Chapter Text
Today was the day.
For the past few weeks, your life had become exactly like in those slightly cringy romance books you loved: cozy library corners, late-night phone calls that lasted until the sun crept over the horizon, and the intoxicating presence of a man who was as chaotic as he was tender. Dating Ace felt magical. He was intense, honest, a little bit of an idiot in the most endearing way possible, and wore his heart on his sleeve in a way that made you feel like the center of his entire universe.
You had already navigated the first hurdle of his life: his brothers. Living with Sabo and Luffy in a small apartment when he wasn't at the station meant that "meeting the family" had happened in stages. The first encounter had been relatively normal, though Luffy had spent the first twenty minutes trying to figure out if you could be bribed with snacks to let him play with Ace's firefighting gear. (Spoiler: it took him only a minute to change his mind and devour all the snacks himself in a matter of seconds.) Sabo, on the other hand, had been the diplomatic one, welcoming you with a graceful smile and a knowing look that suggested he was well aware of how head-over-heels his brother was.
Then, there was the incident. The one you still teased Ace about because you enjoyed how red he would get.
About two weeks ago, you and Ace had been caught in a moment of, well, particularly fervent passion against the kitchen counter of their shared home. The kiss had been deep, hungry, and completely consuming. It was the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world blur into insignificance. That was, until the front door slammed open with the force of a hurricane.
"ACE! I'M HOME AND I FOUND A COOL BUG-" Luffy had screamed, sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. He had stopped dead just inches away from the two of you, his wide eyes blinking in confusion. "Oh. Are you guys eating each other's faces?"
Sabo had appeared behind him, pausing mid-sentence as he took in the scene. He didn't look shocked so much as immensely amused. He had simply leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and let out a soft chuckle. "Glad to see you're getting along so well. You didn't mention your girlfriend would be here today, and by the looks of it, you didn't mention to her either that we would be here. Next time, maybe give us a warning so Luffy doesn't ask ten million questions I do not wish to answer."
With that, the mood had been effectively murdered, leaving Ace a stuttering, crimson-faced mess and you breathless with laughter. But the aftermath had been really sweet. Seeing how effortlessly you fit into their chaotic dynamic - how you could handle Luffy's energy and Sabo's wit - had made Ace look at you with a level of adoration that felt almost tangible. He loved you, that he was already sure of even if none of you said it yet, and he loved that you loved his brothers.
But now, it was time for the real test. His other family.
To Ace, the crew at the station wasn't just a group of colleagues; they were his lifeblood. They took him in and gave him a job, a second home, while he had been at his lowest. Whitebeard was the father he had always craved, and from what Ace had told you about the man, he was a mountain of a man whose strength was matched only by his capacity for the love he held for his family. Marco, Thatch, Vista, Jozu, and many more were his elder brothers who doted on him fiercely. Bringing you into that circle was a gesture of immense significance. It meant you weren't just a girl he was dating; this was quite literally him saying that you were now stuck with him forever.
You looked at the clock and smiled when you saw you had only about two hours left until you could go. You were still at the library, currently attempting to focus on a shipment of new arrivals, but your mind was miles away. Your phone had been buzzing intermittently all afternoon.
Ace: [2:12 PM] I think I'm gonna die. Thatch has checked the appetizers three times. He asked me to ask you if you like shrimp cocktails. Do you? Please say yes or else he's gonna go crazy.
You: [2:20 PM] Didn't he already ask that last week? I still like it, so tell him not too worry too much. I already appreciate how much effort he made it with. Just breathe, both of you! I'll be there soon.
Ace: [2:21 PM] I can't breathe. My lungs have stopped working. This is a medical emergency. Send help. Or just send yourself. Hurry up, please!!!
You smiled and leant against the mahogany desk. God, your heart was fluttering like crazy. You could practically hear his voice - that raspy, energetic tone that always seemed to vibrate with excitement. You loved this slightly needy side of him, the vulnerability that he only showed to the people he trusted most.
