warm hugs from Heith And warm kisses on the cheek from Hidge (Also random sketches of Hallura and Huntor

[ace-pidge]

I need to log off for a week-10 days to focus on getting this school thing done so I’ll talk to yall later! The queue is running, and I’ll def be back in time to run @hunkshipweek so no worries there ^.^

Stay lovely! <3

[enigma-cosmos1493]

Day One of @hunkshipweek: Warmth/Strength

[happyk44]

Hunk should’ve see it coming. He was made to notice patterns, had lived his whole life following them in every line of code, in every word people spoke, in all the repetitions of life.

And if patterns meant anything, which, of course, they did, following the pattern, doing it to the letter like everyone else, was not going to work out well for him

(For @hunkshipweek 2018)

Third day done!

[eastofthemoon]

Sweet Stuff

Heith Hance Hidge

Summary:  A series of one shot fics for Hunk Ship Week.

Pairing- Hunk/Pidge- Gentle/Rough

@hunkshipweek

Pidge saw the scene before her, sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Hunk, what are you doing?”

From his work table, Hunk glanced up from the computer he’d been typing on and blew his nose into a tissue. “I’m working on the upgrades to the Yellow lion,” he stated dryly and coughed. “It just hit me if we strengthen the core-”

“No, not that,” Pidge said as she stomped over with her hands on her hips. “What are you doing out of bed?”

Hunk’s fingers froze on the keyboard as he narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You got a cold and Shiro gave you strict orders to get some rest,” Pidge said firmly.

“I am resting,” Hunk insisted, his voice now sounding a bit more hoarse. “I’m just...not doing it in my room, and since I’ve been banned from the kitchen, I figured I could do this.”

“This is still working,” Pidge said as she leaned against the table. “You should get your butt back in bed.”

Hunk scowled as he turned to her. “Pidge, I appreciate you worrying about me, but I’m-”

A cough cut him off and it was quickly followed by a series of sneezes that didn’t stop for a full minute. Pidge raised an eyebrow as Hunk sheepishly lifted his head.

“Um..lots of dust in here,” he said as he wiped his nose. “Allergies, you know?”

Pidge’s eyes twitched. “If you don’t get yourself back in your room I will drag you there.”

Hunk leaned back in his chair. “You really think you can lift me with your tiny arms?”

“You want to see me try?” Pidge held up a fist. “Or, if you rather, I’ll just go get the sentry robot we’ve been trying to reprogram and have it do the heavy lifting for me-”

“Okay, okay,” Hunk said as he stood up. “I’ll go.”

Pidge smirked as she took Hunk’s arm and lead him back into his room. Once there, she fluffed his pillow and helped tucked him into bed.

Hunk sighed as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. “This is so boring.”

“What about those movies I set up on the laptop for you to watch?” Pidge asked as she sat next to him.

“Watched them,” Hunk said as he leaned against his hand. “I can only keep staring at the screen for so long.”

Pidge frowned and then snapped her fingers. “Okay, then how about I set up the video game system in here.”

Hunk shook his head. “Thanks, but we both know it’s a mega pain to try to move that thing.”

“Fair enough,” Pidge said as she leaned against him. “How about I find one of Coran’s board games. He seemed to have other games besides Mana and Monsters we could poke at.”

Hunk looked over at her with a quizzed expression. “We?”

“Well, yeah,” Pidge said with a smile. “Not much fun playing by yourself, right?”

“Yeah, but,” Hunk rubbed his neck, “you don’t have to stay with me though. I know you got stuff to work on.”

“Nothing that I can’t work on tomorrow,” Pidge said as she reached for her hand and gave a squeeze. “Besides, clearly someone has to watch you to make certain you stay in bed.”

Hunk scoffed as he flopped against his pillow. “So, you’re going to guard me, huh?”

“Yup,” Pidge said as she went out. “Be back in a tic and I’ll see if Lance wants to play too.”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Hunk replied.

“Hey, you would do the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat,” Hunk said with a smile before Pidge left the room.

[hunkshipweek]

=>> VOTE HERE! <<=

Hunk Ship Week is coming July 8-14 and I need your help to narrow down the official prompts list! 

Please take a minute to vote in the poll above; you can either rank all the available prompts or simply choose your top favourites. The poll will stay open for a week, and the prompt list will be announced by the end of May!

