Just Some Guy With A Mustache Novels & Stories

They were nice places there and I kept thinking of a time in the future where I would finally leave the leash of Asher, maybe I would get to explore the pack and every other city like I would love to. "Hello?" A blonde guy dressed in a casual black tee shirt and combat shorts. I jumped up, seeming defensive all of a sudden. "Please, take it easy. I'm just here as a friend, I don't think we've been officially introduced. " He smiled a little that pushed up his moustache, his upper teeth showing. He stretched his hands as he walked closer to me. I hesitated at first but I still did not form any words. There was little to say not when I was seeing a really handsome man. Do they grow these kinds

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that his last name is Gray. What she found most attractive was his shiny light brown hair, he was carrying a classic Taper haircut which complimented the mustache and beard; he had brushed the quiff upwards to give him the celebrity look. His lips were attractively pink, and given the amount of melanin he had for a white guy. He wasn’t the usual pale white male, he was a bit dim but not of color either; he was just somewhere in between.

Gregory felt like any moment; he would piss himself. "I will give your message. But I can't guarantee you will receive a good response." The man threatened him. "So, If I were you, come up with the payment." As soon as the goons left, Gregory collapsed on his knees. He doesn't know where he could find the money for them. No one would lend him money anymore. Because of his scandalous photo, many more of their friends and associates knew that about their situation. He needs to think about the fasted way.

He leaned on the wall, pulled out a smoke, he was just about to lit it when he noticed two birds,they were sort of communicating. The street was littered with all sort of dirt, smelled of strong sewage and animal dump. "The man knows what he wants" a man with shorts that displayed his hairy legs said. He had box that looked almost like a bag and a briefcase. "Look am just saying we've got a huge problem at hand,chief is a serious guy,tough guy,trust me,his gat his hand on them,they don't know it yet" an older guy replied,talking and looking back at Tom who was standing a few feet from them, he was pretending to be only interested in his smoke.

I said and looked at the star of her name, I pulled my phone to take a picture but there was an obese guy standing on it. "Excuse me, can you move please?" I asked the guy, he turned around with two hot dogs on his hand and tomato sauce on his lips. "Nah bro, leave me alone." He said to me and turned around. "What the fuck is wrong?" Nate asked as he looked at the obese guy who wouldn't move and made me pissed, again. "This shitface won't move." I gritted between my teeth. "Let me do it." He sighed but I stopped him.

Of course, it was his own side of the story, and I wonder what bozo will support a Funker like him. Standing this close to him made me see his features well. If I didn't know him and saw him outside, I would mistake him for a respectable foreigner, but glad I don't judge by looks. Jet black hair with a brown bear plaited with beads attached to it, and a little mustache, goes perfect for a monster. Trying not to snicker, I jerked my face away from his grip. I yanked the metal on my wrist, the noise filling the room.

I had to crane my neck to look up at his face. Jeez. The guy was huge. Was he over two meters tall? I wondered if he played basketball. He had dark hair and thick black eyebrows that framed his deep brown eyes. His nose was sharp but slightly crooked, and his high cheekbones were covered by a few days’ worth of stubble, giving him a rugged, s.exy edge. His full lips curved into a smirk. Great. Another rich, hot playboy. What was it with the men around here?

she murmurs. We watch as the man with the mustache approaches, his gait forced and exaggerated, with Donald coming from the field. A wide, strained smile stretches across his wrinkled face. “Sir Jonathan! What an honor it is to have you here unexpectedly,” The moustache man exclaims, his voice taut with tension as he extends a hand for a shake. It's funny how humble the inhumane idiot can be when faced by a more powerful person. "Where is Prince William? We haven’t heard from him in quite some time.”

Then half-naked girls in bikinis rushing out of frame giggling, and then I see him. Don Melconi. Bald head glistening. Thick mustache curled like a villain. Tanned skin from decades of Italian sun. His gold rings flash as he brings a fat cigar to his mouth and exhales a long cloud of smoke. He’s sitting in a Jacuzzi. In the middle of some ridiculous villa. Shirtless. Wet. And looking bored as hell. “I don’t have time,” he grunts. “You better be worth it.” I straighten. “I appreciate you making the time, sir. My name is—”

What kind of ability user was he? Seeing they remained silent, Ray asked again, "Is one of you named Igor?" "I'm here," a man's voice replied. The villa's front door opened, and a man around thirty stepped out. He had begun growing the characteristic mustache style, and even his clothing was distinctly Jayzepanese. If not for his supernatural ability, he would surely have frozen to death. Yet, he stood there in the bitter cold without the slightest sign of discomfort. "Who are you?" Igor asked. His accent carried no trace of foreignness—he sounded like a native-born local.