Side Chick Rules Novels & Stories

Mila inquired quickly, but Tessa and Lily chorused at the same time with a 'No'. Mila raised her hand in surrender and followed them behind while they headed for Tessa's car, which was parked outside. Tessa hopped into the driver's seat while Mila and Lily sat behind, each of them resting their head on the back seat. “Jeez! I had no idea this skirt was this short.” Lily complained and dragged the skirt, but her effort was all in vain because it was just the way it was. Tessa hit the road while they headed for the club.

Her form shimmered like a specter ahead of him, weaving between the great pillars. “Stop!” he commanded, his voice rolling like thunder through the silent halls. But the girl did not obey. She fled faster, her anklets pleading with soft, frantic chimes. At last, she reached the end of the corridor — a wall looming before her, sealing her escape. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, her body trembling, caught in the snare of her own fear. Samarth slowed his steps, approaching like a lion closing in on its prey, every movement calculated and heavy with authority.

Ava’s POV There were only a few rules I lived by in college. Rule number one? Never fall for a jock. It wasn’t just a personal preference. It was survival; I had to avoid them in order to do well. I had seen too many smart girls throw away their GPA for a 6'0 something guy with biceps, a quarterback playboy and a bad attendance record. Not me, no way, I'll never do that, that's how I survived my first year in Westbridge University, and I'm not going to break that rule in my second year.

Giving animals a bunch of rules wouldn’t work anyway. When it comes to sparring as humans, there are a bit more rules. No cheap shots; no kicks in the balls, fingers in the eyes, etc. Nothing that can permanently scar you. No cutting off circulation for longer than thirty seconds. Preferably no breaking off bones, but that’s not always possible. Whoever taps out, verbally or by barring their neck or literally tapping the floor, loses. I knew that no matter what, I’d be winning this match. But both of us needed to succeed, and from what I had seen, Vermin wasn’t really a fighter.

He said as he came specifically to my front probably so I might not assume a technicality and that I did not hear the rules “There are three rules that you must adhere to during the challenge and the breaking of any of them would mean an automatic disqualification and forfeiture of the challenge. First rule; There is to be no full transformation into a werewolf anytime during the challenge as turning would be a breakage of the rules and an automatic disqualification, although it’s not against the rules to modify meaning that you could change any part of your body at any given time during the challenge but under no circumstance are you to make a full transformation.” He stoped and looked at m

In races, fights, life — fear gets you killed. Rule 5: Never start a fight. Count to ten. Walk away. Breathe. But once the first punch lands? Rule 3 applies. Rule 6: Fuck and leave. I never bring a girl home. That’s what hotels are for. No sleepovers. No cuddling. No breakfast conversations where I pretend to remember their name. No drama. I make the terms clear upfront. Efficient. Clean. Necessary. Rule 7: No condom, no sex. Money and fame breed insanity, especially in women. I’ve seen girls try to steal used condoms, spit cum from their mouths into containers, and punch holes into condoms. Like getting pregnant is a winning lottery ticket. Not happening.

They were plopped onto two chairs, right in the center of the madness. “Rule one,” Jade said, with a big mischievous grin on his face. “You are to sit and never stand up until you’ve been asked to.” Stiles, who was standing beside me, laughed. “Rule two,” he added, raising a red cup. “You drink what we give you, no questions asked.” Sky looked at them calmly. He didn’t look scared. He just looked at them with a kind of quiet defiance. “This sounds like pretty much suicide,” he remarked.

Those with their wolves qualified for high-level combat in the Warrior Tier. Shifting rules were strict. The announcer’s voice boomed, reminding everyone of the regulations. The shifting rules were strict: - A wolf could not shift if their opponent had not. - Violations resulted in severe sanctions against the hosting pack. - If a non-shifting fighter wanted to challenge a wolf, they accepted the risk—but wolves were still forbidden to use claws or teeth. - They could shove, block, body-check, or restrain. - No blood if it could be avoided (not likely, but it looked good in the rule book).

“This is it? I thought I would get a challenge.” I stiffened. Lucas’s voice cut through. “The rules are simple. No claws, no shifts. First to knock the other unconscious or force the other to yield wins.” I swallowed hard. “Got it,” Drew said lazily. He didn’t even look at me when he spoke. Lucas turned to me. “Ready?” No. I said in my head. “Yeah,” I forced out. Drew gave a mocking half-bow. “Try to keep up, princess.”

I assured him. “You’re cute when you're cocky.” “Now for the rules.” Moxdea announced. “No object may be taken in violence against the creature. They must willingly give them to you.” “So I can’t kill the minotaur and rip the nose ring out?” Cedric clarified. “No. And if any harm comes to the creatures, you will lose the challenge.” “Fuck, I already hate this.” Cedric muttered. “The next rule, you may not bring harm to your opponent or deter their journey. You must win fairly.”