Just Some Guy Without A Mustache Novels & Stories

It was like he wanted to jump up from his chair and slam the door in my face. The other came across with his mustache, the pure white shirt and the sly look on the distinctive face, like the cliché of a gangster from the television. The fake smile also went with it. Just like the scar over his mouth. Like me. Just not at an angle, but lengthways. It started under the eye and went down to the chin.

Then she walks past me with tears in her eyes. The man is absolutely disgusting, and I know that no woman in her right mind would have sex with him, he has greasy hair pulled to the side covering his bald patch on the top of his head, his mustache has seen better days, and his enormous stomach flaps over his pants leaving a small gap between the buttons showing his skin.

“You being like that just proves how ungrateful of a scum you are!” The two friends were physically different. George was short and a little bit porky. His round face and wide-set eyes gave him the look of a premature child, but his black mustache, ironically, impressed him a rogue and ruthless vibe. He’s wearing black boxers, showing off his fair skin and bumpy stomach. On his left forearm was a green birthmark that resembled a distorted cup.

I expected them to smell like smoke or at least the stale smell of beer but they smell better than I expected. “Did you shave?” I asked. He doesn’t have a beard, just a slight stubble on his jaw and it’s still there. “Yup. I manscraped in case I get lucky.” He winked at me. I laughed. “You’re not getting lucky, trust me.” “I know that. Trust me, I love living and Croix has this notion of slitting throats which I don’t want. I think we should leave that off the table, for now.” He winked.

the guy said while smiling to Hazel who's surprised by the cute guy's words. "Thank you" she just nodded pursing her lips in shock. "Wait do you go to Rosemount university" she asked in surprise as she is shocked to see the shirt he's wearing on which her University's name is printed. "Yeah, I'm 2nd year student there." the guy replied after looking at his own shirt. "OMG then we're same year, wait now I know where I saw you you're the introverted guy with no friends right!" she exclaimed as she remembered where she saw him last time.

Bianca didn't respond, just stormed off, leaving the door open for me to walk in. Frank was in the kitchen, making coffee, without his shirt. His chest and torso were covered in tattoos as well and his jet black hair was in messy spiral curls around his head. His muscles distracted me but not as much as his black sweatpants did. I could feel my body tensing as I thought of how heavenly it would feel to lean against that hard chest. I shouldn't be thinking these things though, I have a goddamned boyfriend. "You're early." His deep voice made me flinch out of my thoughts.

He didn't drop a note or even a word. " Fuck." I run my hand through my hair. God it's wild. My mind ran to last night. How our conversation moved so smoothly. He was easy to talk to and I enjoyed every minute of our conversation. Who wouldn't. He was different from the other guys there since he wasn't wearing a suit or dress shirt like these men whom we saw at the club. Now I'm left to wonder how old he is. I didn't pay much attention to his age but he should be around my age too. Why do I even fucking care?

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.

Josh stood near the others. He was a bit of an interesting one with his preference for shaving his head completely bald even in wintertime. He was a good fighter though, with a wide chest and big barrel arms. Of course, whenever he opened his mouth, you could pretty much bet that whatever was about to come out was a tall tale; and good luck getting him to stop once he got going. He now stood pensively staring at the ground, silent for once.

Sylvester is six-foot-five and is very skinny. His square face is bristly and mostly sunken in. His cheek bones pop out from the rest of his face and his bushy white eyebrows make it hard to see his brown eyes. Needless to say the smoothest and only hairless part of him is the top of his head. His skeletal structure makes you wonder when the last time it was that he had anything to eat. Despite his ghastly appearance, he is one of the sweetest guys you’ll ever meet. Through everything that has happened, these are the people who have been there for me the most. They have also respected my privacy, and let me be alone when I needed to. I haven’t been the same since… that night.