LET ME PROTECT YOU [Ace X fem! reader]

Chapter 8 // Who's this random sailorboy?

Standing on the steps up to the front door of the post office, you and Ace gaze up at the old building placed on the wharf. The red paint on the walls is slowly starting to flake off, exposing the splintered brown planks under. The black tiles on the slanted roof are stubbornly hanging on, but you catch a glimpse of some remains in front of the window that must've fallen off. Years of wear and tear from the unforgiving shore weather is really starting to show on the poor old office. Not like you could say the other buildings beside it looks any better.

Just with your luck, the previous bad weather has returned and you get the full experience of what this building had to withstand for decades, as the wind and sea have teamed up to make your visit here as unpleasant as possible. Behind you the waves crash against the pier, splashing your boots and already soaked pants while the howling wind whips your hair to your face and ensures that your exposed skin doesn't miss a single second of the bitter cold. Shivering you gaze at Ace standing beside you, completely unbothered as he admires the old building. He seems to handle the coast weather surprisingly well, considering his whole upper body is exposed. Moments like these really makes you wish you were made out of fire too.

You pull your jacket tighter as you take a peek inside the large smudged window, framed by white beams. The long room is surrounded by roof-high shelves filled to the brim with letters and packages covering every usable wall. The comfy, but worn out, leather chair behind the usually manned counter in the back of the room is now suspiciously empty. You frown trying to catch a glimpse of anyone inside but give up, taking a few steps back.

"Is it closed?" Ace presses his face against the glass, blocking out the light with his hands to get a better view of the interior.

You sigh dragging him away by the shoulder from the now fogged up window. 

"The lights are on, so I hope not," you continue gazing inside the barely lit up room but catch a glimpse of hot pink reflecting on the window. "And before I forget..." you slip off the raincoat and hand it back to Ace, feeling the wind creep up under your skin.

"Do I really have to?" he sighs. "It's so small..."

"Gotta cover up that giant pirate sign on your back I'm afraid," you pat his back before turning around to face the door. "Now let's find out if they're still open," you let out a short breath and step up the stairs leading to the front door. 

As you gently press down the door handle, the familiar sound of a bell merrily rings from above you as the door creaks open. Welcoming you into the cozy office, a heat wave crashes into your face, instantly vaporizing the cold raindrops on your skin. A rather interesting welcome, but you appreciate being able to flee from the raging storm outside.

"I'm coming! Give me a second!" a light muffled voice sounds, coming from the slightly open door behind the counter.

"Not closed," Ace proudly smiles.

You take a few gentle steps inside, not wanting to dirty the vintage wool rugs on the floor, with Ace following up closely behind you. The smell of freshly opened books fills the air around you as you take in the cottage-like interior of the room. Your eyes travels to the empty cushioned chair behind the desk, creases of the leather flaking off it's backrest from all the time it has served here. Your eyes continue wandering to all the dusty letters overflowing from the half-opened drawers on the counter. They only leave you wondering what kind of adventures and experiences is written down on them. 

Letters and writings are some of the most valuable ways to learn and preserve history. You're a firm believer of caring for even the most trivial written exchanges between people, because if not we might end up creating another void century. Zero written information from a whole decade with the only thing remaining a few stones covered in a dead language nobody speaks. A historians worst nightmare. That is why you respect places like post offices so much, they take care of these minor experiences. This whole office will probably be as valuable as a whole library for future archeologists.