As the clock ticked toward the end of your shift, you quickly sent one last text.
You: [4:45 PM] Just wrapping up! I'm going to head home, shower and freshen up real quick, and then I'll drive straight to the station. I can't wait to meet everyone!
Ace: [4:46 PM] See you soon, beautiful. I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot!
You chuckled, tucked your phone into your pocket, and began the process of closing down your section. The library was unusually quiet today, the golden hour light filtering through the high windows and casting long, amber shadows across your beloved stacks. It was the kind of peace you deeply cherished, because it perfectly balanced out the beautiful chaos Ace brought into your life.
You left the building with a spring in your step, the crisp air hitting your skin as you made your way to your car. The late afternoon sun caught the windshield, casting a bright reflection that made you squint. You reached into your coat pocket to press the unlock button.
Nothing. Only empty fabric.
You slapped your jeans. You checked your back pockets. A wave of irritation washed away the optimism you'd felt the entire day as you remembered the silver keychain sitting exactly where you left it: on your desk under the new shipments you had gotten today.
Sighing, you turned on your heel and headed back up inside, keyless and annoyed at your own forgetfulness, but you tried not letting it dull the genuine excitement inside of you.
You felt happy. Only a quick shower at home and you were ready to meet his people.
At the station, Ace was not, in fact, vibrating - that poor man was practically oscillating.
"If you pace one more lap around this table, I'm going to trip you, yoi," Marco sighed, leaning back in his chair with a look of amused exhaustion.
Ace stopped mid-stride. He had a frantic expression on his face that almost made the older man laugh. "I can't help it! What if the others don't like her? What if Thatch makes some weird joke and she thinks we're all lunatics? What if Pops asks her something too intense and she gets super intimidated?"
Thatch, who was currently arranging a platter of finger foods with an intensity that rivaled even a Michelin-star chef, looked up and grinned. "Ace, buddy, you're a disaster who falls asleep in the middle of sentences. The fact that this incredibly smart girl is actually dating you is the real mystery here. If she has already survived you, she can definitely survive all of us."
"Not helping!" Ace barked, though his lips quirked into a small smile.
"He's right, though," Vista added, adjusting his cuffs. "You've spoken of nothing else for over three weeks. You've practically written a manifesto on her virtues. If she's half as wonderful as you claim, she'll fit right in."
Whitebeard sat at the head of the large communal table, his booming laugh echoing through the entire room. He watched his son with a gaze full of warmth and pride. "Enough worrying, Ace. Anyone who makes you this happy is already family in my eyes. Now, sit down before you wear a hole in my floor."
Ace finally succumbed, sinking into a chair and glancing at his phone. It was nearly time. He knew that by now, you'd be leaving your house. He counted the minutes, growing more nervous with each passing second until his palms were basically soaked. He wanted to see your face, to feel your hand in his, and to see the look of surprise when you realized just how much these men already adored you.
The first ten minutes of your expected arrival time passed. Ace didn't mind or even notice it, as he was currently busy stealing a few bites from the overwhelming amount of dishes Thatch had prepared. He also knew that traffic could be a nightmare this time of day, and that you sometimes lost yourself in the shower when a particularly good song on your playlist started playing.
Then, fifteen minutes passed.
After running away from Thatch - who had finally realized someone was ruining his food presentation - he opened his phone and sent a quick text.
Ace: [6:07 PM] Hey! Just checking in. Everything okay? The shrimp cocktail tastes really good by the way, you'll definitely like it!
He waited. He watched the screen, waiting for those little typing bubbles to appear. They didn't.
Twenty minutes passed.
By now, Ace was getting slightly irritated. He shifted in his seat, a small crease forming between his brows. You were never late without a word. You were the most punctual person he knew, which he guessed came with the perks of being a librarian. Even if you were only five minutes behind, you always sent a quick "Running late!" or a "Traffic is crazy!" his way.
He tried calling.
Ring… ring… ring… "Hey, it's Y/N! Leave a message after the beep!"