[sunnybimbo]

for @hunkshipweek day 2, magic/supernatural!

ship: shunk (shiro/hunk)

word count: ~5k 

Read it on AO3.

“You don’t have to do this.” Pidge says to him, just as the dawn begins to settle. He’s surrounded by faceless people, or atleast it feels that way with how little they look at him, so he focuses on nothing but her. Heavy makeup is traced across his eyelids, golden lines echoing the whisper of sun beams that paint his skin.

His lips are doused even heavier in it, shinier still, and he tries not to mess up the hard work everyone went through to make him pretty as he says, “I kinda have to.”

He reaches over with his free hand, the one not dipped in oil and painted with intricate patterns, pressing their palms together. “If all goes well, you’ll see me next week.”

Someone harrumphs behind him, and he hears a mimicking, condescending, “If all goes well.”

Which was fair. Truly, if all went well, he’d be gone before the end of the day, snatched up by greedy gods who demanded their prize. It wasn’t often someone was chosen to be sacrificed, only one every few years, and even less often that people disappeared.

But, when those years pass and someone never returns, the crops are always abundant and plentiful, and the village prospers. If all goes well.

Pidge’s eyes are wet, but tears don’t fall past her clumped eyelashes as his hand is plucked away to be painted to match the rest of him.

It’s because of her that he’s here.

Not purposefully, of course. He’d volunteered, after she was called upon by the village head to take over the duty as the chosen. She came to him, terrified not just for herself but for her family.

Ever since Matt had gotten taken, she’s the only one left in her family that was spritely enough to make money. Her father was deeply ill, always, and her mother struggled enough with the despair she felt in her heart after losing one child.

Hunk had come to the village alone as a child, not necessarily abandoned but it felt that way sometimes. But he didn’t have people depending on him as much as Pidge did. It was only natural.

Hunk never considered himself to be the brave type— and in fact, his stomach was trying to claw its way through his gut as he sat on the throne that may just as well been his crypt— but he put on a mask to broadcast as much for her.

His head is jerked away, breaking their gaze prematurely, and he feels himself blush as his robes are tugged away so they can mark the rest of him, exposing him completely nude. Pidge hardly batters an eye, but she does turn away for decency’s sake.

“I’ll miss you.” She says, after a quiet moment of listening to the faceless group swarm around him like flies homing in on a rotting carcass. His hair is tugged from scalp to root, forced straight by a fire-hot comb. “I’ll keep your house clean.”

“Thank you.” Hunk says, honestly. “If I don’t come back…” He hears Pidge’s sharp inhale, but he continues over her with, “You can have all my stuff. Even the stuff I pretend to hide.”

“Not like I haven’t snooped through it anyway, like you do me.” Pidge gripes. Neither of them mentions the way she sniffles, wiping at her nose with her short sleeves.

It was nearing fall, the perfect time for crops to flourish before winter hits hard, but the weather was unforgiving. Hot and sticky with mist from morning to noon and on, it more often than not led to people wandering to the nearest body of water and floating until they pruned like sour grapes.

Hunk supposes he should be thankful that he’s expected to be naked, then, instead of wrapped in layers and layers of heavy, uncomfortably ornate robes and gowns. He’d cling to little mercies like that until this entire thing passed.

And really, this was a good thing. If best came to best, he’d be pampered all week long and then, better still, taken care of for the rest of his life. The chosen ‘few’ were never abandoned by the village, as per tradition.

Really, it would have been a more fought over position if not for the even rarer few that disappear.

 ---

 Pidge is dismissed out of the room that has nothing more than a stone throne. She would have gone kicking and screaming if she hadn’t been asleep after sitting with him for nearly seven hours.

Hunk watches her get carried off, but his gut instincts tell him that she’s going to be just fine. As for himself, however…

The caretakers position him down to the hair on his arms, giving him a sharp slap on the thigh if he even twitches his nose. It’s uncomfortable and demeaning, and the tears sting at the corners of his eyes, but he sucks it up because he does not want to sit through getting his makeup redone.

He’s draped in silk, wrapped to be enticingly teasing across his lap and his shoulders, but he feels like he’s drowning in delicate threads. It doesn’t help that he’d been bathed in oil for so long that his bones feel like jelly. He could hardly smell anything other than the overpowering florals meant to last for the rest of the week.

A caretaker pins his hair too tightly to his head, the final decoration to the centerpiece that Hunk was. It nearly overwhelms him, and his fingers twitch to rip it out and run off into the forest, but he somehow convinces himself to stay put.

