Alexa 🫶💗

My name is Melody! I mostly post random shit but I wanna make some fanfics too! I’ll literally do any fandom, so if you wanna request one, go ahead!

I love yuurivoice so much 🫶

I’m not looking for fame or anything but let me know if I should improve or anything :P

Okay bye >.<

≈294 words

The airport terminal was a chaotic blur of rolling suitcases and overhead announcements, but the moment you saw him, the noise seemed to instantly fade into the background.

There he was.

He was standing near the exit, looking around with a mix of anticipation and nerves, holding a small sign with your name on it as a joke. Seeing him in person—not through a pixelated screen or a video call, but standing right there in front of you—felt completely surreal. This wasn't just a regular visit; this was the day you were finally moving to Scotland to start your life together.

You took a deep breath, gripped the handle of your luggage, and called his name.

When his eyes snapped toward you, a massive, genuine smile instantly broke across his face. He didn't care about the crowded terminal; he immediately dropped the sign and took a few quick, eager strides forward just as you practically ran the remaining distance between you.

When you finally collided, his arms wrapped securely around you, lifting you slightly off your feet. He smelled exactly like you'd imagined—cherries, just like he said.

"I can't believe the day is finally here," Rui murmured, his voice a little thick with emotion as he hid his face in your shoulder. "You're actually here."

Pulling back just enough to look at him, you took it all in. The exact shade of his eyes, the warmth of his hands holding yours, and the sheer reality of being in the same room. All the years of late-night time-zone calculations, and packing up your entire life into a few suitcases suddenly became entirely worth it.

"I told you I’d make it," you said, your voice a little breathless but filled with relief.

"Aye, you did," Rui laughed, a hint of his accent shining through even more clearly in person as he squeezed your hands tightly. "Let's get these bags loaded up. We've got a drive ahead of us, and a whole new chapter to start."

As he took your heaviest suitcase with one hand and kept his fingers firmly intertwined with yours in the other, leading you out into the cool, crisp air, the realization hit you: the distance was officially over. You were home.

520 Words

The scent of rich soil and sweet, blooming jasmine always filled the air of the flower shop, but today, there was a distinct note of warm sugar and vanilla.

Finn was humming to himself behind the counter, carefully trimming the stems of a fresh delivery. He was so focused on his task that he didn't even hear the little chime of the bell above the door.

"Happy birthday, Finn!"

Finn jumped, nearly dropping his shears, his face immediately flushing a bright, rosy pink. He looked up to see you standing there, holding a small box tied with a bright yellow ribbon, and a single, massive sunflower that seemed to radiate warmth.

"O-oh! You... you remembered?" he stammered, resting a hand against his chest to steady his racing heart. A soft, genuine smile broke through his initial surprise. "Wow. You didn't have to do all this, Sunflower."

"Of course I did," you said, stepping closer and setting the box on the counter. "You spend every day making everyone else's lives brighter with flowers. You deserve to be celebrated too."

Finn’s eyes darted down to the box, then back up to you, his gaze incredibly soft. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he took the single sunflower from your hands. He looked at the vibrant yellow petals with absolute reverence, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"A sunflower," he murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, comforting register that always made the rest of the world melt away. "You know... helianthus. They’re known for tracking the sun across the sky. They literally follow the light." He looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, full of a sweet, sincere warmth. "That's exactly how I feel whenever you walk into the shop. You're my light."

Realizing exactly what he had just confessed, Finn’s ears went entirely red, and he quickly hid his face behind the massive bloom. "I-I mean! It's just a really thoughtful gift! Thank you."

You laughed softly, reaching over to gently pull the flower down just enough to see his blue eyes looking back at you, wide and endearing.

"Open the box," you nudged gently.

With slightly trembling but careful hands, Finn untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a small, perfectly decorated cupcake, complete with a single unlit candle, alongside a brand-new, leather-bound botany journal with his initials embossed on the cover.

