Puck Novels & Stories

Elias smiled and said: “Sorry guys, I went a bit fast!” The boy looked up at his master respectfully: "Yes, I keep up with you, prince." Lily glanced at the boy and said, “My son is not. You slow down for me.” "Okay, okay, I'll go slow and wait for you two." Elias was born with a magical power, so even if he walked slowly, it was equal to other people following him. Lily gasped: "I'm not going, you two go first, I'll be back later."

Puck teased and I snarled at him. "What did I ever see in you?" I muttered. "My huge dick." he replied and the rest of the boys yelled or laughed. "Wait! You two use to...." Lydia asked as she pointed between us. Puck nodded with a smirk while I shrugged. "It was a long time ago and I barely remember it." I defended "Ouch! Why do you tell such lies? You know that it was the best time of your life." Puck argued while the others laughed. "Does Blaise know?" Lydia asked and Puck paled.

High cheekbones, angular nose, and the beginnings of a beard cover his cheeks, the hair light against the natural tan of his skin. "About time you made it, Patrick," Rebecca stands up, striding across the room with sure steps, her heels pounding against the hard floor. "Becky," he gives her a smile that I'm sure have made many panties drop. "We don't do first names between us. I'm Trick, remember?" "You're late," she fixes him with a glare and a disapproving purse of her lips. "And I'll stay to make up for it as long as," his eyes find mine, and he raises his eyebrows. "What's your name?"

she informed. Drake stood up from his seat beside his stray. “What do you mean it is fake?” he questioned. Millie bit her lower lip, finding a good answer. “I-It’s. . . it’s not the antidote, alpha. The poison on Emily’s body was deadly and rare to find for its antidote.” She answered, looking down at the ground. “I... I think we should start to find the lotus flower and the neem plants at Mount Doqu, alpha.” Millie said, her lips trembling.

“Let’s try something.” Liam stared at the puck. Nothing happened. Finn waddled over and poked it with his stick. The puck rolled across the floor. Liam giggled. Then suddenly— The puck slid back toward him. Alex stared. “That’s telekinesis.” Jake nodded slowly. “Looks like it.” Finn, not wanting to be outdone, suddenly lifted both hands dramatically. Nothing happened. Finn frowned. Then he sneezed. The lights flickered. Alex blinked again.

When I finally ran out of desperate words, he steepled his fingers and studied me like a piece of meat on the cutting board. “I can give you the time off,” he said slowly. “Paid. Plus extra for the missed shifts. But nothing’s free anymore, little girl. You know that.” Relief and dread crashed into each other inside my chest. I nodded quickly. “Whatever you want. Just… please.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small black box. Inside was a sleek, teardrop-shaped silicone plug, slightly curved, with a flared base and a wireless remote beside it. It wasn’t huge, but it looked heavy. Sinister.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Neither of them looked away first. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> The puck dropped.

With a quick, effortless flick of my blade, I lifted the black puck straight over his glove, tucking it into the roof of the net with absolute, beautiful precision. PING! The puck struck the top iron with a loud, ringing note before bouncing violently into the white mesh. The red light behind the glass flashed to life instantly. The game clock on the giant screen showed that exactly eight seconds had passed since the puck was dropped at the center circle. BUZZZZZZ! The stadium horn blasted a long note through the rafters. I had just tied the game 1-1, but more importantly, the giant screen above t

I turn the puck over one more time, slower now, and something cold and strange moves through my chest. Caspian carries a lucky puck. Has for years, apparently I overheard Riven mention it once in passing, something about how Beckett sleeps with it under his pillow, how no one's ever supposed to touch it or even acknowledge it exists because that's the kind of superstition that runs so deep it's become structural, load-bearing, the kind of thing you can't remove without something else collapsing. Under his pillow. I look down at the puck in my hand. Look at my bed. Look at the pillow I just pulled

Or so I thought I couldn't get any wetter. Daddy removes them and orders me to spread my legs. I do, standing with a wide stance, my ass in the air and my chest against the mattress. Daddy reaches for something on the bed that I hadn't noticed before. When he picks it up, butterflies in my stomach scatter trying to get the hell out of Denmark. A silver paddle with 6 holes poking through sits firmly in his hand. Holy shit! How was I so lost in thought that I didn't see that lying right next to him?!