The group leaves, silent enough that he doesn’t realize it’s happened until his heartbeat fades into the quiet and he’s left alone with nothing but the faint drip of water from the nearby pool.

Hunk rolls his neck, vindictively satisfied when he feels a lock of hair fall out of place.

He hadn’t realized that the quiet would be the worst part of this, but it’s only five days. Five days of being a living doll for a greedy god and his self-proclaimed lackeys.

He grips the armrest of his throne and lets his eyes flutter shut.

Just five days.

 ---

That first night, Hunk disappears.

---

 He blinks just once, it feels like, but everything changes.

Hunk rolls over, realizing that he’s in a bed rather than on a stone slab, and the pillows pull him in to their sinful embrace of woven satin and fluffed feathers.

The room he’s in is something fit for royalty, grand and tall. The windows are layers with thick glass, but they’re somehow warm to the touch when he pads over to look out of them.

He’s on some sort of island, he thinks at first, until he realizes that the rolling blue he sees isn’t an ocean, but the sky itself. Clouds circle past him, misting the ground with dew, and Hunk feels faint.

He sees a city, off to the left. It’s far enough away that he can’t make out all of the details, but everything looks to be outlined in royal starlight, and Hunk is sure he’s lost it.

He’s still dressed as he was before he… was kidnapped? The shawls cling to his skin as he starts to nervously sweat all over, but his makeup doesn’t run. He takes an unsteady step across the plush carpet, and he can’t resist wiggling his toes against the soft fuzz that gathers between them.

He stumbles to the door, like a newborn deer seeking freedom.

The hallway is just as grand as the room, sconces lining every stone and illuminating them in rainbow hues, but Hunk doesn’t get a chance to focus on them because he runs directly into another person as soon as he steps out.

He stumbles, but the other catches him before he can fall. A chill cuts through him as he takes in the skin, and he suddenly feels like a lonely figure alone in the dark in the middle of a freezing winter.

His vision blurs, but he doesn’t realize that they’re tears until the person— the god— in front of him wipes them away.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He’s told. “I would have given you more warning.”

“Um.” Hunk starts, focusing on the dark hand that releases its hold on him. He swears he sees stars dancing across those fingertips before they fade into the pale skin, further up the forearms.

He belatedly realizes the god is missing an arm, then.

“Um.” Hunk repeats, head jerking to look him in the eye. “Did I die?”

“No.” The amused god assures, hooking his arm in Hunk’s to lead him down the hall. “Nobody dies here.”

“Oh.”

Hunk pauses, going green around the edges, and the rest is a blur.

 ---

 He learns that 1) he truly isn’t dead and 2) Shiro chose him to be his sacrifice.

“More of a gift, I’d like to think.” Shiro murmurs, running his thumb across the curves of Hunk’s cheeks after his nausea has passed and his skin isn’t as pale.

He was carried, and yes that is literal despite the god missing a limb, to a nearby pasture— a plateau of sorts that overlooked the entire kingdom. The grand city Hunk had seen from his window was apparently one of three, and each was overlooked by a different god. It went completely over Hunk’s head, or maybe he didn’t want to focus too much on the logistics of it.

He focuses, instead, on Shiro. Takashi Shirogane, the technical ruler of his entire village, that preferred to be known as Shiro because it made him feel less intimidating despite the gnarled scars running up his half-arm and the wide expanse of his shoulders.

Shiro watches him in return. He doesn’t say much, that introspective type. It makes Hunk nervous to have his every move watched, but Shiro has a gentle look on his face, so maybe it isn’t all bad.

“So… I’m not dead. I’m your gift? So, like a concubine or something?”

Shiro snorts— a god, snorting!— and quickly shakes his head. “Not at all, unless that’s what you choose to be.”

He tilts his head, dropping onto his knees besides where Hunk was curled in the grass. He has wings, Hunk realizes, that only show when the sun is directly behind him. They’re transparent like snowflakes, reflecting light, and they look just as fragile.

“I chose for you to come to this realm because I’m interested in you.” Shiro confesses. “I’m the selfish type, you see. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Hunk wheezes in surprise, probably in what’s meant to be a laugh. “You want to get to know me? A plain old human boy?”