He hung up and tried again. Same result.
A cold prickle of unease began to crawl up the back of his neck. He tried to dismiss it, he really did. Maybe your phone had simply died. Maybe you couldn't find the dress you wanted to wear for today. Any of these reasons would explain why you were running late. But the silence on the other end of the line simply felt… unnatural.
"Everything okay, Ace?" Marco asked, his voice softening. He had noticed the change in his younger friend's demeanor. Ace was a fairly happy guy; it was rare to see him upset or anxious, which is why Marco immediately noticed him acting different.
"Yeah," Ace muttered, though he didn't sound quite convinced. "She's just… not answering. It's weird. She always answers."
"Maybe she's just really nervous," Thatch suggested, though Ace's nervousness clearly made him feel a bit on edge, too. "Meeting Pops is a big deal. Maybe she's having, I don't know, like a little pre-game panic attack."
Ace desperately wanted to believe that. But he couldn't. He spent the next half hour in a state of slowly escalating panic with his eyes glued to his phone, watching the minutes tick away like heavy drops of lead. His chest tightened, a cold knot forming in his ribs as the silence stretched on far too long. He sent another text, his thumbs shaking slightly against the screen, then one more when no reply came.
Ace: [6:35 PM] Seriously, Y/N, you're starting to freak me out. Just send a thumbs up so I know you're alive.
Ace: [6:43 PM] Please answer me.
The silence was deafening, and he was really starting to freak out. Each time the station door opened, Ace jumped up from his seat, his heart racing into his throat. He still hoped it was you. He wanted to see you smile and hear a silly excuse. He thought you might have just forgotten something simple, something the two of you would just laugh about. Yet, it was only other firefighters walking in and out.
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The laughter died down as the crew realized Ace wasn't just simply being nervous anymore. He was downright spiraling. He stood up abruptly again, the chair screeching against the floor.
"I'm going to call her again," he whispered, his voice tight.
"Ace, give it a few more minutes," Marco cautioned, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Don't let the anxiety get the better of you."
"You don't understand!" Ace snapped, though there was no anger in it, only genuine fear. "She doesn't do this. She never does."
He dialed your number for the tenth time. As the phone rang, he felt a sudden, sharp jolt igniting inside of him. It was such a cold, visceral feeling in the pit of his stomach that he genuinely felt like he might throw up right now. He knew that feeling. It was the same instinct that told him when a floor was about to give way during a rescue, the same primal alarm that always saved him and the people inside the fire.
He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like he was suffocating.
Just as he was about to hang up and decide to drive to your apartment, the station's emergency alarm tore through the air.
The loud, piercing shriek of the siren instantly transformed the room. The relaxed dinner atmosphere vanished, replaced by the usual precision and urgency of a professional unit. Firefighters began moving in a synchronized blur, shouting orders and sprinting toward the bays to gear up.
Ace froze, his phone still pressed to his ear. He wasn't on call. He was off-duty, dressed in his date clothes, a stark contrast to the heavy turnout gear being donned around him.
He watched as Marco and Thatch leaped into action, their faces grim and focused. Right. Ace forgot that they were part of the responding team. He was lost for a whole second, just standing there in the middle of the chaos like an idiot, until the roar of the engines started and the heavy thud of boots finally woke him up from his trance.
"Move it, move it!" someone yelled, rushing past him.
Ace stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He felt an overwhelming urge to follow them. It was a desperation so strong it felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. He didn't know why he was so terrified, but the intuition from before had evolved into a certainty by now.
As the first truck began to pull out of the bay, Ace lunged forward, grabbing the sleeve of one of the firefighters heading for the door.
"Where?" he gasped, his voice sounding wrecked, almost foreign to his own ears. "Where is the call?"
The firefighter looked at him, confused for a split second before shouting the address over the roar of the engine.
"The public library on-"
He didn't even need to hear the rest of the sentence.