He stared at it for a moment, genuinely touched. For someone who spent so much time taking care of living things, having someone take such specific, thoughtful care of him clearly meant the world. When he looked back up, there was a faint glint of emotion in his eyes, though his smile was brighter than ever.

"This is... perfect," Finn whispered, stepping out from behind the counter to stand right in front of you. He hesitated for a second, his shy nature making him pause, before he boldly took your hands in his. His palms were warm, rough from a hard day's work, but his grip was incredibly gentle.

"Thank you, Sunflower. Truly. Having you here... it’s the best birthday present I could ever ask for."

420 words

The coffee shop down the street from your apartment was usually a quiet sanctuary, but lately, a regular customer had been making it anything but. For the past two weeks, a man had been cornering you at the counter, ignoring every polite hint and pushing past your boundaries. Tonight, you were just trying to grab a quick drink to go, but he was there again, blocking your path to the exit and demanding your attention.

"I'm just asking for a few minutes of your time," the man said, stepping closer and reaching toward your arm. "Don't be rude."

Before his fingers could even brush your sleeve, a bright, imposing figure stepped smoothly into the space between you.

"Hey there! I think they said they're busy," a cheerful, melodic voice chimed.

It was Alphonse.

He was hard to miss in his signature pastel punk style—wearing his signature oversized hoodie accented with bright neon-pink safety pins along the hem, paired with distressed white denim and a stack of colorful, beaded bracelets clicking against his wrists. His hair was perfectly styled, and a faint glint of black caught the light from his piercings as he tilted his head.

Despite the bright, playful aesthetic, there was an unshakeable, protective authority in his posture. He didn't even have to raise his voice; he just stood at his full, impressive height, completely blocking you from the stranger's view with a bright, razor-sharp smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The man swallowed hard, instantly intimidated by Alphonse’s sheer size and the effortless confidence radiating off him. "Whatever, man," the stranger muttered, holding his hands up and quickly backing away toward the exit.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tense atmosphere evaporated. Alphonse turned around completely, his sharp expression melting into pure, sweet concern.

"Are you okay, boo?" he asked, his voice dropping to that warm, comforting register. He reached out, his hands—decorated with pastel-painted nails—gently hovering near your shoulders to give you space. "He didn't upset you too much, did he?"

"No," you breathed, letting out a long sigh of relief. "You got here just in time. Thank you, Alphonse."

Alphonse beamed, a genuine, dimpled smile lighting up his face as he dropped his hands to adjust his hoodie strings. "Of course! No one gets to mess with my favorite person. Next time someone is bothering you, you just let me know, okay? I've always got your back."

663 words - 2/2

For as long as you had worked alongside Auron, he had always seemed entirely unshakeable. He was a man who commanded entire rooms with a single glance, orchestrated complex legal strategies with ease, and managed the dangerous undercurrents of his empire without ever breaking a sweat. He was an anchor.

But tonight, the anchor was dragging.

It was long past midnight, and the grand office at the top of the tower was uncharacteristically silent. The city lights blinked through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the dark mahogany desk.

You stepped into the room holding a fresh cup of black coffee, stopping dead in your tracks at the sight before you.

Auron was leaning back in his leather chair, but he wasn’t upright. His head was tilted back against the headrest, his eyes tightly shut. His signature charcoal vest was unbuttoned, his tie completely undone and hanging loosely around his collar. One hand was draped over his face, his fingers pressing hard into his temples as if trying to physically hold back a headache. Around him, the desk was a disaster zone of open ledgers, encrypted tablets, and broken wax seals from urgent correspondence.

The sheer volume of a dual life—the crushing weight of corporate mergers colliding with a sudden, violent turf dispute on the docks—had finally taken its toll.

"Auron?" you said softly, keeping your voice low so as to not startle him.

His hand drifted down from his face, his dark eyes opening slowly. For a fraction of a second, the look in them wasn't the fierce, calculating gaze of a boss. It was pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

"Rook," he murmured. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, stripped of its usual smooth cadence. He tried to sit up, instinctively reaching for a pen to look busy, but his movements were heavy. "What are you still doing here? I thought I dismissed you hours ago."