“Yes.” Shiro leans closer, staring directly into Hunk’s soul. His fingers stray to Hunk’s makeup, seemingly before he can stop himself, and they rub along the paints staining his skin as he says, “There’s no one I’ve been interested in more.”

Shiro has been called many things in his eternal life, but he’s never been called a liar. He’d seen Hunk before— seen everyone and everything before, actually— but now, decorated and docile before him in sheer robes and adorning his sigils? He wasn’t just interested, he was smitten.

Hunk regards him cautiously, as if he’s seeing every bad ending play behind his eyelids when he blinks, but Shiro hurries to assuage his fears with a gentle touch to his hand and a, “As agreed, your village will prosper. I’ll send someone to bless the crops soon.”

Unfortunately, that seems to have the opposite effect he’s hoping for. Hunk’s eyes grow sad, wet at the corners, and he mumbles to himself, “So I really can’t go back?”

It hurts his heart to hear that, but Shiro is understanding. He’s a selfish god, yes, but not a cruel one.

He stands, tugging Hunk to his side, where he belongs. Then, he opens a portal, laying out the entrance to his temple. “I won’t keep you here if that’s truly what you wish.” Shiro says to him, pressing into his space until they’re chest to chest. “But also know that I won’t let you go that easily.”

He feels the mild onset of panic thrumming across Hunk’s skin, so he backs off with a disarming smile. “Let’s make a deal.”

He’d always been known to be a clever god, too.

 ---

 Hunk feels himself wake up, startlingly sudden. The hills are alight with the rising sun, and the sunbeams are warm against his freezing toes as his senses come back to him one by one.

He can see his caretakers’ shadows crawling across the wall like lizards, and Hunk is sure he must not have been gone long at all.

The glittery gold on his lips is smudged out of place, he can see from the mirrors lining the walls, and he can faintly remember Shiro’s thumbs smearing across it when they’d first met. He can still feel his touch, actually, omnipresent as if Shiro is just waiting for him off to the side.

It makes him nervous, but not in the way he was expecting. His heart jitters in his chest, nervous like someone confessing their love with a spring love letter.

Pidge is with the caretakers, Hunk can hear. She’s arguing to come in, from her tone, and Hunk fondly shakes his head. He couldn’t bear to leave her alone in this little village. Not that she would be truly alone, not with her mother and father who care for her so dearly.

Hunk remembers Shiro’s deal then, a gentle reminder from the god himself, probably.

“Fall in love with me before the week ends,” Shiro whispered, and it felt much like the moon eclipsing the sun. “And you must stay here.”

He’d circled around Hunk’s back, clawed fingers tilting Hunk’s chin up to have him look at the clouds. “If you’re able to resist, I’ll let you go with a wish of your choice for wasting your time.”

It sounds like a trick— too much of a win-win for Hunk and not for Shiro, but it isn’t like he has many options being a mortal toy in a god’s hands. And Hunk’s betraying heart actually trusts him, too, to keep his word.

Hunk keeps it a secret from Pidge, just in case.

 ---

The second night, Hunk is taken again.

---

 A bundle of wildflowers is placed in his hands, tied delicately together with a wrap of ribbon. The long grasses tickle his fingertips as he sniffs at the pollen in the center, only to sneeze a cloud of it away.

Shiro grins at him, pleased at the flushed, wide-eyed look Hunk gives him. “I learned this is something your kind does. Flowers for their beloved.”

One couldn’t blame Hunk for the dopey smile that stretches his lips, not when Shiro bashfully tucks one of the dandelions behind Hunk’s ear. If he squints, he could swear that the god was actually blushing a bit, around the edges.

“Thank you.” Hunk breathes, fingering the soft petals against his thumb. “These are lovely.”

It’s on the tip of Shiro’s tongue to relay those same sentiments back at him, what with Hunk decorated the way he was. Gold jewels wrapped around his limbs, tinkling when the charms clink together, and his hair is tied up and dipped purple. That always had been Shiro’s favorite color.

He holds off, though, because humans do these things slowly.

“If I may?” Shiro offers his hand, the only he’s got, and takes Hunk out on a date.

 ---

 Shiro takes him to dance with the stars, first. The sun hums in the plentiful space between them, but Shiro keeps him steady as Hunk is spun on Saturn’s rings.

Hunk can’t tell his fingers from the stardust, but that doesn’t matter when Shiro shows him a triage of growing galaxies in the distance, glowing with colors that Hunk didn’t even know existed.