The moment the words "public library" left his coworker's mouth, the air in Ace's lungs left him, and he genuinely felt like he might suffocate. The noise of the station, every single sound from the shouting to the clanging of gear faded into a dull, distant hum, replaced by a deafening thrumming in his ears. It was the sound of his own heart, he realized, hammering against his ribs with a violence that felt like it might actually break them.
Not there. Please, not there.
His mind started racing frantically. You told him you had left the library. You told him you were going home to take a shower and freshen up, and that you couldn't wait to see him. You shouldn't have been in there anymore. But you hadn't answered. You hadn't texted once. And now, the one place you loved more than almost anything in the world was going up in flames and a pillar of black smoke across the city.
He knew you were there.
"Ace!" Marco's voice broke through the haze. The older man had seen the look of sudden, vacant horror on his face and was already moving toward him. "Ace, look at me! Are you on that scene?"
"I… Y/N," Ace choked out. His voice was a wrecked thing, barely a whisper at this point. "She… she might have gone back. She's not answering, Marco. She's not answering!"
The panic that had been a slow simmer for the last hour boiled over into a blinding terror. Ace didn't think. He didn't strategize with his team. He didn't act like the professional firefighter the city trusted with its lives. No, he acted like a man who was watching his entire world catch fire, because that was what was currently happening. He lunged for the nearest set of turnout gear, his movements frantic and clumsy as if this were his first time, nearly tripping over his own boots as he scrambled to get dressed. He didn't care that he was off-duty. He currently gave a flying shit about any sort of protocol.
He just needed to get to you.
The ride to the library was a complete blur. The flashing red lights felt like they were mocking him constantly. Ace sat in the back of the truck, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the seat, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Every second felt like an hour. He tried to breathe, but the air felt too thin. He kept seeing your smile - the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed at his stupidity, the way you looked in that red cardigan, the way you had looked at him on the pier.
Please be okay. Please, please, please just be okay.
As the truck rounded the final corner, the sight that met them was a nightmare. He heard Marco cursing, though he couldn't quite understand what he was saying.
The library was being devoured. A massive plume of thick, oily smoke billowed the evening sky, blotting out the sunset. The modern glass facade, which had once let in the golden hour light you loved so much, had shattered completely, leaving behind jagged teeth of crystal framing a maw of roaring flames.
The immense heat hit him before he even stepped off the truck. It was a wall of such intense searing pressure that it pushed against his skin. There were people everywhere - bystanders screaming, police officers trying to keep the crowd under control, and other firefighters already engaging the blaze.
Ace leaped from the truck before it had even come to a complete stop.
"Ace! Wait for the size-up!" Marco shouted, his voice commanding and sharp, but Ace was already gone.
He was running toward the building, his heavy boots thudding against the pavement. Neither the crowd or chaos really registered inside his brain. All he saw was the smoke, the way the fire was licking the roof and the way the structure groaned under the intensity of the heat.
"Y/N! he screamed, his voice tearing through the noise. "Y/N!"
He reached the perimeter, nearly colliding with a captain who tried to block his path. Ace was so focused that he didn't even recognize the person in that moment. "You can't go in there, son! The structure is unstable! There was a gas explosion inside!"
"My girlfriend is in there!" Ace roared. His expression was one of such raw desperation that the captain actually recoiled. "Get out of my way!"
He didn't wait for permission. He didn't wait for a partner. Ace just straight up plunged into the smoke.
The transition from the open air to the interior of the library was like stepping into a furnace - actually, scratch that; it was ten, no, a hundred times worse. The suffocating quiet he had noted during his first visit all these weeks ago was gone, replaced by a roar so loud it sounded like a living beast. The smell was the worst part - not the vanilla and old paper, but the acrid, chemical stench of burning plastic, melting glue, and the heavy, metallic scent of smoke.
For a second, he thought about how you might feel about all of this, how absolutely devastated you were about all your precious books being reduced to nothing but ash.
