“Grunk. Put me down.”
“Grunk?” you whispered into the dark.
If you do not want this, I will understand. I will leave the Coalition, and you will never see me again. But if you feel even a fraction of what I feel—if the warmth meant something to you too—then come to my quarters.
“Not yet,” he said. “Thirty more seconds.” grunk x reader
“And you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t come.”
Neither of you had signed up for a hull breach, a crash landing, and a frozen moon with only seventy-two hours of oxygen.
You tried to pull your hand away, but Grunk’s fingers closed around yours, gentle but immovable. “Grunk
“You made it,” he said. His collar had enough charge for one last translation. “I was never in danger.”
“Batteries are dead,” you said, trying to keep the despair out of your voice. “But the cells might still hold a charge if we can jump-start them. Do you have anything conductive?”
You held him tighter. “Never again.” I will leave the Coalition, and you will never see me again
“The terrain is ice and shale,” his collar translated. “Your environmental suit is rated for cold, but not for that distance. You will fatigue. You will slow. I will carry you.”
You watched him go, his amber eyes fixed on you until the last possible second. Then the door closed, and he was gone. The debriefing took six hours.
The room was dark, lit only by the amber glow of his eyes.
Your heart stuttered. “What does that mean?”
He was yours.