He’d never been one for travel, much too motion-sick to even joke with the idea, but he feels completely at peace millions of miles away from ground, merging with the universe itself.

Shiro brings him back before he disappears within the universe with a simple touch to his back, pulling him close.

“May I?” Shiro asks, quiet and loud. Hunk has no clue what he’s asking, but he agrees nonetheless.

The stars get replaced with jellyfish and the space gets replaced by cold water and a faint pressure on his bones. It isn’t uncomfortable, and Hunk isn’t drowning, but that doesn’t stop the mild fright Hunk feels when he realizes.

Shiro, ever so touchy, crowds in close so that they can drift together. “I’ve got you.”

Hunk had never learned to swim— never was old enough before he was trapped in a landlocked village, but Shiro is patient enough.

The fish seem unafraid of them as they swim pass in their groups, circling curiously to nip at Hunk’s fingers. They leave Shiro alone, for some reason, choosing to pick at the mortal boy who couldn’t get himself to stay floating on his front instead of his back.

Shiro laughs at him, and it’s an incredibly nice expression for him to have, in Hunk’s opinion. “Like this.”

He loops around Hunk to pick over his form, teasingly running his fingers down his spine just to see him shiver. “I should have asked if you knew how to swim before I brought you here.”

“Would’ve been a nice warning.” Hunk agrees, flopping onto the seafloor. A plume of sand puffs around him, disrupting the sandcrabs that hurry to run off. “But I don’t mind it. I’ve never been somewhere like this.”

He rolls over onto his side, lifting a few inches off the sandbed before floating back down again, and he runs his fingers across briny kelp that threatens to tickle his nose like the pollen did. A jawfish peeks at him from its burrow, but it runs off as Hunk passes his fingers across the hole it makes.

None of it feels real, and deep down it probably isn’t, but he feels himself getting overwhelmed nonetheless. The unending space around them— both of stars and jellyfish— is too close and too far, and—

Just as he sits up with the first panicked breath of many, he’s back in the room he’d started. Shiro sits on the bed with him, worriedly chewing his lip as his hand hovers the space above Hunk’s chest.

“I’m sorry. Humans aren’t meant to experience things so quickly.” Shiro climbs fully onto the bed, and Hunk realizes that it must not have been real because neither of them are dripping wet. “It’s so strange to me, that you live so long but experience so little of your universe.”

And really, Hunk would be offended on behalf of mankind if he wasn’t drained by his sudden existential crisis.

Shiro kisses his forehead, cautiously careful. “My apologies, Hunk.” And then, much like their first meeting, he wipes away the gathered tears blinding him.

Hunk squints at Shiro, suspicious all at once. “Why are you doing this?”

Shiro looks like he wants to play coy, at first, but his shoulders drop and he pulls his hand back to give Hunk his space. “I love you.”

The confession is so sudden and out of the blue that Hunk nearly jumps out of his skin. He does jump off of the bed, gathering his robes just to give his hands something to do. “Why ? You hardly know me.”

Shiro seems confused at the question. “I know enough. I know the type of person you are.”

“That’s not how it works.” Hunk says, exasperated. “Love is supposed to be slow— you wake one day after years and you realize that you never want to leave the other person’s side. That sort of thing.”

And really, that’s a lie.

Hunk couldn’t count on four hands the amount of times people have run through their village, wind-flushed and enamored with their partners as they search for a place to be eloped. Most of them had hardly known one another for maybe six months.

Hunk has a right to want things to be slow, though. Right? Right.

Shiro frowns then. Not angry, but introspective. He stands to Hunk’s height, just a few inches more, and tilts his head up so that they can look one another in the eye. It seems to be something he likes doing.

“Gods aren’t supposed to fall in love at all.” He says, finally.

Shiro is a fantastic creature. He’s translucent, almost, but his missing hand is replaced with nothing more than space itself. His wings match, and if Hunk could reach up and palm his scalp, he would probably find horns there, too.

But, besides that, he’s face is soft and his eyes are open. With the expression he has now, lips slightly parted, dark eyes darker when they’re half-lidded, Hunk feels helpless.

His touch is gentle, fingers sliding lower and lower down Hunk’s body until they catch themselves at his hip, and Hunk is pulled in by it.

He’s sure, for the longest, that Shiro is going to close the distance between them and kiss him on the lips— he wants that to happen— but they break apart.