He shook his head and pulled his mask tight, the hiss of his oxygen the only thing currently keeping him grounded. He moved through the lobby as fast as he could, but his vision was heavily obscured by a thick, gray veil of smoke that clung to everything and made it hard for him to know where he was going. He felt the heat radiating through his gear, and from the pressure building around him he knew he had to find you fast.
Where are you? Where are you?
He pushed deeper into the building, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Every groan of the ceiling, every crash of falling timber sounded like a scream. He navigated by instinct and memory, going from section to section until he pushed toward the children's wing. It was the heart of the library; it was where you had first met. It was the place where you had looked at him with such kindness that he'd forgotten how to speak.
As he rounded the corner into the reading nook, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The area was a wasteland. The colorful beanbags were charred husks, and the oversized picture books were nothing more than ash floating in the air like black snow. The walls, too, were blackened, with the paint bubbling and pulling away in long, sickly strips.
And then, he saw it. A collapsed section of the ceiling had fallen, creating a barrier of heavy timber and twisted metal that seemed impossible to get through.
"Y/N!" he yelled into his mask, the sound muffled and distorted.
He began to claw at the debris, his gloved hands tearing at the hot wood and jagged stone. He didn't feel the heat searing through his palms nor the exhaustion pulling at his muscles. He only felt the void in his chest, the terrifying possibility that he was too late.
"Y/N! ARE YOU HERE?! ANSWER ME!"
With a strength born out of pure adrenaline, he shifted a heavy beam. His muscles were strained to the max and a guttural growl escaped his throat. As he cleared a gap, he saw something. A flash of red.
Your cardigan.
And then you. Finally, finally, he found you.
You were lying on the floor, partially shielded by a fallen bookshelf, your body curled into a small, fragile ball. Beside you lay another person - a teenage boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, his face streaked with soot and tears and his breathing shallow and ragged. He was clutching your hand, his eyes wide with a terror that mirrored the chaos around you.
Ace didn't hesitate. He dove through the gap, sliding across the gritty floor to reach you.
"Y/N! Oh god, Y/N!"
He reached for you, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. For a heartbeat - a single, agonizing second - he found nothing. His world tilted, the roar of the fire becoming a deafening silence around him.
Then, a flutter. A weak, erratic beat beneath your skin.
You gasped, a wet, hacking sound, and your eyes fluttered open. They were clouded, unfocused, but as they landed on him, a spark of recognition flickered. Even when he was completely obscured by his gear, you still somehow knew it was him.
"A… Ace?" you whispered, the sound barely audible over the crash of a nearby wall.
The relief that surged through him was so violent it felt like a physical blow. Ace let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh, pulling you against his chest with a desperation that bordered on bruising. He carefully tucked your head under his chin, shielding you from the falling ash, his body shaking with the force of his emotion.
"I've got you," he choked out, his voice wrecked but also utterly determined. "I've got you. I'm here now. You're okay. You're going to be okay."
The teenager beside you let out a loud, sobbing breath. Ace quickly checked on him too, but luckily, he didn't seem as hurt as you were. "I'm sorry," the boy murmured, "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to… I just…"
Ace looked at the boy, his eyes hardening for a split second as he heard the words, but the sight of you laying pale, coughing, and clinging to his gear in his arms extinguished any anger. He didn't have time for blame. Right now, all that mattered was getting the two of you out of this hell.
"Can you walk?" Ace asked the boy.
The teen shook his head, gesturing wildly to his leg that was currently pinned under a piece of debris.
Fuck.
Ace cursed and glanced at the ceiling. A massive piece of the roof groaned and began to tilt precariously above the three of you. The structure was giving up. You had seconds, maybe less, before the entire wing collapsed.
With a surge of adrenaline, Ace braced his shoulder against the debris pinning the boy's leg and heaved. He let out a groan of effort, the muscles in his arms bulging, until the wood shifted just enough for the boy to scramble free.
"Stay close to me!" Ace ordered. He scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, and grabbed the teenager by his arm with his free hand.