"I couldn't leave knowing how much was landing on your desk today," you said gently, walking past the threshold and setting the coffee down just out of reach of his paperwork.

You walked around the side of the desk, stepping right into his personal space. Normally, Auron was the one dominating the room, but right now, he let you close the distance without a word. Up close, you could see the slight strain around his eyes and the tension locking his broad shoulders into rigid lines.

"You're running on empty," you said, resting a hand on the arm of his chair. "When was the last time you actually slept? Or ate?"

Auron let out a dry, humorless sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't have the luxury of time for either right now. The shipping manifests are compromised, the board is demanding a briefing by eight AM, and if I don't iron out the logistics for the east side territory before dawn—"

"Auron." You placed a hand flat on his chest, right over his heart. You could feel the steady, heavy thud beneath his dress shirt. "Stop."

He went entirely still under your touch. His eyes locked onto yours, wide with a rare hint of vulnerability. No one else in the world dared to interrupt him, let alone command him to stop. But you weren't anyone else.

"The board can wait, and your captains know how to hold a line for one night," you said, your voice firm but laced with deep affection. "You've built an entire fortress to protect everyone else, but you can't run it if you burn yourself to the ground."

Auron stared at you for a long moment, the internal battle playing out across his features. Slowly, the rigid tension in his shoulders began to snap. The defensive walls he kept up for the rest of the world finally crumbled.

With a deep, defeated exhale, he leaned forward, resting his forehead directly against your shoulder.

The gesture was so heavy, so completely trusting, that it caught you off guard for a second. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as his large frame relaxed against yours. One of his hands came up, wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer as if anchoring himself to reality.

"Just five minutes," he muttered into your shoulder, his voice muffled and incredibly tired. "Let me just... stay like this for five minutes, Rook."

"Take all the time you need," you whispered, resting your chin on top of his dark hair. You gently began to run your fingers through the back of his hair, massaging the base of his skull where the stress always locked up.

A low, contented rumble vibrated in his chest—a stark contrast to the sharp, commanding tones he used downstairs. For the first time all day, his breathing slowed down to a steady, calm rhythm. He didn't have to be the boss, the mastermind, or the protector. Here, in the quiet of the office, he could just let go.

678 words - 1/2

The harsh, fluorescent lights of the legal department felt like they were burning straight through your skull. It was well past 9:00 PM, the floor was entirely empty, and your desk was a battlefield of open manila folders, highlighters, and a laptop screen that seemed to mock you with a blinking cursor.

You rubbed your temples, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. The sheer volume of paperwork Auron’s latest "acquisition" required was staggering, and the pressure to ensure everything was legally airtight was starting to crush you. Your eyes burned, your shoulders were locked in tight knots, and for a fleeting second, you felt a wave of pure, overwhelming exhaustion threaten to bring tears to your eyes.

*Click.*

The distinct, rhythmic sound of expensive leather shoes echoing down the hallway broke the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to look up, assuming it was a night guard making rounds.

"I thought I told you that after-hours electricity was reserved for emergencies, Rook."

The voice was low, smooth, and instantly recognizable. It rumbled through the quiet room, carrying that familiar, commanding warmth.

You blinked up to see Auron standing at the edge of your cubicle. He had discarded his suit jacket, his charcoal vest fitting perfectly, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his forearms. His tie was slightly loosened, but even relaxed, his presence completely filled the space.

"Auron," you croaked, your voice sounding tired even to your own ears. "I just... I need to finish auditing these compliance structures before tomorrow morning. If the city looks too closely at the shell accounts—"

"The city won't look," Auron interrupted gently, stepping fully into your workspace. He walked around to the side of your desk, his dark eyes scanning the chaos of papers before settling entirely on you. His expression softened, the sharp, calculating edge he wore during board meetings completely melting away. "And even if they did, it wouldn't be handled tonight at the expense of your sanity."

He reached down, his large, warm hand gently resting over yours, stopping your fingers from typing.

