Grumpy Characters Novels & Stories

My head was bobbing like a boombox playing a lively EDM beat. "Sorry, Mr. Grimwine, but these won't cut it." "But, sir—" "Time for my morning coffee!" he shushes my mouth with his pincer grip. "Or shall I have... Hey, I will have a birthday cake!" "Heeh, this's utterly hopeless.." I sigh in defeat. "He really got your number, huh..?" Charlotte teases me with her dimwitted personality. "Drop it, you butt-sore.." ◢ ◣

Dad said, and I hated his cryptic ways. "So he is a clown?" I asked, and my father took a deep breath. "I can't tell you if he hasn't agreed to it... but you need to give him space," I agreed, and Mom rolled her eyes. "My father was not that grumpy..." Mom sighed, and I shrugged my shoulders. I have heard many stories about Grandpa Sebastian, the most prominent Beta the realm has had. Ralph is just as strong and fast as he is, but I have never heard of Grampa being grumpy or moody like Ralph.

The way he frowns and glared at me like I was the most annoying person. “What is this thought?” I stuttered, choosing each word carefully. “No-no, that guy is a lunatic! I shouldn't read too much about it.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I got down from the stairs and I saw him again, Mr. Grumpy. “Why is he still at our house?” I frowned. Even if I was mad I couldn't make the mistake of saying it out loud. My mom will give me an ear full. “Hey Mom! Hey Dad” I greeted taking my seat next to Xavier, who was busy with his phone. “Morning dear” they both said at once. “How was your night?” My dad asked while my mom filled more food for Xavier. He always gets more favor than me, “W

I tried to smile—to lighten up the mood but failed when he just gave me a sharp look. I’ve got frustrated by the way he’s treating me but I need to be calm. Yet, I couldn't think of why is he like this? What is his problem? Why is he so grumpy and arrogant? Is he too stressed out handling a big company like this? Well, if that's the case, he needs to loosen up a bit. "I'm not asking for your name," he scoffed. "Just answer what I asked you to." I sat down in my seat at the kind of tune he used. I could hear that with annoyance. It was as if he was just holding back on me and if I hadn't corrected my answer he might have exploded completely.

“That’s what you get for messing up with me.” “You ruined my shoes.” He yells, glaring down at his scuffed white sneakers. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before grabbing me, Mr Grumpy.” I smirk, folding my arms across my chest. His eyes widen at my words. “What did you just say? Mr Grumpy?” I laugh at the look on his face. “Yeah, you heard me—Mr Grumpy. Fits you perfectly, don’t you think?” His eyes narrow, and he steps closer, towering over me. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

"You mean the bed activity.” “Ah-huh. Yup.” “But Grump-" "No need to be embarrassed." He walked away chuckling loudly. "But we really didn't do anything," whispers Austin, trying to keep his innocent. Grump was whistling as he continued walking on forward. If only I kept going, I would have had her. Then my insides wouldn’t be this frustrated. Then he thought of something. Grump was known to be a playboy in his younger days. He would know how to woe a woman’s worry. He could ask him for advice.

"I admit that you are not a bad person this time. Sorry for suspecting you, Mr. Grumpy." Frank's face turned sour when he heard that nickname. Winning Louis' heart seemed to be much more difficult than Emily's. "I'm not grumpy, Little Boy. You just don't know me well." Smiling bitterly, Frank stretched out an arm. His eyes filled with tears. "Do you want to hug me too?"

It's been a wild ride, but we're still standing, ready to take on whatever comes our way. "I wonder if he's old, grumpy, ill-tempered? You know how old money people are, they can get a bit extremely obnoxious." I wondered out loud to my best friend Lyra. "I can't shake the thought—what if he's one of those old, grumpy types? You know, the kind with an ill-tempered demeanor? Old money folks can be extremely obnoxious," I mused aloud, sharing my concerns with my best friend Lyra.

"I did not ask." "You keep looking hopeful." "I am not." He countered. "You absolutely are." "I am not." I pointed my pastry at him, "Hopeful." His jaw tightened, "Eat your breakfast." I grinned, "Hopeful." "Lucian." "Hopeful." "Lucian." "Mr. Grumpy." For a second, I thought he might actually throw me out a window. Instead, he sat down and rubbed a hand over his face. The action looked strangely exhausted. Not physically, emotionally.

“Daisy white, did you just called me grumpy?!, he said in disbelief. Dylan’s reaction was immediate, his disbelief palpable. It was as if he had never been called grumpy before. His face remained stoic, without a hint of a smile. I couldn’t help but think that he probably watched the TV show Friends with the same straight face. “Yes, isn’t it obvious?” I persisted, continuing to point at him. “You are a grumpy, grumpy man.” As if unable to contain himself any longer, Dylan reached out and firmly grabbed my finger. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I could feel his breath, warm against my face, as he leaned in closer. “You are such a chatterbox,” he whispered, his voice filled with i