The exit was blocked by a wall of flame. The way he had come in was gone, replaced by a curtain of orange flames that licked the ceiling.
"This way!" Ace yelled, remembering a secondary service corridor he'd seen on the floor plan during his first visit.
He ran. He ran through the smoke and the heat, his lungs burning even through the mask. He could feel you shivering and coughing against him, your breath only coming in short gasps. Every step felt like a gamble and every crash behind him sounded like the building trying to swallow all three of you whole.
As you all neared the service exit, a sudden, violent tremor shook the floor. A backdraft exploded in the hallway ahead, a wave of fire that slammed into you with the force of a freight train.
Ace didn't let go. He pushed the boy behind him and clutched you tighter against his chest, twisting his body and shielding you two with his own back, taking the brunt of the heat. He felt the fabric of his gear singe, felt the searing pain of the heat blistering some of his skin on his shoulder, but he didn't falter. He pushed through the flames like a madman, his boots sliding on the slick floor, until he finally saw it - the red rectangle of the exit door.
He burst through the door and collapsed onto the wet grass of the lawn, rolling away from the building just as a massive section of the library's roof caved in with a thunderous crash.
Had he been only a little too slow, all three of you would've been buried under that right now.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the sound of Ace's ragged breaths.
For a few seconds, he didn't move. He just laid there in the grass, clutching you to his chest with his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was shaking uncontrollably as the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving behind a hollow, aching terror.
"You're okay," he whispered, over and over, like a prayer. "You're okay. You're okay."
You shifted once more in his arms before you passed out, and Ace quickly scrambled to his feet to get you and the boy to the ambulance that had finally arrived.
The hospital smelled the exact opposite of the library you loved. There was no warmth here, only the humming of the machines and the soft shuffle of nurses' shoes.
Ace hadn't left your side for three days.
He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, his hand locked firmly around yours. He looked wrecked. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a chaotic mess, and his shoulders were heavily bandaged under his t-shirt from the burns he'd sustained during the rescue.
He had barely slept, and he had barely eaten. Every time you shifted in your sleep, he was awake in a heartbeat, his gaze searching your face for any sign of pain and distress.
When you finally woke up on the third day, the first thing you saw was him.
He was staring at you, his expression one of such intense, concentrated longing that it made your heart ache. The moment your eyes opened, he sat up, his grip on your hand tightening.
"Hey," he breathed in a low, raspy rumble. "Hey, beautiful. Welcome back."
You tried to speak, but your throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. You coughed, a small, painful sound, and he was immediately there, helping you sip some water from a plastic cup.
"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"Like I got hit by a firetruck," you joked weakly, a small smile touching your lips.
Ace let out a shaky laugh, leaning forward to press a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead. "You scared the hell out of me, Y/N. I thought… I really thought…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours, and you could feel the slight tremor in his breath.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead. "I just… I forgot my keys. I went back in, and then I saw this kid… he looked so scared."
Ace pulled back, his brow furrowing. "That kid… the police talked to him. He told them he accidentally started a fire in the storage room. He was too scared to call it in, so he tried to put it out himself until the gas pipe leaked."
You nodded slowly, the memories coming back in fragmented, vivid flashes. The smell of the gas. The sudden, earth-shaking roar of the explosion. The way the world had turned upside down.
"I almost didn't make it," you murmured.
"Ace's expression darkened, a flash of that protective intensity returning to his eyes. "You're here now. That's all that matters."
You looked at him, your gaze softening. "Ace… you saved my life. But not just at the end…"
He blinked. Okay, now he was a little confused. "What do you mean?"
You let out a soft, wheezing giggle, clutching his hand. "Remember a few weeks ago? When we were watching that TV show? The one about the firefighters that made absolutely no sense?"
Ace groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh god, that show. It was an insult to the entire profession."
"Exactly," you smiled. "And you spent an hour explaining to me why it was wrong. You told me exactly what to do if I ever found myself in a fire. You told me that smoke rises, so I had to stay low. You told me to keep one hand on the wall to find the exit. You told me to feel the doors with the back of my hand before opening them to see if they were hot."
