Buttons Undertale Novels & Stories

No hesitation. Just dismissal. A weight slid off my shoulders so suddenly it made me lightheaded. I turned to Tane, breath trembling. “I… I think I’m ready to leave now. Today.” His eyes flickered with both pride and relief. “Then we’ll leave,” he said simply. No pressure. No command. Just unwavering support. I nodded once, swallowing the sting of emotion. “Let’s go.” He stepped closer, brushing his knuckles down my arm—a silent promise.

She stared at their school's main building. "Welcome back to Alexandrite Academy, Lady Leth!" Lord Waldo, the school coordinator and the marquess of Younla, who’s dressed like their manor's majordomo—neat black suit and white gloves—, greeted her. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and slightly bowed her head to greet him back. "Thank you, but it's Liyeth, not Leth. How many times are you going to mispronounce my name, Lord Waldo?" she kid.

And she wasn’t sure if she ever would be. ~~~~~ The wind howled through the cracked windows of Ebon Hollow as Alya stepped into the dim hallway beyond the study. Her boots echoed across the dusty floorboards, each step a declaration of defiance—or maybe fear. The ring on her finger pulsed faintly with every heartbeat, like it was syncing itself to her, binding her further with each breath. She moved slowly, hand brushing the walls for balance, tracing the carved patterns etched into the old wood. Wolves. Swords. The same crest that sealed the black envelope.

With his longer stride, it only took him few steps to reach the young girl’s wrist and put her on his lap. “Now you’re really dead.” His brows moved up and down as he raised his hands, his fingers moving teasingly. The young child shrieked, but Robert already attacked her with a savage tickling. “Now, now, Robert! You’re under arrest! Kindly put your hostage down!” Melinda came running, wearing an apron painted with various-colored butterflies. In her right hand was a small frying pan; she was swinging it wildly with a howl of laughter. Robert looked at her with wide eyes. He gave the young girl a knowing look before he let go of her.

I am not the kind of girl to keep losing myself in thoughts about boys, yet here I am. “Don’t mind her. She thinks she is going to be the next Luna, but she isn’t Luna material. My cousin just keeps falling back into bed with her. My aunt Brianna is a fabulous Luna and Cheri can’t hold a candle to her,” the voice of a cute boy in a faded T-shirt, flannel shirt and worn jeans with his arms full of art supplies says from beside me as he looks me over.

Just held his ground like a wall of pure, cold energy that stopped me cold. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, his eyes glinting. “None of that. Not unless you want to explain to your driver why he needs to buy a new interior.” He held my gaze for a long, tense moment, then slowly, deliberately, he reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand. “I got you something during final period.” He produced an eight-pointed star-shaped pendant with a blood-red stone in the center, dangling it from his fingers like a baited hook.

He sighed rubbing his head as if a headache was coming. “It's a long story.” he said hesitation in his voice. “But basically Brandon wants me to create a costume for the Luna Festival.” “Okay.” I said slowly unsure what he meant. “That sounds like a good chance right?” “It would be.” he said with a sigh “if there wasn't a problem. Brandon wants me to work with Alpha Marcus.” I felt a chill. Alpha Marcus. My partner. The one who turned me down. The one I've been trying to get out of my head.

And those feet, small and dainty,I couldn’t stop myself from trailing my fingers along her ankle. My lips twitched. How the hell did I not see this? The very girl I’d been searching for—hunting for, aching for—was right under my nose, dressing like a boy and taunting the beast inside me every damn day, and even sucked my cock.. She was my Luna. My mate. The only person the Moon Goddess ever created for me. I let out a breathless laugh and dragged my hands down my face, still in disbelief.

Right now, this is as close as I can get to my perceived freedom. And I am gonna enjoy the hell out of it. "I made you this." We were at the station doors with our mother giving us one last motherly reminder. Yula pulled me in the corner and handed me a hairpin. It was a sculpted flower that's glued to a pin. I smiled. One of Yula's proud handicrafts. "It's a daisy. Thank you, Yula." Yula gave me a big smile and took the pin back from my hand. She raised it on my black hair and carefully tucked my side curls with the hairpin.

“If you can make it to the wake, I will slip it to you. I will be among the crowd, and I'll feel safer there. Be there at eight pm.” “It's a tape of the assassination.” "A tape?" "Yes." “Okay, but how will I know who you are?” insisted Tommy. “I want to know how you look first,” the voice said. Tommy answered, “I'll be wearing a white polo barong. I'll be with another, who's tall, handsome, and wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. You . . . how will I know you?” “It's not important. My only desire is for you to have it.” And the voice hung up without waiting for him to say anything.