"Look at me," he murmured.

You tilted your head up. The sheer exhaustion must have been written plain across your face, because a small, sympathetic frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. Without a word, he reached out, the pads of his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. His touch was surprisingly calloused, yet incredibly tender.

"You're drowning in it," Auron said softly, his deep voice carrying a grounding weight that instantly started to quiet the panicked buzzing in your brain. "Take a breath."

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you felt like you’d been holding all afternoon. "There’s just so much left to do. I don't want to let you down."

Auron let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest. He shifted, leaning his hip against the edge of your desk, closing the distance between you.

"Let me down? Rook, you've kept my legal shield flawless for months. The empire doesn't crumble because you went home to get eight hours of sleep." He placed a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in just enough that you were enveloped in the scent of cedarwood, expensive cologne, and a faint hint of rain. "Close the laptop."

"But—"

"That wasn't a request," he said, though there was no real bite to his authority—only an unyielding protectiveness. "Close it. Or I'll be forced to lock the file servers myself, and we both know how much the IT department hates it when I interfere."

A small, reluctant smile finally broke through your fatigue. You reached forward and clicked the laptop shut. The sudden darkness of the screen felt like a massive weight lifting off your chest.

"Good," Auron murmured, approval rich in his tone. He reached down, his hands finding your shoulders. With a firm but gentle pressure, he began to knead the tight, tense muscles at the base of your neck. You couldn't help the quiet gasp that escaped you as the tension began to bleed away under his hands.

"You carry too much of this on your own," he said, his voice dropping to a soothing, quiet register right near your ear. "That's my job. Your job is to be the brilliant mind that keeps me walking the line. My job is to make sure nothing, and no one—including your own workload—breaks you."

He massaged your shoulders for another minute, letting you simply breathe and ground yourself in his presence. When he stopped, he offered you a hand, waiting patiently until you placed yours in his. His grip was steady and solid.

"Come along," Auron said, pulling you gently to your feet. "My car is downstairs. We are getting you something to eat, and then you are going straight to bed. The paperwork will be exactly where you left it tomorrow, and I'll personally ensure nobody bothers you until noon."

Looking at him, standing tall and completely unbothered by the chaos of the world outside this room, the overwhelming panic finally vanished.

"Thank you, Auron," you whispered.

Auron never knocked.

He just appeared—the room dipping slightly colder, the air humming like it had been waiting for him. You looked up from your bed, half-expecting the usual quiet loneliness of the evening, and instead found him standing there with his hood down, silver hair catching the low light.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Hi.”

His shoulders eased instantly, like that single word had undone something tight inside him.

“…Hello,” Auron said, voice low and warm, careful like he was holding something fragile. You.

He crossed the room slowly, boots barely making a sound, and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. His knee brushed yours—accidentally, you think—and he froze for half a second before glancing at you.

“Is this… okay?” he asked.

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I like when you’re close.”

That did it. A faint pink dusted his cheeks, and he looked away, clearing his throat. But he didn’t move. If anything, he leaned just a little closer, his arm hovering awkwardly at his side like he wasn’t sure where it belonged.

You gently nudged his hand with your pinky.

He inhaled sharply, then relaxed, letting his fingers lace with yours. His hand was warm—unexpectedly so for someone who slipped between shadows so easily.

“I was worried today,” he admitted quietly. “You sounded tired earlier.”

Your heart softened. “I was. But I’m better now.”

“Good,” he murmured. His thumb brushed slow, soothing circles over your knuckles, like it was second nature. “I don’t like it when you carry things alone.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a split second—then carefully, reverently, rested his head against yours.

He smelled faintly like smoke and clean fabric. Safe.

“I can stay,” he said softly. “If you want. I don’t have to talk. I can just… be here.”

You smiled into his sleeve. “I’d like that.”

Auron’s arm finally came around you, tentative but protective, holding you like something precious he’d been trusted with. His voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for you.

“Then rest,” he said. “I’ve got you.”