Ace stared at you, the realization slowly sinking in. Right, he did do that.
"When the explosion happened," you continued, your voice growing stronger with each word, "everything went black. I couldn't see anything. I was terrified, and the kid was panicking, screaming that we were going to die. But then I remembered your voice. I remembered you telling me that the smoke is the real killer. So I grabbed him. I forced him to crawl with me and keep his face close to the floor."
Ace's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes shimmering. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with an emotion that transcended words.
Ace looked away, his shoulders shaking. You could hear him sniffling and desperately trying to stay cool in front of you, which made you crack a smile despite everything that had happened.
"I can't believe you remembered all of this," he choked out eventually. "I just… I was just complaining about a stupid TV show."
"And that saved my life," you whispered, leaning over as much as the monitors would allow to wrap your arms around his neck. "You're my hero, Ace. In every single way."
He pulled back, his face tear-streaked and red, but his eyes were full of devotion that was almost frightening in its intensity. He leaned in and kissed you, but not the desperate kind like the one you had shared on the first date. No, this one was slow, deep, and profoundly tender. You could taste the salt from his tears on his lips, and you both silently promised to yourselves that neither of you would ever take a single second for granted again.
"I love you," he murmured against his lips, the words finally breaking free. "I think… I think I really do. Like, so much that it hurts me."
You smiled, closing your eyes and soaking in the warmth of him. "I love you too, Ace."
Later, you would cry in his arms about all the books you loved being gone, and he would hold you through it. He knew how upset this made you, but if he was being honest, all he cared about was that you were safe.
Two weeks later, the library began the long process of rebuilding.
The community had rallied, donating books and funds to restore the beloved place full of stories. The teenager had been given a stern talking-to and a significant amount of community service, though he had spent several of those hours helping the librarians sort through the salvaged archives.
Ace and you stood together in the parking lot, watching the construction crews work. You were still leaning on a cane, your lungs recovering from the smoke inhalation, but you were home.
He was wearing his navy polo again, the one he had worn on your first date. He had his arm draped firmly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as if he still feared you might vanish if he let go.
"You know," Ace said, a playful grin spreading on his handsome face. "I think this means I get to be the official safety consultant for the library. I can give workshops. How to Not Die in a Library Fire 101 by Ace the Firefighter."
You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "This sounds like an excuse to visit the library during your work hours. I think you've had enough consulting for one year, Ace."
"Aw, come on! I've got great material now!
As you looked at the skeleton of the building, your heart still felt heavy, but you were no longer as devastated as when you first woke up. Still, the sight before you wasn't pretty, and it tore at your heart greatly.
Ace stopped walking and turned to you, his expression softening as he saw the look in your eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered slim volume - the same book he had read for your first date.
"I found this in the salvage pile," he said, handing it to you. The cover was scorched, the edges curled and blackened by the heat, but the pages were still intact. "One of your colleagues said it was a miracle it survived."
You took the book, tracing the charred edges with your fingers. You opened it to a random page and found one of his old notes, written in that messy, hurried scrawl you immediately recognized.
This part reminds me of the way Y/N looks when she's explaining things. She gets this little frown between her eyebrows. It's really cute.
You looked up at him and smiled.
Ace grinned down at you, that bright, slightly goofy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down, kissing you deeply under the afternoon sun.
"So," he murmured, pulling back just an inch. "What's the next book on the list? Because I'm feeling very motivated to read."
"You? What have you done to my boyfriend?" you laughed, clutching the scorched book to your chest. When you saw him pout, you playfully rolled your eyes and patted his arm. "Okay, okay. I think I can find something you'll like."
"Good," he whispered and pulled you closer again. "As long as it isn't boring. I've grown as a reader, Y/N. I'm a sophisticated literary man now."
You didn't mention that he probably didn't even know how to spell sophisticated.
"Sure you are, Ace," you teased. "Sure you are."