“Let me take you home.” Shiro murmurs, urging Hunk towards the door. “I’ll do better next time.”

The door opens, not to the hallway but through a mirror in the temple, and Hunk feels oddly disappointed.

When Hunk hesitates, Shiro gives him the most charming of smiles and says, “I’ll listen to what you said. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow.”

Hunk isn’t even sure of how to get back on his own, but he nods anyway.

 ---

 He tells Pidge immediately what happened.

“I don’t know if what he wants from me is what he says, but…” Hunk sighs. “He’s sweet.”

Pidge’s eyebrows disappear behind her messy bangs. “The god that you were sacrificed to is sweet.”

She’s taking it rather well, in all honesty. Hunk isn’t sure he’d be as calm as she seemed, if the roles were opposite. “What do you think I should do, Pidge? I’m falling in love with him, probably, but if that happens, I’m going to have to leave.”

“There’s nothing for you here, Hunk.” Pidge sighs. She steps between the pillars that he isn’t allowed to pass, the ones that act as entrance to the temple, and she hooks her hands on her hips as she looks him straight in the eye.

“You’re here.” He mumbles, sulkily if not for the serious situation.

She rolls her eyes, exaggerated in a way that he knows is just to make him feel better— but it works. “Who am I to stand in the way of a god and his lover?”

She leads him further into the temple, familiar with it even though she didn’t want to be. Her fingers trace the engravings on the throne as she plops down on it, and Hunk sits on the ground beside her. That’s how it probably would have been, with her dressed up and taken away, if he hadn’t stolen her place.

“I convinced Ma that it’s best we leave this place.” Pidge says, after they get settled. “Right before this entire thing happened— when I didn’t even know I was gonna get picked. She’s all for it.”

She shakes her head, pulling her legs to cross in the seat. “We’re not going to be here much longer, Hunk. Once we get enough money for a cart, we’re grabbing everything we can and we’re leaving in the middle of the night.”

Hunk is struck, then, with a thought. Shiro had promised that if Hunk went with him, the town would be blessed— the crops would flourish, the town would thrive. Pidge would be able to get enough money with odd jobs alone, probably.

“I see that look on your face.” Pidge says, squinting at him like she does when she knows he’s doing something he shouldn’t be.

“I’ll handle everything, Pidge.” Hunk promises. “I know you and your family will be able to get out of here before the next season.”

“And what about you and the mistress?”

Hunk grimaces at the phrasing, and by the cheeky grin on Pidge’s face, he knows she did it on purpose.

 ---

Shiro doesn’t come for him that night. Even after Hunk has steeled himself long after Pidge has gone, and has paced the entire temple to tire himself out to fall asleep and meet with him, Shiro never comes.

Hunk doesn’t sleep well.

---

 That next morning, when Hunk looks at himself in the mirror, he finds Shiro looking back at him, instead.

“I know your plan.” Shiro says, after Hunk’s startled yell. Immediately, Hunk is on edge, taking a hesitant step away, even though Shiro isn’t even in the same realm as him.

Shiro looks defeated behind the glass, shoulders dropping. “I’m not angry at you.” But obviously upset, nonetheless. His eyes are heavy with heartbreak, and Hunk feels his own heart cracking down the middle just from that. “I understand why you would want to do it.”

Hunk can’t seem to get his voice to work immediately, and he must take too long to respond, because Shiro continues on with, “Our deal is rescinded.” He looks dull— no longer shaped with stars, but instead edged with opaque black. “I never meant for you to feel trapped.”

A greedy, selfish god, but not a cruel one.

“Shiro.” Hunk presses his hand against the glass, and it’s just as cold as that first touch they shared. “I… didn’t mean it like that.”

Shiro, somehow, is able to smile at him. “I know you didn’t.” It’s sad, a tad watery, but he’s resolute as he says, “I admire you a great amount, Hunk. No matter what’s happened. I will keep up my end of the deal— granting you the wish of letting your town prosper.”

He waves a hand— and nothing immediate happens, but Hunk can feel the magic thrumming through the wind.

“Good luck, my love.”

And then, he’s gone.

 ---

 Hunk is left alone for that entire day, excluding the caretakers who don’t talk to him. It leaves him with plenty time to feel terrible, with enough to spare to think about a solution.

The caretakers are slow, with more than half the week finished. Tomorrow would be the last time for a few seasons that they would have to take care of a person instead of the temple, and they seem bored of their duty.

