Of Arms And The Man I Sing Novels & Stories

“Today is gonna be the day That they're gonna throw it back to you By now you should've somehow Realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do, about you now...” I felt myself burst into flames of embarrassment, although I must admit I felt truly special – in a normal way and not in the ‘you’re engaged to a god’ way. It was nice. After the song the evening faded and we were left to clean up the restaurant and take all the leftovers home. Mama and Baba piled the car with equipment, leaving Ricky and I to follow with the leftovers to my place. “I’m glad you liked the song.” Ricky said as he drove. “It was a good song.” I admitted, although I pretended to be obliviou

I spent the entire time laughing I loved my brother to death, but the man had two left feet, he was an amazing brother and probably and amazing husband as well, but the man can’t dance to save his life. When you say you love me Know I love you more And when you say you need me Know I need you more Boy, I adore you-oo-ou I adore you-oo-ou Baby, when ya hear me When I'm crying out for you I'm scared, oh, so scared But when you're near me I feel like I'm standing with an army of men Armed with weapons (weapons), hey, oh "Can I have this dance?" My father asks and I nod...

Guston who was among the men turned to look at him and said; " big bro, you should join us. " The man glanced side ways at him. Guston shrank his neck as he was about to tell him it was fine if he didn't want to. But just then the man got up and went close to the table. Those watching were dumbfounded, as Mr Acosta isn't someone who would usually play this kind of games. It seems he's in a good mood today, some thought. Even Guston was astonished to see his big bro participate in this kind of game for the first time in two years.

Brandon’s heart pounded in his chest as he crept through the house, carefully avoiding anyone who might still be awake. His steps felt heavier with each passing moment, the weight of what he’d done threatening to crush him. "Killed a man," he kept thinking. It echoed in his head over and over until it was all he could hear.

The music throbbed like a heartbeat through the walls. She wove through it all toward the bar, needing something cold. Needing something to hold in her hand. Just as she reached for the counter, someone turned sharply, and she stumbled—shoulder-first into a stranger’s chest. “Sorry,” she blurted, breath catching. Strong hands steadied her by the waist. “Careful.” His voice was low and rough, tinged with warmth. And when she looked up—she froze.

At this moment, I would pull that trigger again on another armless man. He finally sank his full length into me, and I moaned out loud almost immediately.

I hugged my arm to my chest, the skin still burning where his fingers had dug in. Then Aaron’s voice broke the silence. His voice came out lower and softer this time. “Let me see.” I looked up. He was standing close now, his eyes not on my face but on the arm I cradled. Slowly, carefully, like he was afraid I might shatter, he reached for me. I let him. His thumb brushed over the reddened skin, his touch gentle but firm. His jaw tightened, and for a second I swore I saw anger flicker in his eyes; not the wild, reckless kind Justin had shown, but something controlled and dangerous in its own right.

Some aggressive fans even went to make a scene in front of the manor I lived in. They were aggressive, and there were many of them. The bodyguards tried their best to stop the fans while Ryder held me in his arms, afraid that I might get hurt. "It's okay. I can handle this." I logged into my social media account and started a livestream. "This is the notebook that I used to write 'Love in the Moonlight' back then. I wrote every single page myself and even indicated the date." On the screen, I flipped through the notebook. The edges of the yellowed papers curled slightly with the touch of the passing years.

His eyes moved slowly over her. “Your order, sir.” Maria asked. “Took you long enough,” he said lazily. Maria glanced briefly at the table. His order had arrived less than two minutes ago. She had brought as fast as she could. “I apologize if there was any delay,” she said calmly and professionally. She reached forward to place the plate. Suddenly the man’s arm moved. His hand landed firmly on her waist. Maria froze. His grip tightened slightly as if testing whether she would pull away. “You should smile more,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on her. “Service like this could make a place much more… interesting. Pretty waitress.”

I twist, aiming low, but another hand clamps over my mouth, cutting off the sound before it can leave my throat. “Easy,” a voice murmurs near my ear. “We just want to talk.” I bite down hard. The man swears and tightens his grip. I fight anyway — knees, elbows, weight thrown back — but there are too many of them, moving like they’ve done this before. They drag me toward the van. This is it, a part of my mind notes distantly. This is the mistake. The door yawns open, dark and waiting. A gunshot cracks the air.