But the translator collar clicked off. Whether it had run out of power or he had deliberately silenced it, you didn’t know. All you knew was the heat of him, the quiet of the bunker, and the terrifying, wonderful realization that you didn’t want him to let go. They came on the third day.
“And you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t come.”
You turned to Grunk, a wild grin spreading across your face. “We made it. We actually made it.”
He didn’t smile. Grunks didn’t smile. But something in his eyes softened, and he reached out to cup the back of your head with one massive hand. grunk x reader
“Not yet,” he said. “Thirty more seconds.”
You took it with shaking hands.
“Your heart rate says otherwise.”
—Grunk”
But the shuttle was landing, the airlock was cycling, and a rescue team in orange suits was flooding the bunker with light and noise. A medic grabbed your arm, checking your vitals. A technician started questioning Grunk about the crash. And just like that, the bubble you had built together—the quiet, the warmth, the unspoken thing between you—shattered.
You held him tighter. “Never again.” But the translator collar clicked off
Ice had claimed every surface, crawling up the walls in crystalline fingers. The emergency bunker was buried under a drift, but Grunk’s claws made short work of the frozen seal. He set you down just inside the airlock, and you immediately missed the heat of him.
The shock was immediate and sharp, a jolt that raced up your arm and made your teeth clench. But the core hummed. Lights flickered across its surface. Heat began to bleed into the room.
But he wasn’t wrong. You were already shivering, the cold of the moon seeping through the seals of your suit. The bunker’s heater was working, but slowly. Too slowly. They came on the third day
But the translator collar clicked off. Whether it had run out of power or he had deliberately silenced it, you didn’t know. All you knew was the heat of him, the quiet of the bunker, and the terrifying, wonderful realization that you didn’t want him to let go. They came on the third day.
“And you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t come.”
You turned to Grunk, a wild grin spreading across your face. “We made it. We actually made it.”
He didn’t smile. Grunks didn’t smile. But something in his eyes softened, and he reached out to cup the back of your head with one massive hand.
“Not yet,” he said. “Thirty more seconds.”
You took it with shaking hands.
“Your heart rate says otherwise.”
—Grunk”
But the shuttle was landing, the airlock was cycling, and a rescue team in orange suits was flooding the bunker with light and noise. A medic grabbed your arm, checking your vitals. A technician started questioning Grunk about the crash. And just like that, the bubble you had built together—the quiet, the warmth, the unspoken thing between you—shattered.
You held him tighter. “Never again.”
Ice had claimed every surface, crawling up the walls in crystalline fingers. The emergency bunker was buried under a drift, but Grunk’s claws made short work of the frozen seal. He set you down just inside the airlock, and you immediately missed the heat of him.
The shock was immediate and sharp, a jolt that raced up your arm and made your teeth clench. But the core hummed. Lights flickered across its surface. Heat began to bleed into the room.
But he wasn’t wrong. You were already shivering, the cold of the moon seeping through the seals of your suit. The bunker’s heater was working, but slowly. Too slowly.