By the time they leave, the sun has set and Hunk’s toes are pruny with lavender oil. He waits longer, though, because if he gets caught he’s going to get in astronomical amounts of trouble.

When the moon is high, and most of the lights are out in the nearby homes, Hunk sneaks past the temple gates and out into the forest, towards Pidge’s house.

Rocks and twigs dig uncomfortable into the soles of his feet, what with him being barefoot, but he trudges on until the path smooths to stone and he can see the furnace outside of Pidge’s house burning low with dying embers.

 ---

 She’s surprised to see him, especially trying to sneak through her window once she comes in from bringing fresh water from the nearby spring.

She’s less surprised to hear what happened. More irritated.

“Hunk.” She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her glasses aren’t in the way, half-melted after she’d accidentally dropped them in her smithy.

Hunk is curled up in her bed, looking much like a kicked street puppy. She sighs for the tenth time that half-hour, lighting the oil lamp on her desk.

“I don’t know much about what’s going on.” She confesses. “I don’t know anything about gods, or magic, or love, or anything like that. But even so, I know that you’re kinda messing up your own chances here.”

She hops onto the bed beside him. “Don’t you go making yourself unhappy, Hunk. Not for my sake, or anyone else’s. I already have a plan to get out of here, and if you stay and I’m gone, what’s going to be the point?”

It makes him feel better and worse at the same time.

“Now I’m taking you back to that temple, and you’re going to kick and fuss until that ornery god-suitor of yours comes back and takes you on a honeymoon.”

 ---

 One would think, upon seeing Hunk in the middle of the day— of the final day as ‘sacrifice’— that he would hurry to call upon Shiro and fix everything and, if all goes well, have his happily ever after.

But he’s scared. There’s no guarantee that anything he says will fix it, or make Shiro feel better, and he’s not even sure if his own feelings are true or not.

Hunk knows, though, deep down, that he wants to be with Shiro.

He crosses his arms and then uncrosses them. Follows the length of the room to the left, and then back to the right.

It’s all just to kill time, or maybe his own body is having fun watching his heart and brain torture one another.

Eventually, he leans his forehead against one of the mirrors and heaves a sigh that fogs the glass. “Shiro…”

He hears a whisper of his name start on the window before he sees Shiro appear before him. “Hunk.”

He doesn’t look much better than Hunk feels, if he’s being honest, but he’s still a stunning figure, and Hunk ignores his nerves for once and trudges forward with, “I’m sorry.”

Shiro flinches at the words, pulling back. His image fades, but Hunk steps forward as if he could physically step through to pull him back.

“Wait! Just, let me say something?” Hunk rests his hand against Shiro’s jaw, tracing the skin as if they were actually touching. Shiro’s eyes flutter shut as if he could actually feel it. “Please?”

Shiro’s eyes stay shut, but he nods his assent.

“I’m not sure if I’m… in love with you.” He starts. “I’ve never been in love. Romantically. But I’m willing to try, with you.”

He feels a shift in the room, magic curling around his peripheries, but he continues on when Shiro’s eyes— languid grey instead of black— open. “You’re a very charming god.” Hunk says, cheeks heating. “And incredibly pretty. I’m not sure what I can offer, but… I’m offering what I can.”

Shiro seems stumped at the confession, stumbling past the second half. His eyes are wide with surprise, stance guarded, but he looks pleased anyway.

Hunk blinks, and he’s in Shiro’s castle. Shiro’s arm comes to wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tight as Shiro softly confesses, “I was hoping I would get to see you again. I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon, with such… pretty words.”

He’s shy, Hunk realizes. His cheeks are dusted pink, he’s nervously fiddling with his hair when he pulls away, and he can hardly look Hunk in the eye. It’s incredible how such a romantic soul, who literally brought Hunk to see the heavens themselves, could be so bashful.

Hunk’s laugh comes out as a snort that startles Shiro, who hurries to say, “I think that you’re also pretty, of course. Beautiful. And kind, and— perfect.”

Just like that, all of Hunk’s preconceived notions of Shiro are gone, and he’s mesmerized by the man before him.

He presses a kiss against Shiro’s cheek, partly to save him from rambling himself into a puddle. “Can we start over? Before I messed up.”

And Shiro is a greedy god, a selfish god, a lonely god. But forever and always would he be a kind one.