Grumbo Oneshots

Oh Fuck, He's Hot (Lime)

((HEY, I UPDATED FOR ONCE- This is definitely not a cocky hacker Mumbo x shy transgender Grian rival roommate college AU from a roleplay *Cough cough* I may have altered it. Suck my ass, I'm trying to pass writer's block))

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°•Grian's POV•°

I hate my roommate. I hate this sly bitch. I hate his devilish smirk and cunning intelligence. I hate his perfect obsidian, glossy hair, and his bastardly clever remarks. If I could drop-kick his ass to the sun, I wouldn't hesitate, but unfortunately I would get banned from the college dorms.

Possibly banned from campus in general.

As I profoundly sulk in silence, staring around Mumbo's friend's compacted warehouse called a garage, my arms tightly cross over my chest as I try to look aggravated. A still paper bag of leftover McDonald's food and grease sits next to my wooden stool and I kick it off.

My eyes keep averting to Mumbo as he works at the hood of a gray truck, and when I realize I'm observing his skillful hands crafting inside of the truck's instrument panel - or whatever the hell he said, his encyclopedia vocabulary he has for a brain gives my head a migraine - I use every fiber in my body to glance in a different direction.

Why in God's name did I agree to tag along to whatever illegal actions he is doing? Selling car components to someone named Ren, who runs a perfectly legal auto-repair in the countryside, Mumbo got himself in a dangerous spot. I've only been roomed with him for a week and he somehow accessed the mainframe of my KeyBank account!

I remember the note he tucked into my bag on the very first day of college, the very first Algebra class we had together. His despicable grin that his flushed lips curled into, the mischief swirling inside of his attractive hazel eyes, what was I going to expect? It was wrong of me to challenge him, to dare him to do something horrible.

<Prepare for your worst>

The note is stuffed inside one of the little compartments of my bookshelf, and every single time my eyes scan across the letter, a harsh shudder runs down my body. But I know he isn't a griefer. He may be able to somehow get past the federal firewall to ingress into my authorized records, but I know deeply buried under his smug demeanor, he has a somewhat compassionate nature.

"Grian," Mumbo snaps, giving me a side glance with his usual diabolical smirk. My eyes blink and I instantly realize how long I have been staring at him. Heat suddenly crawled onto my cheeks and I bashfully look down at the cement ground.

I begrudgingly mutter a response. "W-What?" I wish his perfectly structured face would smash into a brick wall. It's a little over 7 in the morning, the sun of the pushing dawn reflecting his skin, and I cannot deal with this brat already.

"Can you find me the toolbox for truck bulbs?" I take a brief, yet dangerous, glimpse at him, and quickly locked into his eyes. The corners of his lip haul into a wider smirk. A dot of sweat trails down the side of his face, mockingly reminding me how strikingly curved his handsome face is. "The C3AB-13466-B bulb wiring and fuse panel seemed to have combusted."

Smartass. I don't know what kind of language he is speaking, but the first part sounded fairly easy enough. My reluctant movement made him scoff loudly with a roll of his eyes.

"Do I need to dumb it down for you? Find the red metal box labeled 'bulbs', Grian." My crimson face only grew worse the more he talked with his sharp tongue, and it made me want to ultimately slap him. I glance at all the steel shelves and desks with circuit boards sprawled across the surface, all the worn-down posters of older bands like Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Beatles. It was hard to maneuver through the pick-up truck and the mess of storage.